Hermes stepped out of his cabin and nearly tripped over a length of conduit; it was as thick around as his wrist, and it snaked from somewhere down in the hold, up the stairs, through the corridor in which Hermes now stood, and up the other set of stairs to somewhere on the bridge or deck.

"What's this thing?" he muttered, nudging the cord with his toe. The thought occurred to him that it might have something to do with that Kingsley thing everyone kept chattering about, and that thought was confirmed when he followed the conduit up to the deck. The conduit wound through the bridge, though the propped-open door, and onto the deck, where it plugged into a spot on the remaining skiff where a panel had been peeled aside.

The air on deck seemed less hazy that it had earlier, but it also seemed thinner. He glanced warily at the weakly flickering resonance bubble. Would they reach Reisfall in time?

The skiff itself looked like a smaller version of the Broken Herald – the same crustacean design, but with a pod-like cockpit only large enough for three people: a pilot and two passengers. The turn-zip of a ratchet coming from somewhere under the skiff caught Hermes' attention, and, craning his head down, he could just make out the soles of Rumble's feet.

"Yo," he said, rapping on the side of the skiff with his knuckles. There was a bang! and a string of what Hermes could only assume were goblinoid curses before Rumble extricated himself from under the skiff, brandishing a ratchet and rubbing his forehead.

"Damnit kid! What the hell do you want?" Rumble growled. He sounded genuinely angry; taken aback, Hermes blinked dumbly at the goblin.

"Nothing. Jeez. Sorry," he muttered.

Rumble sighed, rubbed his forehead again.

"Nah," the goblin said, less abrasively. "I didn't mean to snap. This is just--" He rapped the side of the skiff with the ratchet. "-- tricky shit. We've got about an hour until we reach the edge of Reisfall and I've got to make sure all the couplings between the skiff's generator and the Herald's are perfect, or any of a half a dozen nasty painful things could happen to us when we try to jump."

"Can I help?"

Rumble nodded, fished a metal-bristled brush out of a toolbox and handed it to Hermes.

"Shimmy under there. You'll see a bundle of cords, some of them hooked up to small metal pegs. The pegs that don't have cords attached to them need the corrosion knocked off, or they won't get get a good connection and we'll go boom."

Hermes did as Rumble said and started scraping at the pegs, shaving off small filings of gunky metal. It was a tight fit under the skiff, but no worse than laying under Paul's Mustang. He could hear Rumble working elsewhere on the skiff.

"So what's Reisfall like?" he said.

"Same as any other Node, I guess," Rumble's disembodied voice replied from somewhere overhead.

"What kind of people live there?"

"I dunno that you'd call them people, exactly."

"Whatdya mean?" Most of the people Hermes had met thus far seemed fairly normal, all things considered. Even Rumble, appearances aside, didn't seem much different than anyone he could have met on Earth.

"You'll see when we get there," Rumble said distractedly. There was a metallic creak and the clanking sound of something heavy falling into place before the goblin spoke again. "D'you ever patch things up with Rashad?"

Hermes sighed. "Not really. I tried to slug him."

A chuckle.

"I'm sure that won you some points."

Hermes frowned, scraping a knob of corrosion off one of the pegs. "Well, what am I supposed to feel? He couldn't care less if I survive."

"That ain't true. "

"Isn't it? He keeps throwing me at Narsil like he expects me to be able to beat him. I mean, what is that? I feel like I'm trying to beat Ansem at level 8."

The clanking overhead went quiet, and Rumble's head popped into view, eyebrow arched. "Do what?"

Hermes shrugged. "Um. Videogame reference. In my world, we have these things called videogames. Interactive stories, I guess. Ansem is the big bad guy at the end of one of them, but you aren't supposed to beat him until you're around level 50 or something."

"Right. Make sure you clear those things off good," Rumble said, gesturing at the pegs. "They need to shine or we won't get a good connection." He vanished again to work on something up top.

"Yeah, yeah...but do you get what I mean? Narsil's a trained warrior. You know how much fighting experience I've had? Pete Wallard beat me up for my lunch money in the fifth grade, and in retrospect, he was a wuss."

"Does that make you a super-wuss?"

"I liked Hermes Swift, God-slayer, better," he said bitterly.

"So quit your bitchin' and be Hermes Swift, God-slayer," Rumble replied.

Hermes sighed. Maybe Rumble's right. It's not like I've been seriously hurt, and I've already faced Narsil twice. And I'm starting to get the hang of this Caduceus thing.

"So, you think I should make up with Rashad?" he said finally.

"Like it or not, he's your best chance of getting home."

"I just don't get why he's acting like this. I thought he was my friend."

"Have you asked him?" the goblin replied.

"Well, no."

"Now's your chance."

Hermes blinked. "Huh?"

"He's been listening to our conversation for the last few minutes."

Hermes slid out from under the skiff. Rashad stood over him, holding out a hand. Rumble was perched on the skiff, grinning at them. Hermes ignored the offered hand, stood up and crossed his arms, glowering.

"What do you want, old man?"

Rashad cleared his throat, and awkwardly returned his hand to a place beneath his robes. "I have some things to explain to you, if you would hear them."

Hermes started to say something, but Rumble nudged him hard in the ribs with the toe of his boot. The youth shot the goblin a pointed glance, but he nodded to Rashad.

"Alright, alright. What do you have to say?"