Sleg had talked Lunam out of calling the bounty adjuster, insisting that Darm could do away with the ghoul. The big daemon had been torn between the lure of the reward and the peace that an end to the shifter's existence would bring. Darm had sided with the reward.

But as soon as Lunam went to bed, Sleg started on him again.

"I have no idea how to take that miserable thing out of action!" Darm snapped, cutting the daemon off.

"Of course you don't - yet."

He leaned back in the chair, exasperated. "Why do you think the answer's in there?" His finger jabbed at the book on the desk.

"No ghoul ever dared to come near here. Not until you came." Sleg said. "You're a threat to it and it wanted to stop you."

"I am? You and Lunam aren't?" Sleg wasn't making sense - if the ghoul was afraid, why -

"You must have something it wants - so badly that it was driven to go after you despite the danger to it -"

"I'm not a danger to it! First, you tell Lunam brought me here to save me from it -"

"Hang on! He assumes you're an urhandi. Even I was looking at it that way. That's why I gave you the ring. But you aren't ... I get it now. If you were, it would've taken you when you met up with it the first time. You had no protection. It didn't attack you because it couldn't."

The feel of its hand on his shoulder came back - a shudder ran through him. "It touched me."

"And you weren't taken. I'm sure you're immune to it. And I'm sure there's a spell in your book with that thing's name on it. Keep trying. The secret has to be in there. I'm going to bed."

Darm sagged in the chair. He wanted to do the same. The door clicked shut. He'd already read until he was sure he'd go blind. Then he'd gone outside, froze himself into shivering awareness, and went at it again. He barely had anything to keep going on. It didn't matter. The incessant screeing coming from the ghoul, and the fear that it could escape the cell Lunam had it sealed in - he'd never sleep anyway. With a sigh, he opened the book to where he'd left off.

It wasn't a matter of looking it up. Nothing was spelled out ... oh. He had such a way with words. It wasn't the words - they meant little. They were memory devices. Really, so were the spells themselves. Even if he knew he had the right one, it was useless to him. It was his connection with the right one that counted.

He had to learn by himself, for himself, at gut level, before any spell would work. That didn't describe it. And he needed to, to state it exactly. He was created knowing. He had to reach into himself, join with that knowing. Then, if he had it lined up, it would click ... the words, the spell, the understanding would all come together and - Kiata's face popped into his mind and his blood ran cold.

A breeze blew the pages.

His stomach turned and his mouth went dry - a draft in this tightly closed cave. He couldn't make himself look around. It couldn't have gotten out - Kiata! The thing had said, 'Bring her to me.' That was it! Now he knew what that disgusting bit of work wanted - he drove all thoughts of her away. The air movement stopped.

The pages settled and a sentence, one line of almost unreadable squiggles, glowed, apart from the rest. The quill was in the ink. The words were scratched large onto the paper.

He leaped from the chair, clutching the copied spell, then raced for his boots and jammed his feet into them. His coat was thrown on as he flew out the door. The waning moon illuminated the thin, pristine layer of snow. Bright enough to see.

Darm eyes locked to the page as he pried the rules of pronunciation from somewhere in the back of his head. He walked away from the caves as he practiced, his lips moving, soundless.

The frost was right through him before he felt even a glimmer of confidence - that he could actually say what he had to without errors. There could not be errors, no matter how sure he was that it was the correct spell.

He repeated it all in a barely audible whisper, then stood like a statue, every sense wide open to any sign of disturbance. Nothing. He whispered it a little louder. Again, there was nothing.

His heart in his throat, he ran back inside. Sleg was in front of the desk staring at the book.

Darm didn't even try to hide his anxiety. "Did you sense anything? Anything at all that shouldn't -"

"Everything's hunky-dory ... Except for that infernal noise. Have you made any -"

"Get Lunam. I'm ready."

"Leave him out of it. I'll come with you."

Darm caught Sleg's eye. "Please get him?" All the backup he could get ...

Shaking his head, Sleg went to the bedroom door, calling, "Darm has the spell -"

It flew open and the big daemon nearly knocked Sleg flying in his rush. "An end to that cursed abomination!" He charged to the cellar door, wings pulled tight to his body. Darm and Sleg chased after him down the worn stone steps.

The thing's squalling rose in pitch and volume at their approach. Darm was sure it would permanently deafen him. The feel of the place had his stomach rolling. The air tasted poisonous. He forced himself to quit holding his breath.

It had to be done!

He stood as close to the sealed door as he could stand. His eyes wouldn't close, not even to blink. The fear that if he did the horrible thing would get out, take them all over, pumped adrenaline through his every cell.

Something hard, final, determined to be free, welled up in him, driving the words, the spell, out of his mouth.

"Return thee to the chaos, oh wanderer. Disinter into the primordia, into Abzu." he thundered in a voice he didn't recognize as his own. "Return thee to the chaos, oh wanderer. Disinter into the primordia, into Abzu."

There was silence. The smothering, nauseating taint in the atmosphere cleared. Darm could feel the daemons' joy with no interference. Had he done it? Had he really done it? "Shouldn't we open it up to make -"

"That cell will be sealed until the universe ends! Lunam glared at Darm as if he'd cut wind. "I'll call for Kiata to come -"

"Kiata!" Darm screeched, then bolted for the stairs. Terror drove his feet. He didn't even know why he was running and he didn't stop until he was outside again. The daemons were on his heels, both demanding to know what was wrong.

"It was after Kiata." His head swirled as he grasped for an answer. There had to be one! "I had to banish her from my mind to keep from calling the ghoul to her - to connect with the right -"

"Why didn't you tell us this before you said the spell?" Lunam's voice cracked, anguished. His huge wings spread and with a few powerful flaps, he was gone.

"Where's he going? What's wrong?" Dread wouldn't let go of him.

Sleg was walking slowly toward the cave, his wings drooping. "He's going to make sure she's all right - that there were no unintentional effects."

Darm followed, his insides as frozen as his hands and his nose. They waited in silence.

Lunam finally came back, carrying Kiata bundled in a thick blanket. She looked like a child in his giant arms. "She won't wake up. Nothing will wake her up." The agony pouring from the big daemon tore at Darm's mind, threatening to rip it to pieces. What on earth had he done?