S
“How far is it to the ruins?” Harp asked, finishing the last bite of his breakfast and standing up. He’d had enough of resting. In fact, he felt like he would never need to steep again.
“It’s not far to the edge of the Domain,” Zo told him. “Beyond that, I’m not sure how far it is to the boundaries of the ruins itself.”
“Is that where you took Liel?”
“Majida took her to the edge. But I won’t leave the Domain. YouH have to make your way from there by yourself.” “So why doesn’t Majida take us?”
Zo scowled. “Because I’m taking you. Majida’s busy.”
“So, don’t make fun of me, Boult,” Harp said. “But I lost my sword. Again.”
“How many is that?” Boult asked, shaking his head in disgust. “Two in less than a tenday?”
“There’s an armory down that tunnel,” Zo told them. “You’re welcome to take what you need.”
“I’ll go round up Verran,” Boult said. “Pick me out something nice.”
“We’ll pay you, of course,” Harp said to Zo, as he and Kitto followed the dwarf into the armory. “You’ve shown us enough hospitality already.”
Zo shook his head. “Kill Scaly Ones. Kill the man you call the Practitioner. That’ll be payment enough.”
If Verran was shocked by Harp’s new appearance, he hid it well. Sullen and withdrawn, the boy trailed behind them as they followed Zo down the eastern tunnel. Harp’s pack was filled with supplies, and it felt heavy on his shoulders as they walked through the dimly lit tunnel. He’d picked out two stubby swords, a sturdy but diminutive shield, and a crossbow that would have fit a child’s hand. Not that Harp was going to complain. Even miniscule weapons were better than nothing.
“What do you know about the ruins?” he asked Zo as they walked.
“Hisari was the name of the city. It’s been hundreds of years since the earth swallowed it. From what Majida says, it’s still intact, just buried. Did you see the ruins when you were on top of the waterfall?”
“I saw the golden dome.”
“That’s the top of the palace. Until recently, it was covered by the jungle, but Cardew and his men cleared it away.”
“That’s what they spent their time doing?”
“Yes. But they couldn’t get into the palace. Fortunately, they didn’t know about our underground tunnels.”
“They couldn’t break through the dome?”
“They tried, but nothing worked. They weren’t able to dig down into it either. Probably because of then magical barrier that surrounds it.”
“Do yuan-ti live in the ruins?” Boult asked.
“They dwell above ground. There must be things living down there, but what, I’m not sure.”
Up ahead the tunnel made a sharp right. Zo stopped, lit a torch, and handed it to Harp.
“The Domain ends up ahead,” Zo said. “I’ve never been past that point, and I don’t care to go.”
“You said something about a barrier?” Verran asked.
“Yes, at the edge of Hisari.”
“It’s not a dwarven ward?” Boult asked.
“No, we have our own wards on the Domain,” Zo replied. “You’ll see our runes on the walls from here until you reach the edge of our territory. But the barrier around Hisari is something different. It’s ancient.”
“How did Liel get through?” Verran asked.
“Majida didn’t tell you?” Zo asked in surprise.
Harp shook his head. “She didn’t give us specifics.”
“She didn’t tell me either,” Zo said. “I know that she and Liel spent hours trying to bring it down. What finally worked, I can’t say.”
“Can you get us through, Verran?” Harp asked.
“I’ll try,” Verran said, his eyes darting away as if he couldn’t bring himself to look at Harp’s unscarred face. “If you need us, you know where to find us,” Zo said, clasping hands with each of them before he turned and headed back down the way they’d come.
“Well, men,” Harp said. “Any final thoughts before we head into the mouth of the beast?”
“I wanted to go back to the ship that first day,” Boult said, snatching the torch from Harp’s hand and stomping down the tunnel. “I said we should sail to Nyanzaru and sell the Marigold. If you’d listened to me, we’d be sitting on a pile of coin and drinking a pint.”
“Ah, but you’d never have seen a giant lizard.”
“It was dead,” Boult said over his shoulder as they followed him into the tunnel.
“You’d never have seen a dead giant lizard get eaten by ants,” Harp reminded him.
“Eh,” Boult said, shrugging.
“You’d never have jumped off a waterfall,” Harp said.
“Or been attacked by a creature made out of corpses,” Kitto added.
“Or seen the bones of a god,” Harp pointed out.
“It wasn’t a god,” Verran muttered, but everyone ignored him.
“And Harp would still have his scars,” Kitto said.
Boult stopped. At first Harp thought it was because of what Kitto had said, but Boult was staring at the wall. In tiny writing from floor to ceiling, black runes were scorched into the rock and glowing faintly in the torchlight. Boult held the torch close to them and peered at the wall.
“Are those the wards of protection?”
“Those are what has kept the dwarves hidden all these years,” Boult said in amazement. “But they’re more than that. They tell the dwarves’ history. Embedded in the writing are the names of everyone who’s lived here. How people died.”
“Like a genealogy?” Harp asked.
Boult read more. “No, more than that. Events are recorded too. The Spellplague. The history of the yuan-ti is probably written here as well, at least from the dwarves’ perspective.”
“Does it tell the future too?” Harp asked. “I’d really like to know if I’m going to die today.”
“Come on,” Verran said impatiently. “This isn’t the time for a history lesson.”
They moved slowly down the tunnel, with Boult trying to read as they walked. Finally, Verran lit his own torch and took the lead, moving much more quickly down the passage.
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Harp asked Verran.
“Do you want me to take down the barrier? Or are we going to sit around and read about Grandma Bushybeard? If we’re going to do it, let’s do it.”
Verran stormed off down the passage while the others exchanged looks.
“He’s grumpy this morning,” Harp said. “Anyone know why?”
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Boult said “He didn’t eat breakfast with us.”
“Where did you find him?” Harp asked. “I didn’t. He walked into the hub after you went into the armory.”
Verran had disappeared from sight, and Harp felt increasingly uneasy about the boy’s mood. When the tunnel veered right, they saw Verran crouched in the middle of the tunnel and staring at a white mesh that stretched across the passageway. Swaying gently as if blown by a light breeze, it had the appearance of an exquisite tapestry that was woven from fine, almost translucent threads.
“Is it wrong for me to hope that’s a spider web?” Harp said.
“It’s the barrier,” Verran replied. “It’s a type of ward.”
“It doesn’t look very magical,” Boult said doubtfully. “Can we just brush it aside?”
Verran reached into his cloak, pulled out a hunk of bread, and tossed it into the barrier. With a snap of light, the bread seared black and fell to the ground smoking.
“Toast anyone?” Boult said.
“My father’s mentor called it a shroud barrier,” Verran said. “He used them to contain dead bodies.”
“Contain them from doing what?” Harp asked.
“No, to preserve them for later use,” Verran said.
“Use for what?” Boult asked. “How come you know that?”
