Free All the Windwracked Stars (The Edda of Burdens) by Elizabeth Bear Page A

corner of his eye.
    She made him as perfect as her hands could shape. Andwhen she had done it, she pressed her nails into her palms—her eyes tearing when she tried to fist the right one—and managed not to smash it flat.
    How many can say they got to see the world end twice?
    I , said Kasimir’s old-iron voice, in the back of her mind.
    She could have laughed, but it hurt her throat to think on it. Instead, she opened her viscreen. It chirruped—
Happy birthday!
—in a dead man’s voice, as it did each day of the year.
    The net always knew her.
    She wondered if the man who had written that clever little technomatic virus still would have done so, if he had known he would be breaking her heart for centuries to come.
    She imaged the sculpture and burned it to a chip, which she libraried to her reader—
Happy birthday!,
when she fired it up—and then pocketed. When she turned back, the bust stared forward, opaque eyes unreadable.
    A cloth lay around its neck, where Muire had draped it. She reached down and pulled it over the sculpture’s head.
    Vengeance,
Ingraham Fasoltsen nagged.
    It was more welcome than Kasimir’s gentle reminder: There is still the matter of the widow.

6
Mannaz (humankind)

    G unther Watsen had been the first person Muire met when she returned to Eiledon. It had been a summery morning near the spring solstice, two hundred and seven years previous to meeting the Grey Wolf in a dark alley under the curve of the Tower. She had walked—she walked a great deal in those days—from Freimarc, and she paused on the shoulder of the green mountain overlooking the valley of the Naglfar, at a place where the trees broke.
    Below, an agate-colored river wound seaward, restrained by the topography even as it reinvented it. On its banks the city rose, a sprawl of multicolored glass and faceted metal set in the landscape like a rococo jewel in a verdigrised setting.
    The last time she stood on the shoulder of that peak, Eiledon had been a walled cluster of three- and four-story buildings. But it had far outgrown those medieval walls, though she could still detect their presence in the pattern of the streets. A steady procession of aircraft slid down the sky, the foaming wakes of freighters and pleasure craft scarring the placid river. The port was ten miles downriver, in the delta, and the city and its suburbs lined the banks the entire way.
    Outside the walls, where the city was less crowded, Muirewalked beside a broad avenue bordered by flowering trees. It was not especially well designed for pedestrians; electric cars and at least one ground-effect vehicle blurred past, blowing dust into her eyes. But she walked on, and Eiledon rose up around her.
    The population of the metropolitan area crested at twelve million souls: a teeming center of commerce, romance, and artistic endeavor.
    Eiledon had eight gates and two river locks. Muire entered through the easternmost, the Wolf Gate, for easy access to the Green and the University. Here, the walking was easier—only electric and human-powered vehicles were permitted within the walls, and bicycles, scooters, and hoverboards outnumbered autos in the knotty cobblestoned alleys.
    One long block—ignoring the winding, tunnelish side streets of the Wolfgate neighborhood, with its aura of decayed wealth—brought her to Boulevard, which she crossed. This was the new Old City. The Ark rose on her left until its heights were lost in the haze, a contrast to the government center on her right, with its elaborate lacework stone.
    It was noon by the time she reached the Riverside Market, and glossy heads shimmered in the mounting sun. The earthy scents of vegetables and the sweetness of berries saturated the air, but a flower-seller’s booth reeked of humid jungle.
    Muire breathed deeply, rubbing her hands in the warmth.
    She bought a newschip and slid it into her reader. Several people eyed the device: judging by their appearances, she guessed they were wired.
    Country