Noal eyed the palm-sized hole. “That’s a tad small to get through.” He stepped up to it and looked through. “Nothing but darkness on the other side.”

Thom looked down at the knife. “Guess that triangle is actually a doorway. That’s what you’re drawing when you start the game. Should I try a bigger one?”

“Guess so,” Mat said. “Unless the gholam taught you how to squeeze through holes the size of a fist.”

“No need to be unpleasant,” Thom said, using the knife to draw another triangle around the first, this one large enough to walk through. He finished with the wavy line.

Mat counted. It took seven heartbeats for the lines of white to appear. The steel between them faded away, opening a triangular corridor leading into the tower. The inside looked to be solid steel.

“Light burn me,” Noal whispered. The corridor disappeared into darkness; the sunlight seemed hesitant to enter the opening, though it was probably just a trick of the light.

“And so we begin the game that cannot be won,” Thom said, sliding the knife back into its sheath.

“Courage to strengthen,” Noal whispered, stepping forward, holding up a lantern with a flickering flame. “Fire to blind. Music to dazzle. Iron to bind.”

“And Matrim Cauthon,” Mat added. “To bloody even the odds.” He stepped through the doorway.

Light flashed, brilliant white, blinding. He cursed, squeezing his eyes shut and lowering his ashandarei in what he hoped was a threatening posture. He blinked and the whiteness faded. He was in the center of a wide room with a triangular opening behind him, freestanding, with the point down at the floor. It was pure black, made of twisting cords that in some places seemed metal and in other places seemed wood.

The room was black as well, shaped like an off-kilter square. Rippling white steam poured up from holes at all four corners; that mist glowed with a white light. There were four hallways extending from the room, one in each direction.

The chamber was not exactly square. Each side was a slightly different length than the others, making for an odd meeting of angles at the corners. And that steam! It gave off a sulphurous stench that made him want to breathe through his mouth. The onyx-colored walls were not stone, but were of some reflective material, like the scales of enormous fish. The steam collected at the ceiling, glowing faintly with a soft light.

Burn him! This was not like the first place he had visited, with its twisting coils and circular doorways, but nor was it like the second one, with the star-shaped rooms and lines of yellow light! Where was he? What had he gotten himself into? He turned about, nervous.

Thom stumbled through the doorway, blinking, dazed. Mat dropped his pack and caught the gleeman by one arm. Noal came next. The bony man kept his footing, but was obviously blinded, his lantern held forward defensively.

The two others blinked, tears streaming from Noal’s eyes, but they eventually got their bearings and glanced about. The room, like the hallways extending in all four directions, was empty.