See this previous post for a communication to any who would join me in writing.  For a thought on David Lynch, see this article.  And see this article to read the story from the beginning.  Meanwhile…

–

Somehow they had slipped all notice of security forces at the Wall of Ice, through judicious switching between long space and the astrocielo.  But Ombunculita had begun to cry inconsolably, near silently.  She didn’t seem to have a tongue, but that wouldn’t prevent a nonverbal wail, would it?  Blasfemia held her close and cradled her head, fingers carefully run between the thorns.

“Ombona~ombona~ombona, what’s the matter you little freak?  Why did Cora make you come with us?  You don’t belong here.  This is so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.  Ombonculita, you need to take it easy.  You’ll get all gross.  Come on.”

“God, is this what Dio 6 looks like now?”

Blasfemia grew concerned they’d somehow got switched around, headed to the last place she’d ever want to be.  She stood from the bench, homunculus still in her arms, and walked to the front of the ship.  There was no proper division of a cockpit, just a wide open dashboard with one swiveling chair floor-mounted in front of it, off center toward the left.  That made plenty of room to stand on the right, to take in the view.

They were in the astrocielo around – presumably – Borland 1.  It was a largely frozen planet, and looked as such even in the spirit world.  But the spirit world had a few dramatic features lacking in the material realm.  One was that its small moon looked like luminous furry insect.

And two, there was an incredibly vast skeleton slouched over the world like a man over an exercise ball, pinned to the planet by a giant sword that ran all the way into the crust itself – possibly out the other side.  They couldn’t see that much from their angle of approach.

“Is the planet cold because the spirit is dead, or is the spirit dead because the planet is cold?,” the corsario wondered aloud.

“Why couldn’t I see one of these things with its flesh on?  Like when we stowed away to Dio 6, there were no windows on our hideout.  It would just be fun to see a ding-dong as big as the ocean.  You’ve probably seen that, huh?”

“Oh yes.  It is fun.  But I think it’ll be safer to fly in long space on this deal.  There could be a lot of tough guys living on what’s left of that thing.  Borland 1 doesn’t have the resources for space defense.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Cool.  Do it.”  She could only ignore the silent wailing for so long.  “Ombonculita, come on!”

The corsario hated how long it took to get through an atmosphere in long space, but it would be worth it.  The Leveret descended in an easy, long, time-consuming arc toward her destination.  Cora had given them the coordinates to the Torre Alucine – another witch tower.  Like hers, it was in a fairly remote place, but this one was on a mountain range.  It was less parking than perching, but that’s what legs are for, and the Leveret had ’em.

They were navigating by lights and sensors, coming upon the tower at night.  There was a chance the landing could set off an avalanche.  The ancient structure would be safe, but the astronave and her riders, not so much.  The corsario was as skilled as could be – not a move out of place – but perfection was impossible, and disaster the opposite.

With disconcerting rumbles and several minutes of settling and adjusting, they secured a grip on the mountainside.  Was it close enough to the tower?  They’d find out in the morning.  The only cold weather garments they had were shawls from Cora – and Blasfemia’s clean loan clothes had been a full length midnight blue satin dress and emerald green canvas sneakers, courtesy of Josefina, age seventeen.  The back barely zipped and would break under the most trivial exercise.  Best to do everything when it was easiest.

But was she in the tower?  It looked even more ancient and desolate than Cora’s home.  Blasfemia did her best to care for Ombunculita, but had to give up on giving her a proper bath.  It just wasn’t going to happen.  She slept in a hammock, with the grubby little monster close to her heart.

–