And so we fought amidst the machines, clambering over cogs, scalded by spurts of steam, playing cat-and-mouse around the slamming pistons. Rivi sat in her control room, mocking and jeering in the hope of goading me to a moment's inattention. I ignored her taunts and spoke only to Yasmin: «It's me, it's Britlin, can't you tell?» She couldn't be fooled forever, could she? Rivi's illusion would have to falter eventually; or Yasmin might figure it out on her own. Yasmin knew well enough that Rivi could play tricks on her mind, and if she thought everything through – how reluctantly I was fighting, how my clothes had the same unnatural protective quality as hers, how my words turned into babble as they came from my mouth…

Yes, in the long run, Yasmin would figure it out. The only question was whether she'd kill me first.

A furious gout of steam sprayed from a release-cock off to my right, blasting a mist of condensation over a large pressure dial on the side of a boiler. The dial's face was glass, and almost three feet in diameter – made big, I suppose, so even a short-sighted operator could see if the gauge hit the red. The fogged-over glass gave me an idea… an idea that almost killed me, as Yasmin took advantage of my momentary distraction to make a vicious hack at my throat. I dodged back by the narrowest of margins, so close her blade trimmed my beard; then I spurred myself into a flurry of offense, driving her back almost ten yards until I forced her to duck behind a camshaft for protection.

She braced herself, expected me to press the attack. I didn't; now that she was safely out of the way, I ran back to the steamed-up dial and wrote with my finger, I'M BRITLIN.

The letters were abysmally blurred, partly because I was writing as fast as a panicked rabbit, partly because condensation is not well-suited for calligraphy; but I squinched out my message in dripping script, then stood back, waiting for Yasmin to look at it. She came forward cautiously, fearful of tricks… and even after she'd read the words, I could see she was far from convinced: this was just the sort of deception Rivi might use to hoodwink a gullible enemy. Yasmin didn't lower her sword, and the look in her eye said she might start the fight again any second. For the moment, however, she wasn't trying to put me in the dead-book. That was all I could hope for.

The real Rivi, still on her cot at the rear of the control room, couldn't quite see the fogged-over dial from where she was sitting. Now she stood up and came forward to the spot where the controller would normally sit, a place with a clear line of sight to the gauge. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and she split the air with a screech of rage, so intense I swear I could feel it as tangible heat scorching the air. Yasmin gave a start, then turned her eyes in the direction of the scream. Her grip tightened on the butt of her sword, and she took a single step toward the control room.

«My, my,» I said to Yasmin, «looks like Rivi just fumbled her hold on you.»

«Hush,» Yasmin growled. «I'm fantasizing how lovely it will look to see fresh red blood on that scrawny white skin. A nice gingham effect.»

«Unfortunately, the control room door is locked.»

«I'll chew it open.»

«Don't – I like your smile.» Patting her on the shoulder, I whispered, «We have a way past locked doors as soon as he wakes up.»

«And what will Rivi do to us in the meantime?» Yasmin demanded. «Make us kill each other? Make us into her slaves? We can't afford to wait for Hezekiah…» She stopped for a second, then continued. «…to come and save us from this mind-raping slag who just gloats inside that unbreachable control room…»

Yasmin's voice grew louder with every word, but I wasn't listening to what she was saying, anymore than she was listening herself. She was simply talking, ranting to hold Rivi's attention; because in the moment that Yasmin had fallen silent, Hezekiah, Irene, and Miriam had materialized inside the control room, appearing silently behind Rivi's back. Yasmin had recovered her surprise quickly enough to continue her tirade… and in mere seconds, I expected big-knuckled Miriam to punch Rivi's face through a control panel.

I should have known better.

Miriam stepped forward stealthily, fists coming up to the ready; but Hezekiah, Clueless boy, had somehow talked Miriam into giving him the firewand she'd acquired at the Vertical Sea. He aimed it at Rivi now, and shouted, «Surrender or I'll shoot!»

Despite the rumble of machinery all around us, I could distinctly hear the sound of everyone cringing.

Miriam leapt forward anyway, hoping to scrag Rivi before the nasty wee albino had a chance to react. Unfortunately, Rivi's tantrum had run its course, and she was ready to cause more trouble. Before Miriam could land the first punch, Rivi lashed out a blast of psychic force so powerful it rippled the air. The bolt struck Miriam square in the face, so hard it knocked her to knees… but she got up again after a long count of three, moving as stiffly as something undead.

I didn't like the blank expression she wore.

«Surrender!» Hezekiah cried again. «I really mean it.»

Rivi laughed at him. «You're going to shoot me with a fireball, are you? In this tiny wee room? Do you know the damage fireballs make in such a confined space? You'd be fried to a crisp yourself.»

«Maybe I wouldn't mind frying to a crisp if I took you with me.» Keeping the wand trained on Rivi, the boy crouched beside the cot and tucked the grinders into his pockets. «Maybe I should just grab you and teleport you out where there's no air.»

«What a brave wee you!» Rivi jeered. «And in time, you might actually find the courage to do it. Pity you won't have the chance.»

She snapped her fingers and Miriam surged forward. Hezekiah could only stare in horror as the woman of his affections knocked the firewand out of his hand and threw him back against the wall. A moment later, she had pinioned his arms at the wrists, holding him as solid as granite despite his struggles to break free.

«You're such a trusting wee soul,» Rivi told the boy. «Miriam worked for me, you knew that. Do you think I'd put her on the payroll without a handle on her? Oh yes, her mind is almost entirely her own – it's a bore to make someone your abject slave, and it's tiring work too – but I left a wee seed of submission in the deepest cranny of her brain, just in case I needed it. Which means I win again.»

«No.»

The word came from Irene. She had picked up the firewand. She aimed it at Rivi.

«And who's this new addition to your merry band?» Rivi asked. «An wee orc maiden… how charming. Orc maiden, do you realize that I can crawl inside your mind and twist it around my finger?»

«You can't.» Irene took a step forward.

«You think I can't control two people at once?» Rivi said. «You're quite… quite…»

Irene took another step forward.

«Stop!» Rivi shouted.

Hezekiah, still held tightly by Miriam, let loose a nasty chuckle. «You're in trouble, Rivi. Uncle Toby says it's next to impossible to control people who are insa – …whose minds work in unusual ways. Their delus – …I mean, their special thoughts are like impenetrable labyrinths between you and their real selves.»

«Your Uncle Toby's a berk,» Rivi snapped. «Just because this old slag is barmy doesn't mean I can't…»

Irene took another step toward the albino. «My prince wants you to surrender. Surrender!»

«You can't fire that wand,» Rivi snarled. «You don't know the invocation.»

«I heard Miriam say the words,» Irene replied. «Back at the Vertical Sea. Surrender to my prince!»

«Never!»

I would have sworn Rivi couldn't conceal so much as a toothpick inside that sheer black gown of hers; but she crossed her arms so that each hand could reach into the opposite sleeve, and a second later, out popped two more firewands – twins to the one Irene held.