"Shouldn't we get going?" asked Stefanik as Pawldo cinched up the bag.
"There's lots more of this place to explore," Pawldo replied with a firm shake of his head.
He led the other halfling on a winding, circuitous exploration of the Palace of Skulls. Half-Ear preceded them along some corridors, while Pawldo's curiosity and intuition took them down others. They found high galleries and a great ballroom, and even a deep pit that Pawldo guessed had been the Circus Bizarre. It was surrounded by rings of benches, all made from various pieces of bone.
Here Pawldo almost overlooked a pair of rings. Unlike the other treasures, these lay under a thin film of dust and dirt. Each was inscribed with a stamp in the image of the Great Bear. After a quick appraisal-the gold was pure, Pawldo decided-he dropped the items into his satchel with the rest.
"The bears prove it!" Stefanik said. 'The story is true- he did kill the king and queen who bore that symbol as their own!"
Several more treasures yielded themselves to the intrepid explorers-or to Pawldo, actually, for Stefanik spent most of the time staring wide-eyed into the shadows, urging the older halfling to hurry. Yet the lord mayor of Low-hill would not be rushed. He found a gem-studded necklace and bracelets that, he felt certain, were fully equal to the worth of a large house. A few steps later a tiny crystal image of a knight on horseback caught his eye with its glittering diamond facets and slender lance of platinum. Half-Ear paced along ahead of him, nosing the shadows, looking back with apparent impatience at the halfling.
They pressed around a corner and found a stairway leading up. Pawldo didn't hesitate to start climbing, with Stefanik following reluctantly, his eyes wide, flicking this way and that at the grotesque death's-heads lining the walls to both sides.
"Wait! I think I saw something!" hissed the youth.
"What? Where? More gold?" asked Pawldo, whirling around on the stairs.
"No-something moved!" wailed Stefanik. "Down there- something darkl"
Pawldo followed his companion's trembling gesture, but he could make out nothing beyond the shadows cloaking the foot of the stairs. The light from their lanterns seemed suddenly a very feeble counter to the oppressive darkness. As Pawldo held the sputtering flame, the halfling felt acutely conscious that its illumination made him perfectly visible to someone-or something-lurking within the gloom.
Quickly he shuttered the vessel, ordering Stefanik to do the same. In the fullness of the dark, they waited soundlessly. Slowly their eyes adjusted to the murk. Though they could see nothing in the way of detail, the vague contours of the walls and stairway gradually took form around them.
"Stay here!" commanded Pawldo, setting down his oil lamp. He drew his short sword, little relishing the familiar weight in his hand. Then, as an additional precaution, he reached into the satchel and took out the platinum dagger. Holding the smaller blade with his left hand, he raised his sword and started down the stairs. He felt the reassuring presence of Half-Ear's shaggy flank beside him.
Step by careful step he descended, brandishing the sword with more menace than he felt. He reached the bottom step, then felt the smooth floor of the corridor under his feet. Staring to the left and right, he could barely make out the obscure outlines of the passageway. Beside him, Half-Ear's rapid breathing created a taut cadence for his fear.
"There's nothing down here," he whispered. Stefanik made no sound on the stairs, so Pawldo repeated the observation more loudly.
The silence up the stairs was more frightening than anything he'd imagined in the shadows.
"Stefanik!" he barked.
But still there came no answer.
Pawldo and the wolf bounded up the stairway, stumbling into the soft mound of his satchel. Sheathing his sword, he fumbled for the lantern and opened the shutter.
Stefanik was gone, though the youngster's lantern rested on the step above the satchel. Desperately the lord mayor looked up the rest of the stairway-the young halfling could not have gone down the stairs without being seen, and Pawldo had noticed no doors. Cold terror seized Pawldo, along with a profound sense that disaster had overtaken them with stunning speed.
Shrugging the pack over one shoulder, the halfling took the lantern, albeit awkwardly, in his left hand. Again drawing his sword, he started up the remaining steps, ten or twelve in number, until he came to a landing, where wide corridors extended in three directions.
"Stefanik!" he called again.
Pawldo felt a wave of awful loneliness sweep over him. Suddenly the treasures in his satchel, the lure of wealth that had compelled him farther and farther through this dolorous palace, paled to insignificance against the weight of his young companion's life.
Half-Ear growled softly. Then the wolf started down the middle passageway, pausing after a few steps to look back at the halfling.
Grimly clutching his short sword in one hand, the dagger and the lantern in the other, Pawldo followed the pacing animal down the central corridor, through a room of tall columns and under a narrow archway beyond. Several places along the way gold winked seductively from niches in the walls, or the telltale glitter of gemstones tried to coax him from his course, but the halfling moved on resolutely.
He entered another large chamber, a domed ceiling standing high above his head. Crossing carefully, he held his lantern up and tried to look into the shadows. Half-Ear paced beside him, head up and eyes alert. Suddenly the wolf froze, growling deep within his chest. Pawldo saw a dim form standing utterly still in the darkness-an erect figure, no more than three feet tall.
"Stefanik!" Pawldo yelped, running toward the young halfling.
But as abruptly as Pawldo started forward, he stopped. Stefanik had not turned, had not reacted in any way to his shout. Something's definitely wrong, he decided.
Then the shadows beyond the young halfling moved, and Pawldo felt a chill creep to the very marrow of his bones. A shape loomed there-a huge shape-and the halfling could not prevent a dull moan of horror escaping his lips. The murk parted, but only to reveal a thing of even more profound darkness, a hulking figure, larger than a man, with shoulders and head rising in the inky chamber.
Pawldo saw upraised arms, black and menacing-yet somehow tenuous, like thick, oily smoke. Cold swirled around him, threatening to suck the heat and life from his body. He saw long, wickedly curving claws at the ends of the reaching limbs. Then a hideous visage materialized- snarling jaws, spread wide to reveal a crimson tongue and blackened, hideous teeth. Most horrifying, however, were the thing's eyes, hellishly gleaming embers of hatred and doom that stared unwaveringly at the trembling halfling.
"Who are the thieves seeking to pilfer the treasures of Ketheryll?"
The voice rumbled through the cavernous room, and Pawldo felt as though a bolt of lightning had welded him to the floor. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end, and he sensed the unmistakable aura of magic crackle in the air.
Then he realized another terrifying fact: the wraith's voice had come from all around him! Spinning through a frantic circle, he saw a dozen shapes, all menacing, all rather indistinct. Yet the same hellish eyes gleamed from each, and taloned limbs reached out from them all, eager to tear Pawldo to pieces.
"Who are you?" the halfling gasped, finally summoning the strength to speak.
"I am Prince Ketheryll." Again the voice, a storm ravaging a distant valley.
Beside Pawldo, Half-Ear growled and crouched, eyes gleaming in the lamplight, flickering from first one to another of the circling horrors.
"Stefanik!" shouted Pawldo.
The tousled head twisted, as if the youngster tried to turn but failed. It was as if Stefanik were trying to look at his companion, but could not muster the strength. Again Half-Ear growled, fear tingeing his snarl.
"Do not waste your breath!" hissed Ketheryll. "Like you, he is my prisoner."
"What did you do to him?" Pawldo asked, slowly circling to face all the looming figures. What did I do to him? his conscience added harshly. He well remembered Stefanik's pleas to depart from this place and his own insistence on pursuing the elusive treasure.
"I've done nothing, but I plan to make him one of my treasures . . . my trinkets," said Ketheryll. "I understand you have spent much of the night collecting the others."
"What do you mean?"
'They were all shiftless and deceitful-even my fearless legion-all like that traitor Garius." Ketheryll smiled horribly. "He fled my home at my hour of greatest need, but that couldn't protect him from my wrath."
The voice deepened, gurgling with a hellish boil. "Like all those lured here by the promise of riches, drawn deeper into my web by their own greed, you and your thieving friend shall forever linger among these walls. Like all those who've tried to rob me or lie to me, you'll become things of imaginary value-all glitter, but no substance."
"I've seen plenty of substance in here," challenged the halfling, though he instantly regretted the foolish outburst.
"Do you think so? Perhaps you should look again."
Suddenly sick to his stomach, Pawldo realized that the platinum dagger felt surprisingly light in his hand. Glancing down, he saw the thing as it really was: a piece of cheap tin set with glass baubles. He knew immediately that the rest of the treasures in his satchel would prove no more valuable.
Pawldo tried to still the trembling in his limbs. Desperately his mind sought a plan. He looked around frantically, seeking some inspiration.
Half-Ear stood beside the halfling, his yellow eyes darting around the circle of figures. The hackles on the wolf's back bristled. His nose twitched as canine lips curled into a teeth-baring snarl.