“This is absolutely maddening,” Serru muttered, as Terenei urged the ornithians to a halt yet again.

  The Gss Shallows proper were a mind-breakingly complex web that it would not be an exaggeration to call a maze. The vast expanse of water was shallow enough for sunlight to reach all the way to the bottom, rarely deeper than ten meters or so and often less, and it was speckled erratically with isnds that stayed dry at high tide, some holding only a tree or two, some rge enough for multiple buildings. The isnds were linked by countless bridges made of wood or stone in more styles than I could count, some arching high enough to let the constant small boats pass under them and some so low that a high tide must wash over them, and by built-up causeways, lined with vegetation rge and small that anchored it in pce. The causeways typically had rge arched culverts allowing water and the abundant sealife to get back and forth, but they were usually not as long as the bridges anyway. On long stretches, the builders actually alternated.

  The ornithians couldn’t indulge their love of speed here. The roads were wide enough to allow two wagons to pass, but some care was still needed.

  Not that we were running into anyone.

  What we kept running into was extensive damage.

  Where the damage to a causeway was minor, the ornithians continued across through the water, and the wagon would float for a short distance until the wheels regained traction—barely inconvenient at all, as long as we made sure all bags and the house-in-a-box were up on the seats where they’d stay dry and safe.

  Bridges were more of a problem. While isnds offered a way to turn around, that was more complicated on a bridge. On one, spanning a considerable stretch of retively deep water, we had to back the ornithians up, a procedure that had not thrilled them at all. It had taken considerable coaxing and treats and praise, both during and after it.

  On another, which was at least partially over shallower water, we’d unhitched the ornithians, and Aryennos, still on medically-mandated light duty, had led them past the rear of the wagon, while Terenei and Serru and I literally lifted the wagon to rotate it. Terenei and I had higher boots, and ended up in the water on either side while Serru stayed on the bridge, but we all got a bit wet and a lot tired.

  I was extremely grateful for the over-the-knee red boots Terenei had given me. They did have ces up the back from just above the heel, so they could be pulled comfortably snug over pant legs, with enough stretch to the faux leather that they could be tightened even over and above my knees, but the cing didn’t appear to make the slightest difference. Boots were supposed to keep your feet dry, so they did.

  Waterproof boots that were at least knee-height were clearly an essential in the Gss Shallows. Thigh-high boots with sensible heels were probably useful around here, rather than a fashion statement, although Terenei would, of course, have turned it into one anyway if he hadn’t chosen to stick with practical clothes while we were actually on the road.

  Well, mostly practical. He just wouldn’t be Terenei without something extra—today, a considerable collection of fine metal bangles of many colours around one wrist, and earrings that were a cascade of simir but tinier rings. They made an incongruently cheerful sound when he moved.

  At least water here was all fresh. Even the Shallows were clean and potable, despite being the near section of an ocean that for all I knew went on forever and encircled the whole world. No salt to irritate skin and dehydrate bodies.

  After that, we paused before going onto bridges and took turns exploring on foot, or just trying to get a decent view from the shore, to check whether there was any hope of crossing.

  We really weren’t getting far.

  “It wasn’t that big a storm,” Terenei said. “Storms happen in Coppersands now and then but they don’t do anything like this kind of damage. Is this normal? I’d think that would mean that the locals do nothing except constant repairs. We haven’t seen many out working.”

  “This is not normal,” Serru said ftly. “Possibly I am being overly suspicious, but this looks selective. The causeway sections that we can spsh through are completely typical for a storm like that, and they’re scattered. They generally repair themselves within a couple of weeks if no one gets to them before that, and often that’s what happens. Bridges with potential fords all the way across as alternatives are not damaged, only ones that effectively block the path. And from what I can work out on my mental map, those damaged or destroyed bridges are doing an excellent job at blocking every route that would take us in the direction of the next Quincunx site. We haven’t seen many workers because we’re being kept in the outlying areas.”

  “You think it’s deliberate?”

  “I’m beginning to suspect that. We have no proof, but this seems highly improbable as a random set of circumstances.”

  “A lot of water is bad for zombies and mosslings both,” Aryennos said. “Zombies decay faster and over-saturated moss dies. But that doesn’t mean that either of them couldn’t, if they decide that it’s worth it.”

  “So one or both is trying to keep me from reaching the Quincunx site,” I said. “That’s kind of stupid, since at most it will just take longer. There’s no time limit or anything, is there?”

  Serru shrugged. “None that I’m aware of. Aryennos?”

  Aryennos shook his head. “I’ve never heard of having to reach the sites within a limited time. I suppose it might be a problem if you did one a year or something, but intent could definitely be a factor, too.”

  “Maybe,” Terenei mused, “they’re hoping that if it becomes too inconvenient to proceed, you’ll give up and take them up on that offer to settle down with what you have? That would suggest that they feel some sort of motivation to persuade you.”

  “The Zombie King said there’s no way home,” I said. “If he believes that, and if they both did all five sites, then he might think that if I get all the way through, I could become a problem for them. But I’m not stopping, even if they find ways to cause deys. You said the locals will be doing repairs, so at worst, we find an empty isnd and wait. We have lots of food and I’m sure we could arrange more somehow. Being annoying isn’t going to keep me from doing this.”

  “We need help,” Serru said. “A local guide who knows the Shallows in more detail than I do. I thought I spotted someone working on a bridge that wasn’t going the direction we want. Can we turn around and then turn right at the first branch?”

  As we approached the worker, I could see motion, and arms that seemed to be dipping into the water and pulling out rocks to repce on the bridge, but I couldn’t make any sense out of the overall shape. Plus, I was fairly sure that the scale was askew.

  “I need to ask,” I said. “That doesn’t look like a human.”

  “It might be,” Serru said. “Many tasks are difficult in the Gss Shallows for anyone except aquians. Clever crafters designed mechanical devices that compensate for those of us who breathe only air and cannot manoeuvre easily in the water. That’s a farming mecha, from what I can see, not a construction one, but when the damage is extensive everyone who can will help.”

  “Mecha. That can’t be transting properly.”

  “You have them?”

  “I think there are a few small experimental ones, but otherwise, they’re fictional. A mechanical humanoid... thing, with someone sitting in the body of it controlling it?”

  “Not humanoid. As I understand it, that isn’t an efficient shape. Most often they have four legs, not two, so they’re more stable. Construction mechas have the operator in a pod on top of the pce where the legs join, with arms that extend from there, to give them greater range. Farming mechas usually have the operator’s pod suspended beneath, so they can concentrate more heavily on a limited patch of ground under them.”

  “And obviously they’re never used against people or animals.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Are the fictional ones in your world more of those... weapon things?” Aryennos asked, saying the word with a mixture of hesitation and distaste.

  “Most of the time,” I sighed.

  “They’re so useful for building and farming and mining,” Serru said, “that even with the motivation to hurt others, I can’t think why one would use mechas for that. Especially two-legged mechas. I suppose that might frighten people a lot, despite being inefficient.” I couldn’t see the frown, since she was currently holding the reins up front, but I could hear it, before she shook her head. “Construction mecha operators help with rge projects, and there are a few farming mechas out on the Grassnds and mining mechas in the Highnds. They’re most common in the Shallows, though, since they’re used frequently for farming and building and maintenance.”

  Mechas. For strictly peaceful practical purposes.

  In a world that cked cars or telephones or mass production, but did have recorded entertainment and local two-way communicators and indoor lighting and plumbing. A world that vioted all of my tentative knowledge of economics and slightly-better knowledge of physics on a daily basis, but could achieve astonishingly complex results using alchemy grounded in the scientific method and outright magic based on passion. The technology research tree in this world would be migraine-inducing, I was sure.

  So, mechas.

  Okay, sure, why not?

  As we got closer to the person who was working, the nature of the mecha became easier to see. Four legs of metal so white it looked pearlescent supported it; I couldn’t estimate the total height since it was standing in water. They met at an elongated oval ‘body,’ and hanging from the centre of that on a single thick column was a rge-diameter fttened cylinder that supported a matching pair of arms; below the arms, on a further single support, hung an egg-shaped capsule that was partly more white metal and partly gss. It didn’t seem to matter that the capsule kept dipping into the water as much as halfway while the arms were moving up and down, and it swung freely enough to keep it always the same way up. One of the mecha’s four legs was pnted farther back than it should have been to make a sturdy rectangle, but if it had been in pce, it would have interfered badly with the arms.

  “Excuse me,” Serru called. “Do you have a moment?”

  The great arms, I figured each was probably at least as long as I was tall, fitted the current stone into pce, then paused. The capsule in the centre rotated, and then one arm waved.

  The ornithians snorted and danced in pce as the mecha waded towards us, but Terenei spoke to them soothingly and they stayed where they were. I was inclined to agree with them, but tried to remind myself that my first reaction to our affectionate friendly not-dinosaurs had been bad, too.

  The mecha stopped next to us, all four feet pnted, and a gss panel on the capsule slid upwards.

  A white felid id a pair of heavy gloves across their p and picked up a gourd-fsk from somewhere to the right to take a drink. “I won’t argue with an excuse for a break. Building isn’t my preferred job, but not all my neighbours can do this and I want them able to get around. What can I do for you?” The tone was distinctly cheerful. I could barely see the ring-bracelet on her right hand, just a simple chain of fttened alternating bck and white links around her wrist and extending outwards, not even a proper ring around her finger, just a smaller loop of chain. That might actually fit better under the gloves. Dark goggles were secured over her eyes by a deep yellow band, and she had several rings in each ear, the sizes varying, most of them some version of gold in tone; her sleeveless cropped top and something that left her lower legs bare were both a warm yellowish colour with a hint of brown or orange muting it.

  As near as I could tell, she had a chair sized for her, with a backrest that reached just a little above her head, and a four-point harness kept her secure in it. In front of her was transparent gss that curved all the way down under her feet, revealing several pedals that I figured must be foot-operated controls. To either side, curving backwards along the wall at a height that would allow her to reach into it comfortably, was a kind of wide deep trough-like basket; I couldn’t tell how far it went. That was all I could see inside.

  “We’re having some trouble getting to where we’re going,” Serru said. “It seems like every route we try in the right direction involves another bridge that’s too damaged to pass. The easiest ndmark we need next is the entrance to the Gss Shallows Quincunx site. I don’t suppose you know of a way to get there that’s accessible?”

  “That many bridges? This one’s old and due to be repced soon, repairs take forever, so it’s not surprising that a storm knocked it around, but it’s unusual for a lot to be damaged at once. Let me check.” She looked up and pressed something above the open window. “It’s Heket. I’m near my family’s farm, the old bridge didn’t like the storm. Do you know anything about other bridges in the area being down? Between here and roughly in the direction of the Quincunx?” She cocked her head to listen, ears swivelling, though it was too distorted for us to make out what the deeper voice replied. “Well, that’s bizarre. Probably no one’s going far for a few days, then?” She paused again.

  In that moment, a small cat peeked up over the edge of the troughlike basket at her left, and yawned; the bck and white markings on its face were asymmetrical, giving an effect rather like a bck cat wearing a white Phantom of the Opera mask down the right side of its face. It regarded us with mild interest, then stood up and arched in a stretch that brought the tail and the peak of its back, both bck, into sight, and curled up again. The felid smiled and reached down with her left hand to pet the cat, her attention still rgely on her remote conversation.

  “I have four travellers here with a wagon and a pair of ornithians, so the only boat that’ll help is a cargo keelboat with a lot of space.” Another pause. “I’ll get them settled on dry ground somewhere until we can get that sorted out, then. I won’t even be able to get them to the farm until I finish this bridge, or even to a shelter, so I suppose the nearest y-by will have to do for the moment. I’ll keep patching this one up and start on the next one in the direction of town.” She let her hand fall and looked back at us. “I have bad news.”

  “We have a portable house,” Serru said. “We can, if necessary, camp quite comfortably for several days, although we had hoped not to need to.”

  “I don’t think it will be that long, but I can’t promise. I didn’t realize there was this much of a mess. And it isn’t an accident. A badly-decaying zombie, barely recognizable, was found near one of the damaged bridges. It’s anyone’s guess what he’s on about this time, but something kinked his tail. The bridges will take time to fix, but word will go out that you could use some help. There are boats everywhere moving cargo around, it’s a lot easier that way, and some of those could hold your wagon and ornithians and you with no trouble. It’ll just need to be after everyone’s been confirmed safe and has essential supplies and that sort of thing.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “That comes first, beyond any question. And if anyone nearby is hurt...” I stopped, betedly following that thought through. If anyone is hurt, I’ll just slip into one of my secret identities and use a combination of healing magic and potions...

  “Between us, we have some healing skills,” Terenei said, not missing a beat when I faltered. “A very good road kit and the knowledge to use it, and a few extras.”

  The white felid, who had named herself to someone as Heket, nodded. “Thank you. Always good to know, and just past a storm and with transportation issues, that could be important. For right now, we can at least make sure that you have a pce to camp. I’ll check that the road’s intact before you take the wagon down it. Back before you know it.” She pulled down the gss canopy, which appeared to seal the whole capsule, but I could see her picking up her gloves. Before she even had them on, her feet moved, and the mecha backed up a short distance, climbed up onto the causeway properly, then strode off along the road to our right.

  It moved like a quadruped: left front, right rear, right front, left rear, over and over, and the motion was smoother than I expected, with no mechanical jerkiness.

  “Whatever he’s trying to accomplish,” I said, “it’s pointless and it fails. If we need to camp for a couple of days, then so be it. The Quincunx will still be there. Maybe it will be big enough for the house so we can be comfortable, and hey, this time we won’t be hiding indoors to avoid a storm.”