“You, robot!” Thaddeus called. “Get this thing off me!” He held out his arm with Bredon dangling from it like a sloth in a tree.

Bredon, however, was no sloth. He kicked out hard and caught Thaddeus in the gut. The immortal folded up, and they both went down. Bredon's death-grip on Thaddeus's wrist threw them off-balance, and both hit the floor hard, head-first.

The machine Bredon had ridden reached out a long steel arm, wrapped it around Bredon's waist, and plucked the dazed short-lifer off the equally dazed Thaddeus. Bredon, however, still kept his grip on the immortal's wrist.

“Let go!” Thaddeus shouted.

Bredon did not bother answering. He clung remorselessly. The machine lifted him up, extending its arm until his feet dangled half a meter off the floor. Bredon still held on, dragging Thaddeus back up onto his knees in the process.

The machine began shaking Bredon.

He held on, unthinking, as he fought off the effects of the fall. His head cleared somewhat, despite the shaking, and he realized what was happening to him.

“Ka nama kaa lajerama!” he called when he had gathered his wits. “Put me down!"

He felt the arm start to loosen and added, “Gently!"

The machine obeyed promptly, but as the metal arm lowered Bredon, Thaddeus reached up and grabbed Bredon's own wrist.

His grip was inhumanly strong. Bredon had forgotten that the Powers augmented their own muscles directly, as well as through the various serving machines they commanded. He felt Thaddeus's hand tightening steadily on his wrist, cutting off the circulation, straining the very bones.

He released his own hold, gambling that Thaddeus would be more interested in freeing himself than in crushing his attacker's wrist.

He won his gamble; Thaddeus, too, let go, and pulled free. By the time the robot had released Bredon completely Thaddeus was back on his feet and running for the open door, apparently not interested in unarmed combat with his opponent.

Bredon brushed himself off and looked after the fleeing figure.

Thaddeus had already turned a corner and was out of sight. He knew the fortress maze infinitely better than Bredon did, and with his modified body he was almost certainly faster than Bredon. He was also far stronger, and Bredon had no weapons.

And of course, he was a meter taller than Bredon, and built proportionately. Even without any modification, he would have been far stronger and heavier than Bredon.

Pursuit, Bredon decided, would be really stupid. He, Bredon, had control of the war room, and with that he was fairly certain he could handle Thaddeus. Thaddeus could still command any of his machines that he ran into, of course-until Bredon gave Aulden's overriding password, anyway.

Thaddeus was still a very real threat, and would have to be dealt with.

Running after him, though, was not the way to do it. Instead, Bredon crossed to the console where Thaddeus had been standing and began studying the controls.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Everything of value beneath the surface of the world belongs to Gold the Delver. His is the hand that placed jewels in the rocks, and precious metals in the earth. When we find caves that seem to lead nowhere, these are but the abandoned back rooms of his endless caverns, closed off because he had no more use for them…"

– from the tales of Kithen the Storyteller

“Thaddeus?” Geste called uncertainly, peering about at the blank grey walls. “Are you there?"

No one answered. Nothing changed. He was still alone in the room, with only the gleaming mirrored sphere of the stasis field, and the little black floater still bumping against it, for company.

Something had happened to Thaddeus. That was obvious. Furthermore, Geste had a pretty good idea what it might be that had happened. Bredon, he guessed, must have freed the others somehow, and now they were all at the war room, turning the tables on their captor, keeping Thaddeus too busy to bother with anything else.

Thaddeus would still have control of all the fortress machines, though. Geste had kept in touch with his machines for as long as he could before entering the jamming fields in the Fortress, and he knew that the various attempts at sabotage had virtually all been useless. Only a handful of peripheral machines and software had been damaged. Aulden might be able to commandeer some sort of weapons, but Geste guessed the fight would be a close one, with Thaddeus's control of the fortress more than compensating for the superior numbers of his attackers, particularly since he had removed so much of their personal equipment.

And Thaddeus might have already dispatched his torture machines before the attack came. They could well be on their way to where Geste waited.

He was not entirely defenseless, of course; he had a weapon. He had the stasis field generator.

But that was in use. It could only create one field at a time. He could only use it against the original Thaddeus, or against Thaddeus's machines, if he released the Thaddeus clone.

If he turned off the field, though, what would happen to the body within? Would Thaddeus return to it?

From the description Thaddeus had given of how it worked, Geste thought not. He risked it; he pushed the control.

The gleaming bubble vanished. The triangular floater zipped into position with its drink, and the clone slumped forward in his seat, comatose. The chair reshaped itself quickly to keep him from tumbling to the floor, and he hung there, motionless.

Watching closely for any sign of life, Geste rose and walked to the door, his every sense alert. His slippered feet seemed loud in the silence.

Nothing happened. The clone stayed awkwardly slumped. The floater waited patiently for someone to take the drink.

Geste reached out, and the door slid open. Thaddeus had not ordered it to stay closed.

The Trickster stepped out into the corridor, relieved, and turned back toward where the others had been held prisoner. He did not expect to find them there, but had no idea where else to go, and thought they might have left a message for him.

The doors he encountered in the passageway, however, were not as obliging as the room door had been. They did not open as he approached, nor when he pounded on them or kicked them or gave them orders. He was trapped in a twenty-meter section of corridor.

He paced back and forth for a moment, then, frustrated, he turned to an emergency access panel and kicked at it.

It slid aside.

Startled, he stooped and looked in. He had always assumed that emergency access panels were for machines, and had not expected this one to open, but he was not about to pass up any opportunity.

The shaft behind the panel was narrow and unlit, and rather than any sort of lifter it held a metal ladder, mounted solidly to one wall.

This, he thought, would make a good place for an ambush. If he hid in it, he could spring out at Thaddeus, or at passing machines, unexpectedly.

Besides, it might lead somewhere useful. He guessed that he would be able to reach the correct level, two levels down from where he stood, and even if he could not reach the prison chamber, that would be an improvement on his current situation.

The stasis field generator was still in his hand. He considered putting it back in the pocket in his ear.

Ordinarily, he could not expect the same trick to work twice on someone like Thaddeus, but Thaddeus had not seen the trick. That was clear from his demand to know how it was done.

The same stunt just might work again, then. He reached up with his free hand, found the bent-space opening, and tucked the generator in.