What to do, what to do. It was the question of the day. Even with everything he'd learned, Garrett still missed one crucial piece of information: the location of the sacrifice. Once he got it, he could kill the sorceress.

And save his "mirror," he added as an afterthought.

It was now dusk. He had precious few hours to discover where the ritual would take place. He could try searching Dilley's hideout or Angelwatch (although he shivered at the thought of returning there). But more investigation would consume the little time he had left.

He could try guessing where she'd be and take the chance that he'd be wrong. If the sorceress wanted to disgrace the "unholy heathens," she'd do it on their holy ground, most likely. But was she referring to the Hammerites or the Pagans? There were still plenty of Hammerite temples in the City despite the sorceress's killing spree. And the Pagans could be almost anywhere. No, he wouldn't find her by guessing.

Then again, why do anything? It wasn't an absolute certainty that she'd choose this night to fulfill her plot. And if her ultimate goal was to trap Garrett himself, she would have to postpone her plans if he didn't show up. But he'd be giving up a sure opportunity to kill her. He knew she'd be there, wherever "there" was.

By this point in his musings, Garrett was halfway home. He had passed the third flaming Hammerite temple without surprise. It seemed like the only things he could be sure of anymore were the endless cycles of death and destruction.

He glimpsed a moving shadow out of the corner of his eye. That was another thing he could always count on, the continuous presence of the Keepers.

In an effect to escape his watchers, he increased his pace. So much so, in fact, that he failed to see the wall until he nearly ran into it. He glowered at it for making him break his stride. Too late, he noticed the cryptic markings covering the worn stones. His mind translated the glyphs before he could stop himself.

Revised Edition of the New Scripture of The Master Builder (draft, page 60)

"during the middle of the night. The leader shall journey to the centre of the heathen forest, as the treacherous heathens once invaded our sacred Cathedral with the Shadow-walker. After this simple task, the leader shall take the Builder's followers unto the rest of the world and teach His divine practices."

That was it, then. The Pagans. It figured that only the Keepers would be able to get their hands on such a coveted document.

He heard rustling behind him, at once resenting and welcoming their interference. Undoubtedly this all fit with their master plans. They would do (or not do) anything as long as it helped them preserve their precious balance.

He strode away from the glyph-covered wall as fast as he could without running. Now that he knew the sorceress would be in the center of the Pagan forest, there was no time to lose.

Ah, to hell with it. He started running.

By the time he reached the edge of the forest, the night was deepest black. Without any moonlight to guide him, the journey to the center would indeed be tough. Then he noticed the luminescent mushrooms. If his mind had not been occupied with such dark thoughts, he would have allowed himself to smile.

He somehow managed to get deep into the forest without any confrontations, but that soon changed. The path went through an unlit section, and Garrett was wary. He strained his senses and thought he could make out the movements of several men. Then there was a sudden flurry of motion, the juicy sounds of men being impaled, then silence.

Garrett put his hand on the hilt of his sword, as it was the only weapon he had taken with him in his haste.

There was rustling in the bushes to his left. Two glowing green eyes materialized. "Thiefsie-manfool," the owner of the eyes said in a hissing voice that was at once the crash of a waterfall and the soft patter of raindrops. It conveyed authority and compassion while compromising neither. "Remember the promise you made to us."

Promise? Green-eyes must have been referring to the pact he had made with Viktoria against the Mechanists.

"Metal manfools were waiting for you. We killed them for you. Now you must do something for us," the voice hissed. "Kill the sneaksie metal-woman. More manfools are coming. We will stop them."

If the Pagans were going to keep the Mechanists off his back, who was he to argue? He nodded to the seemingly disembodied eyes and went on his way.

Finally, he reached the clearing in the center of the forest. In the dim light of mushrooms he could make out a figure pacing and chanting in a circle. In the center of the circle, the kid was chained to a stone altar. He wasn't moving.

The sorceress continued chanting but moved to a stone basin off to the side of the clearing. She seemed to be mixing something, but it was too dark to tell for sure.

Not that it would matter. She would soon be dead. She had her back to him. It was the perfect time to strike.

He hefted his sword awkwardly. He had been considering taking sword-fighting lessons, for the weapon felt foreign to him. Its brute strength could never compare to the precision of a bow and arrow or the finesse of a blackjack. But it was all he had.

He crept into the clearing. As he reached the altar, he stopped and checked the kid. He was still alive. At that moment, Garrett froze with indecision. Should he save the kid or kill the sorceress? He couldn't be sure that he would kill her with the first strike of his unfaithful blade. If he gave her the chance, she'd kill him and the kid.

But he really wanted revenge. She needed to pay for jerking him around.

He needed a plan that would give him the best of both worlds.

Finally knowing what to do, Garrett sheathed his sword and pulled out tools that were, to him, infinitely more valuable: his lockpicks. Working mostly by sound and touch, he learned the intricacies of the lock. Wincing at every sharp click of the inner mechanism, switching from one pick to another, glancing up every so often to check on the sorceress, he finally succeeded in freeing the kid.

He shouldered the kid silently and easily. It was time to go before the sorceress turned around and barbecued them. But there was one thing left to do. He placed his sword, perhaps not so useless after all, prominently on the altar. His final task done, Garrett carried his slight burden into the safety of the woods.

He observed his enemy finally finish her ridiculous ceremony. She dipped a knife in the basin and turned around. She finally noticed that the altar was devoid of a sacrifice. Dropping the knife, she ran to the offending stone table and picked up the sword. She knew who had foiled her plan.

"Garrett! I know you're out there! Show yourself!"

There was no response.

A small flame erupted from her hand. "Do I have to find you the hard way?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You of anyone should know how fast fire spreads. You'd be killing your fellow Mechanists."

The fact that he was right did not help her mood. She spun in a circle, trying to tell where the voice was coming from, but it was too low to pinpoint. "Coward!" she called, trying to provoke him. "Stop hiding!"

She received nothing but a quiet chuckle for her effort.

Enraged, she gestured violently with the sword. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?"

If she could have seen it, the smile on Garrett's face would have infuriated her. "Like I said, I'm not a murderer. I won't kill you. I'm just going to leave you here, in the center of Pagan territory. But don't worry. I have a feeling you won't be alone for long."

A prickle of fear ran through the sorceress. "You're bluffing!"

Garrett laughed and walked away. As he picked his way through a particularly tricky section of bushes, being careful not to drop the kid, he heard the all-too-familiar chilling laughter of the Pagans. It was coming from behind him, from the center of the forest. A moment later there was one long, high-pitched scream that trailed off into silence.

Ah, revenge was sweet.