"That is not what Zoombee asked," warned Jayk.

An expression of relief flashed across Tessali's face. "Right you are." Now that he was confident the tiefling was not going to jump him from behind, he began to watch where he was walking. "To start with, nobody knows who the Lady of Pain is, but I can tell you she doesn't like the gods. They're always tiying to break into the city, and…"

Much of what Tessali says is mistaken, of course. Sigil's denizens understand me only slightly less than they comprehend the true nature of the multiverse, and that is little enough. Still, with only occasional prompting from Jayk, the elf tells what he knows, which I do not intend to share for fear of seeming deliberately misleading – whether or not I am – and soon the Thrasson understands me no better than those who abide in my crowded warrens.

All the while, they continue to walk, following that golden thread – a clever idea, that – deeper into the mazes. They pass a hundred dark passages, any one of which would lead them to the same place they are going, and round a hundred comers. Sometimes, they make a dozen turns in the same direction. They cannot understand how they fail to cross their own path, but never does that golden thread intersect itself, and always the confident Thrasson tells them they cannot trust their own senses – in that much, at least, he understands me better than any who call my twisting streets home.

Even now, I could peel the skin from his bones, make him repent for that beautiful prayer he spoke. Even now, I could deny the tiefling her One Death, bestow upon her an endless, aching immortality as miserable as my own. Even now, I could turn Tessali's gaze inward, show him the same darkness in his heart that he seeks so diligently in those of others. Even now, I could free Poseidon's net, pull back the hood of that black-cloaked helmsman and look into the eyes of the dark one who bought my bride's dark heart.

The time will come when I must. But now the walls have turned to iron around the Thrasson and his companions. The floors have changed to brick, the air has grown hot as forge smoke, and an orange glow has lit the dimness. Their throats have been filled with scorching ash, and each rasping breath has begun to scratch like crushed glass.

Off the main corridor opened a dozen dark passages, every one fresh with a damp, cool breeze, and still the thread did not turn. It ran straight down the lane between two scorching walls of orange-glowing iron. The Amnesian Hero stumbled forward at a trot, choking on each breath of blistering air and twining the golden thread around his own arm because that was the only way to take up line as fast as they were moving. The soft, squashing sound that came with every other step left no doubt that his foot was beginning to thaw, and he found himself wondering if he would be thirsty in the Paraelemental Plane of Ooze. He would have gladly given all the gold in his purse for that jug of wine he had smashed over the barbazu's head.

A tremendous rumble shook the corridor, crashing down from above with such force that the Amnesian Hero found himself lying facedown on the scorching bricks before he realized he had fallen. He pushed himself to his knees, then raised his eyes toward the heavens and saw a sheet of icy, pearl-colored marbles pouring out of the darkness. The balls struck with all the suddenness of an Abudrian Dragon's wing, slamming him back to the ground and drawing a pair of astonished outcries from his two companions.

The Thrasson bent an arm around to feel for the amphora. When he found it in one piece, he fought through the pounding hail and rose to his feet. The ice was falling at a steep angle, hammering at the walls ahead, turning to steam the instant it touched the hot iron and filling the air with a deafening, hissing roar. Even the pellets that struck the floor bounced once and melted before they came down again. A rusty, mordant-smelling fog was creeping upward, growing steadily redder and thicker.

The Amnesian Hero looked down to inspect his frozen foot Already, the orange fog was so thick he could not see his own ankle, but he did notice tendrils of silver steam rising from the vicinity of his toes.

"We must keep moving!" He started forward again, calling over his shoulder as he ran. "Are you still with me, Jayk?"

"But of course, Zoombee! Just keep shouting, so I do not lose you."

"Tessali?"

A slender hand grasped the Thrasson's shoulder.

"Stop!" Tessali jerked the Amnesian Hero to a halt. "We must… turn back!"

The Thrasson glanced over his shoulder and saw that the storm was much less severe behind them. "No."

He started forward again, only to feel the elf dragging on the amphora sling.

"This is madness!" Tessali jerked the Thrasson around. They could barely see each other through the battering white curtain. "You have… no idea where we're going. We've been walking for hours!"

"So it would seem, but time means nothing in a. maze." The Thrasson had to yell to make himself heard over the roar of the storm. "We must trust to the thread."

"Trust to the thread!" Tessali pointed at the massive tangle covering the Thrasson's left arm. "You have two leagues there. How much more thread could your spool hold?"

"As much as we need," the Amnesian Hero replied. "It has never run out."

Tessali shook his head. "That can't be. Don't you see? It's an illusion! One of the Lady's torments."

"Believe what you will. I have had this thread since long before I entered Sigil."

"You think you have, but it's a delusion." Although he too was yelling, Tessali's tone was patronizing and overly patient. "Please try to understand."

Jayk jerked the elf's hand away from the Thrasson. "No, you understand! You are in the land of barmies now, so you do what we say, not us as you say. Yes?"

To Tessali's credit, he managed to avoid flinching when he met the tiefling's diamond-eyed gaze. "I'm trying to help us all."

"You may turn back if you wish." As he spoke, the Amnesian Hero glanced at his feet. The orange fog was already waist-deep, but he still saw thick plumes of silver steam rising from his toes. "But trouble us no more. I haven't time to discuss the matter."

"Your foot, Zoombee?" Jayk shouldered past the elf, her shoulders hunched against the barrage of hailstones. "I can refreeze it."

The Amnesian Hero shook his head. "In this heat, I fear it would not be worth the trouble."

Tessali glanced at the silver steam rising from the Thrasson's toes. "I've noticed your limp. What's wrong?"

"I stepped in something called an ooze portal, and now my leg is turning to mud."

The elf furrowed his brow. "But if you escaped, you should be recovering-"

"Zoombee's foot was caught a very long time," Jayk said. "It had already changed when I froze the puddle."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tessali dropped to all fours and disappeared into the orange fog, then began tugging at the Amnesian Hero's leg.

The Thrasson jerked his foot away. "What are you doing?"

Tessali raised his head. "I am a healer."

"You are a tangler of minds!" Jayk corrected. She looked to the Amnesian Hero. "Don't trust him, Zoombee. He'll steal your thoughts."

"If I were going to do that, Jayk, wouldn't I want to work on the other end?" Tessali's face betrayed the pain of exposing the flat of his back to the hail, but he made no move to stand and escape the barrage. He looked back at the Amnesian Hero. "I'm only trying to stop the ooze. That way, we can make our decision without worrying about your foot"

"You cannot convince me to turn back, if that is the price of your help." The Amnesian Hero moved to step around the elf. "I would rather turn to mud than lose my way in these mazes."

Tessali raised a hand to stop the Thrasson. "It is not the way of the Bleak Cabal to place conditions on its help. We'll trust to the thread. Just let me do what I can."