Стража! Стража!

           Roomsgapedpatheticallyontheedgeoftheabyss.Danglingshredsofwall-hangingandcarpetflappedinthewindfromthesmashedwindows.ThefloorsprangandwobbledlikeatrampolineasWonsescurriedacrossit.Hestruggledtothenearestdoor.

           "Thatwascommendablyfast,"saidthePatrician.

           Wonseslammedthedoorinhisfaceandran,squeaking,downacorridor.

           Sanitytookabriefhold.Hepausedbyastatue.Therewasnosound,nohurryingfootsteps,nowhirrofhiddendoors.Hegavethestatueasuspiciouslookandproddeditwiththesword.

           Whenitfailedtomoveheopenedthenearestdoorandslammeditbehindhim,foundachairandwedgeditunderthehandle.Thiswasoneoftheupperstaterooms,barenowofmostofitsfurnishings,andlackingitsfourthwall.Whereitshouldhavebeenwasjustthegulfofthecavern.

           ThePatriciansteppedoutoftheshadows.

           "Nowyouhavegotitoutofyoursystem-"hesaid.

           Wonsespunaround,swordraised.

           "Youdon’treallyexist,"hesaid."You’rea-aghost,orsomething."

           "Ibelievethisisnotthecase,"saidthePatrician.

           "Youcan’tstopme!I’vegotsomemagicstuffleft,I’vegotthebook!"Wonsetookabrownleatherbagoutofhispocket."I’llbringbackanotherone!You’llsee!"

           "Iurgeyounotto,"saidLordVetinarimildly.

           "Oh,youthinkyou’resoclever,soin-control,soswave,justbecauseI’vegotaswordandyouhaven’t!Well,I’vegotmorethanthat,I’llhaveyouknow,"saidWonsetriumphantly.