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But the Pool was also not random in its machinations. She was reasonably certain now that while, yes, it did indeed lie for fun, it still never did so without purpose.

"To the Pool," Mistress Yaki had once told her, "everything is a game. No matter how grave the circumstance, no matter how frustrated I become with it, no matter how benevolent its other intentions might be: the Pool will always seek to play with me, first and foremost. It is a most troublesome child, to be sure."

But that was also what made it so powerful in its own unique way. The more Anya had learned about Forges throughout history, the more convinced she'd become that their quirks and eccentricities were deeply connected to their strength.

In fact, she'd begun to believe that the stranger a Forge was, the more powerful it become.

But only in the right hands, of course. Which was the real problem, wasn't it?

If she truly wanted to become the new mistress of the Pool of Trenoy, then she would have to play games.

And she would have to master them, too--to an extent that even Mistress Yaki had never been able to.

Which was why Anya was reassessing that illusory hand being extended toward her.

There was no mastery without risk. Not with any Forge. But especially not with the Pool.

Perhaps the true answer here was not to balk. Not to play it safe.

But to immerse herself in the illusions. Whatever madness the Pool intended to show her. Perhaps she just had to look at it directly and try to see through it from within.

She took a deep breath. The "Mistress" was simply waiting for her. Quiet and smiling. Warm and familiar.

Anya wasn't sure she'd ever felt so terrified as she did right now.

But she took the hand, and the world warped around her.

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Fresh blood splattered across the far wall as the Blade of Perdition diced up another intruder. The third in as many weeks. Always trying to be stealthy, not realizing that his automated defense systems could detect them even through those invisibility powers they were so proud of.

When would they learn, these Andanatt fools? How many more minions must they lose?

Luann eyed the mess with exasperation. Human chunks all over the workshop. The head was preserved, though, so the adjustments he'd made to the Blade were working well. That was good.