Vallenswade blinked, as if considering the bleak prospect, but he did not reply-nor did he move.
"Do you understand?" demanded Ariakas, suddenly conscious of precious time slipping away. How long before more shadowpeople-a dozen, a score, even more -arrived to help?
"I understand. My refusal means my death," replied Vallenswade simply. "I had hoped to live somewhat longer than this," he admitted.
Ariakas glared at him. "Show us the way out of here, and you'll be spared!"
"I thought I made it clear that you should not escape--
It would be bad."
For a moment Ariakas quivered at the edge of murder, raising the blade toward Vallenswade's unprotected neck. Finally he spun away in disgust. His eyes fell on the two wounded shadowpeople, both of whom still groaned and quivered on the floor. Turning back, he fixed his captive with a deadly stare.
"Show us the way out of here-or I'll kill them!" he threatened, gesturing to the wounded pair.
Vallenswade flinched, lowering his brows in an un shy;happy frown. "Why?" he demanded. "Why must you kill three of us? Their deaths gain you nothing."
"I don't want their deaths!" fumed the warrior. "I want to get out of here!"
"Then kill us and go," retorted Vallenswade. He looked away, as if bored with the conversation.
The murderous force built within Ariakas, but sud shy;denly it dissipated, and he was left with a feeling of emptiness and despair. He and Lyrelee would have to make their way through this maze on their own, and whether or not Vallenswade was alive or dead behind them didn't seem to make much difference.
He cast his eyes over the wounded shadowarriors, noting that one bore the tight bundle of a net on his back. That would do just as well.
"Tie them up," he told Lyrelee. "All three of them. And hurry-it's time we're out of here."
"Which way?" asked Ariakas when they reached the first intersection. The chamber where they had found Tale Splintersteel-and left a securely trussed Vallens shy;wade and his two companions-lay some distance behind them along the winding tunnel.
"Here," Lyrelee indicated unhesitatingly.
Prodding the muttering Zhakar dwarf ahead of him, Ariakas turned into the passage. His gem light illumi shy;nated the path before them, and the priestess walked slightly behind in order to gain the benefit of the illumi shy;nation-and to remain concealed from any watchers in the shadows.
They followed the new corridor for some time, and then the priestess indicated another branch that they should take. For some time they made their way through the maze, and the young woman's memory produced a firm recommendation at every fork.
Finally, however, they came into a large chamber that neither of them recognized. No less than six different tunnels led, in various directions, through the subter shy;ranean darkness.
"Now where do we go?" Ariakas asked, but Lyrelee could only shake her head.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I know we didn't come this way before."
Abruptly Ariakas stiffened. His senses tingled. The five-pointed star, holy symbol of Takhisis, winked at him from its pendant at Lyrelee's neck. He reached out and snatched it, ignoring her shout of surprise.
"Look!" he said, holding the star flat in his hand. Extending his arm, he displayed the holy symbol. The centermost tine of the star, the point that lined up with the passage across the chamber, glowed slightly. Ariakas looked at Lyrelee, his eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she nodded.
"I see it, too," the priestess whispered. "What? See what?" demanded Tale Splintersteel. "Shut up," Ariakas barked, roughly pushing the Zhakar forward.
They proceeded farther, coming to several more branches. Each time Lyrelee and Ariakas both observed that one point of the star glowed until they had made their decision. Thus guided, they moved very quickly through the maze of the catacombs. With each cross shy;roads the star seemed to grow a little bit brighter.
Around them the air grew moist, and then the corridor they followed opened into a large cavern. The illumina shy;tion from the gem light was swallowed by darkness above and to the sides-even below. A narrow, flat ramp extended like a bridge from the entrance, but to either side of the ramp yawned nothing but an apparently infi shy;nite blackness.
Vertigo rose to rebel in Ariakas's stomach, but he roughly forced aside the hesitation and, prodding Tale Splintersteel before him, boldly stepped onto the bridge. The priestess followed, and they moved cautiously out shy;ward.
No sound except their own breathing and footsteps disturbed the vast cavern. A scattering of loose gravel covered several patches of the bridge. Wary of a trap, Ariakas prodded some of the stones with his boot, and as they swept off the path he heard them splash into water some distance below.
'The lake," Lyrelee said softly. "We're crossing it."
Ariakas nodded, his attention riveted to the bound dwarf in front of him. If Tale decided to try and escape, this bridge would make a good place. Though the human felt he could deflect an attack, he warily won shy;dered if the Zhakar might hurl himself into the darkness.
"Remember the long stairway down to the wharf?" Lyrelee asked. "We're way above that, now-maybe even as high as the main catacombs."
They reached the end of the bridge without mishap- apparently the Zhakar valued his miserable life too much to make a suicidal escape attempt. Once more, stone walls enclosed them, and they picked up the pace of their march.
"It won't be far, now-I know it!" Ariakas replied.
A few more passages brought them into sight of a dis shy;tant, pale source of illumination. Then a figure-a human figure-came into view, hurrying toward them followed by several other men.
"Lord Ariakas! Thank the queen you're alive!" Wryl-lish Parkane swept his arms outward to clap Ariakas on the shoulder, ignoring the woman and the dwarf. The warrior saw that the priest carried a holy symbol, the match of Lyrelee's, in his hand. "When I emerged from High Communion and heard that you'd come down here, I was elated," the patriarch gushed. "Then, of course, when it seemed you were missing, we were terri shy;bly worried! But you felt my summons?"
"If that's what is was, it worked," the warrior agreed, handing the medallion back to Lyrelee.
"And you're safe. Did you encounter difficulties?"
"Your Sanctified Catacombs aren't as sacred as you think," Ariakas replied. "We've got a source of trouble down here, but I'll tell you about that later."
For the first time Ariakas looked at those who accom shy;panied Parkane: Patriarch Fendis, two other blue collars he recognized from the temple, and a lone figure who stood some distance back from the rest. That gaunt, dark-haired man wore a black robe, and had the most piercing blue eyes Ariakas had ever seen.
Noting his attention, the patriarch stepped back to make introductions. "Allow me to present Harrawell Dracart-of the Black Tower," he added unnecessarily. The wizard's robe clearly indicated Dracart's allegiance.
"This way. Let us go to the treasure chamber immedi shy;ately!" proclaimed Wryllish Parkane. He led them a short distance along a wide, straight passage. They saw no sign of the shadowpeople, though Ariakas warned them all to remain vigilant.
Soon they stood outside the door to a small room, one Wryllish explained had been set aside for the test. It con shy;tained a single brass dragon egg, raised upon a stone table.
"The mold dust will live for some minutes, you told me," Ariakas said to Tale Splintersteel. "Now is the time to give it to me-you will remain out here."
The Zhakar's eyes flashed stubbornly from the depths of his hood. "I will be present," he insisted. "Your alter shy;native, I know, is to kill me and make your test. Then, if you want this mold, you'll have no source. Or you can bring me in, and I'll be the key that will unlock the vaults of Zhakar!"
Ariakas had come to despise the wretched creature, and the temptation to kill the Zhakar was great. He had spoken the truth before-twice already Splintersteel had earned his death! Yet pragmatic considerations won out. The dwarf was right-if the mold dust proved valuable, they would need an agent with access to the source. Tale Splintersteel, as odious as the thought was, would be the ideal choice.
All eyes remained on Ariakas as the warrior nodded. "Very well-you'll go in there with us." Wryllish Parkane used the tiny key, and they stepped into the room, forming a circle around the gleaming egg. It lay like a metal-coated boulder on the low platform and reflected the light from its glossy surface.
"Quickly-let's not delay!" For the first time the wiz shy;ard Dracart spoke, licking his lips with a bright red tongue as his eyes gleamed hotly.
"Come, then-scatter the mold onto the egg!" urged Wryllish Parkane.
Ariakas remembered that scarred, tormented skin, and his stomach heaved as Tale Splintersteel stepped up to the egg. The dwarf held out his hands, and as the scabrous flesh emerged from the sleeves of his robe, sev shy;eral of the priests gasped and stepped backward. Ignor shy;ing the reaction, the Zhakar rubbed his palms together above the egg.