Hoping to keep his thoughts off his foot, the Thrasson waved Tessali to his side. "You may tell me about the Lady of Pain."
"What do you want to know?"
The elf had no trouble keeping pace with the Amnesian Hero. Even at his best, the Thrasson could not rewind the spool faster than his companions could walk. If his foot started to thaw, he would have to give up rewinding the thread and simply follow it to the exit, but he was loath to abandon one of the few possessions linking him to his past.
"I need to know everything about the Lady," said the Amnesian Hero. "Who is she?"
Tessali scowled. "What kind of question is that?"
"An honest one, but of course," said Jayk. "There are so many things Zoombee does not know. He has lost his memory."
Tessali arched one of his peaked eyebrows. "Truly? That is interesting." He rubbed his chin, then looked back to the Thrasson. "With a little work, we can discover what you're trying to forget."
"I am not trying to forget anything."
Tessali looked doubtful. "How would you know that without knowing what you've forgotten? In these cases, by far the most are caused by a simple lack of mental strength…"
"My mind is as strong as my arm." The Amnesian Hero glared down at the elf. "Just tell me how I can get the Lady of Pain to accept Poseidon's gift. I'll be fine."
Tessali rolled his eyes. "You see, this is exactly what I'm talking about. If you'll just let me help you, you won't need to ask such addle-headed questions. You'll know why that can't be done."
The Amnesian Hero almost stopped to face the elf, then thought of his frozen foot and followed the thread around a dark corner. The hard-packed ground gave way to cobblestones, while the stones in the corridor walls were now held in place by generous amounts of mortar. The Thrasson might have been tempted to accept Tessali's offer of help, had he not suspected the elf would insist on a stay in the Gatehouse after they escaped the mazes.
"Just tell me about the Lady of Pain," commanded the Amnesian Hero. "Poseidon has promised to restore my memories after I deliver this amphora to her."
"He'll never be forced to keep that promise, which you would know, were it not for your unfortunate – and most likely curable-condition."
Tessali, the Amnesian Hero realized, was insidiously clever. Even as he dodged the questions about the Lady of Pain, the elf was deftly tiying to bait the Thrasson into accepting help.
"I should warn you, Tessali, that I regard the dodging of my questions the same as making trouble." Without slowing his pace, the Amnesian Hero cast a meaningful glance in Jayk's direction. "I suggest you start answering."
"Let me have him now, Zoombee." As she spoke, Jayk slipped up close behind Tessali and pushed her head over his shoulder. "Already, he has dodged many questions, yes?"
"No!" Tessali skipped forward, then gazed over his shoulder at the Amnesian Hero. "I was only suggesting how I might help you remember for yourself."
The Amnesian Hero motioned Jayk back to her place, then spoke to the elf. "For now, Tessali, I prefer that you tell me what I wish to know."
"Why don't you ask me, Zoombee?" Jayk's tone was hurt. "Any Dustman knows more about the Lady than this dagger-eared leatherhead."
The Amnesian Hero noticed a certain narrowing of the tiefling's pupils. Unless he did something to assuage her jealousy, the elf would soon fall to her venom.
"Asking Tessali doesn't mean I trust him, Jayk." The Thrasson felt a salty bead roll down his brow, then noticed that Tessali was also perspiring heavily. Only Jayk did not appear to be sweating, though her skin was so shadowy that if was difficult to be certain. "I have my reasons for wanting to hear what he says."
"Yes?"
The truth was that the Amnesian Hero thought Tessali's account more likely to be coherent and reliable, but he did not dare say that to Jayk. The Thrasson looked forward to the elf, who was walking half-backward, at once keeping a sharp watch on the tiefling and trying not to stumble over the passage's uneven floor.
"I want to see if Tessali can be trusted." The Thrasson was thinking fast. "I'm counting on you to tell me if he leaves anything out, or says anything untrue."
"That would be difficult to do." Tessali appeared even more anxious than the Amnesian Hero to move the conversation forward. "The Lady of Pain is an enigma even to the citizens of her city."
"That is not what Zoombee asked," warned Jayk.
An expression of relief flashed across Tessali's face. "Right you are." Now that he was confident the tiefling was not going to jump him from behind, he began to watch where he was walking. "To start with, nobody knows who the Lady of Pain is, but I can tell you she doesn't like the gods. They're always tiying to break into the city, and…"
Much of what Tessali says is mistaken, of course. Sigil's denizens understand me only slightly less than they comprehend the true nature of the multiverse, and that is little enough. Still, with only occasional prompting from Jayk, the elf tells what he knows, which I do not intend to share for fear of seeming deliberately misleading – whether or not I am – and soon the Thrasson understands me no better than those who abide in my crowded warrens.
All the while, they continue to walk, following that golden thread – a clever idea, that – deeper into the mazes. They pass a hundred dark passages, any one of which would lead them to the same place they are going, and round a hundred comers. Sometimes, they make a dozen turns in the same direction. They cannot understand how they fail to cross their own path, but never does that golden thread intersect itself, and always the confident Thrasson tells them they cannot trust their own senses – in that much, at least, he understands me better than any who call my twisting streets home.
Even now, I could peel the skin from his bones, make him repent for that beautiful prayer he spoke. Even now, I could deny the tiefling her One Death, bestow upon her an endless, aching immortality as miserable as my own. Even now, I could turn Tessali's gaze inward, show him the same darkness in his heart that he seeks so diligently in those of others. Even now, I could free Poseidon's net, pull back the hood of that black-cloaked helmsman and look into the eyes of the dark one who bought my bride's dark heart.
The time will come when I must. But now the walls have turned to iron around the Thrasson and his companions. The floors have changed to brick, the air has grown hot as forge smoke, and an orange glow has lit the dimness. Their throats have been filled with scorching ash, and each rasping breath has begun to scratch like crushed glass.
Off the main corridor opened a dozen dark passages, every one fresh with a damp, cool breeze, and still the thread did not turn. It ran straight down the lane between two scorching walls of orange-glowing iron. The Amnesian Hero stumbled forward at a trot, choking on each breath of blistering air and twining the golden thread around his own arm because that was the only way to take up line as fast as they were moving. The soft, squashing sound that came with every other step left no doubt that his foot was beginning to thaw, and he found himself wondering if he would be thirsty in the Paraelemental Plane of Ooze. He would have gladly given all the gold in his purse for that jug of wine he had smashed over the barbazu's head.
A tremendous rumble shook the corridor, crashing down from above with such force that the Amnesian Hero found himself lying facedown on the scorching bricks before he realized he had fallen. He pushed himself to his knees, then raised his eyes toward the heavens and saw a sheet of icy, pearl-colored marbles pouring out of the darkness. The balls struck with all the suddenness of an Abudrian Dragon's wing, slamming him back to the ground and drawing a pair of astonished outcries from his two companions.