For a beat, he almost went back. Two of them against the Sentinel would perhaps stand a chance. And he even took a step, reaching into the sheath on the back of his belt where he kept a spare knife. But the thing in his head sent a shadow across his mind, erasing the idea of rescue, stripping aside his last few moments' thoughts, turning him once again onto his previous course of action. He felt no regrets or confusion, because he had made up his own mind. He acted of his own free will. That thing in his mind, holding back the pain of the sickness Nomi had given him . . . it was merely helping.

Ramus turned the corner of the building and walked carefully along the base of the wall. He searched for the handholds he needed, and two-thirds of the way along he saw them, spaced unevenly up the wall in the body of an intricate carving. The image showed a creature he did not know, and he used its feet, knees, hips, wings, shoulders and horns to climb to the top.

He heard Nomi's scream, and shook his head to clear the sound.

THE SENTINEL DID not pause to consider its actions; it simply stepped onto the island and came at her.

Nomi brandished the knife and stumbled back, struggling to keep her footing on the uneven ground. She could not help remembering Noon and the others fighting these things, and how the Serians had been quickly beaten. So is this it? she thought. Killed by something inhuman, in the belly of the Great Divide?

Any hope that Ramus would come to her aid had vanished. He had asked her to come with him, but only to share in his discovery. Not because he cared. He had said they were past pettiness, and to Ramus, perhaps everything that had been between them—the bad and the good—was all part of that.

The Sentinel clicked as it came, its almost-human face twisted with hatred . . . and fear.

Nomi fell aside and the creature's clawed hand cut through the air above her. She rolled until she felt the solidity of the building against her back, then stood, one hand holding the knife out, the other pressing against the wall.

The Sentinel turned and faced her, eyes growing wider.

Nomi felt something beneath her hand. The rock was warm, like the flesh of a living thing, and it throbbed. But she did not step away.

Another Sentinel gained the shore and approached from her left.

There was something watching her. Not with eyes, not with thoughts, but with a presence that lessened her humanity. She was a speck of dirt beneath an ant's foot, a fly crawling on a sheebok's hide. She gasped with the weight of insignificance and fell to her knees, and the lake erupted.

Nomi screamed.