[Yeah, but don't start grabbing up masses of dead people yet. That'll get 'em screaming for sure.]

[Okay.]

Cam goes on with his story.

Amariah solicits a copy of Sherlock's route from the dock to the land of the dead, in case she needs to make a trip out of the place to make wishes.

She provides it.

"You're welcome," says Cam.

Amariah has spent this interval processing Sherlock's information. She doesn't perfectly understand how space works here, but she has it well enough to lift off and lead Cam away to let the Jokers take over talking to the harpies. The two Bells make for shore and start following it.

They find no more harpies on the way.

Amariah is curious when storytime becomes actually-figuring-out-what-to-do-with-harpies time, but she can give it a while. She sticks with Cam while they trace the shoreline. The topography is weird but it doesn't shift; distances in multiple directions don't add up right but tracing the same sequence of movements always leads to the same landmarks, same shore features. The shades exist on an island, judging by what happens when the shore is flown along. Estimating its size is futile, of course.

Storytime is interspersed with conversation; Kas and Aianon express an interest in knowing the harpies' history, and in bits and pieces, they learn it. Most of what they get is not of immediate practical value, but it builds a picture, and the picture shows them how to find out what it is the harpies want.

Jane can't see in here, Amariah says through the link. They could sort through the dead, if I wind up being able to adjust this place instead of having to move everybody out to make them whole. The thing where they can sense guilt might even be a reasonable proxy for judgesight if they can do it non-destructively.

Good plan, says Kas. We'll keep it in mind. How are you doing with the river?

It's an island; I can see where we started up ahead. Going to see how high up we can get, first - it looks like there's a ceiling but I have no idea if that's real or not. Funky topography.

The Bells fly up.

Shell Bell wakes up.

Sherlock kisses her forehead.

Shell Bell peers up at Sherlock with confused eyes, but does not cry or squirm or otherwise display anything resembling her earlier distress.

"Good morning," she murmurs, with some irony.

"How are you?"