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§400.I was sentenced to prison Chthon because I am mad; he because he loved a minionette. Much the same thing.”
    Arlo was growing desperate because of the looming approach of the cavern menace, yet his thirst for information about his parent’s situation compelled him to follow this up. He knew Bedside was holding him here, just as the salamander had, just as the Norns had. But the hunger the old man had roused was more compelling than that the Norns had touched, and harder to combat than the salamander’s threat. He knew Bedside would speak only while his terms were met, again like the Norns he resembled.
    Ah—but the wolf seemed to have mislaid the scent of the prey, temporarily. Chthon could not guide it all the way, for that would overtly break the covenant they had so recently made. The wolf had to find Ex itself. So a little extra time had developed. Arlo had to delay—or lose, perhaps forever, his chance to acquire this knowledge. Restricted as he was to the caverns, his sources of outside information were invaluable. So he listened, though simultaneously angry about being controlled this way.
    “What’s a minionette?” he asked.
    “A female of modified human stock inhabiting the planet Minion. Your grandmother was a minionette; you are quarter-minion.”
    “But you said my father was imprisoned for loving a minionette! My mother—“
    “Coquina is human, or close to it. She is native Hvee. The minionette is death.”
    “The salamander is death!” Arlo said, looking at the creature on his spear. It still lived, struggling every so often.
    “Precisely. Aton sought the incalculable wealth of the blue garnet, but what he found was the salamander. In the equivalent episode of his life he sought the lovely siren—or shall we say Valkyrie—the minionette, but that quest only brought him here to the nether world. Siren, Valkyrie, minionette: all are mere conveyances to death. All his life was like that.”
    “All reflecting his death? That makes no sense—”
    “His life reflected his death, and his death his life. All he had to do was interpret the parallels, and he would have known his future.”
    Arlo remained incredulous. “The salamander like the minionette? Did she have poison fangs?”
    “In her fashion. Your life, too, has parallels—if you can read them. The hints are all about you.”
    Arlo smiled, looking again at the salamander. “If I meet a minionette, I’ll poke my spear through her belly.”
    “Undoubtedly. That would certainly be best.”
    If Bedside agreed with him, Arlo knew he had better reconsider. But suddenly an unbearably intense sensation passed through him. The wolf had recovered the scent, charged Ex, and had her in its teeth!
    Arlo held the salamander before him and sprinted. This time Bedside, alert to the menace, got out of his way. Arlo would gladly have impaled him along with the salamander!
    Moments later he burst into the garden. But his approach had already alarmed the monster. All he saw was its huge haunch as it fled. He hurled the spear after it, hoping to nick it with the poisoned end, but the range was too long.
    Ex lay in blood on the stone. Her body had been torn open like that of a butchered chipper, exposing her innards—yet she lived. Arlo took one horrified look and knew he could do nothing. He had to get help.
    Where? Not from Chthon, certainly! Who else was there to turn to?
    He was hardly aware of his rush home. Suddenly he was there, panting violently, drawing on his trunks as Coquina looked up in surprise.
    She wore a dress, very like those pictured in LOE. She was always clothed, despite the stifling heat. Clothing was part of the home-cave ritual; it had never occurred to Arlo that things should ever be otherwise. She was a woman of about fifty, and whether she was beautiful or ugly was irrelevant. She was his mother.
    Arlo had a hard time catching his breath, and the sweat seemed to be squirting out of his skin in this sudden oven. But Coquina