“So neither of you is going to do it,” Ganelon interrupted. “I am.”

Then, without waiting for a reply, he took a running leap into the black sector, raced along it toward the center, paused long enough to pick up some small object, turned and headed back. Moments later, he stood before us.

“That was a risky thing to do,” Random said. He nodded.

“But you two would still be debating it if I hadn’t.”

He raised his hand and extended it.

“Now, what do you make of this?”

He was holding a dagger. Impaled on it was a rectangle of stained pasteboard. I took them from him.

“Looks like a Trump,” Random said.

“Yes.”

I worked the card loose, smoothed down the torn sections. The man I regarded upon it was half familiar — meaning of course that he was also half strange. Light, straight hair, a trifle sharp-featured, a small smile, somewhat slight of build.

I shook my head.

“I do not know him,” I said.

“Let me see.” Random took the card from me, frowned at it.

“No,” he said after a time. “I don’t either. It almost seems as though I should, but… No.”

At that moment, the horses renewed their complaints much more forcefully. And we needed but turn part way to learn the cause of their discomfort, in that it had chosen that moment to emerge from the cave.

“Damn,” said Random. I agreed with him.

Ganelon cleared his throat, took forth his blade.

“Anyone know what it is?” he asked quietly.

My first impression of the beast was that it was snakelike, both from its movements and because of the fact that its long thick tail seemed more a continuation of its long thin body than a mere appendage.