Careful, Ta’uz whispered, and Ishbel ducked as a column four or five away from her began to crumble.

The One was shouting, incomprehensible words that made little sense to Ishbel. He was finally bringing the power of Infinity to bear against what Ishbel had worked, but it appeared to be making the situation worse rather than better.

More and more columns were crumbling.

Then Ishbel heard a tremendous explosion far above.

The One screamed.

Careful, said the rat.

A torrent of symbols continued to flow out of the stone, winding up in a never ending ribbon through the pyramid. Now Ishbel heard other voices, unknown voices, murmuring in excitement.

All those the pyramid had destroyed over the millennia.

Suddenly something grabbed at Ishbel’s hand. It was the One, staring at her maniacally.

His grip tightened into a vice, and Ishbel cried out and tried to pull away.

“Don’t think this is the end of it, bitch,” the One rasped.

Ishbel stared at him in fright. Black fault lines were spreading through his flesh — she could almost hear them spread, as if cloth were being ripped into shreds.

“Don’t think this is the end of it,” the One said again, and his words terrified Ishbel for all the malice had gone from his voice and instead there was only cold certainty.

Then, horribly, he started to break apart. The process was aided by the collapse of a column of stone next to him that sheared away half of his head.

For an instant Ishbel was staring at a single black eye that returned her gaze unblinkingly, then another column collapsed and the One shattered into a thousand pieces.

Ishbel fell backward as the One’s grip vanished. She felt herself caught between two crumbling columns, then everything went dark and unknowing.

Maximilian paced back and forth, back and forth on the glassy river staring at the disintegrating pyramid. He’d been cut by several shards of glass from the exploding capstone, but had escaped serious injury.

The pyramid collapsed into itself, sending a dust-and-debris cloud flying upward and outward, although it stopped short of the far river bank and didn’t threaten Maximilian.

Where was Ishbel? Maximilian did not know if she had escaped the pyramid but was hidden by the debris cloud, if she was still inside but was protected by her power, or if she was still inside and not protected.

Anything but the third, please gods, anything but the third.

The continuing destruction of the pyramid was now almost overwhelming. It had been a massive structure, virtually solid stone and glass and it made a thunderous roar as it came down.

Maximilian stood helpless, not knowing what to do. He wondered if Avaldamon, Serge and Doyle had come out from their hiding hole and were watching this from the safety of the great courtyard of the palace of Aqhat.

They had been caught within the pyramid for what seemed to them an eternity. Their bodies had long been disposed of, but their souls had remained trapped within the entity that had murdered them.

There had been nothing but bleakness and hopelessness for them.

But now, feel the bonds unravel!

Now! cried the one who had once been Ta’uz. Go now! And as one the thousands of the murdered stood and shook off their bonds and walked out of the pyramid.

Maximilian saw them in the debris cloud, walking toward the river. They were not solid, not flesh, just disturbances within the dust that appeared as human shapes. As they drew closer to the edge of the debris cloud, so they began to dissipate.

But one remained visible long enough to make it halfway across the river.

The dust shape smiled at Maximilian. Thank her for us, it said. And tell her that Druse is finally on his way home to his family.

With that, the dust fell apart and Maximilian stood alone in the centre of the glass river.

Isaiah sat at his campfire with Lamiah, Hereward and several of the senior captains within the force. The mood was subdued, only the occasional word being spoken. Everyone was on edge both with the arrival of the juit birds (not dangerous within themselves, but hardly a sign of confidence in what might be happening in Isembaard) and Isaiah’s belief that a horde of millions of Skraelings was headed their way.

Isaiah’s sense of unease had been growing all day. For most of the day, into the early evening, that had been attributable to the approaching threat of the Skraelings, but now Isaiah believed there was something else happening.

He had not been this nervous and this jumpy, well . . . not in his very considerable life span thus far.

Something bad was happening.

Or maybe good. Isaiah simply could not decide.

Hereward looked over the fire at him, then cleared her throat to say something.

Before she could speak, however, she suddenly gasped, her eyes wide, and clamped both hands to her throat.

Blood was pumping forth, drenching the front of her robe.

Maximilian was still pacing when, in one startling, stunning moment, he found himself being driven down through water.

For a moment he was so stunned he could not react, then he was trying to fight his way up through the water, struggling with the sudden, terrifying current, desperate for breath. Something seemed to be keeping him down; he didn’t know what it was, but it was starting to panic him.

Then suddenly he was free of whatever force held him and he was gasping for breath at the surface.

The Lhyl had returned to water.

The current was fierce, fiercer than Maximilian expected, and he wondered if the sudden release of the water meant it flowed far more violently than usual. He started to swim for the eastern shore, desperate to get to land and look back to see what had become of the pyramid, when he became aware that a rat was swimming in circles about him.

Watch out, said the rat, and suddenly Maximilian was hit from below by a large, solid object. It grabbed at his legs, then his hips, pulling him under, and as Maximilian sank yet once more, he found himself staring through the water into Ishbel’s eyes.

One more time, Isaiah found himself leaping about a fire and clamping his hands about Hereward’s neck.

What the fuck is happening?

She stared at him with wild eyes, her expression half of bewilderment and half of deep anger.

“Stay away from me!” she hissed, managing to get to her feet, both her hands still held tight against the spot where, many months ago, the Skraeling had dug its claw deep into her flesh.

“Stay away!” she said once more, then stumbled away from Isaiah forcing him to release his hold.

Lamiah and the other men were on their feet by this stage.

“What —” Lamiah began.

“I have no idea,” Isaiah said, his eyes following Hereward as she walked unsteadily away into the night. “I have no idea at all.”

“Grab my hands!” Avaldamon shouted, and Maximilian and Ishbel spat out water, shaking their heads, reaching for Avaldamon’s, and Serge’s and Doyle’s, hands.

“The river!” Ishbel said as she managed to find firm footing.

“Ishbel!” Maximilian said, and wrapped his wife in an embrace so tight that she laughed in protest.

Everyone was laughing and hugging each other.

“You did it!” Avaldamon said, trying to prise Ishbel away from Maximilian and not succeeding. “The pyramid is gone . . . gone!”

They all turned to look over the river. There was nothing where DarkGlass Mountain had been save a low cloud of drifting dust. No stones, no glass.

Nothing.

“Are you all right, Ishbel?” Maximilian said. “You’re bruised . . . and cut .”

“I am well enough,” she said. “They are just scrapes. Oh, I have so much to tell you!”

“The One?” Maximilian said.

“Gone, I think,” Ishbel said. “I saw him crumble before my eyes. He tried to use the power of Infinity within the very machinery of DarkGlass Mountain and it only accelerated his own destruction. Can you feel him? Avaldamon?”

Both men shook their heads.

“Nothing,” Maximilian said. “What did —”

“Look!” Ishbel said, laughing anew. She reached into the water, searching with her hands, then she straightened, holding up the Book of the Soulenai. It dripped water everywhere, but looked otherwise undamaged.

“I am well, the Book is returned, the river is made water once more, the pyramid is destroyed, and the One with it,” Ishbel said. She grinned wildly, looking about the group. “Is this it? Can we go home now? Are we done?”

Maximilian kissed her. “We are done, Ishbel. We can go home.”

Neither of them saw the shadow of worry in Avaldamon’s eyes, but he smiled when they turned to him, and nodded.

“Yes, we can go home.”

In the Outlands, the Skraeling surge northward faltered suddenly.

The One’s presence had abruptly faded.

I think, said the leader among them, that we ought to proceed with a little more caution. Just until we hear from the One again.