"Now you are becoming like Silverwind. Your imagination has taken the place of your wits."

"Then put my imagination to rest." Theseus stretched his hand out. "Let me see the parchment."

Karfhud jerked the skin away, orange flames flickering in his maroon eyes. "No one may touch my maps!"

Theseus's rage welled up, burning like bile in his throat. Had he not known the hilt would slip from his grasp the instant he raised his sword, he would have rushed the fiend and attacked. The Thrasson fixed his eye on the two yellow pods still hanging from the fiend's body, contemplating whether to take what vengeance he could. When he looked down at his own body and saw the mass of husks hanging from it, however, he decided that it might be wiser to forego the reprisal. Simply hurting Karfhud would neither avenge Tessali nor bring him back

"A wise choice." Karfhud stepped forward and glared down at the Thrasson. "I am certain we could cause each other a great deal of pain and never violate our oaths, but that would neither save Tessali nor help you recover your memories."

Theseus scowled. "Are you saying-"

"Yes." Karfhud raised his map. "I have found Sheba's den."

"And Tessali is inside? Alive?"

The fiend shrugged. "I would be lying if I claimed to have looked inside. But I saw no sign of him elsewhere – and this is not his." Karfhud waved his new parchment. "But I do feel certain the monster has your amphora. That memory I gave you slipped free of her den as she entered it."

Theseus regarded the tanar'ri cautiously. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"You are the only one who has ever thought of tricks between us," countered Karfhud.

"I have no way of knowing that." Theseus was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll go with you after you tell me why you want to attack Sheba."

Karfhud shook his parchment at Theseus. "Because I need time to complete these!" The fiend's voice was almost fanatical. "And, until she is scattered to the four comers of the mazes, I will not have it."

"That, I can see already. But surely you have found a way out of the mazes by now?"

"Of course. Do you think no one in the Abyss has called my name in these many thousand years?"

"Then why haven't you answered their summons?" Theseus asked. "What can be so important about completing the maps?"

The fiend looked away. "You would do better to worry about finding your own meaning." He folded his arms, then slumped to the floor. "But if you will not go until I answer that question, we will wait here. It makes no difference to me. Sheba will come for us eventually – when she has done with her other prey."

A cold tremor ran down Theseus's limbs, then he suddenly felt tight in the chest and more than a little sick to his stomach. He had experienced such sensations a few times before, often enough to recognize them as symptoms of a deep, visceral emotion few men could truly control.

"You are frightened?" Karfhud gasped. "Of the monster?"

"Terrified," Theseus admitted. It was the husks, he realized, that truly frightened him. He had faced death more times than he could recall without flinching, but the mere memory of the last time his pods had burst was enough to make him go weak in the knees. He clenched his teeth and motioned Karfhud to stand. "Let's get this done."

Battered as he was, the fiend leapt to his feet as graces fully as an acrobat. "I have always said the gods hate a coward." He glanced around the tunnel, then added, "Though I suppose that hardly matters here."

Karfhud unfurled his map and started down the corridor, his muzzle twisting into an anxious.grin. As the tanar'ri pushed past, Theseus tried to sneak a closer look at the parchment. He saw nothing but a section of straight line and a string of fresh gristle.

"What about Silverwind?"

Karfhud did not even look up. "If you want to save Tessali, I suggest we waste no time looking for the bariaur."

Trying not to think about what he could not do if the fiend's reply meant what he thought it did, Theseus followed Karfhud through a long, winding array of cavern passages. Every now and again, the tanar'ri would stop at an intersection to twist his map this way and that and mutter to himself. Most of the time, he barely looked up as he rounded comer after corner and strode one dank tunnel after another. The Thrasson made little effort to keep track of where they were going; even if he somehow found his way back to the whirlpool later, he would have no way to climb up the water spout – and no idea where to go even if he reached the flooded garden.

Theseus spent much of the walk trying to puzzle out what Karfhud was looking for. The fiend wanted to complete the seemingly impossible task of mapping the ever-expanding mazes, yet he claimed his escape did not depend on success. Only one thing would elicit such devotion from a tanar'ri: power. But how? Was he trying to map a route for an invasion force? Were the mazes somehow tied to the countless number of portals that connected Sigil to the rest of the multiverce? The Thrasson puffed out a breath of exasperation; the mere fact that Karfhud had not complained about his line of thought meant he was not even close to the truth.

"Of course, my silence could also be misleading." Karfhud looked up from his map and sneered at the Thrasson. "But I doubt it. You would spend your time better worrying about yourself."

"My thanks for the advice." Theseus nearly gagged as he spoke. Though he had noticed the stench of rotten flesh growing steadily stronger as they advanced into the warren, he had not expected to actually taste the stuff when he opened his mouth. "But we both know what I'm looking for."

Karfhud raised his pleated brow. "Do we?"

The fiend turned down a crooked corridor, leaving Theseus to contemplate his question. The Thrasson could not imagine what he might possibly discover in the mazes that he would not stand a better chance of finding back in Arborea. Despite what Karfhud had said in the swamp, it seemed to him he could only be searching for his memories. Better than anyone, the Thrasson knew that someone without a past was a hollow crust, a brittle shell of habit laid over a skeleton of animal instinct.

Karfhud bent his arm back at that impossible angle, stuffing his map into his satchel, then pointed at the floor ahead. Across the gray stone lay a carpet of bones, some old and powdery, some with smears of blood and bits of sinew still clinging to the joints – though none looked fresh enough to have provided the fiend's new parchment. Theseus flushed, and his stomach began to writhe. The dank air grew unbearably close, whether because of the horrid stench or because of his own mounting fear, he could not say. To be rid of the clinging mass of husks, he would have peeled off his own skin. Only the thought that they would burst prevented him from trying.

"Can you do this thing?" Karfhud asked.

"If I can't, kill me here."

"If you cannot, I will not have the chance."

Carefully picking his way.through the bones, the fiend led Theseus to where a small fissure opened into the wall. Taking the crooked gap to be the entrance to Sheba's lair, the Thrasson slipped forward and peered into the cramped passage – then Karfhud quietly grasped his head and redirected his gaze up the passage.

About three paces ahead, the tunnel opened into a large, serpentine chamber coiled around an immense pillar of natural stone. The column was square and nearly as broad as a house, the top so high that it was lost in the vaulted darkness above. Aside from a mat of tangled bones strewn about its base, the shaft's only adornment was a decorative post carved into each of its comers. There was no entrance, at least on the two sides the Thrasson could see.

After allowing the Thrasson to inspect the battle arena, Karfhud waved a claw at the fissure. "Wait in there – with your sword sheathed; it would not do for Sheba to notice its light before you strike."