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running through the blades. The speed’s right, but he’s not even bothering to time it properly: the blade spins right through his legs, and he should be dead, he should be dead .
    ‘Enable PvP,’ Rick says. If he can see Herkules’ health bar, that should tell him —
    Player versus player mode enabled. All speech will be relayed into the arena. There’s a pause. No live players in range.
    Oh, my gods, Rick thinks.
    Herkules404 is dead . He’s a ghost.
    So what the hell is he doing here?
    He starts to run, pauses before he gets to the nearest trap, and calls, ‘Hey! Herkules!’
    Herkules looks round. His mouth moves and there’s a tiny silence before he says, ‘What do you want?’
    Foreign, then, Rick thinks: that’s the translation program causing the delay. He says, ‘What’re you doing? You’re dead. You can’t complete a quest when you’re dead.’
    ‘None of your business.’ He’s standing on top of a pressure switch: a claw is swiping at him, passing harmlessly through his chest and resetting itself, over and over.
    ‘You’re spying out the Roots, aren’t you?’ Rick feels a rush of relief: he won’t have to fight this guy, after all. He’s not going to complete the Roots: he’s just come in for a recce. ‘You think you’ll come back when you’re alive, and you’ll know where to go. Look, mate, it’s not worth it, honestly. No one can complete the Roots. You’re wasting your time.’
    ‘Go away.’
    Rick’s pretty sure that wasn’t an accurate translation. He says, ‘I’m just giving you some friendly advice.’
    ‘I’m not doing anything wrong. So muck off and stop bothering me, you skinny little girl.’
    Rick clenches his fists. Of course, he’s Athene. He’s a girl . . . He says, ‘If you’re working for a tankshop, it’s illegal.’ But he knows it’s a long shot: Herkules might be spying out the Roots for a tankshop, but then again, he might not. And he’s spent money on his avatar: with that look, he’s probably some rich eastern kid, not a tankshopper.
    ‘You think I’m doing something illegal? So call a GM. Report me.’
    Rick shrugs. ‘I’m just trying to help.’
    ‘What do you want, a big kiss?’ Herkules leers at him. ‘What guilds do you belong to, anyway?’
    Oh, hell. He doesn’t know. His own are the Assassins, the Heroes, the Alpha Omega, the Silver Shield — but Athene’s? He says, ‘The Alpha Omega,’ and tries to look like he believes it.
    ‘The Alpha —? Oh, yeah, right. Sure you do. If I were alive, I’d love to take you on. You’d be on your knees . . .’ Herkules pouts at him and flutters his eyelashes.
    Gods, who does this cretin think he is? Rick says, ‘Up yours,’ and wonders how it’ll translate.
    ‘Sorry, sweetheart. Not now. I’ve got things to do. Now run away and play with your dolls.’
    ‘Oh, whatever,’ Rick says. It’s not much of an exit line, but he’s knackered. He leans against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting with his knees up. That’s it for you and me, Athene, he thinks. We didn’t even need to be here. What a waste of time. I am going to kill Daed.
    He watches Herkules, idly, as he runs the barrage of claws and blades and darts. Why is he running? He doesn’t have to run, if he’s a ghost . . . He must be running for the surves’ benefit, Rick thinks, so that they don’t notice there’s a ghost in the Roots. He’s trying not to draw attention to himself. Because . . .
    I’m not doing anything wrong . . . So what is he doing?
    Rick’s too tired to get a complete grasp on his own thoughts; but his body is suddenly buzzing again. A hunch, that’s all: like a pinprick in the wall of his stomach, hardly noticeable at first, until he feels the unease slowly starting to leak out. He levers himself to his feet, pressing his hand against the wall for balance.
    It’s mad, of course. Now he knows that Herkules is dead, he’s not sure if it’s even possible to follow him. But he should