There had been times, back in the real station in Jewylle on Ilben, when Benen had found the walls boring, depressing. When they’d weighed on him, whitewashed brick looming, an intimidating setting if you were a criminal but soulless if you had to work there. But that was nothing compared to now, the endlessness of the maze, the stale air and featureless walls. If they hadn’t been taking right turns at every junction he was certain they’d wander forever, and even with their pattern he felt completely lost.
Gus yawned loudly, still in the lead, and Benen stifled a sympathetic yawn, replaced it with his slowly steeping annoyance.
“Just how long’s this puzzle supposed to last?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Gus, pausing at the latest convergence of corridors. He picked at something under a fing
