Rikki took up the harmony chant in his squeaky, shrill voice while Manx’s flute purred a haunting counter-melody. Distantly, he heard his own voice begin the transformation song. Sam let himself drift, gathering power. Anchoring himself through the opal, he gathered the strands to weave them into a shining pattern. Under his shirt Sam’s fossil tooth thumped against his chest, and he merged its aural image into the configuration, enmeshing it in the net. Foundation complete, he reached toward distant influences and warped them into conformation with his will.