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Now the Founder； First Chairman； First High Priest； bent closely over another captive。 〃Ah； a fine weapon here； a treasure in itself：〃 A slow straightening of the curved old spine。 〃And our famous Field Marshal I suppose is drunk as usual after one of these affairs； making ready his report of a dazzling victory。 I'm going to have to replace him； I think； after this debacle。 Are you sure we've caught them all？
〃And we must send word to Hyrcanus to change the passwords everywhere again。。。 I wonder if they have any conception of duty left at all； up there。 Prepare these captives for induction processing and then basic training。 Let me see the inventory of their possessions when you have it。〃
There was more； but Ben heard almost none of it。 He heard Doon shouting something； and then another Whitehands； capering before Ben with a wizard's gestures； bent down to blow a dusty powder into his face。 With his first sneeze； the world was gone。
He was being awakened； for what must be the first watch of the morning。 He was going to have to drag his body out of this unfortable but oh…so…wele bed。。。
No； it wasn't first watch that he had to get up for。 He had just signed up for Blue Temple service； and he was still in basic training； and he faced another day of that。。。 at least his shoulder didn't hurt him so much any more； time had healed it。 Ben moaned and grumbled to himself。 Today he'd try to get another letter off to Barbara； if there was a caravan going that way； and he hoped that this time she might answer。。。
〃Still sleeping； hah？〃 Thud。 The sergeant had e back。
Kicked off his wooden barracks…bed； Ben managed to extend one leg and one arm toward the stone floor； enough to partially break his fall。 Picking himself up； feeling bruised； he noticed an odd thing： his bed was a different kind from the one he seemed to remember rolling into the night before。 Odd。 And； wasn't the sun up yet at all？
Then； with a jolt like that of falling into nightmare； much became clear。 Ben realized that he was still in the cave。 The horror and fear of the recapture returned。 And he understood dimly that this was far from being the first time that he'd been awakened in this way； in this dark place。 But whatever had happened to him after those earlier awakenings had already been lost again in the mists of dark magic that fogged and clogged the workings of his memory。
Get dressed。。。 no； he was dressed already。 It was his own clothing； but now all sadly soiled and worn and tattered。 Too much damage； he thought； to be accounted for even by all the things that he could remember happening to him since that unlucky hour when he had followed Doon into the upper cave 。。。。
Doon； yes。 And Mark； and Ariane。 And all the others。 Where were they； what had happened to them？ The other figures stumbling and cursing around Ben in the darkness now were all strangers to him。 His fellow trainees； or fellow prisoners； but he remembered none of them at all。 None of them spoke to each other as they formed a crude queue and groped their way through the darkness； on their way to。。。 all that Ben could remember； and that dimly； was that to please the sergeant they were expected to go somewhere and line up in a formation。
Dragonslicer was of course no longer at Ben's side。 Sheath and belt were gone too； as were his headlamp； and his pack； and the simple little dagger that had been his only other weapon。
The dead weights of training and of fear were back now； hanging on him as a pelling burden。 Ben stumbled into the formation with the group of unfamiliar men。 Somehow he knew which place in which line was his。 In a flash of something like clarity he realized that all of these could hardly be newly taken prisoners。 Perhaps this was some kind of a punishment pany。。。 but it hardly mattered。
Their drill…ground was quite small； a space lighted by torches at its four corners and cleared of barracks … beds and other obstacles。 Here in their small formation they practiced marching； and drilled with clumsy wooden spears。
The sergeant wore no badge of rank； but there was no doubt of who he was。 He acted like a sergeant； striding through the ranks； barking mands； inspiring terror； yelling and kicking at anyone who displeased him。 The drill went on unendingly。 It had always been going on； thought Ben； and it always would be； and even that last sleep from which he could remember being awakened was really only one more illusion born of magic。 Nowhere could Ben find the foothold of hope that he would have to have to be able to rebel against the sergeant's orders。
He didn't know where he was； except that he was still inside the cave。 Which way was out？ And where were the other people who had been captured with him？ Were Ariane； Mark； Doon all dead？ He tried once to ask a question of the sergeant； and got a curse and a kick for answer。
The drilling and the marching went on and on。 There was a mindlessness about it that precluded even sadism as a motive。 It was； like most basic training； utterly pointless except that it instilled the habit of instant obedience to mand； and it filled the time。
At last there came an end； or at least an interruption。 Ben was allowed to return to his barracks…bed and rest。 But it seemed to him that as soon as he had closed his eyes； he was aroused again； and made to stagger back to drill some more； this time for an even longer period than before。 He felt beyond exhaustion； as if his body and mind alike were struggling through thick cotton padding。 He was caught in some mesh of magic； so that he hardly knew any longer who he was； or had been； or whether this existence constituted suffering or was only the standard of the universe； with nothing else left in the universe to judge it by。
March and rest。 Drill and rest。 Then march again。 The real merged with the unreal。 Ben told himself that he was dreaming this horror； he had to be。 Or else all the rest of his life； before his entrance with Doon into the cave； had been a wonderful but lying dream。
Voices； some real and some fantastic （and no way of telling which was which） taunted him with the thought that never again would he see Ariane。 Never。。。 except； perhaps； just once a century or so； he'd be able to catch a glimpse of her across the battlefield during some brawl； and would see how the long decades as an Amazon had changed her。 He would still know her； by her hair if nothing else。 And then after the battle he might be able to see her across the hall of celebration； with foulness unspeakable and impassable filling all the space between them。。。
。。。 and from time to time he was allowed to tumble back into his barracks…bed to rest。 When his eyes closed； he feared to dream； and dreaming he feared even more to wake。
He knew that somewhere； in the real world； whatever that might really be； many days at least were passing。
Benambra； the First High Priest； came in a litter and looked at him once； and said something through withered lips； and smiled and went away。。。
From time to time Ben was allowed； or perhaps pelled； to sit at a table in a dimly lit space called a messhall； where s