A sunspirit in crimson flame rode at the heart of the medicine wheel, and every limb crawled with tattooed forms where it wasn’t papered with nuyen. Eyeless, it searched blindly for something, but the spokes of the wheel shielded Will. protecting him. Will flushed with relief, grateful that the peculiarly large deposits in Cortez’s account were left untouched. Around the rim of the wheel danced other figures, some recognizable, some foreign: a warrior with a crested helm preceded a vision of a nymph astride a dragonfly, then a tatterdemalion waltzed with a Victorian wraith. Skyblue fire exploding in his head pulled Will from the trance and his eyes popped open.