His body jerked to a halt ... and changed. It blurred from a humanoid form into that of a rat, and then into a worm.

Finally, it turned into a loose lump of flesh that dropped out of the noose to the wooden platform where it sizzled momentarily before vanishing completely.

The emaciated man, still standing before the spot where Mot had been, looked skyward, then raised his right hand.

The arrow tumbled down from the sky, and the man caught it deftly. He turned, descended the steps, walked over to DragonStar and held out the arrow.

"Thank you," he said, and DragonStar took the arrow, nodding slightly but saying nothing.

The man took his place within the crowd.

Now the woman with the ravaged eyes stepped forth to Barzula. "I walked in madness for many weeks," she said, "a tempest raging through my mind. Eventually I died when I walked into a fireball tumbling across the wasteland."

She paused. "Now you shall know your own time."

And she stepped back.

As with Mot, the arrow about Barzula's wrists moved up his arm, about his neck, and yet further up the rope to the top of the scaffold where it writhed.

The rope contracted, and Barzula was sprung into the air, kicking as frantically as Mot had done.

And as with Mot, Barzula did not strangle. Instead, he was consumed with tempest.

The arrow exploded into a firestorm. It hailed down a rain of molten lead droplets that ate into Barzula's body until it sizzled and smoked.

The woman smiled, although her eyes were now sad and compassionate.

The hail of molten lead became worse, and from somewhere, and despite the noose about his neck, Barzula screamed.

It was the final sound he made. His entire body was now smouldering, the lead eating into his flesh, and within moments he began to disintegrate.

Lumps of flesh fell to the wooden platform where, as with Mot, they sizzled before disappearing.

More flesh fell, and now, that which hung suspended from the noose was not recognisable as humanoid, but only as a clump of burning meat.

Soon, it, too, fell to the platform, sizzled, and was gone.

The arrow fell into the woman's hand, and as had the emaciated man, she returned it to DragonStar, solemnly thanking him.

And, then, to Sheol.

The woman with the child stepped forth and said: "When you and yours broke through the Star Gate into this beautiful land, I was hanging out my washing. Despair overwhelmed me, and caused me to consider my toddling child's future life. I thought that she would only suffer, perhaps at the hands of an abusive husband, and so I lifted her up and twisted the washing line about her neck, strangling her unto death."

The woman paused, and sobbed, a hand to her mouth. "I killed my own daughter. Now you shall know your own time!"

Again the arrow sprang, slithering into movement and climbing to the top of the scaffold.

And the entire scaffold changed ...

... into a washing line strung between two forked poles.

The rope around Sheol's neck hauled her upward, upward, upward until it twisted among the rope of the washing line, and this time the Demon did strangle, her face and eyes bulging as the washing line tightened, tightened, tightened about her neck.

Sheol despaired.

Somehow she managed to extend a hand to DragonStar, her bulging eyes pleading, but his face was implacable, and Sheol dropped her hand.

Strands of rope ravelled down from the line, twisting themselves about Sheol's entire body until she was encased in tightening coils of rope.

They squeezed.

Blood and slivers of flesh oozed out from between the coils of rope.

The woman, unperturbed, leaned down and unwound her own washing line from about her child's neck, and then she lifted the child up, and the child smiled, and flung her arms about her mother's neck.

Sheol fell apart. Again, as with Barzula, flesh and blood dropped to the platform, sizzling and disappearing.

Eventually there was nothing left to squeeze, and the ropes themselves dropped to the platform and disappeared.

The arrow fell down, caught this time by the child, and she and her mother returned it to DragonStar.

The woman had tears of joy running down her face. "We thank you," she said as she handed back the arrow.

DragonStar also wept, for he had lived with the guilt of this child's death for a very long time, and he accepted the arrow and slid it home with its companions.

As one, the crowd lowered their hands and turned their faces to DragonStar?

And us? And us?

DragonStar turned to the old man, who had been sitting quietly in the driver's seat of the cart. The man sighed, and climbed down.

As he did so, he transformed ... into the Butler.

DragonStar grinned, and said to the crowd: "I think you will find that the Butler, efficient accountant that he is, has each and every one of your names in his account book. Present yourself to him and he will tick off your name, make his accounting, and show you through the gate into the garden. There, you will rest amid the flowers."

The woman with the child, who was still standing at DragonStar's knee, spoke for the entire crowd.

"Thank you," she said again, but with such joy that DragonStar had to fight back more tears.

"Thank you."

Chapter 69

Light and Love

Qeteb slogged his way through the ploughed field, cursing and grunting. He had to be able to get out of here somehow. After all, wasn't he destined to win? Hadn't his Demons won out against DragonStar's pitiful witches, three against two?

That he was still in the Maze, Qeteb had no doubt. The ridges and furrows of the ploughed earth did not run even or straight. Instead they formed twists and conundrums, and Qeteb knew that if only he could find his way through the puzzle of the field, he would win his freedom.