seized a sword dropped by a digger and chopped awkwardly at the inky tentacle; his cuts had no effect. Vvelz screamed for help, for mercy. His arms and legs were pinned to his sides, rendering him unable to cast a spell.
The coil of smoke withdrew rapidly across the canal. Vvelz's desperate cries grew fainter with distance. Riverwind stood at the break of the old bridge, gasping for air and watching Li El's magic carry her brother away. The black tentacle diminished to a smudge. Then, it was drawn into the palace and disappeared. Silence enveloped the old bridge.
It took some hours to get all the Blue Sky People across the canal. Most simply waded over. On the far side, a ruined wheat field greeted them. The whirlwind had plucked every grain off the stalks, leaving an eerie scene of brown straw and twisted stems. Vartoom was only a mile away. It looked deserted.
Soon they reached the ramps leading up to the city. The crowd-hardly an army-flowed up the angled streets. Curious Vartoom diggers came out and mixed with the Blue Sky folk. Many joyous reunions began in the street, as those who'd run away to join up with Mors met friends and relatives who'd stayed behind.
A small band of soldiers appeared when Mors and his people reached the Avenue of Weavers. One look at the mob was all they could handle. They fled.
“They've no stomach left,” Mors said, when told. “It was not so in the days of the Great Hest. Every warrior would have given up his life to defend the great lord.”
“Li El does not inspire-nor deserve-such devotion,” Riverwind said grimly. “And the sight of a thousand armed diggers would take the fight out of almost anyone.”
The way was uncontested to the very doors of the palace. The massive metal portals stood apart, beckoning them to enter.
“We have to go in, yes,” said Catchflea. He made no move to be the first.
“It's my place to lead,” Mors said. He gently pried Di An's fingers loose from his hand. “But not you, Di An.”
“I go where you go,” she whispered.
“Not this time, An Di.” Mors flipped back his black mesh coat and drew a slender, elegantly worked sword from a hidden scabbard. “This will be my staff,” he said.
He went forward, waving the sword back and forth before him. Halfway to the doors, flames erupted in the entry. The diggers shrank back. Di An cried a warning to Mors.
“I feel no heat,” he said, matter-of-factly. He kept walking.
“What do you think, old man?” Riverwind asked.
“I feel heat, yes.”
Mors walked right into the flames. The shocked cries of hundreds of diggers changed to relieved sighs as he stood in the fire without any sign of pain. “There is no fire here,” he said.
“An illusion!” Catchflea exclaimed.
“Undone by the one she blinded,” Riverwind said.
Knowing that the fire was not real, the others walked hesitantly through it. Riverwind felt nothing more than a slight prickling of his skin.
The interior of the palace was a shambles. Stone furniture was smashed, woven wire tapestries were shredded. Soot stained some rooms, and here and there dead warriors were found. In the hearth room, the statues of Hest's heroes were despoiled. Bronze heads and limbs littered the floor. The blue globes were gone from their stands. None were to be seen anywhere.
The great hearth blazed as it had for centuries. Mors tapped his sword against the circular hearth and swung around it. He could not see the wreckage of the palace. And he could not see what had suddenly caused the others to stop in their tracks.
“Mors,” said Riverwind tightly.
“What is it?” The blind elf paused.
“Unchain my hands, Mors.”
“When I choose.” Mors turned toward the throne room.
“Unchain him, please,” Di An said. Mors paused, hearing something in her strained voice.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We've found Vvelz,” Catchflea said.
In the center of the hearth fire the giant statue of Hest had been set. Chained to it was Vvelz. His mouth was open and his eyes stared out at them in an expression of pure horror, but he made no movements, made no sound. The weird, silent flames bathed him. Catchflea described the awful tableau to Mors.
“Li El's work,” he said simply.
“Can we help him?” Di An whispered.
“He's dead,” Riverwind said, turning away.
“I misjudged him,” Mors said. He stood, his face turned toward the cold fire. “We would not be here now if Vvelz hadn't fought off Li El's magic.”
Diggers filed into the room in awed silence. For generations, the palace had been as unattainable to them as the stars. Since the destruction of their temples and the massacre of their priests, the diggers had looked upon the palace as home to their gods. Now their bare, dirty feet trod the mosaic floor where Hest himself had once walked.
“Come, all of you,” Mors said when he heard their hushed whispers. “We have taken destiny into our hands.”
He found the door to the throne room closed. Mors lifted one metal-shod foot and kicked the double doors open. He strode in, sword in hand, and said, “Come out, Li El. Don't make me hunt for you.”
High, feminine laughter filtered through the golden curtains surrounding the throne. Mors grimaced and thrust out his sword. It snagged in the curtains. He slashed hard left and right, bringing down a long section of the drapes.
Seated on her golden couch was the queen-erect, hood in place, every fold of her gown arranged just so. Her hands rested, one atop the other, in her lap; the delicate fingernails had been gilded. She looked like a statue of gold and ivory.
“You always were melodramatic,” Li El said. Riverwind and the others came to the gap Mors had cut. Li El's gaze flicked briefly to them, then returned to Mors. “Not to mention crude and predictable. What do you intend to do now? Kill me?”
“There's fear in your voice, El Li. I can hear it,” Mors replied sharply.
“Don't call me that!”
“Why not? There was a time you enjoyed me calling you that.”
“Never,” she snapped. The queen stood, the wrinkles in her robe falling in a crinkle of gold. “You can't assume any affection from me, Mors.”
Mors gestured, snapping his fingers, and the quartet of diggers hurried forward with Karn. They laid him carefully on the floor at Mors's feet.
Li El's haughty expression wavered. “They told me he was dead.”
“Do you care?”
“He is my son!”
Mors shrugged. “Mine as well.”
“Son!” Riverwind exclaimed. Catchflea murmured an affirmative, and the tall plainsman said, “You treated him like a foolish servant. You never had a kind word for Karn.”
Li El flinched and raised her hand. Sparks crackled in the air. “He is a warrior. I had to make him strong. There is no place for kindness between a sovereign and her servant!”
Mors lowered the tip of his sword to Karn's throat. “Come here, Li El,” he said. She didn't move. “Come, or I'll kill him.”
She stared down at her son's motionless body. “You couldn't.”
“Couldn't I? What do you think?”
Li El stepped down from the dais and approached Mors. Her golden hem swished over the mosaic floor. Riverwind had a sudden pang of fear for Mors. If she should touch him, would Mors fall under her spell as he had?
But the blind elf knew what he was doing. He presented the point of his sword to Li El. She deliberately let
