Chainer heard a deafening boom, and he fell forward onto his knee. He struggled to keep the censer spinning and away from Skellum, but the old man seemed weightless as he kept his hand pressed tightly over Chainer's eyes. Angled as it was, the swinging censer should have been slamming into the stone floor by now, but it continued to spin freely.

"Keep your eyes closed. Stand up straight. Keep the censer spinning."

Chainer straightened his back and got the censer realigned. "I'm trying, damn it."

"Don't talk back. And keep your eyes shut." Skellum's hand came away from Chainer's face, and the young pupil did as he was told.

"What do you hear?" Skellum asked.

Chainer listened. "It sounds like we're outside or in a really big room. An empty one. Are we in the pits?"

"What do you smell?"

Chainer sniffed. "Dragon's Blood. And… dead trees? Mulch. Lamp oil. I don't know, a lot of things."

"What do you see? Keep your eyes closed."

"How can I-"

"Shut up, and tell me what you see. Now."

"We're on the salt flats," Chainer said instantly. "It's the dry season, so the ground is hard. There's been a fire recently, and all the vegetation is burned and black."

"What about the sky?"

"It's about to storm. It's midday, but there's no sun. The clouds are thick and heavy and dark. They want to rain. They're bursting with it, but they can't. All they can do is flash and rumble."

"Anyone here but us?"

Chainer focused all of his available senses on the space around him. "No one," he said.

"Keep the censer spinning. Open your eyes."

The sky was just as Chainer imagined it, but the landscape was all gray and jagged stone instead of black and ruined marsh. Skellum sat cross-legged on the ground to his left. His hat was in motion, but slowing. The spinning censer created a ten-foot ring of scented smoke with Chainer and Skellum safe in its center.

Outside the ring were a thousand slavering horrors. They crowded and jostled each other for the chance to peer directly into the protected circle. They produced an unholy chorus of snarls, growls, and shrieks as they jockeyed for position. Occasionally, one would lash out at its neighbor, and a vicious skirmish would break out, but there were too many of them to get a good melee going. Besides, they were far too busy drooling and leering at Chainer. They ignored Skellum.

"Welcome. These are my nightmares." Skellum said.

Chainer cleared his throat. An insectoid whose head was all compound eye and razor mandible was eyeing him hungrily.

"I've seen worse," he said.

"But not all at once," Skellum said. "And not all waiting here, just for you."

Chainer cleared his throat. "Okay. You've got me there." He spun the censer, and for the first time wondered how much longer he could keep it spinning.

"Master Skellum?"

"Yes, Chainer?"

"Forgive me, but… what in the Nine Hells is this place?"

Skellum smiled. "I just told you."

"But how did we get here?"

"I come here all the time."

"Okay. How did I get here?"

"I brought you. This is why I am Master Skellum. My path to this place is slow, but sure. I'm not very good in the pits without a partner, because I take too long to get going. But the creatures I produce are exceptionally stable and strong. And detailed, if I do say so myself. Look, there's my grendelkin." Skellum waved playfully at the elephantine beast prowling the perimeter of the censer's circle. "Also," his voice went serious, "I can take others with me when I come here."

"Other pupils."

"On occasion. And sometimes, people I just don't like."

Chainer was scanning the crush of monsters, picking out the ones he would most want beside him in the pits and least want to fight against.

"Will I be able to produce such creatures?"

Skellum laughed. "I expect so. But these are mine, created from my memories and my mind. Your dementia space is currently empty. Starting tomorrow, we begin to populate it."

"Now," Chainer said. "Take me there now."

Skellum scowled. "No. Tomorrow. It's dangerous enough in here, and I'm standing right next to you. If that chain stopped spinning, they'd attack us en masse without hesitation. I think I could make it out, but you'd be trapped here. Fighting forever in the darkest parts of my brain until I called you forth. And even then, you wouldn't be you. You'd be a shadow of the Chainer I knew and trained, real form without real substance. A puppet to my will."

"Then take me out of your space and into mine. If it's empty, it can't be-"

"Chainer," Skellum said sternly, "no. Trust your mentor, boy." He stood up, crouching to avoid the chain overhead, and moved behind his pupil. He covered the boy's eyes again.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, "and when I say so, start slowing the censer down and drawing it in. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Now."

The boom and the internal wrench were softer on Chainer this time. The horror's noises suddenly stopped, and Chainer felt the pressure around him change. He knew he was back in the pit facsimile inside Skellum's academy.

Skellum pulled his hand away. "Open your eyes and catch the censer." Chainer did, noting that the pewter cage was still cool to the touch, and that the smoke had tapered off to a few final wisps.

"Tomorrow," Skellum promised, and he threw his arm up and over Chainer's shoulder. Chainer took one step forward, and his legs buckled. He felt cold, dizzy, and on the verge of vomiting. He fell heavily against Skellum, who laughed as he propped his student up.

"It takes more out of you than you realize," Skellum said. "Especially at first." Skellum was physically stronger than he looked, Chainer thought, as his mentor half-dragged and half-carried him toward the door.

Before they reached it, someone knocked loudly and forcefully. "Master Skellum," a voice called. Skellum stood Chainer up and held him there with one hand while he opened the door with the other.

"Yes?"

One of the First's skull attendants was in the hallway, with the woman warrior who had admitted Chainer and Azza to the manor four months ago.

"Hello, Deidre," Skellum said to the woman. "Still on house duty, little sister?"

"Yes, Master Skellum," Deidre said. Then, over his shoulder, "Chainer."

Chainer feebly waved through half-lidded eyes and an exhausted smile.

"The First requires Master Skellum and the pupil Chainer in his chambers." The skull attendant's eyes were unfocused, and he spoke in a pathetic monotone that irritated Chainer. "Immediately."

Ambassador Laquatus soaked himself in a hot bath. He enjoyed the steam and the bubbles, but he always kept one eye on the timer next to the tub. Ocean-dwellers like himself were built to survive in the extreme cold of deep water, but they were not normally required to cope with high temperatures. To Laquatus, the sensation of a hot spa was worth the risk of being cooked alive if he stayed in too long. He prided himself on enjoying as many of the surface's unique luxuries as he could, even when they were potentially harmful.

He smiled, and corrected himself: especially when they were potentially harmful. In all the depths of the ocean and all the nations of the land, he was unique. There were no boundaries for one such as he, no limits except for the ones he himself imposed. In his legged form, Laquatus appeared remarkably human. He was six feet tall and handsome, with two small horns at his temples which he had capped in silver. He claimed the vestigial horns were a sign of his royal blood, as were his very light skin color and smooth, almost invisible scale texture. Without his ornate robes and his horns, Laquatus could easily pass for a normal air breather. On a whim, Laquatus switched from his legged form to his tailed one in a flurry of arcane blue light and sea spray. Now nearly nine feet long, he had to fold his lower half back over itself to fit in the spa. He gently flexed his muscles, his scales shimmering, and submerged for a difficult breath of hot water. Though he spent almost all of his time walking and talking with humans, he still needed to keep his skin moist at all times and to spend a few hours a week in his seagoing form.