"Catch." Chainer realized his mentor's hat had been spinning a split second before Skellum stopped a gap in front of his face. The vortex spat a small smoking comet toward Chainer. He yelped and reflexively snapped his hand out as if casting his chain.

To his surprise, a black chain did leap out of his empty hand. Its sharp, weighted end intercepted Skellum's casting before it could fully form. There was a small pop, an oily flash, and a foul smell.

Then Skellum was out of the chair and standing over him. Chainer had forgotten how fast the older man was. Chainer himself lie panting and helpless on the floor with his hands crossed defensively over his face.

"I give, Master, I give," he said. "What's going on? Why won't you talk to me? Where's the Mirari?"

"Kirtar of the Order has your precious Mirari," Skellum said. "A wild Krosan dragon came straight into the arena. There was a lot of noise and confusion. Kirtar and your barbarian friend stopped it, and the Master of the Games gave the Mirari to the bird-man as a reward."

Chainer absorbed this. "Kamahl let him take it? Is he all right?" "Kamahl was buried under a half-ton of dead dragon," Skellum said. "By the time he dug himself out, Kirtar was gone, with that pretentious mer ambassador trailing behind him like a scavenger. Do fish scavenge after birds, or is it the other way around? Never mind. Your barbarian friend was half a day behind. He took off after them as soon as we told him they had the sphere."

"I wanted him to have it," Chainer said absently. "The First said he would have won it."

"And he could well have, but now we'll never know. The Mirari is gone, the First is pleased, and we have work to do." He prodded Chainer roughly with the toe of his boot. "Get up."

"Ow. Why? Don't I get to sleep in after protecting the vault? Deidre and that monkey guy were killed, you know."

"I do know, and you did get to sleep after protecting the vault. You've been asleep since I brought you here three days ago." "Three days? It can't be."

"It is. You've slept long enough." He offered Chainer his hand, but his face was still stem and impatient.

Chainer carefully took Skellum's hand and stood unsteadily. "Master," he said, "have I done wrong?"

"Wrong?" Skellum jerked his hand away and shoved Chainer back onto his bed. The younger man clawed helplessly at the air as he fell. He had never heard Skellum raise his voice in anger before. "You abandoned an assignment given to you by the First himself. You used the dementia exercise I expressly told you not to use. You killed three more members of the Order after the First and I both forbade you to do so, and you killed them using a spell that you never told your mentor you knew how to perform."

Chainer waited. Skellum would often browbeat him before praising him, but this was different. Chainer didn't think Skellum was going to break into a smile and laugh off these indiscretions any time soon.

"This isn't a game, Chainer. Games take place in the pits. Games have rules, they have winners and losers. People watch games for amusement. What you did, what I do-what all dementists do-it's not like anything else. You can't dabble in it. You can't polish it and put it in your weapons rack at the end of the day. Dementia space is alive. It interacts with you, it changes you. It shapes you just as surely as you shape it."

"Master-"

"Be silent. The First thinks I'm too careful with you. I don't know what you think, and I don't much care."

"Mast-"

"Be silent! I have trained scores of casters and potential dementists. The vast majority-" he tapped his temple with all five fingers brought to a point- "are gone. They only appear to be here in Cabal City with the rest of us. In reality, they only visit us occasionally. The rest of their time is spent raving, or meditating, or drooling quietly in a darkened room while they run wild in their own dementia space. Do you understand me at all, Chainer? What we do breaks minds. And the sad fact is that a broken mind won't stop you from being an excellent dementia caster. In fact, it often helps."

"But I," Skellum's voice softened slightly, "want you lucid. I want you to be a full-fledged dementist. There is far too much in this world to be enjoyed, and madness tends to water down some of life's strongest flavors. I would rather have you here, in this world, sharing a good meal and a good show while we both serve the Cabal. Not lost in the world within, constantly building monsters so you can surround yourself with them."

Skellum bent his face over Chainer's, and his voice dropped to a terse whisper. "The First also wants you lucid, for his own reasons.

You and I both serve the First, we both serve the Cabal, but that doesn't mean we can't also serve ourselves."

Chainer shut his eyes tightly, then reopened them. "I'm sorry, Master. I don't understand."

Skellum's voice grew stern again. "That is why you should listen to me and follow my instructions."

"I will, Master. I swear it." Chainer offered his hand up to Skel-lum. "Help me to succeed. Give me your instructions. I will not disappoint you again."

Skellum continued to stare at Chainer, sighed, and finally took his pupil's hand. "I am not disappointed, Chainer. I am annoyed by your disobedience. And I am concerned for your safety." He pulled Chainer into a sitting position, took hold of his other hand, and hauled the younger man to his feet. "Now come with me. I told you before, we have a lot of work to do."

Chainer stood, flexing his knees and ankles. The feeling was coming back into his extremities, and the pain was fading from his eyes and throat.

"I think I'm ready, Master. Where are we going?"

"To the pits. Gather your weapons."

Chainer stiffly bent and gathered up the dagger and censer. "I may be slow on the staircase, but I think I can-"

"We're not going to the pit mock-up in the basement. We are going to the pits in the arena."

"Really? What for?"

Skellum's eyes narrowed. "Because the First wishes it. And also, to prove a point."

Chainer stood in the empty pits, whirling the smoking censer around his head. As before, Skellum sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him with his hat also spinning.

"Remember how you got there last time," Skellum said. "Without me, I might add. You must take us there. I'm visiting your dementia space this time, not the other way around."

Chainer concentrated behind his closed eyes. The image was still there: the black sand, the endless desert, the red sea pouring from the mustard sky.

"My eyes are closed, too." Skellum sounded petulant. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost," Chainer said. He felt gravity shift beneath him, but he kept his balance. He opened his eyes. "We're here," he said.

The scene was almost exactly as Chainer remembered it. The only major difference was that the inland sea was now half-full, and the rush of red from the hole in the sky had dropped off to a steady stream. He turned proudly to Skellum, but his mentor was staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the vista.

"Kuberr's fortune," he whispered. "Chainer, is this what you saw in the hallway?"

"Yes, Master." Chainer's body was still getting used to swinging the censer, but he had already worked out the best stance to take while spinning it. He adjusted his footing and raised his chain arm higher, trying to minimize the tension on his shoulder.

"Chainer?"

"Yes, Master?" Now Chainer adjusted his grip on the chain. He would probably need to start wearing a thick leather glove again, as he had when he first started learning the weapon. Minat had told him to be careful about letting calluses get too thick or they could throw off the feel of the chain and make you lose your grip.