Nick obediently slowed. The road was straight ahead of them, but dark, the moon having sunk farther. The red tracer was the only thing visible, crisscrossing the road four or five hundred yards ahead of them.

Then big guns boomed in unison.

“Star shell,” said Tindall. “Thanks to a southerly wind.”

A second after he spoke, four small suns burst high above, and everything became stark black and white, either harshly lit or in blackest shadow.

In the light, Nick saw another deep defensive line of high concertina wire, and another set of gates. He also saw the creature slow not at all, but simply jump up and over thirty feet of wire, smashing its way past the two or three fast but foolish soldiers who tried to stick a bayonet in it as it hit the ground running.

Dorrance was no longer on its back.

Nick saw him a moment later, lying in the middle of the road. Braking hard, he lost control of the bike at the last moment, and it flipped up and out, throwing both him and Tindall onto the road, but fortunately not at any speed.

Nick lay there for a moment, the breath knocked out of him by the impact. After a minute, he slowly got to his feet. Captain Tindall was already standing, but only on one foot.

“Busted ankle,” he said as he hopped over to Dorrance. “Why, it’s that idiot jester Dorrance! What on earth would someone like him be doing with that creature?”

“Serving Her,” whispered Dorrance, his voice startling both Tindall and Nick. The older man had been shot several times and looked dead, his chest black and sodden with blood. But he opened his eyes and looked directly at Nick, though he clearly saw something or someone else. “I knew Her as a child, in my dreams, never knowing She was real. Then Malthan came, and I saw Her picture, and I remembered Father sending Her away. He was mad, you know. Lackridge found Her for me again. It was as I remembered, Her voice in my head. . . . She only wanted to go home. I had to help Her. I had to . . .”

His voice trailed away and his eyes lost their focus. Dorrance would play the fool no more in Corvere.

“If it wants to go north, I suppose we could do worse than just let it go across the Wall,” said Tindall. He waved at someone at the checkpoint and made a signal, crossing his arms twice. “If it can, of course. We can send a pigeon to the Guards at Barhedrin, leave it to them to sort out.”

“No, I can’t do that,” said Nick. “I . . . I’m already responsible for loosing the Destroyer upon them, and I did nothing to help fight it. Now I’ve done it again. That creature would not be free if it weren’t for me. I can’t just leave it to Lirael, I mean the Abhorsen . . . or whoever.”