Chapter Twenty-Four
Contact
Life on the Northern Shelf was bleak, but since contact with the outer Realm was possible at last, the climate no longer mattered. After her session with the Hermes, Andel left the campsite and wandered, drawn as if by gravity to the icy seashore. She pushed aside the fur of her hood and peered along a grey shingle beach cut short by a shallow headland – the most barren place she had ever seen. Unenthusiastic waves surged beneath a carpet of ice. They sloshed against the stones then snatched at pebbles and spindly fragments of driftwood while hissing a sullen retreat. She crossed her arms for warmth. The only other sound was the lonely moan of the wind. There was no life – no fliers in the skies, no insects, no plants, no shellfish – just rock and shale, snow
