lowered to deep levels of the mine. He noticed Jaul casually walking past each shaft terminus in turn, nodding as he examined the mechanisms.
“Arathane?” said Demascus.
The queen shook her head. “I never came farther than-”
“I bet I know which one we should try first,” said Jaul. The bodyguard stiffened at the queen being interrupted, but Arathane didn’t seem to notice.
“You do?” Chant blurted.
“Sure,” said Jaul. He returned to the first wheel and said, “This one.”
“Why that one?” said Demascus.
“See those?” He gestured to a long parchment attached to a post, filled with scribbled notes. Each mine head contained a similar posting. “Maintenance logs. If miners kept good accounts on each shaft, the log will tell us how much maintenance each elevator had. The more they’re used, the more strain on the wheel, the more danger to the miners, and so on. Which means the one with the most grease on the wheels, the least rust on the lines, and so on, got the most maintenance, and probably was used most.”
Chant blinked. How did Jaul know that? His son usually wasn’t one for brilliant displays of logic. On the other hand, the habit of thinking things through was something the pawnbroker had always worked to instill in his son.
Jaul pointed. “And this one gets three times as much maintenance as the other two.”
“All of which means …?” said Riltana
“That this shaft leads to the richest seam of arambarium, probably.” A smug smile lit his face. “So anyone trying to steal the mineral would-”
“Infiltrate the portion of the mine where it was most concentrated. The part of the mine served by that elevator,” finished Demascus.
Chant nodded. That actually … made sense. Pride filled him. He’d secretly been afraid that Jaul’s only aspiration was to serve as thug under Master Raneger. But the boy obviously had a mind of his own, and a sharp one at that. Which meant, eventually, he’d see that Ranenger wasn’t someone worthy of admiration.
“Assuming, of course, the drow are as smart as you,” said Riltana. “And aren’t somewhere below pursuing dust in a played-out seam.”
“The drow have been here more than long enough to discover the richest vein,” said Arathane. “We’ll try the one Jaul suggested first.”
They all crowded around the wheel, the dark cord of which dangled into darkness. Three levers protruded from an iron box mounted next to the wheel. The middle one was probably a brake. So the other two …
“Where’s the platform?” said Riltana.
Chant pulled a lever before anyone could tell him not to. Something clunked; probably a counterweight shifting. The wheel lurched into motion. It gradually wound more and more of its dangling cord onto its spool, creaking and squealing in protest.
“It needs more grease,” said Demascus.
The platform emerged into the light, still some way below the lip of the shaft. It was an iron-reinforced square of hardwood, complete with railing, suspended from each corner. Three creatures slouched along the platform’s railing. They were white-haired elves with skin the color of coal from the waist up. But their legs and lower bodies were giant spiders!
“Fist!” cursed Riltana, stumbling back from the shaft lip.
Chant recognized them from the bestiary in his pawnshop. “Driders!”
The largest of the three spit something into the air-
everything went black. Chant couldn’t move his hands or feet. Sounds were muffled. And when he felt himself falling, something sticky held his mouth closed! He came down hard on something. It knocked the breath out of him, but at least the immediate impact meant he wasn’t plummeting down the shaft.
“Pa!” He recognized Jaul’s shout.
“Hey, watch it!” yelled Riltana.
“They’re coming!” came an unfamiliar voice. The bodyguard?
Sharkbite! Chant realized what his problem was-he’d been webbed by the damn drider. He had to get free! He thrashed for all he was worth, as screams, clangs, and the sound of metal through flesh whirred around him.
A buzzing, accented voice spoke. “Leave the primordial mother lode to us, and we’ll vanish again and trouble your upworld existence no further. Continue to disturb us, and Lolth shall send her swarming, many-legged assassins to your bedchambers.”
A resonant snap echoed across the depot, followed by the sound of a wheel whirring faster and faster. Several long moments passed, then a tremendous crash, attenuated as if the sound had traveled far. Perhaps as far as the bottom of a lift shaft? Someone must have cut the cord holding the platform!
Someone asked Chant, “You all right?”
Was that Riltana’s voice? Something cold pressed against the side of his face. He flinched.
“Easy, I’m cutting you loose. Don’t jump, leech-son, or you’ll lose an ear.”
Definitely Riltana.
A moment later, he was mostly free of the entangling strands, and he rubbed his hands and eyes. As he’d guessed, the ascending wheel spun freely, with no cord. Demascus stood next to the mechanism with his swords in hand. The driders had been dropped to the bottom of the shaft, hopefully to their collective deaths.
Chant cleared his throat. “Any way to seal this shaft? If those driders aren’t dead, they’ll just climb back up the sides-they’re spiders.”
Jaul took four steps over to a lever with a red handle. “I bet this releases the capstone,” he said, and yanked it. A minor tremor shook the floor. A hollow boom preceded a billowing cloud of rock dust up the shaft. Jaul coughed and nodded. “It’d take an excavation team a day to clear that rubble.”
“Nice work,” the queen told Jaul. She peeled webbing from her torso with a free hand. Her other arm was webbed to her side.
Jaul beamed. Chant looked around. Demascus and Riltana were web free. And the bodyguard … was simply gone.
“You’ve got your proof, Your Highness,” said Riltana. “This is a drow incursion. We should head back to Airspur, tell the Four Stewards the real deal, and do whatever a monarch does when dark elves are discovered sneaking around her queendom. Oh yeah, and write that letter on my behalf to your favorite niece …”
The queen nodded thoughtfully, but not in agreement. “What did those creatures mean about finding the mother lode? The ‘primordial’ mother lode?”
“Simple enough,” said Chant. “They’re after the largest, oldest concentration of arambarium. If you let them remove it, they’ll leave Akanul for good.”
“For good,” said the queen, stretching the last word out. “Are drow known for dealing in truth?”
The pawnbroker shrugged. “Well, what? You want to go down after them? Driders are nothing to mess around with-they’re champions of the race. The dark elves think driders are manifestations of Lolth’s will! If a drider threatens you in Lolth’s name, you better pay attention.”
“I recall these creatures,” said Demascus. “And from what I can remember … driders answer to drow priestesses. The ones we just encountered are probably on Chenraya Xorlarrin’s leash, not Lolth’s.”
Chant opened his mouth to tell the deva he was an idiot to consider anything but heading back to the
“I’m not willing to cede the realm’s largest concentration of arambarium to drow looters. Nor are we powerless to stop them.” She snapped her fingers. An answering peal of thunder shook the mine depot’s roof. Demascus grinned in delight.
Chant shook his head. Yep. Idiots. “But the shaft down to the deposit is destroyed, thanks to Jaul.”
“Well …” said Jaul. “We could go down one of these secondary shafts. Then make our way through side tunnels to the main face. It’d take longer, but we’d get there eventually.”
His son was too smart for his own good. “When did you become such an expert on mines?” demanded Chant.
Jaul shrugged. “You’re not the only one who likes to read, Pa.
