Hithrax had soon overcome Gullquill and his men at the North Gate. He made his way along the tunnels of the Pessimists’ side, inspecting his troops, the converts from among the Pessimists (fewer than he had hoped; many had died rather than submit), and the engines of war, until he came to the southern end of the Canyon. The Keeper of the South Gate trembled as the band of Aghmaath entered the gate tower. Hithrax was at their head, like a giant bird of prey taller than any man. He crossed the sacred Labyrinth in a few bounds.
‘First: Wh… who are you, and from which w- world do you come?’ The gatekeeper stammered the first of the Nine Questions, in futile defiance, but he already knew the answer: Phangkor, the Darkened World. ‘Second: What…what is the high… highest Truth?’ the gatekeeper recited. But Hithrax rose up, towering over him.
‘I do not like your Nine Questions, fool. I have only one answer for you: DEATH!’
The word echoed around the chamber as Hithrax’s third eye snapped open. The gatekeeper shrank back, but could not tear his gaze from the huge eye as a mindbolt came darkly swirling from it and the gatekeeper sank to the ground, moaning and blinded. Then Hithrax’s thorn-dagger pierced his chest, pumping thorn-sap to paralyse his heart. ‘Kill the others!’ he commanded his warriors.