of arambarium retrieved. The spiders already had a head start. And their approach to the city would go unmarked, and thus unopposed, because the floating arachnid armada, as Riltana described it, traveled high above the screen of clouds. Airspur’s peacemakers would never even know a flight of spiders flittered high over their heads.
Queen Arathane commanded Thoster to full speed. Thoster laughed at the prospect of a race, even if he didn’t exactly know the reason for it. He put
“Bring her into dock,” came Thoster’s voice, as if summoned by Demascus’s reverie, “but not so fast you stave in the prow, or I’ll have the lot of you dancing the hempen jig!”
They were already between the cliffs of the Bay of Airspur. Demascus went to see about borrowing two proper sheaths from the ship’s armory before they moored.
The streets of Airspur pulsed, but with commerce, not panic. No one had spied a flight of drifting invaders over the city. The only thing drawing excitement and occasional alarm was the skidding carriage they rode in, as it raced up the cliffside switchbacks. They rode on two wheels whenever they cornered, and each time Jaul whooped in delight. Queen Arathane had commandeered the first conveyance they’d come across upon reaching dry land. But that was only after she shouted down a courier and had a message delivered to the Court of Majesty, the contents of which essentially boiled down to a strict command to wait for her return, and that Tymanther was most assuredly not involved in the arambarium mine disruption.
“This one!” Demascus cried as they neared an herb shop, whose alleyway entrance to the Catacombs they’d taken the previous time they sought the Gatekeeper. Last time, the proprietor grudgingly allowed accessto the secret door in his cellar, in return for a few silver coins.
“That doesn’t look good,” said Riltana when they reached the shop. The roof of the shop was caved in, as if something large had landed on it. Or smashed down through it. The door at alley level was closed, but a trickle of dark fluid spilled under it.
Demascus smashed the door open with his shoulder. The main room of the shop was slathered in webs, covering the counter, the floor, and the aromatic wares in pale strands. Clouded daylight illuminated the room. The shopkeep was bound on top of his counter as if on an altar. His chest cavity had been scooped out. Dark blood pooled where his heart and lungs should have rested. One eye stared up in naked terror. The other was a charred ruin.
“Monsters,” said Arathane. She slammed the butt of her spear on the shop floor.
“A sacrificial slaying,” said Chant. “Drow priestesses are big on that kind of thing.”
Demascus heard a quaver in the pawnbroker’s voice. He understood. The brutality perpetrated here was sickening. He’d been a killer, but he was certain he’d never tortured any of his victims selected by divine decree. Well, mostly certain.
“The blood hasn’t clotted,” said Riltana.
“Which means we’re not far behind them,” he said. He flew down to the cellar three stairs at a time. The others followed close behind.
The concealed door leading to the tunnels was off its hinges.
“Stop!” Chant yelled before Demascus could plunge into the Catacombs.
“What?”
“How in the name of Waukeen’s empty purse do you suppose they got a piece of mineral the size of a large shed down these steps or through that door into the tunnels? No way it’d fit.”
“Huh,” said Demascus. Of course the pawnbroker was right.
“Maybe they didn’t bring it through here?” said Jaul.
“What, you think all the spiderwebs up there and the shop owner missing his innards is the work of some
“Don’t be an idiot, Pa. They must have come this way.” Jaul muttered something else under his breath and scowled.
“Maybe the shopkeep’s killing wasn’t just a sacrifice of opportunity,” said Chant. “It could have been part of a ritual to temporarily make the silver hand more manageable.”
“What, you mean like store it in an extra dimension?” said Riltana, and fanned her gloved fingers.
“Or enchant its shape,” said the queen. “I sense the residue of a powerful spell of transmutation. Chant’s right; Chenraya probably changed the relic into something easily transportable, like an amulet or a child’s stuffed toy.”
“A toy?” said Riltana. “More likely a dagger or a spool of web.”
“Could be,” allowed Arathane.
“How long would such a transformation last?” said Demascus.
“Does it matter?” said the queen. “We need to catch them before they slip away.”
“Right,” said Demascus. He turned and plunged into the Catacombs.
“Hey, do me a favor?” Riltana called from behind. “Warn us before we come to the sewer tunnel, so I can breath from my mouth. I don’t want to smell what I caught a whiff of last time.”
“Don’t worry,” he threw over his shoulder, “If you see me skid and slip, you’ll know I’ve just found a-”
An ettercap dropped on him. It bore him to the tunnel floor and knocked his swords flying. Its claws and mandibles scratched at his face. Demascus tried to grab it, but it was slick with sewer water. It scored a vicious cut across his palms and another down one arm with a serrated mandible.
Then a crossbow quarrel punched the ettercap in the side of its head. It relaxed and tumbled to one side. Demascus grabbed his swords and stood. He was embarrassed, but shrugged it off as he scanned the tunnel for more attackers. It looked empty, though he could only see a few tens of feet with the light from Chant’s sunrod. Speaking of the pawnbroker …
“Nice shot, Chant. Burning dominions, that thing caught me flat-footed.”
“Is that what happened?” said Riltana. “I thought you’d found a new playmate to wrestle with.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, apparently Chenraya left it behind to slow down any pursuit.”
“If there’s one, there’s likely more,” said the queen. Her hands were curled in tight fists around her spear, and a flicker of lightning danced on its point. She cut an impressive, beautiful figure …
Later, he told himself. Or better yet, never.
Demascus advanced down the passage. He went a little slower than before, and kept his lips buttoned. The thief stayed silent, too; apparently she’d decided to hold her wisecracks in check as well. He doubted that’d last long.
He led the group along the same route as last time. Except for new variations on diguisting smells that he didn’t remember from before, nothing else surprised them on their way.
Finally they reached the chamber of the Gatekeeper. Overlapping vertical stone slabs framed the familiar courtyard, as well as a single arch on the opposite side of the chamber filled with orange haze. Sand was scattered across the floor. But unlike the first time they’d visited, it remained in random heaps, just as it’d fallen when they’d defeated the Gatekeeper. Claw- and footprints of many creatures made a furrow across the courtyard and up to the orange haze. That was new.
“They’ve gone through the portal,” said Arathane. “On the other side lies the Demonweb?”
“Afraid so,” said Chant. “Not the safest place to be if you’re not invited. We saw a vampire lord overcome by what might’ve been an unconscious defense of the Demonweb itself-or worse, some splinter of Lolth’s actual attention.”
“I could probably hide myself from notice,” Demascus said, glancing at one of the white runes of
“Hidden or not, I don’t really want to go back in there again,” Jaul said. “The drow witch got away. If she’s in the Demonweb, she could be anywhere by now.”
“I intend to go through,” said Queen Arathane. “I am not willing to turn around without at least looking.” She fished in her belt pouch and pulled out a greasy, stubby piece of chalk.
“This can shield us from direct observation,” she explained, and drew a circle on her forehead. The chalk left behind a white smudge on her lavender skin.
