"You'd have found yourself in the arms of a six-inch praying mantis," Gabriel blurted out, "getting your head chewed off!"

"Gabe," the Creator sighed, folding His wings calmly behind Him. "Your goat."

Gabe was too busy wondering how on earth the Creator had let Lucifer surprise them to puzzle out what goats had to do with anything.

The spider turned its many glassy eyes toward the escalating debate below. "So that's Your hidden ace," it said dryly. Its palps did that little dance that passed for laughter among spiders. "Was this the best You could do? Dust off a proven failure, and trot him back out for the most crucial wager in human history?"

"Arthur was hardly a failure, Lucifer," the Creator replied. "If memory serves Me, you lost that wager, not I."

"On a technicality," the spider sneered. "And, if he didn't fail, technically, he certainly didn't succeed. In my book, that's virtually the same thing. Two adulterous traitors, and an incestuous infanticide," he said, dripping with disdain. "To these you give 'second chances'-but not to me."

"They were sorry, Lucifer," the white moth replied.

"Sorry?" Lucifer murmured. "When I'm in charge, sorry won't be nearly good enough." He turned his back on them then, and sidled up a strand of web toward the crack he'd come from. "I'd love to stay and gloat," he broadcast back with a mental grin, "but now that I've glimpsed the rather pathetic card up Your sleeve, I have adjustments to make."

In the room below, Laura was being escorted back into the library by her grinning champion, Sir Benjamin. Everyone was clapping, except for Johnny Mayhew, who left the room. But Joby didn't seem to care about that. He just smiled at his two best friends with obvious pride and affection, clapping louder than anyone as they took their seats beside him at the table.

6.

( Taubolt ) Joby reveled in the warm spring air that caressed his arms and played through his hair as he biked home from that confining compound for the last time until the unimaginably distant month of September. School was finally over, which meant not only three months of freedom, but the final count-down to his birthday too! In three days he would be ten years old! Double digits at last! And as if all that weren't enough, Mrs. Nelson had given him a letter for his parents, which, from her smile, he knew must say something good. Joby hadn't felt this happy since Christmas, when he'd gone into the living room to find his brand-new bike beside the tree, metal-flake red, with twenty-one gears!

His old bike had gone to Jamie Lindwald when they'd let him into the Roundtable in March. Jamie had never talked again about what his parents had done to him, and Joby had known better than to ask. But Jamie had gone without a shirt out at the tournament field recently, and no trace remained of the ugly scars Joby and Benjamin had seen.

By now the Roundtable was completely famous. There were sixth-graders who wanted to be knights! Even teachers came quietly to Joby, Ben, or Laura with suggestions about who could use a lift or a helping hand. Johnny Mayhew had come back to the Roundtable eventually, despite Laura's knighthood, and become fast friends with Jamie. All in all, it had been an amazing year. Joby pumped his bike pedals fiercely, howling like a wolf, and laughing at the sun, unable to contain the giddy joy that powered through his body. He was free! Free at last!

"Hit me," said the Creator.

"Again?" Gabe exclaimed. "You must be over by now."

"We're gambling," the Creator chided. "Pressing My luck's the whole point."

Gabriel dealt his Master a sixth card, and the Creator laid His hand down, revealing a ten, a two, a four, a three, and two aces, "Twenty-one," He grinned, "again."

Gabe shook his head in amazement. "I must confess, Lord, it's reassuring to see Your luck run so strong."

"You don't, you know."

"Don't what?"

"Have to confess."

Gabriel looked confused.

"Never mind," the Creator said.

"Lucifer's done nothing for months!" Gabriel murmured. "It's making me rather nervous. What can he be up to?"

"Little Joby could teach you a thing or two about keeping your goat, Gabe."

"My what, Lord?"

"Your goat. You seem so anxious lately."

"Master," Gabriel dared at last to ask, "did we not betray Your 'hidden ace' to Lucifer?"

"Is that what's been eating you?" The Creator smiled. "Well, you needn't have worried. There is no silver bullet concealed anywhere in Joby. There never was. So we can hardly have betrayed it to Lucifer, can we."

"But . . . I thought-I mean, Lucifer clearly thought . . ."

"If I were hiding aces, Gabe, I wouldn't hide them in Joby anyway." He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. "First place that old boar would look, isn't it?"

"Then . . . forgive me, Lord, but, the child does seem terribly vulnerable. If there's nothing more waiting in reserve, how can You be certain Lucifer won't win?"

"Of course he might win, Gabe. The fellow's an ass, but he's not an idiot. In fact," the Creator sighed, "I'd say he's already got the game he's been playing with poor Joby pretty well sewn up."

Gabriel could not hide his shock. "You think he's won, Lord?"

"Lucifer often wins the games he plays," the Creator mused soberly. "You know that, Gabe. Thank heaven he so rarely plays the right ones."

Gabriel had not been the only one puzzling over the Creator's game since that afternoon in the library. Realizing later that sneaking up on his "omniscient" foe had been far too easy, Lucifer's gloating had quickly turned to apprehension. The Creator must have wanted to be overheard, which could mean only one thing: there must be a trap hidden somewhere in this discovery, waiting to snap shut on Lucifer's overconfident fingers, just as it had so many times before. Well, he wasn't falling for it this time.

That these children, though unaware of it themselves, were Camelot's tragic trio returned to the wheel was undoubtedly true. Tricky as He might be, the Creator did not lie outright. Not ever. But Lucifer's oppressor had never had any qualms about withholding the truth. So what hadn't He let slip? Lucifer had no intention of rushing blindly ahead until he knew. Beyond Williamson's surveillance, and Lindwald's carefully monitored infiltration, Lucifer had called all activity to an immediate halt.

Kallaystra had complained rather stridently about lost momentum, but Lucifer had just insisted that allowing the boy and his family this brief hiatus would ultimately work even more to Hell's advantage. What was more demoralizing, after all, than lost hope resurrected-then dashed-again? Kallaystra had received these reassurances with cool skepticism, as had most of the others. To Lucifer's satisfaction, she had clearly not failed to betray their "little secret" to nearly everyone in Hell. Flocks of his usually uncooperative demonic siblings had been paying him deferential visits for months now, just to see if there were anything he might need. Each time, Lucifer had mentioned the wager as if reluctant to burden them, but they'd invariably insisted on helping.

Now, of course, all those recruits were whining about having to cool their heels, but Lucifer would endure such complaint five times over before being rushed into some disastrous blunder. His second shot at Camelot's charming little trio would wait until all the trip wires had been discerned. This time they'd find no refuge in technicalities.

Humming softly as she rinsed lettuce and red bell peppers, Miriam glanced up through the kitchen window at a world awash in sunlit greens and blues. There was fruit already swelling on those tiny peach trees Frank had planted two summers before. Once again, she reveled in summer's arrival.

Her nightmares had finally ceased just before Christmas, though it had taken her months to trust their absence. Frank seemed less anxious too these days. With the drier weather, construction had begun on the shopping mall, and kudos on Frank's design were pouring in from both his partners and the client, which made her husband charmingly impossible to live with. Joby's grades had been better that spring than ever before, and she could not remember the last time she'd had to ask him to pick up his things or do his chores. Thinking back, it was hard to understand now what she'd been so upset about all winter.

As she laid the salad things out to dry and went to finish dressing the chicken, she heard Joby burst through the front door.

"Mom?"

"I'm in here, honey!"

He came running across the dining room, and into the kitchen. "I got a letter from Mrs. Nelson!" He bounded over and thrust an envelope at her. "It's for you and Dad."

She opened it and scanned the page.

"Out loud!" Joby protested. "Please," he quickly amended.

" 'Dear Mr. and Mrs. Peterson,' " she read, " 'I just want to say that your son's unflagging desire to learn and improve this year has been an example to all of his classmates. His wonderful imagination and delight in life have enlivened our class again and again. His Roundtable club has instilled a sense of excitement about helping others throughout the entire school. My only regret is having to relinquish the privilege of being his teacher next year to Miss Meyer. I have never seen Joby's like, and I am convinced that Joby will grow up to do great things. You must be very proud. Sincerely, Alice Nelson.'

"Oh, Joby!" Miriam said, bending down to fold him in her arms. "I am proud of you! Your father will walk on air when he reads this." She pulled back for a better look at her marvelous child. "I think you're just perfect!" she said. This seemed to please Joby so much that she said it again, playfully pulling his giggling face around by the ears. "You're my perfect little boy, Joby!" She kissed his forehead, and let him go.

"Yahooo!" Joby cheered, running from the kitchen with his book bag. "I'm gonna go wash my hands for dinner! . . . It's summer!" he shouted. "Yahooooooo!"

As Miriam's fine chicken dinner drew to an end, Frank leaned back and asked with studied nonchalance, "So, Joby, given any thought to your birthday plans this year?"

His son looked up blankly. "Gee. I forgot all about it." Then he grinned slyly, and Frank couldn't help laughing.

"Like hell you did." Frank chuckled. "Let's hear it. What are we doing this year?"

Joby's smile became gleeful. "I wanna go see the little monsters!"

Frank was nonplussed, and saw that Miriam looked just as confounded.

"Tide pools!" Joby said. "Mrs. Nelson says all those animals we studied live right at the beach in tide pools. I wanna go see 'em!"

Ah! Frank remembered hearing Joby talk about sea creatures before. In fact, he had seen library books about marine life lying around the house all year. His brows climbed slightly. His son, the marine biologist? That's when he noticed Miriam's strange smile. "Miriam? What's that look about?" he asked.

"Oh . . . I was just remembering some tide pools I saw once when I was not much older than Joby. I found a huge starfish there-at least twenty legs."

"That's a sun star!" Joby exclaimed. "Did you see the little tubes it crawls on?"

"I don't think so." Her expression softened further. "But there were lots of beautiful shells and it was so sunny and warm. You'd have loved it there, Joby."

"Where was it?" Joby enthused. "Let's go there!"

"It was at a little town called Taubolt," she said. "But it's much too far away. I'm sure there are lots of closer tide pools."

Of course, Frank thought. Where her father had grown up. He'd never been there, but Miriam had mentioned it from time to time. He could see she'd like to go there . . . and it had been a long winter, and he knew he hadn't been easy to get along with. Watching her bemused expression, Frank felt its echo spreading across his own face.

"Want to go see the beach where your grandpa grew up, Joby?" he said, smiling at Miriam.

"Yeah!" Joby exclaimed. "That'd be cool!"

"Oh, Frank," Miriam said. "We'd just end up driving all day!"

"I wanna go," Joby pressed. "Did you live there, Mom?"

"No, dear. Your grandpa left Taubolt a long time before he met your grandma. We only went that once, on vacation, and I don't even remember how to get there."

"Well, it's on the coast, so it can't be that hard to find," Frank said, rising to get a map. "Gotta be on the coast highway somewhere. Let's see how far."

A moment later he was back, spreading a California road map on the dinner table. He traced the wavy red line of Highway I north from San Francisco, reading the names of each town along the way, but his finger reached the Oregon border without ever finding Taubolt. "I guess it's too small to list," he conceded.

"It wasn't much of a town," Miriam said, turning to clear the dishes with nearly concealed disappointment. "Out in the middle of nowhere. It might not even be there anymore."

"A whole town can't just go away!" Joby protested. "We should look for it!"

"It's Joby's birthday, Miriam," Frank said, following her into the kitchen with his own load of dishes. "If that's what he wants, let's just drive up the coast and find it. Whadaya think?"

"I think Joby won't want to spend his whole birthday in the car."

"We'll make a weekend of it then. I can take Friday off. Nobody's going to say I haven't been working hard enough." He turned to Joby, who had followed them in with the salad bowl. "Mind if we celebrate your birthday all weekend, sport?"

"Heck no!" He beamed.

"Well." Miriam laughed, kissing her husband lightly. "As long as you both remember it wasn't my fault if this turns out to be a wild-goose chase."

"All right!" Joby cheered. "Can I bring Benjamin, Dad?"

"Whatever you want, son. It's your birthday, so you're the king."

"I'm the king!" Joby shouted, thrusting his fists in the air.

"You asked to see me, Williamson," Lucifer said without looking up from the huge open book on his desk. "Be quick about it. I've a lot on my plate."

Williamson schooled his resentment once again. In the months since he'd found Lucifer's damned ace, the bastard had never said so much as "thanks." Damned if you didn't, and damned if you did. That's how it seemed to work around here.

"Sir, I've been doing the research you requested . . . on the boy's background, and while there's nothing remarkable about any of his other relations, it does seem that the child's maternal grandfather came out of nowhere."

"What?"

Finally something more than bland disregard.

"The man has no verifiable past before marrying the boy's grandmother, Sir. No apparent lineage, and his birth certificate, high school diploma, and credit records are all fake. They list his place of origin as Taubolt, California, but no such place exists. I've checked every map and atlas-every reference of any kind. I've had your own angels employ supernatural means of finding it, Sir, and there simply isn't any such place."

"So?" Lucifer shrugged scornfully. "He used forged documents to hide his past. An encouraging discovery, certainly, but not very useful until we know why. Is that all you've got to show for so much time?"

"Sir, I-"

"Just find out where the fakes were made, Williamson. Need I guide you through every task you're given? Where there's a forgery, there's a forger-and that person would undoubtedly be one of ours, wouldn't he!"

"With all due respect, Sir, I have made every effort to trace the forgeries, and can say with complete confidence that they have no more past than he did."

"Then where did they come from? They can hardly have burst fully notarized from the head of Zeus! You've just been lazy!"

"I shall scour our lists more carefully, Sir," as if he hadn't done so five times already. But he knew that any other reply would have seen him spitted and basting 'til dinnertime-every dinnertime for eternity.

"Do," Lucifer said shortly. "And let me know when you've discovered something useful. Until then, get out."

They left just after lunch on Friday. Ben and Joby provided running commentary on every sight from the backseat of the Petersons' Land Cruiser as they left familiar dry grassy hills for East Bay cities, the bridge, and San Francisco's rolling skyline. When the ocean itself came into view, the boys threw themselves at the west window, yelling their heads off. But after three more hours of winding coastal highway, the novelty had worn off, and they were both reduced to sleepy silence.

Near five o'clock, they stopped for dinner at a fish place that sold seashells and carved redwood curios. Having all but lost hope, they asked the waitress if she'd ever heard of Taubolt, and cheered loudly when she said she had. She wasn't sure, but thought it might be just a few more hours up the coast.

"A few more hours!" Benjamin and Joby groaned in unison, sliding together off the leatherette seats and under the table like gunslingers who'd been shot.

For an hour and a half after leaving the diner they saw virtually no sign of humanity along the two-lane rural highway. The road grew extremely windy, and once, as they passed an immense outcrop of pale stone wrapped in dark glossy shrubs, Joby suddenly felt dizzy, and asked his father to pull over. After a moment on his feet, however, Joby suddenly felt better than he could ever remember feeling-as if some greasy syrup had been taken from his bloodstream, or a sack of stones lifted from his shoulders. When he mentioned it, his dad told him it was the effect of clean sea air.