he man who had disappeared from Gregor's life two years, seven months, and who knew how many days ago had been the picture of health. Strong, tall, and vibrant, energy had seemed to pour right out of him. The man squinting up at them from the pit was so thin and weak, his attempt to stand failed. He fell on all fours, then lifted one hand to help tilt his own head back.

"Dad?" Gregor tried to say, but all the moisture had left his mouth. He dropped to his own knees at the side of the pit and reached out a hand futilely. They were fifty feet apart, but he reached, anyway.

Luxa and Henry flew down, helped the pitiful form onto Aurora's back, and carried him up.

Still on his knees, Gregor clutched his father's hands, once so strong and capable. As he felt the bones beneath his fingers he remembered how his dad used to crack walnuts with his hands. "Dad?" he said, and this time he could be heard. "Dad, it's me. Gregor."

His father frowned as if trying to remember something. "It's the fever. I'm seeing things again."

"No, Dad, it's me, I'm here. And Boots is here, too," said Gregor.

"Boots?" said his dad. He frowned again, and Gregor remembered he had never seen Boots. She had been born after he fell.

"Margaret," Gregor corrected himself. As soon as his mom was pregnant, his parents had planned to name Boots Margaret after his dad's grandma.

"Margaret?" said his dad, now thoroughly confused. He rubbed his eyes. "Grandma?"

The prophecy had named "one lost up ahead," but Gregor had not expected to find his dad as lost as this. He was skeletal and weak -- and what had happened to his hair and beard? They were snow white. Gregor touched his father's shoulder and realized he was wearing a cloak made of rat fur. No wonder he had looked like a rat from above.

"Just want to sleep," said his father vaguely. This was the scariest part of all. Gregor had thought he would get a parent back when he found his dad. Then he could stop having to make hard decisions. He could just be a kid. But the man before him was even needier than Boots was.

Luxa laid her hand on his dad's cheek and frowned. "He burns like your sister, and he has no strength to fight it. This is why he speaks in confusion."

"Maybe if I talk to him a minute, he'll remember. He's got to remember, Luxa," said Gregor desperately.

"We must fly now, Gregor," insisted Luxa, tipping a large swallow from the blue bottle into his dad's mouth. "We shall heal him properly in Regalia. Henry, help me secure him." She tried to tie his dad to Aurora with a length of silk that Gox was rapidly spinning. "Henry?" said Luxa again.

But Henry stood apart from them. Not helping. Not hurrying. Not even bothering to seem anxious. "No, Luxa, we have no need to hurry now."

It was a strange answer. No one understood what he was saying except Ripred. An odd look crossed the rat's face. "No, I believe Henry has taken care of everything."

"Henry had to," said Henry. He lifted his fingers to his lips and gave a long whistle.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?" asked Gregor. He looked at Luxa, who seemed to have turned to marble. The silk rope slipped from her hands and fell to the ground.

The patter of many rat feet came at them down the road. What was going on? What had Henry done?

"Ripred?" said Gregor.

"It seems I am not the only spy among us, Overlander," said Ripred wryly. "A member of the royal family, too."

"You mean, Henry...?" Gregor would never in a million years have believed Henry to be a spy for the rats. They had killed his parents, his people. "He can't be," blurted out Gregor. "He can't, I mean, what about Luxa?" The two were so tight.

"Sorry, cousin," said Henry urgently to Luxa. "But I had no choice. We were headed for disaster under Vikus. He would ally us to the weakest, when our only real chance of survival is to ally ourselves with those who are most powerful. We will join forces with the rats and rule together, you and I."

Luxa spoke more calmly than Gregor had ever heard her. "Not now, Henry. Not ever."

"You must, Luxa, you have no choice. You must join with us or die," said Henry coldly, but there was a tremor in his voice.

"This is as good a day as any," said Luxa. "Perhaps better." She sounded a thousand years old and a thousand miles away, but she did not sound scared.

"So they promised you a throne, did they? Really, Henry, you are not fool enough to believe they will deliver it," said Ripred, breaking into a laugh..

"They will deliver it. Together we will rid the Underland of crawlers and spinners and share their land among us," said Henry.

"But why? Why would you do that?" asked Gregor.

"I am tired of having cowards and weaklings as allies," said Henry. "The rats, at least, are not guilty of that. Together, we will protect each other. Together, we will rule. Together, we will be safe. It has been decided."

"Together, together," said Ripred in a singsong voice. "What a lot of togetherness you are planning. And what a lot of solitude awaits you. Ah, here are your friends now."

There were at least fifty of them. The rats fanned out quickly and circled the questers. Most of them were laughing, delighted at the rich catch before them.

Gregor's eyes darted around. Who would fight on his side? His dad was mumbling something about fish. Boots lay tied to Temp's back, oblivious to the world. Henry was a traitor, so he could count Ares out, too, since the pair was bonded. That left him, Luxa, Aurora, Gox, and... suddenly he didn't know what to think of Ripred. What about Ripred? Whose side was the rat really on?

He looked at Ripred, and the rat gave him a slow wink. "Remember, Gregor, the prophecy calls for only four of the twelve to die. Think we can take them, you and I?"

Okay, he also had one amazing rat on his side.

The circle widened, leaving a gap. A huge silver rat strode into the space. Jammed over one ear was a gold crown, clearly designed for a human head. Gregor heard Luxa inhale sharply and guessed it had belonged to one of her parents.

"King Gorger," said Ripred, giving a low bow. "I did not hope we would have the honor of your presence here."

"An unfortunate crawler told us you drowned, Ripred," said the king in a low voice.

"Yes, well, that was the plan," said Ripred, nodding. "But so often plans go awry."

"We must thank you for bringing the warrior so neatly into our paws. It was Henry's job really, but no matter as long as he is here. I wanted to be sure. I wanted to see him for myself before I killed him. So this is he?" asked King Gorger, peering at Gregor. "I expected so much more."

"Oh, do not judge him too quickly," said Ripred. "I have found him most delightfully full of surprises." He made his way around the circle, occasionally lifting a front leg to scratch his nose. Each time he lifted his paw the rats near him flinched. "Clawsin... Bloodlet... now break my heart, Razor, is that you? You have no idea how it hurts me to see you in His Majesty's company."

The rat Razor dropped his eyes away from Ripred's. Was he ashamed? Could rats even feel ashamed?

Ripred came up behind Henry and nudged him forward. "Go, go, go, go. Stand with your friends." Henry tripped and fell into place beside King Gorger, stepping on his tail. The other rats laughed, but not the king who whipped his tail out from under Henry and slashed poor Gox in half.

The rats stopped laughing. Gregor saw the spider's blue blood gushing onto the ground. It was that quick. In a split second, a third member of the quest was dead.

"Why has everyone stopped laughing?" said King Gorger. "Go on, laugh!" he ordered, and the rats let out a sound like sheep bleating. He stretched out on the ground in a pose of complete relaxation, but Gregor could see his muscles were still tense with anger.

"Who's next?" said King Gorger. "Come, do not be shy. Shall we take care of the pup? She looks soon to expire, anyway." He trained his ratty eyes on Boots.

"Not Boots," thought Gregor. "Not while I can stand." Something nagged at the back of his brain. What was it? What did it remind him of? And suddenly he knew. He knew what the next part of the prophecy meant.

The last who will die must decide where he stands. The fate of the eight is contained in his hands.

"It's me," he realized. "I'm the last to die." It was clear. It was Gregor the rats wanted. He was the warrior. He was the threat. He was the one who had to decide where he stood. And it wasn't going to be here, watching people he loved die. He was the warrior, and the warrior saved people.

Once he knew, it was easy. He judged the height, ran seven steps, and hurdled over the silver back of King Gorger.

A howl rose up behind him as he flew down the road. From some rat screams that came after that, he guessed Luxa, Aurora, and Ripred had gone into action to cover him. But he was pretty sure that every able-bodied rat was chasing after him. Good. That way, with any luck, the others could escape. Except Henry and Ares -- he didn't care what happened to them.

The flashlight in his hand dimmed to a faint glow, and he tossed it off to the side. It was slowing him down, anyway. But running in the dark was no good. He might trip, and he had to lead the rats as far away as possible from everybody. Then he remembered the light on his hat. He had meant to save it as a last resort. If there was ever a last resort, this was it. He flipped on the switch without breaking stride, and the powerful beam lit the road in front of him.

But the road! He had forgotten how short the road was! No more than a hundred yards ahead of him loomed the canyon, the one of "immeasurable depth." He didn't stand a chance trying to run around the edge of it. The rats would have him in seconds.

He didn't want to die that way. He didn't want to give the rats the satisfaction of eating him. He could hear them behind him, breathing and snapping their teeth. King Gorger snorted in fury.

In one horrible moment the last piece of the prophecy became clear. so bid him take care, bid him look where he leaps, AS life may be death and death life again reaps.

He had to leap, and by his death, the others would live. That was it. That was what Sandwich had been trying to say all along, and by now he believed Sandwich.

He put on a final burst of speed, just like the coach taught him in track. He gave it everything he had. In the last few steps before the canyon he felt a sharp pain in the back of his leg, and then the ground gave way under his feet.