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observes before calmly proceeding on his way. Noble is left all alone, with a simple choice in front of him: should he fight or run?
    His first instinct is to fight, since that’s what he’s always done in the past. This time, however, he
knows
he’s outmatched, because he isn’t carrying a Tritus. He isn’t even wearing boots. And his poleax won’t be enough to even the odds.
    That’s why the gargoyles are his only hope. Having set one of them free, he might have some leverage withthe others. They might respond to an appeal from a trusted ally. It’s worth a shot, especially since the gargoyles are now much better armed than he is, what with their claws and tusks and razor-sharp teeth.
    Noble has to decide before it’s too late. So he makes a choice; he decides not to fight. Instead, he ducks and runs, hurling his poleax at the false Noble.
    This tactic works beautifully. The false Noble is taken aback. Braced for a frontal assault, he repels the poleax instead of moving to block Noble’s escape. And during that crucial split second, Noble bolts past him, heading for the road.
    The drawbridge isn’t very wide. Only a thin sliver of planking is exposed on either side of the carriage. If Noble doesn’t watch his step, he’ll lose his footing and plummet into the river. That’s why he can’t set the kind of pace he wants to. That’s why he fails to put much distance between himself and his opponent, who’s pounding along after him.
    But it doesn’t really matter, because someone else is lurking under the drawbridge—someone who reaches up to grab the false Noble as he passes overhead. Noble doesn’t realize what’s happened, at first. He’s too busy running along the road, shouting at the nearest gargoyle. “Help me!” he pleads. “Help me to fight! If I’m killed, I can’t unchain you!”
    Then a bloodcurdling scream interrupts him. He turns to see his doppelgänger pitch sideways, pulled off the drawbridge by a slim, rather dirty hand that’ssnaked around the edge of the planking and gripped a boot identical to the one Noble himself used to wear. The false Noble loses his balance. Flailing wildly, he plunges out of sight. There’s a choked wail, followed by a terrific
splash
.
    By the time Noble arrives at the lip of the precipice, his doppelgänger has vanished into the churning torrent far below.
    “Quick!” someone croaks. “Get me out of here!”
    It’s Rufus. He’s wedged himself onto a narrow, rocky shelf beneath the drawbridge. From this vantage point, it was easy enough for him to upend the false Noble—who can’t have been paying enough attention to his own feet. “We’ve got to hurry!” Rufus warns. “Before the next one shows up!”
    “The next what?” Noble demands. Though numb with shock, he bends down to grip Rufus’s outstretched hand.
    “The next Noble!” Rufus emerges from his refuge in a scrambling rush. “We’ve got to hide, or he’ll get us!”
    Noble doesn’t argue. Having hauled Rufus onto solid ground, he allows himself to be hustled past the rear of the giant carriage, which Rufus calls a truck. According to Rufus, this truck can disgorge any number of replacement Nobles, all armed to the teeth and ready for action. “As soon as the AV comes back and sees that your last replacement’s gone, he’ll pull out another Noble,” Rufus explains, nodding at the truck’srear door. “Ten to one, he’ll replace Lord Harrowmage, too.
And
a whole bunch of soldiers …”
    “Why?” asks Noble. He follows Rufus, who’s making for the smaller carriage. “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Who was that man in the white coat?”
    “I told you, he’s the AV. The antivirus software. He came here to get rid of me—and that means getting rid of you, as well. He has to replace all the subprograms that I’ve converted.” Rufus keeps glancing over his shoulder, as if he’s worried about being seen. “But he won’t find either of us if we hop in the back