Текст книги "The masked witches"

Автор книги: Richard Lee Byers

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

THIRTEEN

As previously planned, the surviving leaders of the defense assembled in a vault two levels deeper than the one they d just conceded to the attackers. A number of their weary followers had crowded into the chamber with its intricate bas-reliefs of demons and damned souls crawling over and over one another, and more were stumbling in by the moment. But Nyevarra and her peers had claimed a little side crypt for their exclusive use, so they could talk privately.

As she d so often seen him, Uramar stood staring at nothing and occasionally whispered to himself. Dark blood, or something akin to it, oozed from the slash in his torso; and despite the gravity of the current situation, she found herself wondering how that gelid ichor tasted. Would it poison her or exalt her in ways the blood of the living never could? Of late, sleeping away the time when the sun shone in the sky, she d been having ecstatic dreams and terrifying nightmares sometimes it was hard to tell which were which about what might happen if he d allow her to drink her fill of ekolid blood

She realized Pevkalondra was staring at her. I m sorry, she said.

I asked, said the ghoul with an edge in her voice, if you were absolutely certain we were beaten. The pearl in her eye socket glimmered in a manner suggestive of a tic, and the tiny silver scorpions crawling in the folds of her robe made a tiny rustling. No living person would have been able to hear them, but a vampire could.

The Raumviran s question, and the implication of cowardice it carried, drove thoughts of exotic blood from Nyevarra s mind. Of course! she snapped. Once I was out of the thick of it, I could see the whole battle in a way others couldn t. And yes, we killed the Stag King or rather, she had, she and the trap she d set, so how dare anyone doubt her courage or her judgment, either? But nothing else was going as we had hoped. The enemy had destroyed Falconer and the glabrezu, too.

And the blonde witch had seemed on the verge of burning her and her sister durthans to ash. Although in retrospect, Nyevarra realized, there was reason to question whether the bitch truly had possessed the power. Maybe Nyevarra had given up on that particular part of the struggle too quickly. But she would rather have jammed a hawthorn stake into her own heart than admit it.

Pevkalondra spat charcoal-colored sludge. If I had thought the battle hinged on filthy Nars and their pets, she said, I wouldn t have agreed to help fight it in the first place.

Nyevarra sneered and felt her fangs lengthening. If I were you, I d keep my voice down, she said. There are Nars just outside. Many more than there are Raumvirans.

I don t fear them or barbarian witches, either, the ghoul said.

Nyevarra took a firmer grip on her new antler weapon. But before it could come to a fight, Uramar roused with a jerk, and his mismatched eyes widened at the display of burgeoning hostility.

Enough! he said.

Pevkalondra scowled to the extent that her shriveled, flaking face was capable of expression. I don t care if your Nars and durthans outnumber me a thousand to one, she said.

I will have respect.

Uramar hesitated before replying, almost as if someone was whispering the proper response in his ear. You do have it, he said. If it seemed otherwise, it s simply because we undead have a fierceness in us. And when things aren t going well, it can even make us lash out at one another.

Well, it s too bad your leman here wasn t feeling a little more fierce upstairs, the ghoul said. Then perhaps things would be going better.

I was in the midst of the fighting, Nyevarra said. Where were you? Directing your constructs from a safe distance, I believe.

Because that s an effective way to kill the enemy, Pevkalondra replied. As opposed to giving the order to run away.

Please, Uramar said through gritted teeth.

No more bickering. Lady Pevkalondra, I understand your frustration. I thought we were going to win, too. We should have. But luck wasn t with us, and I m satisfied that Nyevarra made the right decision. I promise you that when the time is right, we ll take revenge for this defeat.

Pevkalondra spat again. But for now, we set our puppets dancing and disappear, she said.

Yes, the blaspheme said. So let s get to it, and deploy those who are staying behind in such a way that the enemy will pay a price for the privilege of hunting us. For if their counterfeits went down too easily, it could give the game away.

Aoth turned back to Cera just in time to see blood flow from under the stained linen bandages wrapped around her brow. Cursing, she pressed her hand against the dressing.

Do you need help? he asked.

She snorted. What kind of a healer would I be if I didn t know how to apply pressure to a cut? she said, cocking her head. She studied him, and her expression softened.

It s nothing, I promise.

But you almost lost your eyes, he thought, and, maybe partly because he himself had once been blind, the thought appalled him. She was right, though, there was no point fussing about it, especially when so many of their allies had fared far worse.

Fair enough, he said. Is your magic coming back?

Trickling back, she said. I ll start helping those who are hurt the worst as soon as I can.

Good. And I need to do my own work, he said as he hugged her, and their armor clinked together.

Aoth made his way across the vault. Corpses most conspicuously, the gigantic, burned-smelling carcass of the glabrezu littered the floor. Berserkers sat huddled and shivering, waiting for the sickness that followed their fury to run its course. Meanwhile, stag warriors guarded the arches leading to the tunnels. Jhesrhi had attended to that. Apparently the degenerate fey were taking their orders from her.

Aoth wondered what they thought they recognized in her, and what the durthans she d put to flight imagined they d perceived. He told himself they were merely overreacting to the fire flowing inside her. With his spellscarred eyes, he could see it, too, but it didn t mean anything beyond the obvious. Although, of course, the obvious was strange enough.

When she saw him coming, Jhesrhi gave him a nod. Is your magic coming back? she asked.

The question of the moment, he said, smiling.

Yes, and what about yours?

Yes, she said, returning his question with a quick smile. I take it we re going to need it.

I hope you are, Vandar said.

Aoth turned to face the man who d come up behind him. Though he looked as spent and as shaky as any of his lodge brothers he was leaning on the red spear like an old man leaning on a staff Vandar s eyes glared, and his lips were twisted in a sneer.

What does that mean? asked Aoth.

I thought the glabrezu had killed both of you, the Rashemi said. But now I see that you just gave up on trying to kill it.

Aoth felt a stab of anger and took a long breath to quell it.

Fighting the demon was important, he replied.

But other things were happening that were just as important, and Jhesrhi and I and Cera had to go and deal with them. We didn t want to leave you berserkers to handle the glabrezu by yourselves, but it was necessary.

Vandar grunted. Whatever you say, he said.

I I mean, my brothers and I managed to kill the thing without you. What I want to know now is why we re dawdling. We need to get after the enemy to crush them once and for all.

Of course, Aoth said, I agree with you. And I mean to give chase as soon as we re able. But we ve had this talk before. You don t want to lead your brothers into more fighting before they re ready.

No, said Vandar. But what if the durthans are getting away?

We have a way of checking on that, remember? said Aoth. I ll do it now. He reached out to Jet, and, through the familiar s eyes, saw the night sky. Sel ne was rising in the east and trailing her haze of shimmering tears behind her. Fresh white snowflakes drifted on the frigid, moaning wind.

There s still nobody coming up out of any tunnels, said Jet. You should have taken me along with you. You could have used me when the patchwork man was tearing you apart.

You may be right, but it s too late now. Stay on watch.

I will. But I m going to kill a wild hog, too. I saw some awhile ago, and I m hungry.

Aoth fixed his gaze on Vandar. Jet says there s no sign of undead and such aboveground, he said. So they must still be down here with us. He smiled. Come on, relax. Surely the master of the Griffon Lodge trusts the word of his totem.

Vandar didn t smile back, but said, Be ready as soon as you can. Then he turned and strode off toward some of his lodge brothers.

I don t like this, Jhesrhi said. He was always headstrong and touchy, and he never liked you much. But now he s different.

I agree, said Aoth, and I don t like it, either. But in spite of everything, we ve got the foe on the run. Let s finish this, collect our reward, and go home to the Brotherhood.

Dai Shan stood at the bow of the Storm of Vengeance and gazed out at the vague black face of the benighted land below. It was an interesting sight, simultaneously majestic and mysterious, but it still afforded no sign of the Fortress of the Half-Demon.

Leaning on the rail beside him, Mario Bez said, We re almost there.

Are you sure? Dai Shan asked.

The sellsword arched an eyebrow.

Dai Shan bowed. A thousand apologies, most sagacious of navigators, he added. Of course you are.

Right, said the captain. And because I am, it s time for you to do some more spirit traveling and figure out what we re going to find when we arrive.

Inwardly, the Shou sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to let Bez know that he in any sense possessed that capability. Certainly there was an element of risk attendant upon entering a trance in the mercenary s presence. What if Bez had inferred that, his assurances to the contrary notwithstanding, Dai Shan still intended to claim the wild griffons for himself? What if the Halruaan decided to take advantage of a rival s diminished capacity by sticking his rapier in him or tossing him over the side? It was, after all, what Dai Shan might well have done in Bez s place.

But only after said rival had outlived his usefulness. Dai Shan hadn t, and he judged that his companion was shrewd enough to realize it.

So he said, I have every confidence that your timing is impeccable, my valiant ally, and it will be my privilege to glean whatever information I can.

He moved to the center of the forecastle, sat down on the deck with his legs crossed, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly and deeply. When he felt centered, he reached out to the shadow that, tendays before, he d cast to spy on the Griffon Lodge. Unless something had happened to it, it had followed the berserkers north to the Fortress of the Half-Demon and was stalking them still.

Yes. It still existed. He could feel the ache of emptiness, the strange mix of malice, cunning, and dullness, and the absolute need to serve him that passed for its mind. He told it to give up everything it had and was, identity and existence themselves, and become him.

Perhaps the shadow resisted or regretted, but if so, only for an instant. Then it was gone, and Dai Shan stood in its place.

Of course, he was still sitting in the bow of the Storm as well. But for the moment, the original Dai Shan was content to empty his mind and vicariously experience what his counterpart experienced.

The active Dai Shan found himself in a tunnel whose darkness was, of course, no impediment to his sight. Peering about to make certain no one was in his immediate vicinity, he inferred that he was in the notorious tangle of dungeons beneath the Fortress of the Half-Demon. Off in the distance, the wavering yellow lights of torches moved to and fro, men called out to one another, and, to his surprise, sleigh bells, or something like them, chimed.

He surmised that Aoth Fezim, Vandar Cherlinka, and their allies must have won an initial battle with Falconer, his fellow undead, and their servants. That seemed to be the only way the living humans could have gained access to the vaults. But what else was happening?

There was one way to find out, and Dai Shan supposed he needed to get on with it before the impermanent incarnation of himself ran out of life. He whispered a charm, and a cool tingle ran over his skin as he became invisible. Then he skulked toward the nearest source of torchlight.

Keeping a safe distance, he watched creatures like gaunt stags that walked on two legs and fought with weapons. They destroyed a steel bull that snorted jets of scalding steam from its nostrils. The bells bound to the warriors antlers made the jingling he d been hearing.

From there, he skulked on to a spot where a dozen howling, screeching Rashemi had cornered a durthan and some goblins and were hacking them to bits. The goblins screamed for the masked witch to cast a spell, but she didn t, not even when the berserkers cut her down in her turn. Perhaps she d already expended all her power.

Such scenes gave Dai Shan more insight into the situation unfolding all around him. Since there was still fighting going on, it might be premature to call the attackers victorious, but their victory appeared inevitable. They were hunting their foes and driving them before them, deeper and deeper into the vaults.

And where was Falconer? Destroyed? Trapped? Escaped via some secret exit? It was impossible to say.

But perhaps it didn t matter. It scarcely seemed like a propitious moment to make a stand with the undead. No, if Dai Shan revealed himself at all, it had better be as the honest merchant who d promised to help save Rashemen. Yet there didn t seem to be much point in announcing himself in that guise, either. The attackers didn t need his help and were unlikely to welcome a competitor trying to attach himself to them at the moment of their triumph. So he simply renewed his shroud of invisibility and prowled onward. He might as well learn everything he could.

He headed for the echoing shouts and clamor of what sounded like a nearby skirmish. But before he reached it, he spotted an archway capped with three relatively inconspicuous vertical notches like the ones he himself had chiseled beneath the Iron Lord s castle. But something about those grooves looked different.

Well, no, actually not. They looked identical, but they felt different. Dai Shan was at a loss to account for it until he remembered he wasn t his normal self. Rather, he was a shadow reshaped into human form, and some such phantoms possessed modes of perception mortals didn t: tropisms and instincts that enabled them to fix on the energies of life and undeath.

He was still trying to guess what it all meant when he heard hushed but urgent voices whispering down the passageway. Averse to trusting magic alone to hide him at close quarters, he retreated into the mouth of a branching tunnel.

Radiating an unnatural chill and a sickening feeling of wrongness, the blurry, wavering, and all but faceless form of a ghost came into view. Dai Shan couldn t quite tell if it was striding, flying, or moving in some even stranger way. The thought of looking closely enough to figure it out made his stomach churn.

With many a glance back over their shoulders, a trio of masked, hooded durthans scurried after their spectral guide. Their flickering, semitransparent familiars hurried with them: a peregrine, a wildcat, and a swarm of bees.

Orienting on the archway with the carving, the ghost extended three wispy fingers and flicked his hand in a downward motion, as if it was scratching similar marks on the air. The space beyond the doorway changed.

It was still a tunnel, but it forked just a few strides in, whereas before, there had only been one passage receding until a dogleg bent it out of sight.

Nor was that the only change. Since there were no lights shining anywhere nearby, it mocked common sense to suggest that the passage was blacker than it had been before. Yet it was. The idea, the essence of darkness crawled and festered there so thickly that even Dai Shan s magically enhanced sight had difficulty making out the details of the morbid carvings that adorned the walls in bewildering profusion.

The ghost led its charges through the arch and repeated the cat-scratch gesture. As quickly as it had changed before, the passage reverted to its original condition, and those who had entered it disappeared.

Dai Shan gave his head a tiny shake. When he d wondered if Falconer and his peers might have a secret means of escape, he d been wiser than he knew. And such being the case, perhaps he could accomplish something more much more! than mere reconnaissance, if only he didn t run out of time.

He waited another moment, making sure that the ghost and the witches weren t coming back. Then he approached the arch and tried the scratching motion for himself.

Across the myriad nightmare worlds that made up the Abyss, manes were the lowest form of demon. They were slaves or prey to all the others, waddling, bloated child-sized things with maggots squirming in their open sores. Aoth never beheld one without recalling how Szass Tam had disposed of Nevron by turning him into a mane, a supremely ignominious end for Thay s preeminent master of fiends.

Maybe it was that flicker of memory that slowed his reactions, for by the time he had aimed his spear, Jhesrhi was already hurling bright yellow flame from her staff. Wreathed in fire like the wizard herself, the several tanar ri fell down, screaming and writhing.

Aoth supposed that left him to account for the Nar demonbinder who d summoned the creatures. Taking care not to trip over a burning mane, or let one roll and flounder into him, he rushed the undead figure with the staff in its flaking, tattooed hands and the big round iron amulet dangling from its withered neck. Cera and a couple of the stag warriors raced after him.

Somewhat to Aoth s surprise, the Nar didn t try to call up a new fiend. It simply swung its staff in a sweeping blow instead. Aoth simultaneously blocked with his targe, charged his spear with lightning, and thrust it into the walking corpse s chest. The resulting flash and bang tore its torso apart, and it fell backward. The stag warriors hacked at it anyway. They d learned that undead and trolls sometimes needed a lot of killing.

Still, that one was rather clearly finished. Cera, the front of her bandages stained rusty brown, peered down at the remains. Breathing hard, she said, That was pretty easy.

Aoth frowned. It was, wasn t it? he said. And after all the hard fighting they d done to get so far, he supposed he should be grateful. Still, something about it nagged at him, and he tried to figure out what.

A sudden baritone voice speaking with a cultured Shou accent distracted him from his pondering. Captain Fezim, it said.

Surprised, Aoth pivoted to see Dai Shan advancing into the golden glow of Cera s conjured sunlight. Clad in his customary green coat, the little merchant was so immaculately groomed that he would have cut a strange figure on any battleground, let alone in a warren infested with the vilest creatures in Rashemen.

Nor were his cleanliness and neatness the strangest things about his sudden appearance. What are you doing here? Aoth demanded.

The Shou bowed. The shrewd war mage cuts to the heart of the matter as incisively as I would have expected, he said.

As you may recall, I too possess some knowledge of the occult arts. My explorations revealed that the hathrans quest had led you and your dauntless allies to the Fortress of the Half-Demon. So naturally, since the undertaking is mine as well, I rushed here by sorcerous means to assist however I can.

Aoth snorted and said, In other words, to stake your claim to at least a couple griffons if you possibly can.

Dai Shan turned up his well-tended hands. Sympathetic as I am to the difficulties of our Rashemi hosts, I confess that my motives aren t entirely altruistic, he said. Perhaps, if pressed, even the most valorous of mercenaries might admit the same.

Fair enough, said Aoth. But you re too late to dip your mug in this particular barrel. We don t need you. It s all over but the cleanup.

Then I congratulate you, said Dai Shan. Still, hearing that matters have advanced as far as you say, I find myself puzzled over the particular group of undead I sighted proceeding down a certain passage. From their demeanor no less than their gear, I assumed them to be powerful creatures of high rank. Enemies one would wish to destroy before proclaiming the current menace ended for good and all.

Did you see a big thing that looked stitched together from pieces of different bodies? Cera asked. Or a witch in a tarnished silver mask? She would have been carrying a staff with antlers on the end.

Dai Shan gave a little nod. In fact, wise daughter of the sun, he said, that s exactly whom I saw. Those two and three others.

Aoth s mouth tightened. He didn t much fancy partnering up with such a glib little eel, but he d fought alongside worse in his time. If you lead us to the creatures, maybe we can spare you a griffon or two, he said. Failing that, we ll pay you somehow.

So be it, replied the Shou. And now that we ve negotiated that, may I recommend haste? We wouldn t want the foe to stray too far from the location where I observed them.

One moment, Jhesrhi said. Extinguishing her mantle of flame, she stepped to the wall and placed her fingertips against it. Aoth knew she was talking to the stone all around them, finding out where the other squads were and how they were faring.

Jhesrhi turned back around. Everything seems to be under control, she said.

Good, Aoth replied, looking at Dai Shan. Now we can go.

The Shou led them along a twisting route through vaults and passages that echoed with the cries and clatter of conflict. Watching for signs of trouble, Aoth had to admire the ease with which Dai Shan negotiated the labyrinth, assuming the trader wasn t lost.

With their bells silenced, and their cloven hooves clicking on the floor, eight stag warriors paced in a line behind their human comrades. Aoth wondered how much they understood what was happening and decided he d likely never know. In their mute inscrutability, they seemed emblematic of the entire fey– and spirit-ridden country.

Another turn brought an archway into view and drove such reflections from his mind as he grunted in surprise.

Dai Shan looked back at him. Is something wrong, intrepid captain? he asked.

Not wrong, said Aoth, but interesting. Cera and I saw three notches just like that cut at the top of an arch in the tomb back in the sacred grove.

The same crypts, Dai Shan said, from which, you said, the durthans and werewolves seemingly emerged even though you d established they were empty.

Yes, replied Aoth.

Well, it gratifies me to be in a position to solve that particular puzzle for you, said the Shou. Watch the arch while I recite the words I heard the scarred creature say.

In the name of the Vaunted, the Staff-Bearer, the Lord of the Forsaken Crypt, open.

The space beyond the opening changed. What had been one passage until it doglegged out of sight divided into two. What had been featureless walls suddenly sported intricate carvings like fungus grown in an instant: a bewildering hodgepodge of skulls, skeletons, weeping mourners, flowers, wreaths, sunsets, and souls standing before their gods for judgment. Moreover, a nasty-looking darkness resisted the illumination of Cera s conjured sunlight. It reminded Aoth of Gaedynn and Jhesrhi s description of the Shadowfell, and he suspected that was exactly what he was looking at. Or, if not Shadow itself, a demiplane derived from it.

The stag men shied at the transformation, and Jhesrhi turned to calm them. Cera grinned at Aoth. So you see everything, do you? she said.

Once in a while, he replied, trying to sound vexed so she d enjoy her teasing more. There truly isn t anything that any pair of eyes could see. This was one of those occasions.

If you say so, my love, she said. If you say so.

If my fearless companions are ready, Dai Shan said, I don t imagine the gate will stay open forever.

Probably not, Aoth said. Spear at the ready, he prowled forward, while Dai Shan stepped aside and relinquished the lead. Aoth supposed that was fair enough. The merchant had done his job, and it was time for the soldiers to do theirs.

As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he felt an absence. He d lost contact with Jet just as he had upon entering the Feywild. It was proof that he and his comrades truly were intruding on another level of reality.

Nor was that the only indication. It was colder than it had been outside the arch. Cera murmured a prayer that infused the light that followed her like a faithful hound with warmth. But the surrounding gloom immediately started leeching both the heat and the radiance away. She was going to have to keep investing power in the enchantment if she wanted it to last.

It was one more good reason to find and destroy the enemy leaders quickly. Aoth started forward, then heard a jangle of bells. He turned to see what had agitated the stag warriors.

As Dai Shan had predicted, the arch behind them had changed again. Instead of connecting to the tunnel they d just left, it framed a straight length of passageway also shrouded in murk and decorated with funerary carvings. Fortunately, though, their side of the arch had its own three notches to mark it as a doorway back to the mortal world. Aoth and his comrades shouldn t have any trouble identifying it once their business was through.

Jhesrhi calmed the stag men once again. They all stalked onward through echoing spaces that proved to be at least as labyrinthine as the ones that truly lay under the fortress. Sarcophagi rested on daises or stood on end in niches. Urns reposed on shelves. The jumbles of mournful carvings on the walls sometimes yielded to more ordered spaces resembling the facades of tombs. Occasionally, the way widened out to accommodate rows of headstones, a freestanding mausoleum, or even an entire graveyard under a vaulted ceiling. The place was like a fever dream of interment.

And its vastness was a problem. Eventually Cera stated what everyone had surely started to realize. There are too many alleys running off in all directions, she said. The undead could have gone anywhere.

Can you track them? Aoth asked, of her and Jhesrhi, too.

Maybe, Cera said. I can ask the Keeper where they went.

And I can talk to the stone and the air, Jhesrhi said.

Aoth left them to it. Meanwhile, he prowled about, peering and listening, trying to catch any sign of their quarry or of any lurking threat native to the halls. Presumably doing the same, the stag men likewise paced the twilight perimeter where Cera s radiance began to fail.

Dai Shan, however, ventured farther. Aoth remembered the means by which the Shou had made a fool of Folcoerr Dulsaer and decided he was the sort of mage who felt at home in the dark. Yet it wouldn t necessarily help him if a wraith or demon pounced out at him from cover.

But nothing did. Dai Shan turned and came trotting back. For once, his imperturbable face betrayed a hint of excitement. Brave captain, he said, come and see.

Aoth glanced back at Cera and Jhesrhi, each still intent on her labors, making sure they were all right. He followed Dai Shan into the gloom.

The Shou led him around a corner to an arch flanked by black marble statues of sphinxes sitting on their haunches. Incised on the pointed capstone were three grooves.

Do you see? Dai Shan asked.

Yes, said Aoth. Presumably the enemy was making for a different doorway to leave this place. This may well

The view before him shifted. The arch still opened on a farrago of grim and sometimes bizarre stonework, but it was different stonework. A bas-relief of skeletal Kelemvor enthroned and holding his scales had given way to a row of grimacing demonic heads sticking out of the wall like rainspouts. A sarcophagus big enough for a fomorian had become steps leading down to a small boat with an empty bed in the center, a craft perhaps destined to wait forever for someone to put a corpse onboard, set it ablaze, and shove it out onto the black water beyond the quay.

Aoth realized no one had spoken the words that had supposedly produced such a transformation before. Then he realized Dai Shan was standing a pace behind him.

As he started to turn, something slammed into his head. If not for his helmet, and a hundred years of experience in rolling with impacts he couldn t avoid, the blow might well have snapped his spine.

As it was, it stabbed pain through his neck and threw him off balance. He struggled to get his feet under him, while Dai Shan plowed into him like a wrestler intent on bulling his opponent out of the ring.

That s a mistake, thought Aoth. He moved his hands up on the haft of his spear and stabbed at the spot where Dai Shan s neck met his shoulder.

Somehow, Dai Shan sensed the attack coming. He let Aoth go and jerked backward. It saved his life, but he failed to avoid the stroke entirely. The spearhead raked across the front of his torso and gashed him.

Give up, Aoth said. You re unarmed and wounded. You can t win.

Dai Shan made a shallow bow. Reluctant as I am to contradict such a perspicacious leader of men, he said, it appears to me that I ve already won. You may find it instructive to examine our surroundings.

Aoth risked a glance and discovered that when the Shou had tackled him, he d shoved him to the other side of the arch. Worse much worse the view on the side where they d started had altered, too. There was still a tomb-scape there, but not the same one where he d left Jhesrhi and Cera working their magic.

Does the illustrious war mage understand now? Dai Shan asked, the slightest of smiles upturning the corners of his mouth. Lacking the true secret of the portals, you will wander here alone until you either succumb to thirst or attract the attention of something that resents trespassers. The sunlady, the elementalist, and those peculiar deer men are in essentially the same predicament, although they at least have one another for company.