doubt that this door led to one of the deepest levels of the Palaces of Bone.
Another door. I put my hand on it and gasped out loud in surprise. It was a night scene. The light of the slim moon was barely enough to light up the clearing surrounded by majestic golden-leafs. There was a small fire glowing close to the entrance to Hrad Spein. Its timid flickering awoke a strange yearning in my heart. There were soldiers sleeping beside the fire. There was just a still figure of the sentry standing on the boundary line between the firelight and the night. The sentry stirred and I recognized Eel.
This was my chance! I could escape from Hrad Spein this very moment! All I had to do was open the door and step through it, and I would be free! No more cursed stone walls, coffins, catacombs, fear, weariness, endless nightmares, and lack of sleep, no more hunger, no more running.
I could send the quest for the Rainbow Horn to all the demons of darkness, send the Commission even farther, and forget these last few days, as if they were nothing but a terrible dream. My hand reached out for the door handle against my will, and the door opened very easily.
A breath of the fresh autumn night and campfire smoke blew into my face. I breathed the aroma in like a gift from the gods. One step, and the nightmare would be over. Just one step, that was all. I opened the door a little wider and the hinges creaked gently. The sound was enough to alert Eel and make him start walking toward me. I didn’t know if he’d seen anything or was simply following the sound, but I wanted very much to shout out and attract his attention.
“Look to the right, Harold,” Valder whispered to me.
His voice broke the spell, and I looked. In the lower corner of the door to my right, there was a triangle. A red one.
Cursing all the gods and the Master, and fickle fate into the bargain. I slammed shut the door to freedom, lifted my hand off the handle, and took a step back. I was trembling convulsively, and no wonder! I’d almost ruined everything. Almost burned my bridges. Curses! What on earth had come over me?
“Thank you, Valder.”
“I just thought you might not like to walk through all eight levels again,” he said with a gloomy chuckle.
“You thought right,” I replied, still unable to gather my wits. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t thank me too much, I have my own interest in this business.”
“And what’s that?”
“My non-death started with the Rainbow Horn, when … well, you know what I mean.”
I certainly did. That was the very first dream vision I’d had.
“I console myself with the hope that—” He paused, as if afraid of extinguishing this timidly flickering flame of hope. “—that when I’m somewhere near the Horn again, I shall be able to leave this world and find peace.”
“Let’s hope you’re right, Valder, and the artifact does help you.”
“I hope so,” he sighed.
“Did you hear my conversation with the Messenger?”
“Yes.”
“Is he telling the truth?”
A long pause, and then …
“Yes, the Rainbow Horn is the force that can disrupt the balance.”
“What about the Master? Is what the Messenger says about him and those other beings, and about me, true?”
“I don’t know.”
“But if the Horn is capable of disrupting the balance, perhaps we shouldn’t…”
“The balance can be disrupted whether you take the Horn or not. It doesn’t depend on the Horn any longer.”
“But what should I do?”
“Fulfill the Commission and pray to Sagot,” Valder said, and stopped talking.
Fulfill the Commission and don’t think about a thing.… Hah! I walked up to the door with the red triangle on it, took a deep breath, opened it wide, and walked into the eighth level of the Palaces of Bone.
11
The Rainbow Horn
I found myself in a small room that smelled of age, dust, and candles. Whatever else might be lacking, there were certainly plenty of candles—the entire room was crammed with candlesticks.
A hefty metal table piled high with books and scrolls, heavy drapes of dark claret velvet on the walls, a faded Sultanate carpet on the floor—it almost came unraveled under my feet. In the far corner, beside the way out, a small cupboard with shelves packed with jars and flasks. A picture in a heavy, ornate, gilded frame on one of the walls. It was impossible now to tell what the unknown artist had originally painted—all the colors had faded. Two bronze-bound chests standing beside the table.
I looked back, but the door I had come through to enter the room was gone. There was no way I could get back to the Level Between Levels now.
I walked over to the table and lifted the lid of the nearest chest out of curiosity. No, there wasn’t any treasure inside. The trunk was filled right up to the top with fine quality wheat. A very strange choice. Who on earth could have got the idea of bringing something so useless down from the first level? The second trunk was filled halfway up with wheat berries.
I slammed the lid down in annoyance and turned my attention to the table, with its books and yellowed scrolls, covered with an immensely thick layer of dust. I had no intention of touching them, but for some reason Valder decided to say something.
“Wait. Go back to them.”
I walked back to the table and picked up the first book that came to hand.
“I can’t read these squiggles,” I said, looking at the book without the slightest interest.
“I can. It’s old orcish. A magical book. It’s priceless.”
Well, maybe it was priceless, but I wasn’t going to lug it back up to the surface. The book was as heavy as Kli-Kli after a binge on cherries.
“Pick up that one, with the yellow cover.”
I raked aside the scrolls, raising a thick cloud of dust, and fished out the book that Valder wanted. It was a bit larger than my palm and about two fingers thick. There was gnomish writing on the cover.
Was that a note of awe I heard in Valder’s voice? Well, I supposed that wasn’t so very surprising. All the gnomes’ books were hidden away in the Zam-da-Mort and neither the gnomes nor the dwarves could get at them. The dwarves wouldn’t let their closest relatives within a cannon-shot of their mountains, but they couldn’t figure out how to open the magical depository without them.
That was why what I was holding in my hands was immensely valuable to both the races. I twirled the book this way and that, then carefully put it back in its place. I certainly wasn’t going to take it with me, or even tell Hallas and Deler about my find. There was no point. The little book in the yellow cover could easily ignite a conflagration that would end in a new Battle of the Field of Sorna. I certainly wasn’t going to be the one who unleashed another round of slaughter between the dwarves and the gnomes.
“Is there anything else that interests you, Valder?”
No reply.
I shrugged and walked toward the door. It was time to grab the Rainbow Horn and get out of this inhospitable place … fast.
Now that was talking big! “Grab the Rainbow Horn”! I had to get to the lousy tin whistle first! And getting to it turned out not to be so simple.
When I stepped out of the library room, I stepped into a wide corridor or hall. It was shrouded in shadows and semidarkness, just like the sixth level. Wax torches spluttered in an attempt to illuminate the underground
