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Luckily； Tick had brought distractions； in the form of a party of eight tourists （he preferred excursionists） from Vanaeph who were relying upon him to introduce them to the rites and rarities of the Fifth Dominion。 Before the tour began； however； they were eager to pay their respects to the great Reconciler； and did so with a succession of painfully overworked speeches； which they read aloud before presenting Gentle with the gifts they'd brought： smoked meats； perfumes； a small picture of Patashoqua rendered in zarzi wings； a pamphlet of erotic poems by Pluthero Quexos' sister。
The group was the first of many Tick brought in the next few weeks； freely admitting to Gentle that he was turning a handsome profit from his new role。 〃Have a Holy Day in the City of Sartori〃 was his pitch^ and the more satisfied customers who returned to Vanaeph with tales of eel pies and Jack the Ripper； the more who signed on to take the excursion。 He knew the boom time couldn't last； of course。 In a short while the professional tour operators in Patashoqua would start trading； and he'd be unable to pete with their slick packages； except in one particular regard。 Only he could guarantee an audience； however brief； with the Maestro Sartori himself。
The time was ing； Gentle realized； when the Fifth would have to face the fact that it was Reconciled； whether it liked it or not。 The first few sightseers from Vanaeph and Patashoqua might be ignored； but when their families came； and their families' families…creatures in shapes； size； and assemblies that demanded attention…the people of this Dominion would be able to overlook them no longer。 It would not be long before Gamut Street became a sacred highway； with travelers passing down it in not one but both directions。 When it did； living in the house would bee untenable。 He； Clem； and Monday would have to vacate number 28 and leave it to bee a shrine。
When that day arrived…and it Would be soon…he would be forced to make a momentous decision。 Should he seek out some sanctuary here in Britain or leave the island for a country where none of his lives had ever； taken him？ Of one thing he was certain： he would not return to the Fourth； or any Dominion beyond it。 Though it was true that he'd never seen Patashoqua； there had only ever been one soul he'd wanted to see it with； and that soul was gone。
Times were no less strange or demanding for Jude。 She'd decided to leave the pany in Gamut Street on the spur of the moment； expecting that she'd return there in due course。 But the longer she stayed away； the harder it became to return。 She hadn't realized； until Sartori was gone； how much she'd mourn。 Whatever the source of the feelings she had for him； she felt no regrets。 All she felt was loss。 Night after night she'd wake up in the little flat she and Hoi…Polloi had rented together （the old place was too full of memories）； shaken to tears by the same terrible dream。 She was climbing those damn stairs in Gamut Street； trying to reach Sartori as he lay burning at the top； but for all her toil never managing to advance a single step。 And always the same words on her lips when Hoi…Polloi woke her。
〃Stay with me。 Stay with me。〃
Though he'd gone forever； and she would have to make her peace with that eventually； he'd left a living keepsake； and as the autumn months came it began to make its presence felt in no uncertain fashion； its kicking keeping her awake when the nightmares didn't。 She didn't like the way she looked in the mirror； her stomach a glossy dome； her breasts swelling and tender； but Hoi…Polloi was there to lend fort and panionship whenever it was needed。 She was all Jude could have asked for during those months： loyal； practical； and eager to learn。 Though the customs of the Fifth were a mystery to her at first； she soon became familiar with its eccentricities and even fond of them。 This was not； however； a situation that could continue indefinitely。 If they stayed in the Fifth； and Jude had the child there； what could she promise it？ A rearing and an education in a Dominion that might e to appreciate the miracles in its midst some distant day； but would in the meantime ignore or reject whatever extraordinary qualities the child was blessed with。
By the middle of October she'd made up her mind。 She'd leave the Fifth； with or without Hoi…Polloi； and find some country in the Imajica where the child； whether it was a prophetic； a melancholic； or simply priapic； would be allowed to flourish。 In order to take that journey； of course； she would have to return to Gamut Street or its environs； and though that was not a particularly attractive prospect； it was better to do so soon； she reasoned； before many more sleepless nights took their toll and she felt too weak。 She shared her plans with Hoi…Polloi； who declared herself happy to go wherever Jude wished to lead。 They made swift preparations and four days later left the flat for the last time； with a small collection of valuables to pawn when they got to the Fourth。
The evening was cold； and the moon； when it rose； had a misty halo。 By its light the thoroughfares around Gamut Street were iridescent with the first etchings of frost。 At Jude's request they went first to Shiverick Square； so that she could pay her last respects to Sartori。 Both his grave and those of the Oviates had been well disguised by Monday and Clem； and it took her quite a while to find the place where he was buried。 But find it she did and spent twenty minutes there while Hoi…Polloi waited at the railings。 Though there were revenants in the nearby streets； she knew he would never join their ranks。 He'd not been born； but made； the stuff of his life stolen。 The only existence he had after his decease was in her memory and in the child。 She didn't weep for that fact； or even for his absence。 She'd done all she could； weeping and begging him to stay。 But she did tell the earth that she'd loved what it was heaped upon and charged it to give Sartori fort in his dreamless sleep。
Then she quit the graveside； and together she and Hoi…Polloi went looking for the passing place into the Fourth。 It would be day there； bright day； and she'd call herself by another name。
Number 28 was noisy that night； the cause a celebration in honor of Irish； who'd that afternoon been released from prison； having served a three…month sentence for petty theft； and had arrived on the doorstep…with Carol； Benedict； and several cases of stolen whisky…to toast his release。 The house was by now a trove of treasures…all gifts to the Maestro from Tick Raw's excursionists…and there was no end to the drunken fooling these artifacts； many of them total enigmas； inspired。 Gentle was feeling as facetious as Irish； if not more so。 After so many weeks of abstinence the substantial amounts of whisky he'd imbibed had his head spinning； and he resisted Clem's attempts to engage him in serious conversation； despite the latter's insistence that the matter was urgent。 Only after some persuading did he follow Clem to a quieter place in the house； where his angels told him that Judith was in the vicinity。 He was somewhat sobered by the news。
〃Is she ing here？〃 he asked。
〃I don't think so；〃 Clem said； his tongue passing back and forth over his lips as though her taste was upon them。 〃But she's close。〃
Gentle didn't need further prompting。 With Monday in tow he went out into the street。 There were no living creatures in sight。 Only the revenants； listless as ever； their joy…lessness made all the more apparent by the sound of merrymaking that emanated from the house。
〃I don't see her；〃 Gentle said to Clem； who had followed them out as far as the step。 〃Are you sure she's here？〃
It was Tay who replied。 〃You think I wouldn't know when Judy was near？ Of course I'm certain。〃
〃Which direction？〃 Monday wanted to know。
Now Clem again； cautioning； 〃Perhaps she doesn't want to see us。〃
〃Well； I want to see her；〃 Gentle replied。 〃At least a drink； for old time's sake。 Which direction； Tay？〃
The angels pointed； and Gentle headed off down the street； with Monday； bottle in hand； close on his heels。
The fog that let onto the Fourth looked inviting： a slow wave of pale mist that turned and turned on itself； but never broke。 Before she and Hoi…Polloi stepped into it； Jude took a few moments to look up。 The Plow was overhead。 She wouldn't be seeing it again。 Then she said； 〃That's enough goodbyes；〃 and together they took a step into the mist。
As they did so Jude heard the sound of running feet in the alleyway behind them and Gentle； calling her name。 She'd been aware that their presence might be detected and had schooled them both in how best to respond。 Neither woman turned。 They simply picked up their pace and headed on through the mist。 It thickened as they went； but after a dozen steps daylight began to filter through from the other side； and the fog's clammy cold gave way to balm。 Again； Gentle called after her； but there was a motion up ahead； and it all but drowned out his call。
Back in the Fifth； Gentle came to a halt at the edge of the fog。 He'd sworn to himself that he'd never leave the Dominion again； but the drink swilling in his system had weakened his resolve。 His feet itched to go af