Veza looked at the ghastly display, then Burke's expressionless face, then Laquatus's confident smile.

"If the chasm has a hidden value," she said, "I can help you secure it."

"Excellent." Laquatus extended his hands, and Veza rose to take them. "We should begin at once."

Skellum made the short walk from the manor to the academy. He was looking forward to his dinner, but he was looking forward to the shikar with Chainer even more. He had trained dozens of young Ca-.balists, one at a time, and he was usually somewhat melancholy at this stage of the program. The vast majority of his students never went on shikar. Instead, they were hurled into the pits as soon as they could reliably create monsters, an arrangement that served the Cabal's needs for warm bodies in the pits far better than it served Skellum's perfectionist nature. Chainer, however, would be his crowning achievement as a Master Dementist.

The First had meddled, as he always did, but Skellum knew that in this case the First's interest was well justified. He had something special in mind for Chainer from the very beginning, and though Skellum could only guess at what that might be, he was proud to have been a part of it. He was proud of his student, proud of his program, and proud of himself.

The Master of the Games was waiting outside of Skellum's office with a fixer Skellum recognized as Louche and a pair of hulking stalkers.

"The Cabal is here," Skellum called.

"Do you recognize this seal?" The Master of the Games stiffly handed Skellum a scroll with an ornate wax seal on it.

"It's from the First."

"Read it, please."

Skellum took the scroll and scanned it. It was a short statement, and it didn't take him long. He read it twice, then looked up at the Master of the Games.

"Is this a joke?"

"No joke, Master Skellum. The First has requested you to take your student's place in the pits this evening."

"But I'm not a-"

"He knew you would understand."

Skellum's ire began to rise, and the Master of the Games took a step back.

"I will see the First now," Skellum said. He looked up at the stalkers, one a saber-toothed ogre and the other a half-zombified merman with three crushing octopus tentacles on each shoulder instead of arms. The ogre, still alive and alert, took a step back from the smaller man's glare.

"Very well," said the Master of the Games, and she hurled a handful of grayish powder in Skellum's face. His hat blocked most of it, but enough got through to cover his eyes and clog his nose and throat. Skellum swooned but did not fall. With his cape wrapped around his arm, he took two staggering steps forward, as elegantly as he could, and pressed his back against the wall. Then he slid to the floor, unconscious.

"Forgive me, Master Skellum." The First stood alone in his private chambers, surrounded by black candles. Skellum straightened his cape and got to his feet.

"I'm afraid I really must insist," the First was saying. "You must trust in me. This will be for the best."

"But I've done nothing wrong. I've been a valued and loyal servant all my life."

The First came forward. "And you shall remain so, even after death."

Skellum looked around the darkened room. It was far too lonely and silent without all the guards and attendants.

"Pater," he said. "I don't understand."

"You don't have to, my son. I do." The First offered his hand to Skellum, and the dementist recoiled.

"Go ahead," the First urged. "None of this is real, and no harm can come to you."

"Pater, I-"

"Take my hand, Cybariss."

Skellum woodenly stepped forward and took hold of the First's cold, gray fingers. There was no pain. There was no stench. None of the things that were rumored to occur when someone touched the First happened.

"You see?" The First smiled. He pulled Skellum in close in a full, two-armed hug.

"Go now," the First whispered. "Obey me. Honor the Cabal, and serve Kuberr."

"I will, Pater."

"Outstanding."

The First released his hand, and Skellum fell back, into a soft, silent void of darkness and mist.

"Master Skellum."

Skellum opened his eyes. Louche, the Master of the Games, and the stalkers were looming over him.

"Are you ready to go now?"

"I am," Skellum said. He gave his hat a test spin and gracefully rose to his feet. He brushed a few imaginary bits of fluff from his cape as they led him out the front door and back toward the pits, keeping his head high, his eyes clear, and his pace measured. He was determined that no one who saw him would have the slightest idea that he was a prisoner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, making his triumphant return to the Cabal City pits… Master Skellum!"

Skellum stood alone in the pits. At least they hadn't called him "caster."

"Joining Skellum, and fresh from her recent tour of the deepest parts of the Mer empire… Caster Fulla!"

The crowd cheered and hooted as Fulla stalked angrily out onto the pit floor. Skellum knew her, of course. She was one of the best casters ever to take the floor, but they moved in different circles, and he had rarely interacted with her. By reputation, she was either manic from the joy of battle, or she was playful like a mischievous child. Today, she just seemed annoyed.

"Skellum?" she said.

"Fulla."

"What in nine hells is going on? I wasn't scheduled to go back in the pits until tomorrow."

"It seems we have been chosen to throw this match with the Order."

Fulla scowled. "The First is wise. But I thought you didn't do this sort of thing."

"I don't." Skellum spun his hat as the announcer introduced the competition.

"… and their opponents, here to expose the Cabal's weakness and corruption… and in the process, earn a slot in the upcoming Mirari games, I present Major Teroh, Sergeant Baankis, and Justicar Gobal of the Order!"

The crowd booed, and Skellum blinked behind his spinning hat. "Did he say 'Baankis?' "

"Who cares? I just want to get this over with." She drew her sword, ran her thumb along its edge, and said, "Say, what's a jus-ticar?"

"Tonight, the Order team will be joined by Yewma the druid and her mandrill wolf-monkeys. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, place your bets."

Skellum noticed that Fulla's wide eyes were such a light shade of blue that they almost seemed white. Then he realized she had asked him a question, and he glanced across the pit at the Order team. He recognized Teroh and Baankis, despite the thin beard Baankis had grown and the new insignia on his robes. The justicar stood ramrod straight on Baankis's left. He was a tall, muscular, partially armored figure whose face was hidden behind a gleaming helm and visor. Yewma was tall and wiry and carried a gnarled staff made of what appeared to be an entire sapling with the roots trimmed off. She wore the roots wound tightly around each forearm like a pair of wooden gauntlets. Yewma stood next to a large wooden box that had small, barred windows on each side. The box shook and rattled as the creatures inside jostled one another and screamed.

"I don't know what a justicar is," Skellum said, "but it looks kind of like a knight."

The prep horn sounded after the announcer's final word, and Skellum spun his hat again. He achieved a dementia trance by juxtaposing images of the world around him with the darkness provided by his hat. Then he projected his own internal landscape onto the darkness and spun the hat faster until the world within merged with the world without. When that happened, his head became an actual doorway through which he could release his monsters.