"It wants the sword. It wants the magic. Remember what Walker told us about why we
were lured here in the first place? For our magic, he said. I think Antrax knows
all about us, maybe even about Bek. It wants everything we have." She thought it
over. "Maybe."

"That's why it sent this wronk made of pieces of Ard Patrinell. It's using his
brain, his instincts, and his fighting skills to get what it wants from us. From
me. I thought at first it had chosen Patrinell because he would know us best,
could kill us easiest. But why send a wronk after us? Why bother, when we were so
easily cut apart in the maze and pose so little threat?"

"It used those parts it needed to make the wronk function as closely as possible
to the real thing. None of this happened by accident. The wronk was constructed
and dispatched for a reason. It's after me. It keeps coming right for me. I didn't
think anything of it at first, back in the ventilation shaft. But it came after me
again once we were outside and again in the forest, and now it's chasing me. It
wants the sword, Tamis. It wants the magic."

For a moment, she was quiet. He went back to staring off into the impenetrable
dark, listening. "You haven't thought it through far enough," she whispered
suddenly. She waited until he turned to look at her again. "Think about it. Your
sword won't work for just anyone, will it?"

me, too."
"Or parts of you, like Patrinell."
His throat tightened, and he looked away. "I'll die first."
She didn't say anything but put a hand on his arm. "What were you trying to tell

Quentin was quiet for a long time, remembering what he had seen, trying to
overcome the revulsion that even thinking of it caused. Tamis kept her hand on his
arm and her eyes on his face. "Tell me, Highlander."

He sagged a little as he spoke, despair and fear taking fresh hold. "When we
struggled underground below the ruins, I got a good look at those eyes. While I
was grappling with it, I got close enough to see into them. They weren't dead
eyes. They weren't soulless. They weren't filled with anger or madness or anything
I expected. They were frightened and trapped and helpless. I know it sounds
impossible, but he's still alive in there. In his head and brain. In what he sees
and feels. He's shut away in there. I could see it. I could tell. He was asking
for help. He was begging for it."

"He's not attacking us because he wants to!" Quentin hissed. "He's doing it
because he doesn't have a choice, because he's been rebuilt to carry out the
wishes of Antrax! He's been mind-altered like those Elves who murdered Allardon

Elessedil! Only there's no body left, nothing whole. He's-" He caught himself. "He isn't Ard Patrinell anymore, but Antrax has stolen something of who he was and is holding it prisoner inside that wronk."

glanced out hurriedly, then back to Tamis.
"You could be wrong," she insisted angrily.
"I know. But I'm not. I saw him. I saw him."
There were fresh tears in her eyes. He caught their gleam in the moonlight. Her

She couldn't finish. Quentin didn't blame her. There were no words sufficient to
express her feelings. What had been done to Ard Patrinell was so loathsome, so
despicable that it left the Highlander feeling unclean.

"We'll have to kill him," she said suddenly, looking over with such fierceness
that it left him off balance. For a moment, he wasn't certain who she was talking
about. "Again, all over again. We can't leave him trapped in there. We have to set
him free."

He saw it then, the reason for her passion. She had been in love with Ard
Patrinell. He had missed that before, not seen even the barest hint of it. How had
he been so blind? Maybe she had kept it well enough hidden that no one could have
known. But there it was, out in the open, as certain as daylight's return with the
dawn.

He had no idea how he was going to keep that promise, but his feelings on the
matter were as strong as her own. He was the one who had looked into Ard
Patrinell's eyes and seen him in there, still alive. That was not something he
could pretend never happened and would have no effect on him if he walked away
from it. Like Tamis, he could not leave the Captain of the Home Guard a slave to a
machine. The wronk had to be destroyed.

"Get some sleep," she said, easing away from him. There was weariness and sadness
in her voice. All of her strength seemed drained away. He had not seen her like
that before and he did not like seeing her that way. It was as if she had suddenly
grown old.

She did not respond. Her gaze was directed out into the night. He waited a moment, then stretched out, placing his head in the crook of his arm. He watched her for a time, but she didn't move. Finally, his eyes closed and he slept.

In his troubled dreams, he ran once more from the wronk. It pursued him through a
forest, and he could not find a way to escape it. After a long time, he found
himself backed against a wall, and he was forced to turn and fight. But the wronk
was not solid or recognizable. It was insubstantial, a thing made of air. He could
feel it pressing into him, suffocating him. He fought to break free, just to draw
a breath, and then suddenly it materialized right in front of him and he saw its
face. It belonged to Bek.

It was almost dawn when he woke, the first tinges of daylight seeping through the
trees, the sky east lightening. Tamis had fallen asleep on watch, her body leaning
against a tree, her chin lowered into her chest. When he pushed himself into a
sitting position, she heard him move and looked up at once.

In the distance, far off but recognizable, something big moved through the trees.
They stood up together, staring in the direction of the sounds.
"It's coming again," Quentin whispered. "What do you want to do? Make a stand here

Her look was unreadable, but the weariness and sadness of the previous night had
vanished. "Let's find one of those pits the Rindge dug for wronk traps," she
replied softly. "Let's see how well it works."

Even though he had been persuaded by Ryer Ord Star to follow the little sweeper in
search of Walker, Ahren Elessedil insisted on waiting until after dark before
reentering the deadly ruins. He accepted that it was unlikely they would be
attacked by creepers or fire threads if the sweeper was leading them and it
probably made no difference whether it was dark or light, but he didn't care.
Still firmly in the grip of his memory of the attack that had destroyed everyone
with him when they had attempted an entry in daylight last time, it was all he
could do to make himself go back down there at all. He must at least, he insisted,
be allowed the one concession.

Ryer Ord Star had no choice but to agree since she wanted him with her; the
sweeper had nothing to offer on the matter. It sat there on its wheeled base,
insides whirring, keeping its images to itself. Summery and hot, the day drifted
slowly away, and Ahren and Ryer took turns sleeping. Below their hiding place, the
ruins sat shimmering in silence.

With the coming of nightfall, darkness settling over the land in blue-gray shadows
and thinning light, they set out. The sweeper led them down out of their
concealment, its wheeled base flexing on the stairs and over the rubble, scarcely
making a sound as it worked its way through the perimeter and into the ruins. The
seer and the Elven Prince followed, the former without hesitation, the latter with
nothing but. They were barely twenty yards into the maze when the sweeper
approached a wall, made a series of small clicking noises, and triggered a
concealed entry. The wall slid back to reveal a dimly lit ramp leading down, and
the three unlikely companions stepped within.