underfoot, and winding, but something that could be negotiated at an upright, walking pace. The reality was far different. They had clambered down slopes of jagged stone, squeezed through passages so tight that Sorrell had been afraid to inhale fully, lest he get stuck, used their boots to levitate up and down connecting chimneys, and crawled through caverns with ceilings so low they had to worm their way along on their bellies, nose to boot with the person ahead. They'd pushed themselves hard, stopping only once, and just long enough for Adair to murmur a prayer that filled their hands with nutbread and their leather drinking cups with water, a meal that was consumed in haste and silence. And still they were no closer to catching their prey; the drow simply had too good a start.
By the time Pendaran admitted that there was no point in running themselves to utter exhaustion, Sorrell was filthy, sweaty, and stumbling. He didn't complain when Pendaran chose him as one of the first, together with Koora, to be allowed to slip into Reverie.
It was over much too soon. Sorrell felt as though he'd barely begun his meditations when Pendaran shook his shoulder.
You're on watch, the leader said. He pointed down the passage. Take overNairen's position. He's about fifty paces back, at the mouth of the large cavern.
Sorrell nodded, uncrossed his legs, and rose to his feet. Despite his fatigue, he was glad to stand a watch. Glad to be included. Stooping to avoid the low ceiling, he clambered back the way they'd come, his magical boots silent, even when they slipped on the rough stone.
When he got to the spot where the moon elf should have been he couldn't see anyone.
Nairen? he asked.
He stared down into the cavern. It was as wide as a tree was tall, and three times the height of a man. Its floor was dotted with dull red dots-luminescent, ball-sized fungi that grew in clusters amid the jumble of rock. They were bright spots of true color against the cold black-purple of the stones they grew upon. 'Crimson spitters,' Pendaran had called them. If disturbed, they released a cloud of deadly spores, similar to the ones the miniature chests had contained.
The drow had gone that way, but not along the floor. There were tears in the blue-glowing, fan-shaped lichen that clung to the cavern's ceiling where the drow must have brushed against them. Koora had pointed the smudge out, suspicious, at first, that the drow had been so careless in their passage. Sorrell would otherwise have completely missed it. He peered at the ceiling, wondering if Nairen had somehow found a way to hide himself there.
Nairen? he called again. Where are you?
A hand touched his shoulder. Sorrell whirled and saw that the hand had emerged from solid stone. Nairen stepped out of the wall, his skin warming from deep blue to red as the stone released him. He shivered, then pointed at a crack in the wall near the cave mouth.
You'll have to hide yourself the conventional way, he said. Unless you have magic?
The latter was phrased as a question, but the tone suggested a challenge. Sorrell did have some magic-his voice. With his singing, he'd been able to captivate even the most unruly audience. His songs could calm quarrelsome drunks before they came to blows, could make his listeners laugh so hard their eyes streamed with tears, and could soothe to sleep the most restless babe. Many were the nights he'd used the latter, back when Remmie was small…
The lump of ice was back in his throat. He blinked away the sudden sting in his eyes, and shook his head. A little bardic magic, he replied. Nothing useful.
Nairen gave the mental equivalent of a grunt. Keep, your eyes open, he warned. Don't assume that just because we already came this way, the cavern isn't worth watching.
Koora's voice: s he in position?
Sorrell squeezed his body into the crack in the rock.
Nairen: He is. I'm coming in.
The moon elf crept silently away. Sorrell watched, fascinated, as Nairen's dull blue boot prints slowly faded from the floor of the passageway, then remembered his duty. He turned his head, keeping watch on the empty cavern.
There was a brief flurry of mental conversation as Koora reported to the group that she had replaced Adair, and as the half-elf hooked up with Nairen and Pendaran, back at the place where they'd halted. Then silence, as the three not on watch settled into Reverie.
Time passed.
Sorrell found himself wondering if dawn had broken in the World Above. While they'd been on the move, it had been easy to distract himself with the necessity of constantly surveying the terrain around them-searching for handholds and places to put his feet. Easy to focus on their objective: catching up to, and killing, the drow who had broached Cormanthor's defenses.
Now that he was simply standing, he was all too aware of the depth to which they'd descended, of the weight of the stone above his head. He stared at the cold dark purple walls, wondering if he'd ever see daylight again.
Lonely, isn't it?
Koora's voice. It sounded as though she was standing right next to him. Sorrell startled, wondering if the ring had been broadcasting his thoughts. It was only supposed to relay intentional messages-and only to the intended recipient. felt the same way on my first hunt, the wild elf continued. An outsider. I had nothing when I came to Shevarash. The Silent Slayers became my clan-in time, you will feel the same. You earned yourself a place among us by finding the crawl-chests-something I should have spotted. Nairen and Adair will come around, eventually.
And Pendaran has already trusted you with a watch. Her silent voice developed a chuckle. Though a safe one. Had we passed a side passage, it might have been different.
Sorrell kept a watchful eye on the tunnel as he listened, determined not to let his attention waver a second time. Koora's accent reminded him of someone-a centaur he'd once met.
Where are you from? he thought back.
For several heartbeats there was only silence. Then, The Satyrwood.
Sorrell knew it well. The forest-called the Chondalwood by humans-lay south of Arrabar, a city he and Dalmara had performed in more than twenty years ago. Dalmara, intent upon collecting more folk songs, had insisted on making a trek to a wild elf camp deep in the Satyrwood. The centaur had been their guide. Sorrell searched his memory, looking for the name of the harpist they'd met there.
Do you know a woman named Bronwynn, of the Redleaf Clan?
Koora's mental voice, when she answered, was small and tight. There is no Redleaf Clan. Not any more. A pause, then, I was deep in the forest, hunting, when it happened. Now I hunt drow.
Sorrell blinked in surprise, but said nothing. What could be said? He remembered the murmured kindnesses, the polite words that had been spoken after his own loss. He knew that nothing he said could banish the grief he heard, loud as a tolling bell, in Koora's silence. His fists were clenched around his club; glancing down, he saw that his fingers had faded to a dull red.
Did you… He had to blink furiously before he was able to continue. Was there a child?
I was not yet a mother, thank Angharradh for small mercies. But my sister was. Three daughters, all dead.
Sorrell felt a tear furrow its way through the dirt on his cheek. It dripped, a bead of dark blue, onto the stone at his feet and faded to purple. He didn't want to hear any more. Lisa Smedtnan
Thankfully, Koora was silent.
Sorrell raised a hand to wipe his cheek-and paused as he heard a noise in the passage behind him. A faint thudding, like footsteps on stone. He started to turn to see which of the others was approaching, then remembered their magical boots.
He whirled just in time to see a monstrous shape scuttling across the ceiling of the cavern, tearing a scuff of darkness in the lichen as it ran. It looked like a cross between drow and spider-dark elf from the waist up, but with a spider's bulbous thorax and abdomen, and eight legs.
Sorrell's heart pounded as he stepped out of the crack and raised his club to meet the monster's charge. He needed room to swing his club; he'd have to count on his invisibility to hide him. Knocking the monster down into
