ew.  He needed to see the arena, see how it was laid out, to know where she would be.  She was the Empress, so her place would be exalted, and it would be obvious.  Once he found her, he would make her pay for what she did.
	Outside, Tarrin walked along a ledge on the stands leading down to the floor of the arena, looking out at its construction.  Immediately, he knew where she was, a very impressive filled area on the far side, which had only one small balcony which held several figures.  One of them he could immediately recognize as Shiika, in her human disguise.  And the sight of her all but sent him flying to a violent rage.  Seeing her relax, seeing her lounge about while the Goddess only knew what was happening to his friends--at her hands!--was nearly too much.  His eyes igniting from within with their unholy glow, a visible mark of his rage, he snarled wordlessly in her direction and started quickly down the steps, to the ledge marking the end of the stands.
	He needed an unobstructed path to the Demon's balcony.
	Throwing people out of his way, people who had just begun to look in his direction rather than down at the barbaric activity occurring on the arena's floor, Tarrin stalked through them with his pulse pounding in his ears, a reddish haze filming over his eyes.  He was absolutely furious, and he welcomed it.  He was intentionally trying to work himself up, to find that plateau of pure fury that gave him the ability to control his Sorcery with absolute precision.  He would need it to get to the Demon, to reach her in her high, lofty perch.  The people in front of him began screaming in fear and scattering before him, and that was good enough for him.  He started moving towards the waist-high ledge that ended the seats, a wall that was twenty spans high when looking at it from the floor, a wall that ended on each side of the flat surface that supported the Emperor's private seats.  He reached that ledge, jumping atop it directly facing the Emperor and Empress of Yar Arak, staring at the Demoness Shiika with every bit as much hatred and rage as he felt inside.
	He knew exactly what to do.
	Raising his paws as she started out of her throne, Tarrin touched the Weave.  The power of the Goddess flooded into him, but it met a dam, a controlling force in his anger, a power that forced it to conform to his will.  Conscious mind and the Cat joined to a common purpose, Tarrin raised his paws as they exploded with Magelight, raised them over his head as his entire body limned over, and then he quickly levelled them in Shiika's general direction.  A sudden, awed hush fell over the thousands of people around him, around them, but he didn't even notice them.  He levelled his paws at the Imperial couple, and wove together that chaotic mix of Fire, Water, Air, and Divine flows, with only token flows of the other Spheres to give his weave the power of High Sorcery.  He wove it together with a stunning speed, knowing it so well, and then released it from his paws.
	A white-hot bar of pure, raw magical power issued forth from his outstretched paws in time with a sudden fierce scream from his mouth, and it sizzled across the empty air that separated him from them.  Shiika saw it coming, flinching away from its magical power.  But she was not its target.
	Zarthas Arakis, Emperor of Arak, never saw it coming.   So intent was he on the gladitorial match below, he only looked up in time to stare his own demise in the face.  Tarrin's magical attack struck him dead in the face, and it incinerated everying from the chest up.  The blast of magical fury lasted but a heartbeat, but when it faded, there was a hole in the back of Emperor Arakis' throne big enough for a child to crawl through.  There was a hole in the wall leading all the way to the exterior of the arena behind it, and the blast of magical power had extended nearly two longspans from the arena before dissipating, flying into the sky at an angle that did not bring it into contact with any other buildings.  His severed forearms, the rest of the arms vaporized by the intense magical attack, still laid upon the arms of his throne, twitching spasmodically, and the remaining parts of his body quivered for just a moment before slumping slowly to the side.  The bodies of two of his guards, each missing portions of their heads, dropped to the floor behind the throne, simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
	Now she couldn't command the Legions.  They only listened to the Emperor.  The Empress was nothing but a pretty plaything hanging on his arm.  Without her puppet, she could no longer command the official aspects of her Empire.
	You bastard! he heard her voice, but inside his own mind.  Just like the Goddess!  Do you have any idea what you've done?
	"It's called revenge, Shiika!" he shouted, in a voice magically augmented so she could clearly hear it over the sudden loud din, as the spectators realized that this strange inhuman creature had just assassinated the Emperor of Yar Arak.  Tarrin reached away from him as the power within suddenly issued forth from him in the form of pure flows, twisting together into groups of seven as they left him.  Those that made contact with strands held fast, and he yanked on them to form new strands.  They shuddered into existence, and he suddenly sat within a spider's web of power, a web that would fuel his weaves until he no longer had the strength to control them.  "Now let your subjects see what you really are!"
	Clapping his paws together, Tarrin quickly wove together the weave of pure Air of which he was so fond, the shockwave that had proven so devastating.  The reddish glow formed in front of him immediately, and in his rage, he all but ripped the power from the Weave to create it.  It solidified in a shocking amount of time, the disorganized reddish aura turning solid before him, before Shiika could even completely step away from her throne.  He knew what he was about to do.  He knew what it would do, and what it would mean.  But he did not care.  A million Arakites weren't worth even one of his friends.  And if had to raze the city to the ground to get them back, then so be it.  They were all that mattered.
	With a cold, ugly snarl of hatred, Tarrin released it with a sharp snapping motion of his paws.
	The coherent reddish glow shuddered, then suddenly exploded with unimaginable force.  It raced in a straight line away from him, expanding in all four directions as it moved, lancing through the air at supersonic speed.  In the blink of an eye, the shockwave was nearly forty spans across and sixty spans high, just barely going over the heads of the two astounded gladiators on the sand below, scouring away the sand of the arena floor when it made contact with it.  When it impacted the far side of the arena, it was nearly twenty spans wider than the Imperial balcony, and those spectators sitting in proximity to the Emperor were caught in the power of the spell.
	The entire back section of the stadium shuddered only once, and then was destroyed by the power of Tarrin's weave.  Hundreds--thousands--of hapless spectators simply vanished in the titanic force generated by the weave, rending their bodies into pieces so tiny that they were all but annihilated.  The stone of the arena shattered, and was sent flying away from him, forming a killing hail of debris that rained down on the buildings, streets, and citizens that had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  A BOOM, louder than anything those lucky enough to survive the weave had ever heard before, thundered across the city, knocking nearly everyone still alive from their feet as if the sound had substance and force.  A sudden wind whipped across the half-scoured field, drawing the dust of the destruction away from Tarrin, air that rushed in to replace what was sucked out as the shockwave passed by.
	And now those that survived had seen the Empress wiped out.  If she appeared again, they would know that she could not possibly be human.
	Tarrin lowered his paws, his expression an emotionless, stony mask.  He had just crossed a line that he hoped he would never have to cross.  He had just slaughtered innocents.  Children.  People whose lives never had to cross his own.  People who did not deserve to be sacrificed in the name of his own rage.
	And he did not care.
	They meant nothing to him when compared to the lives and safety of his sister, of his friends, of his bond-child.  If it would forever blacken his soul, then so be it.  At least his family and friends would be alive.
	And that was all that mattered.
	Shiika was certainly either buried in the rubble, or seriously at a disadvantage.  He had stripped her of her ability to bring the Empire down on him, and he had seriously undermined her position in Dala Yar Arak, with one simple attack on the Imperial family.  She wouldn't be able to interfere with him until he was well inside her Palace.  He would find his friends, even if he had to bring her Palace to the ground in the process.
	For a moment, there was an eerie silence.  There was only the sound of rocks raining down on the city beyond the gaping hole that had been ripped into the arena, a hole that had destroyed an entire end of its oval construction.  The remaining sections of the arena creaked and crumbled ominously under the stunned crowd, the entire building threatening to collapse after the loss of its back end.  The spectators did not run.  Most of them did not make a sound.  They just stared at the Were-cat in stupified awe.  And when he finally moved, they all came to their senses.
	In a sudden roar, the crowd began to stampede for the exits, to escape the crumbling arena before the rest of it collapsed.
	Weaving together another spell of pure Air, Tarrin formed a bridge of solid air before him, weaving it with High Sorcery so it would last several moments after he stopped maintaining it.  It extended from just before him all the way over the mangled stone ruin that had been the back wall of the arena, touching the ground nearly five hundred spans into the grassy park that surrounded the shattered stadium.  A park strewn with large pieces of torn stone.  That done, he cut himself off from the Weave, barely feeling the powerful backlash it caused within him, so utterly was he still consumed by his anger and his need to pay Shiika back for what she did to him.
	He wasn't done yet.  He had one more challenge ahead, Shiika's Imperial Palace.  His friends, his sister, his bond-child, they were being held there.  And he would get them back.
	He had to.  He had already gone past the point of no return.  There could be no stopping now.
	Scrambling onto his bridge of Air, Tarrin raced over the devastation he had wrought, nearly looking to those who looked that he was flying, his mind focused on one thing, one goal.
	The Imperial Palace.
	He had to get there before Shiika did, get there and get in, then find his friends and his family.  And find the Book of Ages.
	Tarrin, you fool!  Shiika's voice echoed in his mind once again.  Do you have any idea what you have done?  Do you?  You may have just killed us all!  I know you can hear me, Were-cat! she thundered at him.  Answer me!
	Tarrin ran on, ignoring her mental voice.
	I don't have your Allia or your friends! she said hotly.  I had them put on a ship out of Dala Yar Arak!  You just destroyed fifty years of careful planning for nothing!
	That caused him to falter, then come up short.  "Liar!" he challenged.
	I wouldn't lie to you over this, she snapped in reply.  I know you know that.  I never dreamed you'd do something so stupid!  You may have just plunged Arak into civil war!
	Tarrin ignored her, running again, trying to race across before the bridge dissolved under his feet and sent him crashing into the debris below.  What if it was true?  Could she have freed his family and friends before hand?  It was certainly possible.  But even if that were true, it didn't change the fact that she had the book, and he needed it.  So his goal was the same, except now he had to find out just where his family and friends were.  If Allia could have spoken to him with her amulet, she would have by now.  So either the Demoness was lying, or she had Allia tied up so she couldn't put her hand on the amulet.
	Answer me, damn you!  I don't have your precious family!  Don't force me to have my brood attack you, Tarrin!  You know you can't win against them!
	He ignored her, setting his feet on solid ground and racing towards the commanding structure that was the Imperial Palace of Dala Yar Arak.  He could win against them now.  He was not afraid of them.
	Damn you, Tarrin, if you touch that book, the magic that keeps it hidden is going to be disrupted!  Every two copper mage and priest from here to Saranam is going to know exactly where it is!  You won't get it out of Dala Yar Arak alive!  The ki'zadun will converge on you like a school of sharks!  You fool, don't you realize that I've been protecting the book?  I don't want the Firestaff found any more than you do!  Give up this madness and let me keep the book protected!  Nobody will take it from me, despite what you've done here today!
	He ignored her.  That didn't matter.  He needed that book, his Goddess commanded him to find it, and he was going to do just that.  It didn't matter that their goals were generally similar, and part of him wanted to strip her of the book to spite her for her cruel disruption of his life, her attempts to kill him, for kidnapping his friends and family.  He would do what he was commanded to do, and it was just a fortunate bonus that it would hurt her in the process.
	He raced on, ignoring the long tirade of colorful curses issuing from Shiika's strange mental voice within his mind.  His goal was the Imperial Palace, and the prize he had sought for so many months, the prize that Faalken had sacrificed himself for them to reach, the prize that had caused him so much anguish and pain, was visible before him.  He would not be denied now.  His rage had become focus, an awareness of mission that allowed him to execute his plans with a curious detachment.  There was no emotion now.  There was only the plan, the mission, a task that must be completed.
	He would take the Book of Ages from Shiika.  At any cost.

	It was maddenly confusing.
	Allia leaned back against the wall of the covered wagon in which they'd been loaded, one of the black-skinned Cambions sitting at the far end with his sword drawn.  It made no sense for them to load them into a wagon and send them rumbling through the streets of Dala Yar Arak.  They were all there, except for Tarrin and Sarraya, and all of them had their hands tied and mouths gagged.  Phandebrass' pet drakes were there too, held in a cage that sat under the bench against the wall just behind the driver's seat, looking just as frightened as Jula.  Jula strained against the heavy chains they'd used to bind her, a wild look in her eyes, and she was the one the Cambion watched the most.  Jula seemed to share Tarrin's hatred and phobic fear of being imprisoned, and it was showing in her more and more as the wagon ambled along.
	Everything that had happened had been....strange.  First the Demons had attacked them in their new house, attacked them and subdued them with almost shameful ease.  The females, the ones with wings, they had some sort of strange effect on the others.  Allia had been ready to fight until she looked one of them in the eye, and then it was like a wool blanket had been laid over her will.  The magical subdual of them was universal, none of them escaped it.  The memory of what happened next was hazy, but she did remember being placed in some sort of bedchamber for a while, alone.  Not a prison cell, not a torture chamber, but a rather nicely appointed bedchamber with a single door, whose only obvious magical defense was that she could not speak so long as she was within.  There was absolutely no sound at all, a deafening silence that quite effectively prevented her from using her amulet to contact her brother or sister.  They had even thought to provide food and drink, very well prepared food and chilled wine.  That confused her more than anything else.  The Demoness had captured them, but treated them like anything but prisoners.  They had not even bothered to take their weapons.
	And then after spending a night in those gilded cells, they were tied up, put on a wagon, and now they were rolling along the streets of the city.  She had no idea why they were being moved.  It seemed illogical to run that risk.  Tarrin was still out there, still free, and bringing them out of the Demoness' fortified Palace was a terrible risk.  Tarrin commanded powerful magic, magic that he could use to locate his friends.  At any moment, she expected him to explode through the canvas roof of the wagon, appear and do battle with the Cambion holding them.
	But he didn't appear.
	That worried her.  After an entire night and morning, he should have managed to locate them.  Why was he not coming to their rescue?  They had been on the slow-moving wagon for nearly an hour.  They had all heard the explosion, a sure sign that Tarrin was still alive, well, and present within the city, but there was no contact from him, no appearance to help them.  Why?  Surely he had not abandoned them.  He had to know where she was, where they were, and he should be coming to aid them.
	Where was he?
	The wagon rambled to a stop.  The Cambion looked out the flap in the canvas that hid the wagon's interior, then popped his head back in.  Right before them, his features shifted, flowed, changed, going from an inhuman creature to a rather attractive Arakite man.  "This is as far as we go," he announced.  "I'm going to unload you, and you're going to do what I say.  You're going to get onto a ship, and you're not going to argue about it.  Understand?" he said, holding up his sword.  He threw aside the flap of the wagon's canvas, and what was outside sent Jula into a fit of thrashing, screaming "no!" over and over again.
	It was a low-prowed scow, propelled by oars.  And through one of those oarlocks she could see a man chained, holding onto his oar.
	It was a slaver.
	Jula thrashed and pulled, snapping the chains that held her, and then a low growl began to rise in her throat.  Allia scrambled back fearfully.  She had seen this happen before.  The fear was getting the best of her, and she was just about to snap, go into a rage.  And if that happened, none of them would be safe.  But the Cambion advanced quickly and easily on her, slamming her on the side of the head with the hilt of his sword to quell her outburst.  Her head snapped to the side, and she sagged slightly in her seat.  But then she looked up at him, looked at him with eyes that were totally devoid of rational thought.
	His attempt to subdue her only succeeded in setting her off.
	With the sound of breaking chains, Jula exploded from her seat, grabbing the Cambion by the neck and catapulting both of them through the side of the wagon, making Phandebrass and Camara Tal duck wildly to avoid getting smashed between the pair and the side of the wagon.  With the Cambion's eyes off of her, Allia squirmed her hands through the ropes that bound them with almost ridiculous ease, then drew a small, sharp knife and lunged for Dolanna.  She cut the bonds that held her even as she pulled off her gag, as the sounds of Jula's frenzied assault on the Cambion raged just outside the wagon.  Dolanna tore off her gag and drew her own small dagger, then worked on Dar's bonds as Allia moved to free Camara Tal.  "We have to get Jula!" Dolanna ordered quickly as she snipped the leather cords holding Dar's hands.  "Tarrin will not leave without her!"
	"How do you expect to calm her down, Dolanna?" Camara Tal asked acidly, turning to cut Phandebrass free as Allia opened the cage holding the mage's two drakes.  They scrambled to Phandebrass immediately, huddling against him for comfort and reassurance after their harrowing captivity.  "The only one that can calm her down is Tarrin!"
	There was a sudden commotion outside, and then things went eerily quiet.  Dar jumped across the wagon to look out the hole made by their exit, and he suddenly began to laugh.
	"What is it, Dar?  Is it Tarrin?" Dolanna asked.
	"I think you wouldn't confuse me with that cub if you could see me, Dolanna!" the voice of Triana replied to her question.
	They all stared in surprise.  Triana!  What was she doing here!  And how did she find them?
	They piled out of the wagon quickly, looking around.  They were on a large quay facing the sea, and the smell of it blew over the land.  There were dock workers and sailors, but they had fled when Jula erupted out of the wagon with the Cambion.  He was nowhere to be seen, but Triana had Jula by the scruff of her neck, holding tight to her as the smaller Were-cat squirmed helplessly against her, her shoulders heaving as she panted heavily.  The men on the slaving ship stared in shock and surprise, then four of them made a mad scramble to raise their gangplank.  Triana was just as tall, just as majestic, just as powerful as Allia remembered, the physical embodiment of strength and confidence, her handsome face looking down at the smaller friends with a slight smile disrupting the usual stony mask that she wore on her features.  "Sarraya told me to get here fast.  I never dreamed I'd see this."
	"Sarraya called you?"
	She shook her head.  "Tarrin did, but Sarraya sent the message," she replied.  "I wouldn't have burned so much magic getting here if it had been anyone else.  Judging by what I was feeling from him through his bond, I realized that it was no game he was playing."
	"Where is my brother, brother's-mother Triana?" Allia asked immediately, concern in her eyes.
	"Right now, I don't know exactly," she replied soberly, pointing into the city with a clawed finger.  "He's in that direction, and he's fuming mad.  He's been brewing all night.  Now I can see what got him all twisted up.  Is this his mistake?" she asked, holding Jula up for them to see.
	"She is...a complication," Dolanna replied.  "It is a very long story."
	"So this is what he wanted me to protect," she said to herself, holding the squirming Jula up to look at her.  "She's a scrawny little thing, and she's just about half mad.  Why should I bother?"
	"Protect?" Camara Tal asked.  "What do you mean, old friend?"
	"Tarrin had Sarraya tell me to come, but this is why," she said, holding Jula up a bit more.  "He wanted me to take care of her.  Sarraya told me that she got the feeling that he didn't think he'd live to finish her training."
	They stared ather in silence for a moment, and Jula stopped fighting against Triana.  "Umm....where am I?" she asked blearily, putting a paw delicately to the side of her head.  "Tarrin?"
	"No, not Tarrin," Triana answered, letting her go.  Jula stumbled slightly, then turned and whirled on Triana.  But when she did, she came up short, staring at the majestically tall Were-cat matriarch with awe.
	"That's right, I'm nobody you want to upset," Triana said flatly.  "Tarrin called me here to take care of you, if he doesn't make it back.  And I'm nowhere near as gentle as him."  She gave her a steady look.  "You're weak-willed, female," she said shortly.  "If you wish to survive, you must learn better control.  What is your name?"
	"J-Jula," she said uncertainly, fidgeting under that powerful stare.
	For the first time ever, Allia saw anger creep into Triana's expression.  She snapped her paw out and grabbed Jula by the neck, hauling her off the wharf and bringing her up to her eye level.  Jula grabbed at the powerful paw holding her with sudden terror in her eyes, but could not budge Triana's vice-like hold on her.  "Dolanna, she's the same one?" she asked hotly, looking at the Sorceress.
	"She is, Triana, but Tarrin has forgiven her for what she did to him," Dolanna replied.  "He took her as his bond-child instead of killing her."
	Triana looked at her for a long moment, then she actually laughed.  "He did?  I swear, Dolanna, I never thought he'd do something like that.  First Mist opens up, now Tarrin is forgiving hated enemies?  What is happening to us?" she laughed, letting Jula go abruptly.  "But if he could do something like that, then there's more hope for him than I first thought," she said seriously.  "It shows he finally realizes he doesn't have to be as hard as he thought he had to be to stave off the madness."
	She looked down at Jula with hard eyes.  "Until Tarrin comes back for you, cub, you are mine," she said fiercely.  "Tarrin is my son, so that makes you something of my grandchild.  You will only disobey me once.  I am not half as soft as he is.  Do you understand me?"
	Jula could not face the power that Triana brought to bear against her, a power of stance, of expression, a near aura of unshakable strength that Triana gave off at all times, a sense that she was absolutely invulnerable.  It had the power to shake nearly anyone, and the soft-willed Jula caved in instantly to that demonstration of force.  Jula averted her eyes and lowered her head, something of a sign of submission among Were-cats, Allia had noticed.  Triana brushed her tawny hair out of her face absently, then looked at Camara Tal.  "Sarraya is trying to find Tarrin," she said.  "Until then, we have to get out of the city."
	"Why?" Allia demanded.  "I am not leaving my brother alone!"
	"You'll do it because I told you to do it," Triana snapped at her, and even Allia could not face her overwhelming power with steady eyes.  "Tarrin told Sarraya to have me get all of you out of the city.  I think he doesn't want you underfoot for now, and I agree.  She told me that he's got some kind of plan to get you all back, and it involves mass destruction.  He doesn't want you getting caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  If he starts worrying about you, then it may cost him when his mind is supposed to be on something else.  But you'd better contact him, Selani.  At least let him know you're all safe."
	She nodded, grabbing her ivory amulet immediately.  "Tarrin," she called.  "Tarrin, answer me.  Answer!  Tarrin!"  There was silence.  "Tarrin!  Answer!"
	They all stared at Allia's amulet.  "He's still alive," Triana grunted.  "And he's still hopping mad.  Allia, tell him you're alright and where we are."
	Allia nodded.  "My brother, we are all safe!  Triana has come, and we are all safe!  We are on the city's docks.  Tarrin, you do not have to rescue us!"
	There was no reply.
	"Stop this, my brother!" Allia snapped.  "We are safe!  Answer me, let me know you are well!"
	"Maybe he's not answering because he can't," Dar offered.  "Maybe he's busy."
	"The book," Dolanna breathed.  "Allia, he is after the Book of Ages!  He will not leave this city without it!"
	"Then don't do it again," Triana grunted.  "If he's trying to sneak around, you just gave him away.  He most likely heard you.  Let him contact you."  She glanced at Jula, who couldn't take her eyes off of the tall Were-cat matriarch.  "Is that fat circus master still in port, Dolanna?" she asked.  "I don't want this cub around people who don't have experience with edgy Were-cats.  At least Renoit's people know what to do."
	"He should be, Triana," Dolanna replied.  "Today is the last day of the festival, so it is his last day to perform.  He will perform this morning and afternoon, then pack his tents and be gone by the morning tides."
	"Then let's go hitch a ride," she ordered.
	"His ship is berthed on the west side of the city," Dolanna told her.  "I remember where it is."
	"Then lead on," she ordered.
	Allia fell in beside Dar, her mind on her brother.  He was out there, alone, and he was in a rage.  The explosion was him, she knew it, unleashing his fury on the unaware.  It was why he did not come for them.  He had been trying to reach them, and did not have the rational mind to use his magic to locate them.  That, she could understand.  But why the rejection?  Why would he not answer her!  It tore at her to know that he was out there, alone, facing opponents against which he had no chance.  But he was doing it anyway, doing it for his mission, doing it in obedience to the Goddess of the Sorcerers.  He was here for the Book of Ages, and it had cost him too much to abandon it now.  Faalken's death, the trials and pains he had suffered in pursuit of that book, it would all be meaningless if he gave over on his goal now.  And knowing her brother, revenge was also high in the order of things.  He would not allow the Demoness to get away with what she did.  It chafed at her that she was not with him, at her rightful place at his side, facing the danger together.
	But he was alone, facing beings against which he had no power to harm.  It was insane for him to take them on, but he was going to do it.  He was doing it.
	Sighing, Allia gave out two little silent prayers.  One to Fara'Nae, the Holy Mother, goddess of the Selani, a prayer that her grace be upon him.  And the second was to the other goddess that influenced her life, the enigmatic Goddess of the Weave, praying that she would watch over Tarrin and protect him in his dangerous undertaking.
	There was little more she could do.
 
Chapter 28

	They fled from him like frightened rabbits.
	Running with a calm demeanor, his mind completely focused on what he had to do, Tarrin raced through the streets of Dala Yar Arak, the massive spires of the Imperial Palace before him, getting closer with every step.  His focus, his attention, the very core of his being was focused utterly on those golden domes, and his anger fueled him, pushed him, coaxed him along.  He was still completely furious, but his rage had become a tight, razor's edge of purpose, giving him the strength and determination to succeed.  Human mind and Were fury were joined to a common purpose, a purpose that had a name, a purpose that he could see before him.
	He had a pretty good idea of what was waiting for him.  He knew what challenges stood between him and the Book of Ages.  He knew that Shiika would free herself from the rubble, and she would come to face him.  He wanted it, he yearned for it, but he wanted to face her after he had gotten the book, so there would be no possible hangups between him and her.  When he had the book, her life was forfeit.  He wanted to find it on his own, so he wouldn't have to bargain her life for it.  He knew she was tel