The Marshall’s footsteps shook the halls more than any volcanic eruption could. He tramped along the marble, down, down, down to the lower levels. First he must see the prisoners, then he must see the Fountain for himself.

He finally drew up to the cold bars of the cells, preferring not to touch them himself.

“Fauxtes and…Dadaelee, is it? I suppose, before I finally kill you, that I should tell you why you’re here…”

The half-hour or so was taken by the Marshall telling them everything he had told Dali.

Fauxtes and Dadaelee sat, stunned. Dadaelee shook her head as if to clear it out, and said, “Where’s Dali?”

“Ah, ever the faithful friend. For a thousand years, in fact, ever since the beginning. He ran away. Simply left you behind. I let him go. I’ll get him sooner or later; after all, I have waited a thousand years. I can wait a little longer.”

The Marshall smiled, left them with this thought, and resumed his path to the Fountain of Youth.