Ivo found the ball at the edge of the Court Between Worlds, resting between what looked like two small moons. Beyond the last service line lay cloud. Players had warned him that the courts out there had no walls and that a mistake could fall forever.
He had never played a sanctioned match. His racket was borrowed, his grip uncertain, his shoes his older brother’s. He struck the ball over the glass and followed it onto a shard of court suspended in the sky.
Another slab appeared ahead. Then another. The judges called from the safe court, and Ivo laughed as their voices grew distant. Soon he was jumping before he looked. He had begun to expect the next foothold.
One slab tilted. His feet went from under him. He caught the edge, with nothing beneath him but cloud.
Clinging there, Ivo saw the two moons reflected in the polished ball. They had never been lights set out to guide him. He pulled himself onto the fragment and sat until his breathing slowed.
Before the next crossing, he tested the court with the butt of his racket. He went on more slowly. There was still a gap to cross each time.
When he returned, the judges asked whether he had conquered the court beyond the edge.
“It was never mine to conquer,” Ivo said. “It only asked whether I would begin—and whether I could remain awake after beginning.”