Karas’s thin voice came again. “Is he dead?”

Darsal stepped warily to her right, ready to jump back if the thing moved. Billos’s chest rose and fell rapidly, she now saw. But she had no doubt that the black cocoon around his head would suffocate him if she didn’t free him immediately.

She pushed aside caution for her own safety and moved closer.

“Stay back!” Papa rasped. “What foul beast is this?”

Darsal reached her hand back. “Give me your knife!”

His grasp on his sword didn’t budge. He would be ready to swing at any appendage that might swipe his way.

“I’m not going to come after you, you oaf,” Darsal snapped. “We have bigger problems now. Give me a blade!”

Papa slipped a long curved knife from his waist and tossed it toward her. She snatched it out of the air.

“Be careful,” Karas said. “Please, Darsal, you’re going to get us killed.”

“You’re assuming we aren’t already dead.”

The thing hadn’t moved its legs. A flat, glassy panel against the wall showed several green and yellow lines moving across from left to right. Red eyes glared around a softly humming head with the word DELL written in block letters on one side. It was clearly alive, but nothing on its body had actually moved.

Then again, spiders sat in perfect stillness, waiting for their prey to come in close before leaping forward to sting them with poison. She would have to be careful.

“Can I have your sword?” she asked Papa without turning.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m better with it than you are. Faster at least.”

“As I recall, my blade was at your throat when you touched the book.”

“There were four of you!” she said.

“There was only one of me.”

It was hopeless. “Then get up here beside me and cover my flank.”

Papa wasn’t the type to show his fear. He stepped up, sword ready.

“Darsal . . .” Karas hung back. “Please, Darsal . . .”

“If it moves,” Darsal whispered, “hack at the leg holding Billos. Cut the veins.” She nodded at the black ropes that ran along the hardened structure.

“Ready?”

The Scab shifted. “Ready.”

Darsal held the Horde knife in her right hand and inched forward. She dove at Billos when she was within three feet, taking full advantage of the same kind of speed that the Forest Guard relied on to defeat the Horde.

With a flip of her wrist she sliced the gloves that gripped her man’s hands. Still no movement. She grabbed the cocoon over his head with both hands and pulled hard, thinking at the last moment that it looked more like a strange helmet than a cocoon. It came off with surprising ease.

Billos lay still, his white face beaded with sweat, breathing hard. His eyes were wide and staring into the middle distance.