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out of once you were immersed, though, and they had both come to recognize the deepening of the pit they were digging around themselves. More and more, they dreaded the actions they had to take, knowing now that it was not so easy to put these things behind them. They both saw they were getting no closer to the top of the pit, and deep down, they saw that they were actually burying themselves deeper and deeper toward the smothering depths that would hold them fast, and hold them eternally.
    So seeing Godren’s look, Sethos finally stepped forward and, looking resigned, took his own weapon. He held it gravely, as if it would shoot him itself, and with his hand. Godren could not blame him, but he grasped his weapon with more acceptance.
    “ Now,” Bastin said. “Darts are stocked here.” Raising the lid of a smaller chest, he bared a stash of pouches filled with the apparent darts. Taking out a pouch, he pulled the strings open. “Learn how to load them into the guns,” he said, taking one out and running the sharp needle almost fondly down his finger. “To assure you have it right, you can fire on the prisoners; they’re in the cages under Mastodon’s quarters. If you kill them, you’ve got it right, since that’s all that matters. Congratulate yourselves, and load them likewise henceforth. As far as I’m concerned, I say you can practice on the cats as well, but Mastodon would likely have a hissy fit. Now, you ,” he said, pointing the dart at Godren and touching the tip quite unnervingly to his chest, “you are warranted to bleed the affective life out of these little suckers before use so they won’t kill . Since you seem to be on condition terms with Mastodon. What nonsense, hunting without killing. But she says so. Drain it here, like this, see? Half full should only paralyze – but permanently, of course. Less will cause lethargy and drunkenness.” Slapping the dart into Godren’s palm, Bastin gave him a pointed look. “Don’t use less.”
    Godren met his eyes evenly, but didn’t allow the defiance he felt to register any further. No doubt Bastin saw it beneath the surface, but it at least meant that Godren understood what was expected of him, and since no objection was voiced, Bastin took it to mean he would obey, too.
    “ Have fun,” Bastin bade everyone morbidly, and then he left them.
    Ossen was already loading his gun. Seth was staring down at the weapon in his hands, and Godren was looking after Bastin.
    “ I don’t know about you, but I’m going to execute a few prisoners,” Ossen announced, then settled his eyes mockingly on Godren. “Do you want to come…paralyze a few?” Grinning conceitedly to himself, Ossen headed for the door. “You have to test it somehow, you know. But you’ll probably risk Mastodon’s wrath and go after a mere cat, won’t you?”
    “ I can just as easily spare the cat and risk her wrath by not testing the thing at all,” Godren pointed out.
    Ossen stopped in the doorway to shake his head at his nemesis. “Can’t even kill a cat. It’s a wonder you can eat, Godren, your stomach is so weak.” Then, smirking, he left.
    Seth had his jaw clenched now, the gun in his hands momentarily disregarded. “I’m going to ruffle his petals one day…” he swore.
    Godren glanced at him. Then he smiled. “I look forward to seeing you do it. Weak stomach or no, I’m watching.”

 
     
     
     
    5: A Cripple ’ s Blades
     
     
     
     
     
    T he dart guns were easily enough figured out. Godren did not test his, though – more from reluctance than defiance.
    They left the Underworld for a stroll of fresh air later that night. Godren’s first day of service had ended up being a simple introduction to the aspects of his ultimate pending assignment, and though his dismissal for the day was unofficial, there had been nothing at all pressing for attention, and it had been evident enough that he was off duty for the time being. The real action would start soon