Her eyes went to Davoren, who leaned against the wall on the far side of the hole. Those red eyes met her look immediately. What did he know? What was he thinking?
Taslin held Asson a little tighter.
Tlork leaped up as though a hornet had stung his ear. He growled and spun about, massive warhammer in hand, but he couldn't see anyone.
The prisoners have slipped past you, came the master's thoughts.
'Wha?' Tlork stared down the corridor, and all the prison doors stood open. The chest that should have been at his feet was gone. Tlork's mind processed it slowly: Not only had the manlings escaped, but they'd found all their weapons, too.
Pursue, the master said in his mind. Now.
Tlork jumped to obey, tottered, and slammed to the floor, his wiry foot yanked out from under him. The clumsy action broke Tlork's neck, but it was a simple matter for the troll to twist his head and correct the problem. He looked down and saw a thick iron chain snaking from his ankle to the statue of the griffon. Tlork growled.
'Master?' asked Tlork aloud. He'd never understood communicating silently-it involved thought, which was not the troll's strength. 'Master? How do I…?'
Tlork waited a few breaths, just in case thought didn't travel fast, but heard nothing.
No matter. Tlork could do what Master commanded. He was smart enough, and more importantly, he was strong enough.
The statue gave a dull pop as the troll's massive warhammer fell upon it. The obsidian held, but a series of cracks spider-webbed through it, each about the length of a thumbnail. Tlork swung again and again. Perhaps, after hitting it a few thousand times, the troll could reduce the lion-thing to rubble and break free.
At no point in the two days it took him to annihilate the statue did it occur to Tlork that a single mighty swing at the chain would have powdered the ancient iron.
CHAPTER FOUR
Liet scrambled up the rope, helped by Gargan. He looked at the trapdoor. It had not been designed as a trapdoor, but it was the pitted remains of a metal platform opening onto the foot of an old flight of stone steps. He didn't know the first thing to make of it.
He could see dimly from the torchlight below and Slip's own torch. Asson panted, leaning heavily on Taslin, but as Liet scrambled up, the old wizard revived. He whispered a word and the end of his staff lit with silvery flames. He examined the metal plate as Taslin, confident that he could stand without her aid, drew her sword and made for the steps. Edgy, Liet silently bid Twilight hurry.
Likely, Asson had seen him gazing down the hole and misapprehended his interest. 'Perhaps it's a tool to lower prisoners,' he hypothesized, indicating the platform.
'Where are the winches, then?' mused Davoren in his ear. Liet found the man almost at his back. He hadn't realized the warlock was so close, and that gave him chills.
'By magic,' Taslin hissed back. 'I am surprised you did not think of that, mahri.'
Liet did not speak Elvish, but Taslin's tone was enough. Davoren hardly seemed to hear-or to care. The Dalesman stared at Davoren, the warlock at Liet. The older man's red eyes glowed like fire. His face was shadowy-Asson's silver light diminished when it touched the man, seemingly absorbed-but Liet thought he could see a mirthless smile.
Then a hand grasped his sword belt, and Liet jumped. He froze in terror, sure he was about to be yanked into the darkness to a grisly fate. Instead, a certain pale elf swung up beside him, scrambling along the rope like a spider. He stared at her.
'My thanks for the hand,' Twilight said, letting go of Liet's belt with a wink. For the third time in a hundred- count, his face went hot. Liet was glad of the darkness.
'Pardon me for overhearing,' Twilight said. 'I suppose magic-I've seen stranger things. Best leave curiosity behind-it's conducive to stumbling upon traps.'
Slip reeled in her rope, and the companions drew weapons and ascended the stairs. The halfling and moon elf took the front, the powerful goliath moved to the rear, and the rest traveled in the middle, Taslin helping Asson to stagger along.
As they moved up the stairs, each step broken and cracked, Liet felt heavier, as though he were growing weary. Was it simple nausea, or was the darkness truly making him tired? Perhaps he should have stayed behind. He felt no safer here.
He tried speaking, quietly, to distract himself. He would address something Twilight had said. He liked the idea of talking to her, even if she didn't answer.
'Well, 'Light-we can't simply abandon curiosity, can we?'
No one answered. He wondered if they'd heard.
They reached a landing where the stairs turned to the left-west, perhaps, though of course they didn't know. At that realization, Liet's lip shook, and he looked around, desperate for some distraction.
'Mayhap all these things are connected? The locks, the platform, maybe… maybe this.' He noted a symbol on the wall. It didn't look dangerous-much like Mystra's stars, arranged in an upside-down pyramid. 'Maybe-'
Almost as quick as Twilight would have, Taslin caught his hand. 'Do not,' she warned, her green eyes bright and very serious.
Liet needed only half a breath to feel ashamed. He pulled his hand away.
'What's this do?' Slip asked aloud, scrutinizing the symbol.
The others hissed warnings or reached for her, but the halfling merely rolled her eyes and evaded their hands. 'Aye, I'm not going to touch it. Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm clueless.' She wove her fingers through the air and murmured.
Liet saw Twilight stiffen. He opened his mouth, but magic interrupted him. A green radiance manifested in the corridor and spread along the wall. A rune, outlined by the magic in emerald, suddenly pulsed to life. It declaimed a phrase in a language Liet didn't come close to understanding, though the tone was none too gentle. Then the runelight increased in intensity.
'Aye, 'twas cute,' Slip said. 'What'd it say?'
'Something touching the matter of passwords,' said Asson.
'Bother,' the halfling said, and flung herself aside.
Liet blinked as the adventurers scattered. Twilight leaped and knocked him to the floor. His arms went reflexively around her and they rolled together down the stairs. His leg ground painfully. They skidded down three steps and stopped.
They cleared the landing not a second too soon, for a wave of emerald fire washed over them. It beat upon his back like heat from an oven into which the sun had misplaced itself. Liet felt his skin hissing in the heat, but was relieved when he didn't burn. He stared down, down into green fire that more than matched the rune's fury above.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, it ended. The storm of flame snuffed itself out in a matter of heartbeats. The corridor seemed darker and quieter in its absence.
Liet felt its cessation, but only distantly. His eyes were fixed downward, staring at Twilight's white face. Her wide eyes stared back, daring him to blink. The green went out of her eyes and they settled back into the silver of Asson's staff mingled with the firelight from Slip's torch and the ruby power tracing Davoren's fists. Liet's arms were around Twilight's shoulders, hers around his waist.
'Well, I think we've all learned a lesson this day,' Slip said, breaking the awkward silence. 'Best to ignore the scenery.'
The others stared. Twilight's eyes flicked to the side, and Liet looked at the halfling, who beamed. 'What?' Slip asked.
