“Well ain’t this just James dandy,” Gell groused. “The hell’s a thing like this doin’ here?”

“I thought you said you knew this place. Knew the terrain like the back of your hand.” Scarlet’s voice was even icier than normal; clearly something was bothering her.

“Darlin’, I swear to you, I been here more times than I care to tell. And ain’t never been nothin’ like this.”

Trouble was, there was a great damn river right where their road should have been. It was a wild one, at that; white water blasted across their path at truly worrying speeds, crashing itself against rocks and who knows what else. Thierry held his hand to his forehead and squinted hard, peering across at the far side.

“Well, there’s certainly a river here now. I’d estimate it at roughly a furlong across — not exactly jumping range even for you, Gell. So I suppose we’re in need of a plan.”

“Don’t understand it. How’s a river just pop in out of noplace? Must be some kind of illusion.” Gell stuck his foot in the water, and discovered that not only was the water real, the current was, too, as he was promptly flipped onto his backside by the force of it. Scarlet, despite her foul mood, giggled softly.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” sulked the Puritan. “Cussed thing’s real. But where in blazes did it come from?”

“It may be the result of natural processes, Gell,” the old wizard offered. “Over time, rivers do change course. This may be an example.”

“Wasn’t here but two years ago. I ain’t never heard of any river changin’ course overnight thataway. Odds are it ain’t a natural nothin’.”

“Odds indeed are,” Tierry replied. The Puritan was sure he saw the faintest hint of a smirk.

“Oh, don’t you even start, wizard. I got most of the feeling back in my sword arm; might need somebody to practice on.” Thierry snorted but said nothing.

“This isn’t helping, boys.” Scarlet had heard about enough of this, and if she needed to be the voice of reason, then so be it. “Who cares why the river’s here? It’s here, and that’s what matters. We need to start thinking about how to get across.”

“Indeed,” Thierry replied, furrowing his brow mightily in an attempt to put on his “serious wizard” air. “As I say, it’s much to far to jump across, and fording it… clearly doesn’t work, as Gell has been so kind as to demonstrate.”

Gell was still plopped on the ground, not having bothered to pick himself up after his encounter with the current. “Har de har. Least I actually tried somethin’.”

Scarlet chimed in. “Could we make a raft? There’s no shortage of trees here.”

“Darlin’, we ain’t got an axe nor a saw, and I’m not lookin’ to try lumberjackin’ with a sword. Not to mention Saturnine would never forgive me for abusin’ her like that.”

“Gell’s quite correct. Not to mention that, even were we to build a raft, it would never survive that turbulence. And even if it did, it would carry us downriver, not across. No, that won’t do at all. Hmm.”

“Wait, I got an idea! How’s ’bout we find us a wizard, and have him magic us across!” Gell beamed sarcastically up at Thierry. If the old wizard betrayed any annoyance at this, it was in a slight flaring of his nostrils; otherwise, he remained entirely composed.

“Out of the question. Any major magical event would draw their attention straight to us.”

“What about a minor magical event?”

“That depends on how minor. What are you driving at, Scarlet?”

“Could you conjure us a rope long enough to stretch across the river?”

The wizard was dumbfounded. “I… yes, I imagine I probably could, but… what on earth good would that do us?”

“We tie it to one tree on each side of the river, and then climb across.”

“Scarlet, darlin’, it’s the best idea anybody’s had all day, but I think you’re overlookin’ a critical detail. Such as how to get the rope tied to a tree on the other side of the river without like bein’ on the other side of the river.”

Scarlet smirked. “I haven’t overlooked a thing. I’ll need half an hour to prepare.”

“Just as well,” Thierry responded. “I can draw the animus for the conjuration more slowly, and it’s even less likely to be spotted.”

And so, for the next half-hour, Scarlet and Thierry meditated separately, one drawing animus from without, one concentrating it within. Gell passed the time lying on his back and looking up at the sky, finding shapes in the clouds. It was a pastime he enjoyed, but one that left him a bit uneasy lately. He saw no unwelcome phantoms in the clouds this time, but he did have the uncanny feeling that they were watching him back. That didn’t make any sense, though, so he barreled right on ahead with his heedless cloud-watching, as there was nothing else to do anyway.

Gell got so wrapped up in pondering the metaphysics of cloud-gazing that he lost track of the time, and was slightly startled when Scarlet uncoiled her legs and rose. “I’m ready,” she said. “Do you have the rope?”

Thierry, with a showmanly flourish of his hand, produced a stout coil of rope. Gell detected almost no disturbance in the flow; the wizard had hidden his tracks quite well. Scarlet quickly tied one end of the rope to a stout-looking tree, and bundled the rest of the coil up around her left arm. “Okay, boys, I’ll head across and secure the other end. As soon as I’ve done that, you cross and we’ll be on our way.”

“But Scarlet, how are you gonna –”

“Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” she interrupted, and dashed down the banks and right into the river. Gell’s eyes opened wide with alarm, and then stayed in that condition for amazement, for Scarlet didn’t end up in the river so much as on the river. She was running across the surface of the water.

“Old man! You seein’ this?”

“Indeed. Quite remarkable. This must be an application of the fabled Legerdemain, the art of thieves.”

“How come she ain’t bein’ washed downstream anyhow? Reckon the top of the water’s movin’ just as fast as the underneathy bits.”

“I don’t believe she’s in contact with it. Levitation, if I’m not mistaken.”

By this time, Scarlet had crossed the river, and was in the process of securing the rope. She gave it a tug, and waved across to Gell, who promptly leapt up onto it and bounced up and down a few times.

“You made a good rope, wizard. Ain’t like to break even with a dainty little tulip like myself walkin’ on it. Come on!”

The wizard watched as the Puritan strode nonchalantly down the length of rope, but was too stunned to speak. Gell, realising something was wrong, stopped a few paces away and looked back. “Oh, for Philip’s sake. You’re gonna tell me you can’t walk a damn rope? What do they teach you in fancy wizard school, anyhow? Fine, come on.” Gell reached down and plucked the terrified mage up into his arms and started back across the river. Such a feat of balancing was nothing to the Puritan, who spent the crossing providing a running dialogue on the scenery. Thierry, for his part, was white as a sheet, and clutched desperately at Gell’s tunic. His eyes were clenched shut, and he spent the passage muttering prayers under his breath to every god he’d ever heard about, and some new ones he was making up just to be extra sure.

Then he was falling, and his entire world stopped. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was doomed; he was about to plunge into the river, where he’d be faced with the choice of bashing himself to death on the rocks or saving himself with magic, only to be swiftly and instantly annihilated by Blackwell. So he did the only thing he could think to do in that situation: he screamed.

Eventually, the Puritan’s laughter penetrated the fog of terror, and Thierry slowly began to realise that he wasn’t the least little bit dead. He forcefully wrenched his eyes open, to find himself safe and dry on the banks of the river, Gell guffawing merrily and Scarlet looking very worried.

“What… we… but I… the river… falling…”

“Relax,” Scarlet soothed, “you’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

“But… I know I was falling. What happened?”

“‘Course you were. What happened was we crossed the river and I jumped off the rope. Reckon I should have warned you.”

Thierry just breathed. He’d feel like an idiot, but he was too happy just not being dead. “I suppose I should expect the odds aren’t in favour of Gell just blithely carrying me to our mutual deaths.”

“Odds indeed aren’t,” Gell smirked.

“Now don’t you start.”