Kesley groped unsteadily toward a chair; it sprang forward and settled itself beneath him. "You, yourself—"
"Antarctica is mine, Dale. I went north to bring you here, but I failed. My life was threatened in the forest. I ran. An Immortal is jealous of his life. Remember the scream of fear when you first drew the knife on me, after I shot your wolf? That was fright—naked crawling fright." The Antarctican shook his head bitterly. "I should never have left here."
"I've seen Daveen," Kesley said.
"I know. The otter sent him to me."
"Spahl?"
Van Alen nodded. "That's his name. You owe your life to him many times over, Dale."
"I owe my life to everyone at least six times, it seems," Kesley said sardonically. "It seems to be a game everyone likes to play—saving me."
"Spahl found out who Lomark Dawnspear really was and sent him here. Spahl was the one who arranged to have you sent here, by the only method that can penetrate our Barrier. It was Spahl also, I believe, who discovered you in the forest when you escaped from Miguel."
Kesley frowned. "Enough of Spahl. I've seen Daveen. I know I'm Immortal, now."
"Of course."