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particles of hail rushing, falling, thundering against the firestorm eating his mind, and there was a
spit of steam, a flame that went out, a corner that grew cool...and he took his stand in that corner,
thinking ice, thinking blocks and chunks and monuments of ice, edging them out to widen the circle
of coolness and safety. Then the flames began to retreat, to slide back down the channels, and he
sent ice after them, snuffing them, burying them in ice and chill waters that raced after the flames
and drove them out.
When he opened his eyes, he was still on his knees, but he could think again, and the red
surfaces had become normal again.
He will try again. You must be ready.
“Tell me everything! I can’t go through this without knowing, I need help! Tell me, Snake,
tell me now!”
You can help yourself. You have the strength. I gave you the spark.
...and the second derangement struck!
The air turned shaverasse and he held dripping chunks of unclean rova in his jowls, the taste
making him weak with nausea. His pods withered and drew up into his shell and as the bones
cracked he howled with strings of pain that came so fast they were almost one. He tried to scuttle
away, but his eyes magnified the shatter of light that beat against him. Facets of his eyes cracked
and the juice began to bubble out. The pain was unbelievable.
Fight him!
Stack rolled onto his back, sending out cilia to touch the earth, and for an instant he realized
he was seeing through the eyes of another creature, another form of life he could not even describe.
But he was under an open sky and that produced fear; he was surrounded by air that had become
deadly and that produced fear; he was going blind and that produced fear; he was...he was a
man...fought back against the feeling of being some other thing...he was a man and he would not
feel fear, he would stand.
He rolled over, withdrew his cilia, and struggled to lower his pods. Broken bones grated and
pain thundered through his body. He forced himself to ignore it, and finally the pods were down and
he was breathing and he felt his head reeling....
And when he opened his eyes he was Nathan Stack again.
...and the third derangement struck:
Hopelessness.
Out of unending misery he came back to be Stack.
...and the fourth derangement struck:
Madness.
Out of raging lunacy he fought his way to be Stack.
...and the fifth derangement, and the sixth, and the seventh, and the plagues, and the
whirlwinds, and the pools of evil, and the reduction in size and accompanying fall forever through
submicroscopic hells, and the things that fed on him from inside, and the twentieth, and the fortieth,
and the sound of his voice screaming for release, and the voice of Snake always beside him,
whispering Fight him!
Finally it stopped.
Quickly. now.
Snake took Stack by the hand and, half-dragging him, raced to the great palace of light and
glass on the slope, shining brightly under the star pinnacle, and they passed under an arch of shining
metal into the ascension hall. The portal sealed behind them.
There were tremors in the walls. The inlaid floors of jewels began to rumble and tremble.
Bits of high and faraway ceilings began to drop. Quaking, the palace gave one hideous shudder and
collapsed around them.
Now, Snake said. Now you will know everything!
