A scream tore through the air of the corridor, and DragonStar stared at Faraday, not understanding how she could have screamed so loudly and not opened her mouth.

He'd thought she'd been calming somewhat.

"Leagh!" Gwendylyr yelled, and DragonStar blinked and realised that it was not Faraday who had screamed at all.

Leagh had turned away, and was now rolling about on the floor of the corridor, as agonised as Faraday was, her arms wrapped about her belly, screaming and shrieking as if she was gripped by the final extremities of death.

StarLaughter turned away and rolled her eyes. Couldn't they manage a simple walk down a corridor without enduring some drama of epic proportions? Who had DragonStar gathered about him?

"Teh, tch," she muttered.

Qeteb's fist opened, and the corpse of the Mother dropped to the ground.

His fist shrank back to a more normal size.

Ur blinked, blinked again, and looked up, as if she had just woken from an afternoon slumber and was mildly disorientated by the encroaching scenes of death and destruction.

Qeteb stood, not two paces from her, a charming grin on his face.

The Mother's corpse lay huddled between them.

"Silly little woman," Qeteb said, pleasantly enough to Ur, "time to die."

He reached forward, both his fists now expanding.

Ur lifted her head, scented the air, and then roared.

Urbeth and her daughters bounded and leapt through the devastated landscape.

They grinned, for hunting lay ahead. The Mother was dead, and that was annoying, but the Hunt still went on, even if the earth screamed and died.

Qeteb flinched, and momentarily pulled back his fists, then he recollected himself. Silly woman, what was she doing, yelling like that?

He reached forward again. The Mother had been disgustingly easy. This one would be even —

Something sharp, heavy, and very, very painful hit him in the centre of his forehead.

He reeled back, blinking.

Ur sat back on her bench, replacing the heavy terracotta saucer on top of her pot.

None of the Demons had noticed that, as she'd struck Qeteb, her other hand had slipped something into the pot.

"Senile old nag!" Qeteb roared, shape-changing into a huge, nail-bristled boar.

He shook his tusks at Ur, his small, piggy eyes red and raging.

"Now that," Ur said quite calmly considering the circumstances, "is a little too infantile. Why

;

can't you meet me as a man?"

Qeteb's form flowed back into the fully armoured version of his being.

"Better?" he said, and Ur smiled happily.

"Oh, much," and from nowhere she produced a length of branch, tempered by the fires of the Demons' destruction, and began to belabour Qeteb about his helmeted head with it, all the while keeping her pot safely clutched under one arm.

The other four Demons circled in closer, but they nevertheless kept their distance, their eyes very carefully watching Qeteb.

Surely he should be able to handle this one, decrepit woman? Was he weak, then?

Ambitious plots began to hatch in each, individual Demonic head.

Was Qeteb ... vulnerable?

Qeteb roared, lifted his hands and tried to catch the branch.

But Ur was in her element, dancing about on suddenly nimble feet, cackling and crowing, the branch weaving through the air to escape Qeteb's clutching hands and thunder repeatedly against his metal head.

Qeteb suddenly had enough. In the blink of an eye he transformed into a tiny weasel, and he scuttled under Ur's robe, biting at her ankles.

Her cackles stopped, although her capering continued even more frantically, and she lowered the branch and struck about her legs, trying to catch the darting, annoying animal.

Suddenly she shrieked, and toppled to the ground (all the while falling so that she protected the pot), her skirts stained with blood.

The weasel poked its inquisitive (bloodied) head from underneath her hem, then wriggled free.

Qeteb assumed his armoured form again, and raised one metalled foot.

"Your belly," he snarled, "is never going to be quite the same again."

And his foot smashed down.

"The Mother is gone," Faraday whispered, her fingers to her throat. "Dead."

DragonStar lowered his face into a hand. Urbeth hadn't helped, then.

A pace or two away Leagh lay quiet. She was conscious, although very wan and weak, and Goldman and Gwendylyr both crouched by her side, frightened for her.

Leagh's hands were still clutched tight about her belly.

Gods, DragonStar thought, looking about the group. How are we supposed to defeat these Demons and bring Tencendor back to life?

A step at a time, he answered himself. A step at a time.

"StarLaughter," DragonStar said, rising. "If you and StarGrace have had such a change of heart, perhaps you can aid Faraday to walk to the chambers below."