gauntlet of the golem.
A bent and hunchbacked figure emerged, climbed down a set of rungs. He moved with a limping stride, crablike, over toward where the statue of Trismegistus lay on the boards.
I saw him bend over the fallen figure.
'Not dead,' Mulciber said. 'No escape for him that way. He's still in there.'
Mavors said, 'Lady Tritogenia, before handing me her shield, warned me he could work his way out of the petrifaction, in time. A Chaos trick he learned.'
'Not in time. Now. He's already working his way out. What a freak he is.'
'You can contain him?'
Mulciber crooked his head up at the figure on the black deck above. 'I am the master of iron and steel, rock and stone. Stones don't move when I say they don't move. I can keep him bound. You need me to keep him in. I needed you to ensure victory. Deal's over now.'
Mavors said, 'You assume I am going to let you keep the prisoner. I don't want to see him added to your side.'
'Shut up, Mavors. You're an idiot. You think I'd make deals with vermin like him? He killed our dad.'
'My dad. Mulciber, if you thought he could put the crown of heaven on you, and keep it from me, you might find a way to forgive him.'
'We going to fight now, eh? Is that the plan?'
A man in the green-and-blue scale mail of an Atlantean stepped up behind me and raised his voice. 'Sir! One of them is here! Alive!'
Mavors said, 'Petrified?'
The man extended a hand to me. 'Miss? Can you get up? Are you wounded?'
I did not answer. The man shouted up toward Mavors, 'Sir! This one is unconscious!'
My eyes must have seemed closed to him. I merely had my eyelids open a crack, but in a direction he could not perceive. I was looking 'past' my closed lids.
Another man, standing in a different part of the cabin, said, 'Sir! Two more over here! Wounded, but turned to stone. Not bleeding.'
A final man, standing near the mouth of the giant dead serpent, called out: 'One over here, too, sir. Turned to stone. I think it is the Phaeacian girl.'
A Laestrygonian, with exaggerated casualness, stepped out from a group of petrified Laestrygonians and took a position behind the Atlantean man who was stooping over me.
The Atlantean straightened up and cast a frowning glance at the Laestrygonian.
The Laestrygonian smiled with his huge shark-smile, nodded to him casually, gave him sort of a breezy salute with one finger. 'How's it going?' he said in a chummy voice.
Mavors, his voice carrying across the wide space, said loudly, 'Mr. mac FirBolg, please desist. I can maim you without killing you. I can overcome your various powers merely by decreeing that they will operate improperly against me. I can decree that I will be victorious if we fight. Don't make me fight children.'
The Laestrygonian muttered to himself, 'Oh, great. Fifth in command. My choice. 'What do I do now, Leader... ?' Okay, do something smart. Smart, smart. Make Amelia proud of your sorry ass.'
Mulciber had scuttled around in a circle, so that he could keep an eye on the Laestrygonian, but he was half hunched over, keeping one hand on the chest of the statue. The stone wiggled under his fingers. Mulciber did not look too happy.
The Laestrygonian straightened up and shouted across the open space. 'Okay, well, right, then!
Let's talk this out for a second, hey?'
Mavors called back, his voice toneless: 'There is no basis for negotiation, Mr. mac FirBolg. No matter what your promises, it is too dangerous for you to be allowed at liberty. Your only bargaining power would be a threat to kill yourself. If you thought it was your duty, to sacrifice yourself in order to aid the triumph of Chaos over Cosmos, you would have done so already. You have made an honorable attempt, as all prisoners of war are bound to do, to escape. That escape is impossible. You have no reason to pursue the matter.'
The Laestrygonian stood there, fidgeting. He melted and flowed like wax. Now it was Colin standing there, dressed in a black tunic of feathery stuff. He was still fidgeting.
A voice in my head said, Mother, I will help you. Another battle comes; Mavors will be the victor, for he must be victorious in all melee, but I will delay the victory. Then my debt to you is done.
I blinked. Who the hell was that... ?
Mavors called, 'Do you have anything to say, Mr. mac FirBolg?'
