Without a moment's pause, Karfhud sloshed up the channel to the gate.

"A sinking palace." He ducked under the lintel and pushed forward. The silver waters drained from his battered wings as he ascended a submerged stairway. "How I wish we had time to map."

"There will be time later-after we slay Sheba." Silently, Theseus added, if you don't make me kill you, too.

"You are very confident of yourself." The tanar'ri reached the top of the stairway, where the water was only ankle deep, and stopped. "That is good-especially if we are to defeat her trap."

Karfhud flattened himself against the wall and motioned Theseus up beside him. Pressing tighter to the fiend's maze-blighted chest than he would have liked, the Thrasson squeezed into the opening and found himself staring down a narrow passage. The water was flowing away from him ever so gently, swirling over a layer of stone shards broken loose from the palace's ancient walls. The fog was thinner here. He could see a dozen paces down the corridor, to where a long pivoting gate stood edge-on in the center of a four-way junction. The Thrasson had stormed enough fortresses to recognize the ironclad gate as a manstile, designed to funnel attackers into a confusing labyrinth of side passages and deadly cross fire.

To one side of the manstile lay Silverwind, bloodied and motionless, save for his heaving ribs. Against the other side leaned the amphora. Sheba was lurking at the stile's far end, her matted bulk spilling past both sides of the thick gate. She was squirming restlessly, and she had a black-oozing circle where the Thrasson's blade had cleaved off her arm.

"She's trying to separate us."

Karfhud shook his head. "No doubt that would make her happy enough, but that is not what is in her mind. She is offering you a choice: the bariaur or the amphora." The fiend lowered his gaze and curled his muzzle up in a yellow-fanged sneer. "Now you must decide whether you are a hero. Will you choose your friend's life, or your lost memories?"

"Any man can choose; a hero takes both." Theseus scraped a handful of dark blood from one of the many scratches on Karfhud's body, then smeared it over his sword btede. "I'll rescue Silverwind. You retrieve the amphora."

A red gleam shot from Karfhud's beady eyes. "If you think to give me orders-"

Theseus squeezed past the fiend, at the same time striking a sharp blow to one of the golden husks dangling from the tanar'ri's blighted flank. The pod burst, spilling a stream of yellow ichor over the fiend's immense hip. Karfhud dropped to one knee, a long sizzle of pain hissing from between his lips.

"I don't want to waste time arguing." The Thrasson laid his hand on another of the yellow husks. "We are going-"

"Pain me all you wish," Karfhud growled. "If we separate, it will be as nothing to your suffering. Even lacking an arm, Sheba would flay you alive – and, were I to escape, I would do the same to your friends."

The fiend glared at the Thrasson's hand, but made no attempt to remove it. Theseus scowled. Could Sheba truly be so terrible that, even one-armed, she struck fear into the heart of a tanar'ri lord?

"Tanar'ri hearts do not fear." Karfhud slowly drew himself to his full height, then glanced down the passage. "If you have no care about your friend, then let us make use of him. If we do not retrieve the amphora before he dies, Sheba will change her mind about letting us take it."

"I will have both."

Theseus used his makeshift foot to feel under the water for a throwing stone, then shifted his sword to his left hand and took the rock in his right. Not so long ago, he would have wasted valuable time debating the honor of what he was about to do. He would have agonized over his obligation to Poseidon, asking himself if it had been discharged when the Lady of Pain chased his friends away from the amphora. He would have spent precious minutes wondering if she had meant to abandon the jar, and, if so, whether that gave him a right to its contents.

Now, the Thrasson simply assumed all those things.

"My friend, you are beginning to think like a tanar'ri," said Karfhud. If the fiend fostered any ill will over the pain Theseus had caused him earlier, his voice did not betray it. "I like that."

"Then I am certainly in danger of losing my honor."

Theseus turned and splashed down the corridor, Karfhud following close behind. They ran straight down the center of the passage, giving no hint as to which side of the stile they would choose.

As they drew near the gate, a bank of white fog began to rise about Sheba's ankles. She continued to squirm, but made no move to turn and watch them approach. Her restraint troubled the Thrasson; she was too cunning to think herself well hidden.

By the time Theseus closed to within a pace of the gate, the fog bank had risen as high as the monster's knees and was spilling into the rest of the passage. The Thrasson feigned a lunge for Silverwind, then abruptly danced back to the other side of the corridor. Karfhud, reading his mind as always, squeezed past to rush the bariaur's side of the stile. Sheba remained at the end of the gate.

The Thrasson whipped his throwing arm forward. The stone struck the amphora with a loud, hollow clunk, then disappeared through a jagged hole. A spray of tattered black ribbons and silky golden threads sprouted from the break, writhing and fluttering like a tangle of young snakes struggling from their brood den. Across the intersection, Sheba's matted flank still showed around the edge of the gate.

"By all the darkness!" Karfhud's curse was followed by a loud ripping sound, then a fiendish roar of pain. "She-"

The rest of the sentence was swallowed by a loud gurgling roar. Theseus gawked at the monster ahead, then saw that she still had not moved and began to realize what was happening. He started to round the gate to help Karfhud, then thought better of it and rushed forward into the intersection.

A tremendous knell reverberated through the gate as a heavy body slammed into it. Theseus reached the amphora, the bottom quarter now hidden in the rising fog. Tempted as he was to retrieve it and flee, he could not betray Karfhud. So far, the fiend had done exactly as he had pledged, and the Thrasson still had enough pride of honor that he would not lower himself beneath a tanar'ri. He settled for kicking the jar as he passed.

Instead of shattering, the sturdy vessel merely tipped over. A scrap of coarse black cloth rose from the new hole that Theseus's foot had opened and caught hold of his ankle. The Thrasson tried to shake the thing off, but the ribbon only tightened its hold and began to circle up his leg.

On the other side of the gate, the clamor of battle – the roaring and the hissing and the pounding-continued unabated. Theseus splashed out of the intersection, giving wide berth to the hulking gray shape writhing at the end of the stile. As he passed by, he saw that the figure was indeed Sheba – or rather, Sheba's snarled pelt. The hide was hanging from the gate, held in place by its own sticky fur, looking rather empty but still squirming. The eyes and mouth were empty voids, and the hole left by the loss of her arm had been carefully pinched shut.

Though the Thrasson knew what he would find inside, he did not pause to slice the thing open. Already, the air reeked with the brimstone stench of tanar'ri blood, and Karfhud's bellows sounded less angry than desperate. The last thing Theseus wanted was to battle the monster by himself.

The Thrasson rounded the stile at a sprint, then stumbled over a leathery mantle floating upon the water. He put a hand down to catch himself and saw that the thing was one of Karfhud's great wings. Save that it no longer hung upon the fiend's back, the appendage was remarkably intact.

A tremendous crash reverberated through the passage. Theseus looked up to see the huge tanar'ri lord being slammed into the gate by a slimy red… there was no way to describe the beast except as a thing. The creature had only one arm, was about the right size to be Sheba, and looked more or less bipedal-but any semblance to what they had been battling so far ended there. The thing was all raw tendon and muscle, with a web of black veins lacing its body and a skin of clear mucous membrane. Its entire figure pulsed with a rapid, strong-soft beat that seemed to set the air itself throbbing.