Lord Adarbrent too glanced to the west.
'Not quite night,' he agreed. 'But almost. And not a night to be long within these walls.'
'No, we'll do what needs to be done and leave,' Sophraea said. Then her vision of what was behind her obscured her sight and made her stumble on the path. Gustin caught her and held her steady.
'Stunk's men,' she informed him, 'they saw my family and they've turned back. They'll be fighting again.'
And blood spilled upon the snow, on that night and in that place, would bring disaster upon them. That thought sprang into her mind as easily as she knew the right turn to take or the name of the monument that they were passing.
'Too many ofthe dead are awake,' she said, desperate to convey her insight to the men beside her. 'We need to keep everyone moving, keep my family and Stunk's men from fighting! If they do fight, it will be like meat thrown before hungry dogs!'
'Can you make a light, wizard?' asked Lord Adarbrent, turning back the way that they had come.
Gustin nodded. A blazing ball of white light appeared in his cupped palm. He tossed it once or twice and then flung it upward. It whizzed into the sky, breaking apart in a shower of sparks.
Shouts came from behind them. Gustin's firework had been seen!
'That will bring them running,' said Lord Adarbrent. The old man stood in the center of the path, an old- fashioned silhouette against the snow. Flakes settling on his black hat formed a pattern like a white plume. 'It is me that Stunk wants. He will pursue me farther into the graveyard. Let the dead follow us if they wish.'
'No,' protested Sophraea. 'You don't understand. It's not like it was before. Something is stirring. Something worse than before.'
'But it started with the spell that I cast,' said the old man. 'So, let me help now, to make amends.'
'If you leave us, you might not be able to find your way out,' Sophraea said. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see paths shifting, bushes bending down to hide the way, and, everywhere, shadows weaving black webs of confusion. On this night, only a Carver could safely find her way out ofthe City of the Dead. Sophraea was sure of that!
'If I am lost,' Lord Adarbrent said, 'then it is a sacrifice I make for'one of the great families of Waterdeep. Captain Volponia was right. Waterdeep needs Carvers, just as much as it needs nobles and wizards, merchants and adventurers, and all the rest. Your family is as much a part of Waterdeep's history and its future as all the rest. You keep the City of the Dead beautiful. And you keep it safe.'
Sophraea chewed her lip. Letting the old nobleman sacrifice himself for her family seemed wrong. The snowflakes fell like cold tears on her upturned face.
Another shout, this one behind them, made her turn. The topiary dragon galloped toward them, half swimming through the snow. Briarsting rode high on his bushy steed's neck, waving wildly at them.
'It's all chaos and confusion, from one end of the City to the other,' the thorn called to them. 'The City Watch has shut all the gates. The Blackstaff and the Watchful Order are warding all the walls!:'
'Are there any living in the City of the Dead?' Sophraea called.
'Just that crowd that's following you,' said Briarsting. 'We saw them pass and knew you had to be close. I've been searching for you all afternoon. Met your brother chasing the dead down the paths toward your house. Now there's a boy who likes a fight! And then, every light and flame went out. That's when the Watch started yelling for everyone to clear out and locked down the gates!'
'That was me!' said Gustin.
'Did you know dousing the light was like ringing an alarm in the ear of every corpse within these walls?' the thorn inquired. 'It wasn't intentional,' Gustin said.
'And there's a great statue stumping its way toward the Markarl tomb,' the litde man added, standing high on his perch and squinting his eyes against the flurries.
'That's mine too,' said Gustin.
'Well, you have had the busy afternoon,' Briarsting concluded. 'But now what?'
'We need your help,' Sophraea said. 'Yours and every guardian that you. can rouse.'
'Every ghost and spirit with a friendly feeling toward Waterdeep is striving to keep the gates closed tonight,' Briarsting stated.
Sophraea closed her eyes for a moment and, in her Carver vision of the graveyard, she could see that Briarsting was right. Glimmers of silver and gold stood before the public gates and along the wall, working as hard as the City Watch and the wizards of the Watchful Order on the other side to keep Waterdeep protected from the dead in the coming night. Heroes and legends, even the bright flare of some long-forgotten dead god, ringed the outer perimeters to hold the living city safe.
Only the Carver's gate and Dead End House behind it was unprotected. Lord Adarbrent's curse was a black break in the shimmering circle of ghosdy goodwill.
'We need to get to the Markarl tomb,' Sophraea said, her eyes popping open to contemplate her companions. 'But can you bring my family and Stunk and Stunk's men there too? Help Lord Adarbrent lead them that way, but keep them from fighting?'
The topiary dragon swept its tail from side to side, sending up a spray of snow.
'We can do it,' Briarsting swore.
'Are you sure?' said Lord Adarbrent.
Sophraea nodded firmly. 'Your noble dead will not sleep if they smell blood within these walls,' she said with conviction. 'Keep my family and Stunk's men apart but bring them to us. We need them all to be there when this is finished.'
So we can get everyone safely out of the City of the Dead, she thought, but did not want to jinx her luck by speaking this out loud.
Catching Gustin's hand, Sophraea hurried toward the Markarl tomb.
They passed the reflecting pool. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophraea saw that the weeping warrior no longer covered her face. The stone woman stood very straight, stone sword and shield upraised, to protect whatever lay beneath her feet.
At the corners of other tombs, guardgoyles were stirring, beaks open and ready to scream, wings outstretched to beat off any intruders. Perpetual flames burned bright enough in the dishes outside tomb doors to reveal the elemental faces within the Are. Certain fountains shot higher into the night as the water spirits within roused themselves against the torpor caused by snow and ice.
Briarsting was right. All the guardians of the City of the Dead were awake.
Running through the snow, drifts as high as Sophraea's knees, they caught up to the stone statue as it enteredthe little circle of land that Stunk had claimed for himself. A few marker stakes crunched under the statue's feet as it continued toward the open door of the Markarl tomb.
A pale young lady in a gold brocade dress and shoes stood in the doorway. She smiled sadly at Sophraea and Gustin.
'1 am so sorry,' Sophraea said to the ghost, 'but this must end.'
She pulled the spellbook from her basket. 'What must we say?' she said, flipping open the book.
Gustin raised his hand and cast a wizard light over her shoulder to illuminate Algozata's spellbook.
'A bit of doggerel,' the wizard said. 'That anyone could read. That's what Lord Adarbrent said.'
'But what page?' In her distress, Sophraea almost tore the pages, flipping one after the other. Strange symbols, written in uneasy colors, flashed before her eyes:
The silence ofthe graveyard was once again shattered by shouts and muffled-cries. One voice above the rest was clearly her brother Leaplow, yelling 'Sophraea! Gustin! Are you all right? Where did this bush come from?'
A black shape slid next to Sophraea. Lord Adarbrent shook the snow from his wide coat cuffs with a practiced twist of the Wrist.
'Almost amusing,' he huffed. 'That creature cut the crowd in two and ran them here like a well-trained sheep dog with two flocks.'
The Carvers were pressed back against one tomb, held there by the sweeping tail of the topiary dragon. At the beast's other end, equally at bay from the snapping teeth and Briarsting's occasional flourish of his thorn blade, Stunk and his men huddled together.
The ghost lady stared at Lord Adarbrent. She lifted one glimmering hand toward him.
'Farewell, my dear,' said the old man in the softest voice that Sophraea had ever heard from him.
