O Nameless, said the Magister. A development has occurred.

A development?

There was a pause that lifted the hairs on the Magister’s neck. Then, hesitantly, he began to explain. How a parson of the Folk had acquired the Word in Communion with Elias Rede; how they had formed an alliance with the Faërie and were even now in pursuit of their enemy as he worked his way toward Netherworld-

But it’s all right, added the Magister hastily. Our agent has it under control. The enemy will be stopped in time. He will-

Be silent!

Another pause, during which all twelve members of the Council felt their thoughts being rifled by a presence immeasurably superior and entirely without compassion. Elsewhere in World’s End the ripples were felt: heads ached, stomachs griped, eyes crossed, and a sensation of icy rage swept through every member of the Order as its Founder searched-with increasing urgency-for the information It sought.

Half-seen images flickered through their minds-images that might be visions, prophecies, or dreams: a woman in wolf skin, a woman with two faces, a Hill that led to Netherworld, a girl…

I see him not. It is unclear. The Lands of Chaos cloud My sight-

The images stopped. Then came a moment of eerie calm…

I see him. Yes. And-

Now came another of those tantalizing images-

– a symbol written in dark red. They sensed it as a glyph of power, but even Magister 23 hesitated to identify it. The Nameless, however, was quick to react.

In a moment a sudden terrible blast tore through the minds of the Council of Twelve. Eleven of them collapsed outright; Magister 23 suffered a massive stroke and died on the spot, Magisters 73838 and 369 suffered permanent brain damage, and all the Council members developed gushing nosebleeds.

Trickery! hissed the Nameless. Trickery, incompetence, and lies!

Throughout the Order, people collapsed; heads ached and elderly Magisters lost bowel control as the Voice of the Nameless vented Its displeasure in full. Then It seemed to calm a little. Its fury ebbed from homicidal rage to a glacial lull.

Magister Number 262-the one member of the Council of Twelve who had remained conscious-pressed both hands to his spouting nose. What is it, O Nameless? he thought desperately. What does it mean?

There was a long, ominous silence. Then the Voice in his mind dropped to a purr.

It matters not, the Nameless said. I have planned for this too.

Once more the Magister shivered as the Nameless shuffled minds throughout the Order as if they were nothing more to It than a pack of cards. Images flickered into his mind, too many to identify: faces familiar and unfamiliar, landscapes from nightmare.

When it was over, the Voice spoke again, and this time It addressed the Magister by his true name.

Fortune Goodchild, It said, and every man in the Order heard his own true name spoken and shivered. Too long have you sat in comfort and complacency here in your fortress of World’s End. Too long have you nursed your little empire, forgetting who really rules the world. Now is the time to prove your loyalty. The Seer-folk have shown themselves at last. I knew they would; I feel their presence. The battleground is chosen, the lines drawn. We march today.

Today? whispered the Magister.

Do you have some criticism of My strategy, Fortune Goodchild? said the Nameless.

No, no, said Fortune hastily. Of course not, O Nameless. It’s simply-ah-it’s a month’s hard march to the valley of the Strond. By the time we get there-

We’re not going to the valley of the Strond.

Then where do we march? said the Magister, thinking, Oh, you fool, you had to ask.

The Nameless caught his thought, and for a second Fortune Goodchild cringed under the weight of Its terrible amusement.

Where else? It said. To Netherworld.

10

“Your son?” said Maddy. “Gods, Loki, is there anyone here you’re not related to?”

Loki gave a sigh. “You know, I was once…involved…with a demon called Angrboda. She was a changeling, a child of Chaos, and she liked to experiment. The results were sometimes-exotic, that’s all.”

The giant snake flexed its jaws. It smelled worse than anything Maddy had ever encountered before: a leaden stench of venom, oil, and charnel house. Its eyes were like pockets of tar, its body as thick as a man’s.

Legend had it that the World Serpent was once so large that only the One Sea could contain it and that it had grown to encircle the Middle World, moving down toward Yggdrasil to feed upon its roots. In fact, it was smaller, but it was still the largest snake that Maddy had ever seen, and there was a disquieting intelligence in those evil eyes.

“It looks as if it understands,” she said.

“Well, of course he understands,” said Loki. “You don’t think they’d leave a stupid creature to guard me, do you?”

“To guard you?” said Maddy. “Do you mean when you were a prisoner here?”

“Quick, aren’t you?” said Loki irritably. “We’ve got forty-eight minutes left,” he said, reading from the deathwatch Hel had given him, “and if I have to go through every little detail a dozen times-”

“All right, I’m sorry,” said Maddy. “It’s just that-if it’s your son, then why-?”

“That’s just their idea of humor,” said Loki. “To have me tormented by my own son-not that I was much of a father, I’m afraid-”

Once more the World Serpent flexed its jaws.

“Oh, do shut up,” Loki told it. “I’m back here now.” He turned to Maddy. “His coils go all the way down to the river Dream,” he said, indicating the snake’s long body. “Haven’t you ever dreamed of snakes? Yes? That was Jormungand, or some Aspect of him, slithering through the dreamworld into your mind. That’s how with his help I reached the river and made my escape, in my fiery Aspect, into Dream and from there, at last, into living flesh.”

“The snake doesn’t seem too pleased about it,” said Maddy.

“Yes. Well. I…” Loki looked embarrassed. “I believe he’s annoyed because-well-I promised I’d free him when I made my escape.”

“Free him?” said Maddy. “But I thought you said he was guarding you.”

“That’s the clever bit,” said Loki. “Remember, all this is a fortress of dreams. Nothing in Netherworld has a definite shape; everything you see comes from the minds that are imprisoned here. That includes our friend…” Loki indicated the World Serpent. “Now, you and I both know that I’m not fond of snakes. And this being Netherworld, and nightmares being more or less coin of the realm, what could be more natural than to appoint a snake-and not just any snake, but the World Serpent-as my guard? And so, in a way, I brought him here-or at least I summoned this Aspect of him. And until I free it-back into the real world-then he’s just another prisoner. Here forever. Just like the rest of them.”

As he spoke, the snake gave a louder hiss, and droplets of venom clouded the air.

“Oh, stop it,” said Loki. “I mean, did you really think I was going to let you loose after what happened last time? Last time,” he told Maddy, “not only did he change the tides of the One Sea, flood the Middle World, swallow the Thunderer, hammer and all, but by the time they got him under control, the whole Nine Worlds were full of his wormholes, with the armies of Chaos passing through like mice through a piece of Ridings cheese…” He leveled his devastating smile at the World Serpent. “Still, Jormungand, old son,” he said brightly. “Or can I call you Jorgi for short? I like Jorgi. It sounds cheerful and unthreatening. Friendly, even. What do you say?”

Across the dizzy space that separated them, the World Serpent spat a stream of venom that missed Loki but took a chunk out of the rock wall.