"How long?" Big D asked.
The small gold gatekeeper looked up at the Door. The line of light down its middle was thinner than a finger now. It was still narrowing, slowly, the way a door closes in a draft.
"Until morning," it said. "Perhaps less. He is gentle. He is not pushing. He is only leaning." Its small voice shook. "But he is heavy."
"Can you stop him?"
"I am the road. He is standing beside it, where I cannot see or reach." The one old eye looked up at Ainen. "I can only feel his hand."
Corvin put the kettle down on the grass.
"Then somebody goes in," he said. "Same as Duskspire. I'll hold the belt."
"Whose belt?" said Big D. "John's on the other side."
Corvin opened his mouth, and shut it again.
Nobody else could walk in the nothing. They all knew it. John had walked them down to the heart. John had walked them out to the old woman. Every time anyone had gone past the edge of that road, it had been John's feet they stood on.
"We don't go beside it," said Ainen.
