Once he was finished with Commander Woodsinger, Elliot did not climb down the stairs. He climbed up, to the top of the brief tower, and he gazed down at the vast tapestry of the Borderlands. Like green silk spread as far as the eye could see, the grey satin of mist and sea at the edges, embroidered with the delicate blue of rivers. Nobody can understand it, the commander had said, and the challenge echoed in Elliot’s bones, as perhaps the commander had wanted it to. A challenge was more familiar to him than love, and felt close to the same thing, as though one led to the other. He felt his
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