Shaun, Thomas and Diana watched helplessly as their four companions entered the maze. They’d arrived back at the island just as Dennis and Arroc were throwing the wolf’s body to the fish, had guessed what they had in mind and thanked the Gods that they’d arrived in time to stop them. Their carpet, though, once again under the Oracle’s control, had taken up a position high above the building. High enough that, although they could see everything their friends were doing, they were too far away for their voices to be heard as they shouted and screamed down at them. The carpet ignored their commands and simply hovered there, the Oracle presumably not wanting them to interfere with another group’s progress, and in the end they could only watch helplessly, dreading to see the water boiling around their companions and turning scarlet with spilled blood.

     They’d gasped prayers of gratitude when they saw them clambering safely onto the opposite shore, but their fears had returned when they saw them moving towards the building’s entrance. “They’ve got no chance!” cried Shaun in frustration, gripping the carpet’s edge with clenched fists. “Without weapons or magic they’ll have no chance! They’re as good as dead!”

     “Assuming they face the same challenges we did,” said Diana though. “Remember, the Oracle wants to be found. The obstacles are merely to test the courage and determination of visitors. Think! The challenges we faced tested us to the limit but someone like Resalintas would have walked right through them with no trouble. My guess is that the Oracle adjusts the obstacles in accordance with the strengths and weaknesses of the visitors, to test them up to, but not beyond, their limits.”

     The others nodded thoughtfully and felt a little better, but Thomas looked apprehensively up at the yellow sun, now just past noon. On their first visit it had taken them hours to solve the maze. If the others took as long, it would be past sunset before they emerged, and they might not have enough time left to get back to the mainland by dawn. They might end up over the middle of the ocean when the yellow sun rose, and then be carried ignominiously all the way back to Belthar.

     All right, so they’d be able to tell Resalintas where the scrolls were, their mission would have been a success, but Thomas wanted to go back with the scrolls actually in his hands. He wanted it badly. Resalintas had referred to him as a wizard in front of Captain Wain, and the pride of it still glowed within him as if he’d drunk half a bottle of Rahmin wine. He wanted to impress the old priest. He wanted that hard, granite face to look at him with pride and approval, and nothing would do that better than if he were to place the Scrolls of Skava right in his hands.

     Every second they were stuck on the island of the Emerald Oracle was a burning frustration to him, therefore. He wanted to be gone! He wanted to leave now, so they could reach the Ruby Keep before they lost the flying carpets. He cursed the others bitterly for following them here, therefore, and prayed silently that they’d make good speed through the maze and emerge before too much time had been lost.

☆☆☆

     It was almost midnight, and Naomi and the others were less than halfway through the maze, when a message came to the Oracle.

     “Let them through.”

     Unusual though the message was, the Oracle obeyed immediately and all the traps, obstacles and deceptions in the maze were deactivated, giving the teamsters a clear path the rest of the way to the centre.

     “Looks like we’re past the worst,” said Dennis gratefully, touching a wall gingerly with the tips of his fingers to make sure it was real.

     The others could only nod wearily, so exhausted by the trials they’d had to overcome that even speaking seemed too much of an effort.

     They reached the chamber of the Oracle just a few minutes later, Naomi leaning on Dennis’s shoulder as every step sent a jolt of pain through the wounds in her stomach. “I think this is it,” said Teasel excitedly.

     The black girl gave a sigh of relief and gratitude. If she’d had to carry on much further, she’d have collapsed from the effort. Already blood was trickling down her legs, and she looked back to see a trail of bloody footprints leading back the way they’d come.

     They began to go through the arched doorway, but Teasel paused, staring up at the design carved into the semi-transparent emerald of the archway. The two legless dragons. “Look at that!” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen that design before.”

     “Where?” asked Arroc.

     “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I can’t remember, but I remember that it’s supposed to be the emblem of a group of wizards who called themselves the Gem Lords.”

     “Never heard of them,” said Dennis. “Who are they?”

     “I don’t know,” replied the nome. “I just saw the design somewhere and heard that it was the emblem of the Gem Lords. That’s all I know.”

     “Well, maybe this Emerald Oracle is one of these Gem Lords,” said the soldier thoughtfully. “Let’s go ask him.”

     Teasel nodded and led the way into the chamber.

     Just like Thomas and the others, they all saw the Oracle as an older and wiser version of themselves and guessed that it was generating an illusion in order to conceal its true appearance. They all thought it was rather amusing, all except Naomi who gave a gasp of alarm, which she tried to pretend was a cry of pain when the others looked at her. “Here, sit down for a while,” said Dennis, laying his sleeping blankets out on the ground and rolling one up as a pillow.

     The black girl lay down gratefully, and then Dennis and Arroc averted their eyes as Teasel examined her wounds. Naomi winced as the nome fussed over the bandages, replacing some of them and carefully washing her wounds with a cloth wetted from her water bottle, but her eyes were repeatedly drawn back to the Oracle and the others couldn't help but notice, “What is it?” asked Teasel, her voice full of concern. What do you see?” The black girl refused to answer.

     “Okay, so what do we do now?” asked Dennis. “Is that the creep who rules this place? Is he the one who’s been keeping us here?” He pointed an accusing finger at the brawny, battle scarred warrior he saw sitting on the emerald throne.

     “I don’t know,” replied Teasel, “but she’s probably the one who’ll answer our questions. Remember, though, that you can only have the one question, and that once it’s asked you may never ask another.”

     “I’ve got a question all right,” said the soldier, striding up to glare right into the Oracle’s face. “Tell me who’s in charge here! I want to see your boss!”

     “That is not a valid question,” replied the Oracle without blinking. “You may ask another question.”

     “Don’t waste your question!” warned the nome. “This is a golden opportunity to learn the one thing you’ve always wanted to know. Don’t waste it.”

     Dennis calmed down and retreated a few steps. Obviously the Oracle wasn’t going to be intimidated and wasn’t going to be mucked around by enquiries into its origins and superiors or creators. Venting his anger on it was pointless. He might as well ask a serious question. Something that would be useful in the war. “Tell me the single most useful thing that would help us win the war,” he said therefore. Once again, though, he was to be disappointed.

     “That would require a value judgement from me, as well as knowledge of the future,” the Oracle replied. “Both are beyond me. You may ask another question.”

     Teasel laughed at the look on the soldier’s face. “You can’t fool it,” she said, chuckling like a schoolgirl. “Looks like you’ve got to ask a specific question. Ask for a specific piece of information.”

     “I want to know something that’ll be useful in the war,” said Dennis in frustration, “but without knowing the exact situation at the moment...”

     Arroc nodded, understanding. “And a piece of information that might be useful if Belthar had it now might be useless by the time we can get it back ter them. Better stick ter the general. Something unlikely ter change over the next few weeks.”

     “Yeah, you’re right,” agreed the soldier. He turned back to the Oracle. “Okay, how many wizards are there in the Shadowarmies?”

     “There are currently one hundred and sixty five living wizards in the Shadowarmies,” replied the Oracle, “and seventeen undead wizards capable of casting spells as if they were still alive.”

     “Raks,” said Naomi with a sigh. “Seventeen raks. That must be the size of the Circle of Raks.”

     “Let’s hope that information is useful to our illustrious leaders,” replied Dennis, stepping back to stand beside the black girl.

     “I’ve got a question I want to ask,” said Teasel, stepping up to the Oracle, and the others saw that she’d suddenly become fearful and apprehensive. “Two years ago, my brother Runil went off to help fight the goblin hordes invading the lowlands. I’ve never heard of him since. I know he’s probably dead, I accept that, but I just wish I could know for sure. Please tell me whether he’s alive or dead and where he is.”

     “Runil Bluebolg is currently alive...” began the Oracle, and Teasel gave a shriek of joy. “He is currently shipwrecked on a nameless island one hundred and fifteen miles southwest of Gurney Island in the Western Sea.”

     “Shipwrecked?” exclaimed the nome in surprise. “But he hates the sea! What was he doing on a ship?”

     The Oracle had nothing further to say, but Teasel didn’t care. The knowledge that her brother was alive had her bubbling over with joy and happiness, and the others couldn’t help but be infected by it.

      “Okay, you’re next,” said Dennis to Naomi. “You don’t need to get up. Just raise your voice. He can hear you from here.”

     She, thought the black girl, looking apprehensively at the Pride Queen she saw sitting on the emerald throne. What sex was the Oracle really? she wondered. Is there really anyone sitting there at all, or is it just an illusion? But an illusion had to be cast by someone, a wizard or a wizardess. Maybe Thomas knew. She made up her mind to ask him the next time she saw him.

     The things Teasel had said earlier came back to her, and since there was no other question she dared to ask in front of the others she decided to quiz the Oracle about it. “Who are the Gem Lords?” she asked therefore.

     “The Gem Lords were a group of wizards who lived on the island continent of Garon in the tenth century before the founding of Arnor,” replied the Oracle. “They were originally thralls of the rak King Khalkedon, ruler of the city state of Domandropolis, but as they grew in power they yearned for their freedom and eventually gained it by killing their master.

     "Afterwards, they ruled the city for many years, during which they and their apprentices named themselves after gemstones. Despite their success, however, they failed to become widely known outside their own country in their own lifetimes and it was only in later centuries that widely exaggerated stories began to be told about them, blowing them up into a folk legend. These stories include the rescue of Count Fescue from the upstart Lord Mipp, the overthrow of the evil Dukes of Bagganoe, the war against Nox the Darkwyrm...”

     The Oracle reeled off a long list of quests, missions and adventures that had been attributed to the Gem Lords down through the centuries, and the teamsters were surprised to find that they recognised some of the names it used. Evidently, some of these adventures had developed a life of their own and become attributed to many different heroes around the world down through the ages. The unbinding of the Glorychains, for example, had been accomplished by Great Ludd the storm giant, according to Teasel’s grandmother, while Dennis’s schoolteacher had attributed the deed to the shae folk of the Golden Wood.

     Naomi wondered whether there was, in fact, any such thing as a Glorychain, and how true all the other stories she’d heard during her travels across Amafryka really were. When you came right down to it, she realised, you could never be absolutely sure of any historical fact, since even written histories had to be copied and translated as parchment decayed and languages evolved, and it was inevitable that the librarian would impose some of his or her own beliefs and values into the story, even if he didn’t intend to. It was quite possible that only the Oracle and the Gods Themselves knew what had really happened.

     “So why do you have the emblem of the Gem Lords carved on the arch out there, and printed on that book you’re holding?” she asked when the Oracle finally stopped speaking. “Did the Gem Lords create this place? Did they create you?”

     The Oracle remained silent, however. She’d asked her one and only question, and it no longer had any reason to pay any attention to her.

      The black girl raised herself painfully up onto her elbow. “Arroc! You ask her! Ask her about the dragons!”

     The trog shook his head, though. “No, I’ve got another question ter ask,” he said, his eyes glowering. “Something very personal ter me. I’d appreciate it if the rest of you waited outside while I ask it.”

     “Naomi shouldn’t be moved,” protested Dennis, however. “She needs to rest.”

     “I’m all right,” said the black girl, however, climbing unsteadily to her feet. “I’ll have to move when we leave here and I’m feeling a lot better now. Come on, give me a hand.”

☆☆☆

     Arroc gave her a grateful look as they left the chamber, Dennis leading Naomi by the arm, and he waited a few minutes to give them a chance to get a good distance down the corridor. He then went to stand before the Oracle.

     The being he saw sitting on the emerald throne was clearly an elderly half trog. Shorter than all but the smallest humans but too tall to be a pureblooded trog. His entire body was wreathed in layers of cloth except for a narrow slit for his eyes and a thick mass of trophy cords was draped across his shoulders. Arroc sighed unhappily. There was human blood in him, he could no longer deny it. Now that he could see himself as others saw him, now that he could see the proper proportions of his body in their true perspective, he could finally see what everyone else had been able to see all along.

     “Who is my father?’ he asked wearily. “My real father, I mean. What is the name of the human who fathered me?”

     “Your biological father is not human,” replied the Oracle, however. “Your biological father is Cumrost Darn Truvale, a pureblooded trog, legally married to your mother.”

     “What!” roared Arroc in disbelief. “But o’course ma father was human! Look at me! Do ah look like a pureblooded trog t’ ye? Look at me!”

     The Oracle had nothing further to say, though, and Dennis returned at a run to find the trog storming and raging like a thing possessed. “What’s going on?” he demanded, wide eyed with amazement. “What happened?”

     Arroc forced himself to calm down, but his eyes continued to glare beneath the layers of cloth covering his head. “Nothing,” he replied. “Ah’m all right.”

     He knew that his heavy accent had returned and he made an effort to get his voice back under control, but he saw the look on Dennis's face and could guess what he was thinking. He would have guessed that he'd asked for the name of his father and he would be thinking that the Oracle had named a human. Well, let him think that. What did he care? “Come on,” he simply said therefore. “Let’s get out of here.”

     “Wait,” said the Oracle, however. “I have one more thing to say before you leave. Bring the others back.”

     Dennis and Arroc stared at each other in puzzlement, and then the human left to bring Naomi and Teasel back. “What do you want?” asked the black girl when they were gathered in the chamber again.

     “My location is kept secret so that seekers after knowledge must undergo a strenuous quest to prove their worthiness to stand before me,” said the Oracle, and each of the four teamsters saw that it was looking straight into their eyes. “In order to preserve this secrecy, it is necessary for me to place hypnotic blocks in your minds which will make it impossible for you to tell anyone else about me. You will still be able to talk about me amongst yourselves, however, and with anyone else who already knows about me, unless you know there is a possibility that someone else may be listening." There was a brief pause before it spoke again. "You are now free to leave. Your flying carpet will now obey your commands and will take you anywhere you wish.”

     “So that’s why they couldn’t tell us about this place,” said Naomi in wonder. “Hypnotic blocks!”

     Dennis laughed. “I think you owe them an apology.” he said. The black girl could only nod in embarrassment.

     “Speaking of the flying carpet,” added Teasel, “We’ve only got until dawn to get back to the mainland. We’d better get moving.”

     The others agreed and they left hurriedly, leaving the Oracle staring after them with blank disinterest before turning back to its book.