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Four
"I’mhisguardian,"saidAnaesthesia,truculently."Whoareyou?Whodoyouowefealtyto?"
Thewomansmiled."Iowenomanfealty,rat-girl.HaveeitherofyoucrossedNight’sBridgebefore?"Anaesthesiashookherhead."Well.Isn’tthisgoingtobefun?"
Theywalkedtowardthebridge.AnaesthesiahandedRichardhercandle-lamp."Here,"shesaid.
"Thanks."Richardlookedatthewomaninleather."Isthereanything,really,tobescaredof?"
"Onlythenightonthebridge,"shesaid.
"Thekindinarmor?"
"Thekindthatcomeswhendayisover."Anaesthesia’shandsoughtRichard’s.Heheldittightly,hertinyhandinhis.Shesmiledathim,squeezedhishand.AndthentheysetfootonNight’sBridgeandRichardbegantounderstanddarkness:darknessassomethingsolidandreal,somuchmorethanasimpleabsenceoflight.Hefeltittouchhisskin,questing,moving,exploring:glidingthroughhismind.Itslippedintohislungs,behindhiseyes,intohismouth...
Witheachsteptheytookthelightofthecandlebecamedimmer.Herealizedthesamethingwashappeningtotheleatherwoman’sflashlight.Itfeltnotsomuchasifthelightswerebeingturneddownbutasifthedarknesswerebeingturnedup.Richardblinked,andopenedhiseyesonnothing—nothingbutdarkness,completeandutter.Sounds.
