“You have returned!” Salvador Dali called from atop a pile of rubble.
With a half wave, Alex raced around the white pit toward the wreckage. Now only one wall remained, and it could topple at any moment.
At least the Blank Canvas hadn’t grown in his absence, and Artanians were staying back from the edge. Thank God. He didn’t think he could deal with keeping amnesiacs from tumbling into that hole while trying to rescue Gwen.
He patted the bloodhound. “Go on boy, find Gwen.”
The dog bayed and dropped its nose to the ground. After sniffing three times he loped forward.
The sound of shovels and pickaxes filled the air. The rescue party had grown to a group of some fifty individuals. A few bowler-hatted men held up oil lanterns while firemen in old-fashioned uniforms and Dali picked throug
