The first thing Flint realized upon waking was that he could see. Barely, that was true, but a wan light hovered on the air, pale and gray, just enough so that he could make out the dim shapes cluttering the chamber he was in.
Flint groaned as he stood and stretched. He must have slept for several hours. The shadows seemed less menacing now; whatever the source of the grayish light, they appeared to be wary of it. Although the light was pale, it wasn't an eerie light, not like that of the fish he'd seen earlier. Rather, it lifted the dwarf's heart. Flint searched about the chamber, wondering where the light came from, then suddenly he saw.
In the wall, just above the place he had curled up to sleep, was the tiniest crack in the stone. The dwarf knew exactly what it meant. The light was daylight, and beyond the wall, somewhere, lay the outside.
Flint examined the crack and the area around it. The lines were almost imperceptible, but Flint grunted. He was certain this had been a window once. It probably had been sealed for some reason. Flint could see the barest outline where the opening had been secured.
He hefted the heavy hammer he kept faithfully at his belt and, with all his forge-hardened strength, struck the stone. It shuddered, and Flint grunted in satisfaction as he saw the crack lengthen. He swung again, then a third time. The crack widened, and another joined it, letting in a thin shaft of light. This heartened the dwarf, and he began to pound at the wall in earnest. Luckily, the stone was not thick, and the one crack had been a symptom of a general weakness that pervaded the rock. No doubt the hastiness with which this window had been sealed so long ago was working to Flint's advantage. Had the craftsmen used all their skill in the wall's construction, Flint's hammer would have been as useless as a willow switch against the stone.
Within a minute, chunks of stone began to fly from the wall. The crack grew into a hole, then suddenly the whole thing gave way, crumbling before Flint, the stones cascading away as light flooded the chamber, sending the shadows fleeing into the deeper recesses of the halls.
Feeling triumphant, Flint thrust his bearded head through the hole-but his triumph paled, for he was at the bottom of another stone chute.
Once again, there was no way out but up.
There was no way out but up, Tanis thought as he glared up the cliff face. Next to him, Gilthanas finally stirred and opened his eyes. Despite a bump the size of an egg and the color of rose quartz on the side of his head, Gilthanas appeared healthy.
'Tanis!' he exclaimed. A flicker of relief, then anger crossed his face. 'You defied the Speaker's decree!'
'I came to rescue you,' Tanis said as the
Gilthanas struggled to sit up, sending a shiver through the ledge. 'The drums!' he said, green eyes panic- stricken. 'I have to get back for the
'Do you think you can climb up?' Tanis indicated the thirty-foot rock face above them. 'Or should I leave you and bring back help?'
'Leave me?' Gilthanas echoed, easing to his feet and reaching up for the first handhold. 'I'd be remiss in my duties if I let you escape.'
'Escape?' Tanis murmured. The stone ledge, loosened further by their movements, shuddered again.
But the call to duty seemed to have given the neophyte guard strength, for he was doing a passable job of clambering up the cliff, though the ankle-length robe hampered his efforts somewhat. Finally, Gilthanas tucked the hem of the robe into his belt, which made it easier for him to climb. It did, however, delay Tanis's departure from the slab, which showed more signs of weakness. Nervously, Tanis waited until Gilthanas had climbed above the half-elf's head, then he followed, using the same handholds and footholds that his elven cousin had.
The escape prospect that had seemed hopeless in the murk of night turned out to be arduous but possible in the daylight.
Half an hour later, Gilthanas helped Tanis over the edge of the precipice. The last scramble loosened a medium-size boulder, which slipped over the edge with a scraping noise and bounced off the slab where the two had spent the night. The slab creaked, then tipped further, then slowly came loose from the cliff and dropped, turning, through the clear air to the river below.
In the distance, the drums gave one last roll and ceased.
'
'Gilthanas,' Tanis said. 'Did you see your attacker's face?'
The elf wrenched his attention from Qualinost and looked at Tanis. He then shook his head and began moving toward the ravineside path. 'It was dark. He was hooded. Did you see him?'
Tanis shook his head and explained what had happened between his escape from the palace and his dive off the cliff. He diverted Gilthanas from his trek toward the path, returning to the crevasse that Flint had disappeared into. Tanis shouted for the dwarf; he tossed pebbles down the slender opening to see if he could tell by sound how far his friend might have fallen. There was no reply, and Tanis was too large to fit into the hole.
'We have to hurry,' Gilthanas urged.
Tanis, still not sure he should leave Flint, hesitated. Gilthanas swiftly reached over and drew Tanis's sword from his scabbard. It never occurred to the half-elf to stop the cousin he trusted-then suddenly Tanis was facing the point of his own blade. His mother's pendant formed a spot of silvery light on the hilt. Forest birds continued to chatter around the pair as though nothing were amiss.
'What are you doing?' Tanis whispered.
'You're my prisoner,' Gilthanas said formally. 'You've violated an order of the Speaker. It's my sworn duty as a ceremonial guard to arrest you and return you to Qualinost for judgment.'
Tanis glanced again at the sword that Flint had made for him, then up at Gilthanas. The serious look on his cousin's face squelched any protest, Tanis pondered the situation. He was stronger and larger than his slight cousin, and he had a dagger. Tanis knew he could overpower Gilthanas, even if his cousin was armed with the half-elf's sword.
But then what would he do? Tie up Gilthanas and leave him here unguarded? Such a prospect might be acceptable nearer to Qualinost, with folk about, but the area around the
The chute was a ventilation shaft, Flint decided. He looked straight up, about twenty-five feet. Striving to avoid straining his tender shoulder, the dwarf angled his stocky body through the opening and crawled into the chute, which was about as wide as a barrel of ale-a wistful thought that Flint quickly squelched. He stood atop the litter of old pine cones and dirt; near the wall lay the desiccated skeleton of something about the size of a raccoon. He tried not to think of the animal dying down here, however many years ago.
The dwarf saw a circle of light at the top, with a few spruce branches waving far above that. He searched for handholds-no luck. The shaft may have been wide enough for him to inch his way up by bracing his shoulders on one side and his feet on the other, but his shoulder was too weak; his attempts only landed him with an 'oof!' on the spongy bottom of the chute.
'Reorx!' he said softly. Then, louder, 'Reorx's hammer!' He sat, disconsolate, at the shaft's bottom. His fingers traced the scars that stoneworkers had etched into the walls millennia ago-T-shaped chisel marks. The shaft's artisans were long dead now, probably plying their craft with Reorx in the afterlife. Flint examined one of the T-scars; he'd seen a mark just like it on Lord Tyresian's forearm. Unbidden, the sight of Eld Ailea lying dead before her fireplace came to Flint's mind again: The exposed calf, the purple skirt, the sleeve pushed up to her elbow. The 'T,' the scar, the heir, he recalled…
The force of the realization brought Flint's nodding head up so fast that he cracked it on the stone behind him.
