Crouching down on elbows and knees, she wormed her way into the side of the dome. No mud-Ususi was grateful for that. With the light of her orb, she easily crawled forward. The space remained wide enough, and she made her way into a large pocket, where she could stand. A flurry of tiny wings sent her reaching involuntarily for a spell, even though Ususi had expected to disturb wildlife. The dome made a perfect place for the large southern bats to roost during the hot days. She was sorry to bother them. The sharp smell of guano was all they left behind. The dome's central feature was a five-sided obelisk of rough, puce-colored stone. The obelisk's significance was enhanced by the elaborate symbology inscribed on every surface. Runes; pictograms; and depictions of idealized emperors, gods, and demons-typical images for the ancient Imaskari. The wizard had spent years learning the language of the ancients and automatically interpreted the meaning behind this elaborate facade: "Entrance restricted to authorized agents of the empire. Intruders will be punished by automatic safeguards. Expect no mercy." "Bring me my pack," Ususi murmured, and the uskura silently offered her its burden. Ususi opened and rummaged through it. "Here we go." The wizard produced a lilac-tinged stone shard that was a little shorter than her hand in its diameter, and about the width of her thumb in thickness. The shard was a fragment of a larger, heavily inscribed tablet, though many symbols remained on the broken piece.
Ususi checked the fragment, then started searching the obelisk for matching symbols. The tablet chip, which Ususi thought of as a reference list, was something she'd unearthed about six months earlier in a crumbling spire in southern Mulhorand. Since then, it had proved invaluable. The wizard located the runes she sought, the ones matching those on her list. She pressed each one on the obelisk, hoping the order was correct. The ground shuddered and the dust of centuries rained down from the ceiling. The inscribed runes she'd activated lit up with brilliant blue light. Ususi stepped back, poised to flee in case she'd guessed incorrectly. Another shudder accompanied a familiar grating sound of stone on stone, and the obelisk slowly slid upward. A hiss of equalizing air blew a spray of milky dust in all directions.
When it settled, a smooth-sided shaft angling steeply into the earth was revealed. A narrow stairway was chiseled into the side of the shaft, descending in tight loops out of the reach of Ususi's light.
Demonic sculptures squatted at the head of the stair, one on each side of the shaft, their claws raised threateningly but immovably. Ususi stood her ground for a hundred heartbeats, waiting to see if any summoned guardians or ancient counter-measures against intrusion would be deployed. Time trickled past and, as far as she could sense, her way remained clear. After another similar span of time, she stuffed the pale purple shard back into her pack, handed the pack to her uskura, and started down the newly revealed stairs.
CHAPTER THREE
Warian Datharathi studied his hand. With just three cards, his choices were few-a three of silver, an eight of silver, and a Bahamut.
A six of silver he'd just revealed lay on the table; a three of black and a four of white, which his two remaining opponents had simultaneously played, lay next to his card. The hand had gone around the table once, and one card lay before each player. Everyone would have two more chances to lay down a card, until each showed three cards. Shem said, "I'll take this," and pulled a couple of coins from the pile at the center of the table. Warian frowned. He'd forfeited the activation of his first card by playing a higher value card than either of his opponents. Shem, who'd played the lowest card, a three-point black dragon, was able to take money out of the stakes.
Black dragons were thieves in cards as well as in life. Warian's turn again. Warian slapped his eight of silver down on the table. Since he got to play first this time, his card was automatically the lowest value; its ability activated. Everyone with a good dragon in their flight got to draw another card. He grinned and drew a card from the shuffle deck. Silvers were moral paragons, after all. Next came Shem, who played seven of black. Shem got to steal a couple more coins from the stakes. Warian stifled a groan. He was already possessive over the pile of coins-he was certain he'd win them and didn't want to see their value leak away. Yasha played a ten of red. The card was too high to use, but Yasha's total score of fourteen between his two cards was respectable. But the hand would be won by whomever showed the highest total after each had played three cards. Such were the rules of the tavern game Three Dragon Ante. It was one of Warian's favorite games. Like many such games, Three Dragon Ante required a financial contribution to the stakes before each hand was played. Warian found that he could win the stakes more often than not, even when pitted against experienced players, as long as he didn't overdo it. If he stayed at a table, a tavern, or even in a particular town for too long, stories of his "luck" tended to spread, and the locals started taking a dislike to his winning ways. "Hey, Glass-arm! Did you bathe today? You smell like an outhouse!" Tentative snickers bloomed around the bar. Warian glanced away from his game, even though he recognized that grating voice: his local nemesis, Bui the Hog. The big woman was a sore loser who'd gone too far into debt to continue playing for the evening. "Too long in one place" may have already snuck up on him, Warian realized. Warian's right hand, his glass arm, tightened its grip on his cards. Not glass-crystal. His prosthesis was a wonder, no argument there. It almost accorded him the mobility and agility of his natural limb. But it also marked him as different. The arm and his gambling prowess were a combination that sometimes worked to his disadvantage among strangers. Warian waited for Yasha to play a third card. Warian knew that his smartest move would be to make a joke, fold, and leave. The signs were all present-the bantering could easily turn ugly-ugly, as in physical. Bui was a lot of things, but "opposed to violence" was not on that list. But Warian wanted to play his Bahamut. Since he'd played a middle-value card for his opener and second card, letting the advantage temporarily shift away from him, he knew he would win this hand with his last card, unless one of his opponents was holding a thirteen-point dragon scion, just like Warian.
The stakes stood at one hundred sixty gold. That amount would go a long way toward seeing him to the next town along the trade road-maybe all the way to the city of Delzimmer, which bordered Eastern Shaar. He wouldn't mind leaving Crinti-controlled Dambrath behind. "I asked you a question," Bui's voice blared. More laughter, less restrained this time, chased the heels of the woman's taunt. Studiously ignoring the provocation, Warian merely looked at Shem and Yasha, saying, "Let's finish this hand and call it. What do you say?" Shem nodded, but Yasha the Weasel folded his cards and put them down. "No," said Yasha. "Why don't you answer Bui's question first? I can't concentrate with her yelling." Yasha smiled a knowing smile. Warian tensed. He had one chance to deflect the gathering attention onto Bui. If he could make her look a fool, perhaps the rest would just laugh her down. "She's loud, isn't she?" Warian asked. "Not so loud as when she lost her stake to me a little while ago. But…" "Hey!" boomed Bui, closer now.