And maybe the Avar deserved to burn amid the Demons' fury for the fact that they'd deserted him for Faraday.

"I will do what I can," Isfrael announced to Spiredore, "but I will not do enough to endanger either myself or the Sacred Groves."

Having settled the matter in his own mind, Isfrael prepared to enter the Sacred Groves. He had been brought up with the rest of the SunSoar brood, and well knew Spiredore's secret.

"Take me to the Sacred Groves," he said, and set off up the nearest stairwell.

What Spiredore led Isfrael to was not quite what he'd expected. A blue-misted tunnel, surely, but it ended only in a drift of cold stars, not in the Sacred Groves.

"The Bitch!" he spat, and sent a string of cold, vile curses into an uncaring universe.

The Mother had closed off the approaches to the Sacred Groves — nothing else could have stopped Spiredore!

"The stupid, thoughtless Bitch!"

And Isfrael stormed back down the blue mist tunnel until he was back in Spiredore. He would have to trade with the Demons, after all.

No matter. He could best them any day.

"Take me to Qeteb," he said, and stepped upwards.

Chapter 18

The Joy of the Hunt

"Dare Wing," DragonStar said when he returned to the foot of the Icescarp Alps, "I must get back to Sanctuary ..." He told Dare Wing about Spiredore's eventual death.

"When that happens then I do not know of an effective way to move so quickly between Sanctuary and this wasteland."

"And what will you do once you get to Sanctuary?"

DragonStar looked about the landscape for a few moments, avoiding the question. What would he do?

"I am torn, DareWing," he eventually said, "between simply bringing you and the Strike Force back into Sanctuary with me, or leaving you here."

DareWing shook his head. "The Strike Force cannot easily go into Sanctuary. They ... they ..."

"They are too far beyond death to be able to tolerate its —" DragonStar hesitated, "— to tolerate its confines."

"You must bring the other witches out," DareWing said. "Out into the wasteland."

"Yes," DragonStar sighed. "I know that. We will do no good huddled in Sanctuary, but the thought of exposing them prematurely to the Demons ... DareWing, I must go back and get them, but there is something you should know."

"Yes?"

"The Enchanted Song Book was not a book of solutions, my friend, but a sad list of errors. The Song Book told us what not to do."

"And so what is left?"

"Everything the Demons cannot stand," DragonStar said softly.

DareWing made to say something, shifting impatiently, but DragonStar laid a hand on his shoulder and quieted him.

"Listen to me. I am going back to Sanctuary, and I will come back with the girls and Goldman.

DareWing, will you start to clear Tencendor while I am gone? The north must be crawling with corruption, and all of Tencendor must be cleansed before it can be reborn."

"And if I meet up with one of the Demons?"

DragonStar took his time in replying, his ringers gently tapping the book, his eyes unfocused.

He remembered what WolfStar had told him about Caelum's death, and he remembered what Fischer had said. Reflecting the Demons' malevolence back at them had not truly defeated them: it had only driven the evil underground for it to fester.

Evil cannot be destroyed — and certainly not by using evil against evil.

A word of love had driven Qeteb to distraction.

DragonStar's face softened, and he smiled.

"DareWing," he said, and put a hand on the other's shoulder, "let me tell you what I have learned this day ..."

DareWing wheeled the Strike Force over the Alps. DragonStar had returned to Sanctuary with his assorted animals. Having heard what the StarSon had theorised, DareWing almost wished he did meet up with one of the Demons. Either DragonStar's theory was correct, in which case DareWing could deliver to the Demons an almighty shock, or he was incorrect, in which case it was better for DareWing to fail than DragonStar. DareWing could feel the probing of Sheol in his mind — it was mid-afternoon now, and Despair reigned over the wasteland — and he smiled ...

He understood very well that although Sheol could not touch him, she could nevertheless feel him, as she could feel every one of the almost two thousand members of the Strike Force.

DareWing's smile widened, and he soared in the air, and he spoke to his command.

She hissed and crouched down on all fours about the fire she shared with the other Demons.

Qeteb stared curiously at her, one hand paused in the act of raising a half-burned, half-raw joint of flesh and bone (it was possibly cow, but it had transformed so much during its demented life that it was now impossible to determine its original species). "What is it?"

"They are back!"

"Who?" Qeteb threw away the half-eaten joint and stood up.

Sheol's form flowed into that of a misshapen cat, then a pig, then finally back into a vaguely humanoid form again. She got to her feet, brushing down her gown with something resembling disdain.

"Those who can resist us."

Qeteb grunted. "How many?"

"Many."

"Where?"

"To the north."

Qeteb thought, and then smiled behind his iron mask. "Go," he said to her, and Sheol gurgled with happiness, and her form shifted yet again into that of a winged serpent, and she lifted (wriggled) into the air and disappeared into the raging winds of dust.