Now they'd had forty-odd years to breed back to pre- Gorgrael numbers. Axis shuddered, remembering the nests that he and Azhure had discovered under the ruins of Hsingard. A breeding pair could lay hundreds of eggs per year. No doubt the northern tundra was now riddled with Skraelings.

And now they didn't even have the Alaunt, or the Wolven, let alone their magic.

What Axis wouldn't give for just one of Azhure's Moonwildflowers drifting down from the night skies!

He shook himself out of his memories and his regrets. There was far too much to do without wasting time in fears, as warranted as they were.

Urbeth had told him that the populations of Sanctuary, in escaping to the frozen tundra, would not need to survive very long before they would have a permanent shelter arranged.

"What kind of shelter?" Axis had asked, and Urbeth — back in her ursine form by this stage — had grinned and slouched off.

And what was "not very long"?

Axis sighed again, and turned back to his task.

Himself, Zared, Theod, Herme, WingRidge and Gustus, Zared's lieutenant, were deep within Sanctuary's main stores complex. Until an hour ago they had not known where this complex existed, but when Axis voiced a wish to see what stores Sanctuary contained, a corridor and a flight of stairs leading down into a series of massive stone-vaulted chambers appeared.

And these chambers were packed with stores. Food, clothing, blankets, medical supplies. All was here ... except...

"What would be more than useful," Zared said to Axis as they began the tiring task of inventory (which, if truth be told, Axis had delegated to the Lake Guard, but someone had to supervise the procedure), "is a few hundred carts with which to transport them."

And precisely at that moment, FeatherGrip, a Lake Guardsman, shouted from twenty-odd paces away: "StarMan! There's a series of chambers here filled with carts!"

Axis glanced at Zared and Theod, grinned, and added, "Equipped with sleigh runners for their easier movement across the snow and ice would be nice."

"And they've got sleigh runners fitted over their wheels as well!" came FeatherGrip's voice.

"Anything else we need?" Axis said quietly. "I do not think that Sanctuary will deny us a single quilt, if we ask it."

"I'll make a list," Theod said, "once WingRidge can tell me the precise numbers we've got in Sanctuary."

"Don't forget to put millipede food down," Zared said, grinning. "As well as starling fodder, seal snacks, and Bogle Marsh creature dinners."

Theod rolled his eyes, and walked away.

Zared's grin faded. "How long do we have? The logistics of the situation, the help of Sanctuary notwithstanding, are beyond a nightmare."

Axis stared into the distance of the underground vaults. "I have no idea, Zared. It could be two hours, it could be two weeks."

Pray gods that it's the latter, Zared thought, for we would never save more than ten percent of the peoples and creatures in Sanctuary if we only have two hours.

Roxiah, still naked, and delighting in that nakedness, stood before Sigholt — legs apart, arms wide, head thrown back and eyes closed.

Inside its body, the Rox foetus was exploring the Enemy's power contained within Niah's flesh.

So many thousands of years — so many tens of thousands of years! — had the Enemy denied them, and toyed with them, and made them scamper across half the universe, and now the Enemy's power was theirs\

Or mine alone, if I work this well, thought the infant Rox deep inside its developing brain cells, but, like most foetuses, it was patient, and was content that it should, for the moment, work its master's will.

And so it was doing: Roxiah was employing the Enemy's power to destroy Sigholt, stone by stone.

For thousands of years Sigholt had stood, a bastion of magic by its magical lake. It had laughed with its companion bridge, frowned at the mistakes of the Icarii and human alike who had lived within it, overseen the conception of Axis StarMan atop its roof (ah! the day that StarDrifter had spiralled down from the skies to seduce Rivkah!), witnessed the birth of Caelum, and tended — as much as it was able

— the growing SunSoar brood.

Now, Sigholt was dying.

Noisily.

Sigholt did not so much scream in its dying, as it wailed. Its wails crept up and down the scale, a dirge to mourn its own passing, as well a melancholy lullaby to croon Tencendor through its prolonged dying.

Sigholt's incessant wailing was annoying the Demons hugely.

Qeteb, as did Sheol, Raspu, Mot and Barzula, strode up and down behind Roxiah, screaming abuse at Sigholt, shaking fists and exposing various bits of their anatomy as their anger took them. As each stone tumbled down, and Sigholt's wailing continued, the Demons grew more irked, their curses more foul, their exposings more puerile.

Why couldn't the cursed thing just collapse!

Finally, after hours of wailing, Sigholt obliged them. It had resisted Roxiah's destruction to a point where it just gave up: it was too tired, it had seen too much in its long life, and resisting Roxiah's power was, in the end, futile.

Besides, Sigholt knew that something better awaited. The Field of Flowers.

So it decided to just collapse. Implode. Create a mess.

The roar of collapsing masonry enveloped the Demons an instant after the dust and shrapnel of Sigholt's self-destruction struck them.

In a heartbeat the Demons' curses turned to gut-wrenching coughing as they struggled as far away from the rubble as they could.

Behind them, the rubble sighed, and passed on.

Qeteb finally managed to get his breath, and spit out all the black grime that had found its way down into his throat and lungs, and pick out the shards of rock from his anatomy.

"Spiredore!" he said. "Spiredore is next! Destroy the means of movement for the StarSon and his ineffectual helpers and for those cowering ants in Sanctuary, and we have them!"

"And after Spiredore?" Sheol said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Qeteb glanced at her distastefully. "Then? Then Sanctuary. We will be there by the morning."

Sheol smiled.

StarDrifter threw open the door to WolfStar's chamber — the single Lake Guardsman on duty outside had been no match for StarDrifter's fury — and confronted the Enchanter.

WolfStar was alone in his sick chamber, sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his chest carefully with one arm as he coughed into a snowy cloth.

He looked at the cloth carefully — good, no blood — before he looked up.

"Well, well," he said softly. "If it isn't StarDrifter come to offer me his good wishes for my recovery

—"