" 'Twould take two candles," said Twilight. "To be safe."
Davoren threw his hands in the air. "Wonderful," he said. "Waiting for two candles to burn down. We'd be a meal sitting here for some beast that comes along-like that troll-while our fearless leader takes her time for the sake of safety."
"What have I told you about insults?" Twilight said.
"It's an insult to call you 'fearless?' " Davoren feigned shock.
Twilight shook her head. "Very well," she said. "Follow and move as I do. But wait. A four-count should be right."
Brows furrowed. "Four?" Slip asked. "Why not five?"
"Why not six?" snapped Davoren.
Twilight shrugged. "Chameleon, I hope you're enjoying this," she murmured.
No response, as always.
The shadows coalesced around her. Then she ran.
A veritable firestorm of metal shards, swinging blades, and crossbow bolts filled the tunnel. Twilight lunged, danced, and dodged. She rolled under a blade that would have taken her head from her shoulders, sprang to the side between two chopping axes, and stopped short just in time to avoid a pair of darts shooting from either side.
Slip and Liet looked at one another, then charged after her. It took the others another breathless moment before they, too, followed the elf. They ran past as each trap reset itself.
Twilight ran, snaked, and dipped. Here she went low under darts, there she snapped a trip wire with Betrayal. Where she pulled up short, the others froze, and where she ran, the others dashed. More bolts fired out, and she twisted around them. Writing flared along the wall, and a fringe of flames shot out. She dived under the flames and rolled, scant feet from the end of the passage.
A sword swung down from the ceiling. Twilight dodged and hopped, but she sensed an attack from behind. Like a perfect pendulum, the blade scythed for her back.
Unlike a perfect pendulum, however, it wove from side to side. Then it veered to the right-directly at Twilight.
She managed to leap to the left, but not before the trap tore a gouge across her shoulder. She went down hard on her backside, and looked up to see the weapon streaking for her forehead. It would split her neatly in two-at least halfway. The sword probably didn't reach all the way to the floor.
Twilight found it amusing that she'd made it all the way through the corridor by sheer luck, only to fall to the last trap of all-and the most obvious.
"You're a bitch, Misfortune," Twilight cursed.
Then a ray of flame shot over her head and cut the sword blade from its swinging mechanism. The trap swung toward Twilight, but the blade's weight drove it into the stone floor a hair's breadth from her midsection.
"I take it back," she said.
Twilight was up with a start, taking Liet's hand. Carried by Gargan, Asson wiggled his fingers at Twilight, to show that he had fired the flame that had saved her.
Trailing smoke and dust, the seven emerged from the tunnel, leaving behind a wake of triggered traps and bolts studding the walls like porcupine quills.
Aside from sweat, hard breathing, and anxiety, none of the seven carried any marks to show for the experience, except Twilight's single shoulder wound.
"Let me see to that for you," Taslin offered.
Twilight flinched. " 'Tis nothing."
"It could fester," the priestess pressed. "That trap was very old."
Twilight was tempted to point out that lockjaw from old metal was a myth, or at least an incomplete notion, but instead she conceded and turned her head aside. The priestess cast the healing, and Twilight's torn shoulder knit itself without argument.
"Aye," said Slip. "I'm not sure we should've gone this way."
Twilight looked around at her surroundings for the first time and agreed.
They could see that the sewer did not extend far beyond the trapped corridor. Five paces from the tunnel, the carved floor gave way to natural stone. Beyond were two cave entrances, tunnels just large enough to admit the goliath if he stooped.
To complicate the scene, a five-pace diameter tunnel of stone also cut through the chamber, its smooth walls assuring Twilight that it came from the same source as the other perfect tunnels they had found.
"I don't know," Davoren said. "I find the change of scenery rather refreshing. Anything but more dismal, filthy tunnels."
"Everything's 'dismal,' 'wretched,' or 'filthy' with you, aye?" Slip asked. "Do you only know three adjectives?"
The warlock's burning eyes flicked to her. "I would advise silence, little one, before I think up a fourth-just for you."
The halfling shivered but held her tongue.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They rested from their exertion while Twilight decided which tunnel to take. She sent Gargan and Slip to investigate the cave entrances. In the meantime, Taslin conjured a simple meal of cakes and wine for them. They sat on fallen rock debris and ate.
For a time, no one spoke. Then the priestess broke the silence.
"What manner of sword is that you carry?" Taslin asked.
Twilight gave her a nonchalant look. "A rapier."
"It is shorter than any rapier I have seen," the priestess said.
"She's right," said Liet. Twilight flashed him a warning look, but the young man spoke before she could stop him. "I've learned a bit about swordplay, and there's an accepted length for a rapier. Yours is short by a full hand."
"The gods shine!" Twilight said wryly. "Creativity."
Slip bounded into the chamber just then. From the gleam in her eyes upon seeing the food, Twilight knew better than to ask her first what she had discovered.
"It looks more like a thinblade," said Taslin. "An elven weapon. But it is short even for that, and too long for a smallblade."
Asson decided to join the discussion. "And that material-I've never seen metal of that gray sheen. I saw what it did against those wights-the little lick of flame, the spark of electricity. What is it?"
"Hizagkuur," said Twilight, taking a drink of water.
"I've never heard of it," said the mage.
"Neither had the dwarf who discovered it," said Twilight. "So he did what dwarves usually do, and named it after himself."
"Who was that?" Slip asked excitedly.
Twilight looked at her with an absolutely blank face. "Hizagkuur," she said.
"Oh," said Slip. "That would have been my third guess."
"Dwarf craft?" Taslin did not bother to hide her curiosity.
"One of the first Hizagkuur weapons ever crafted in the Northland, long before the rise of Cormanthyr, in the days when elves and dwarves traded freely," said Twilight. " 'Twas a commission-and not by me."
If they were expecting more from her lips, they did not get it.
Someone cleared a throat. "Who taught you to dance the shadows?" Davoren asked mildly. "You do it so well."
"Careful, Davoren," Twilight said.
"We have some moments before Gargan returns," the warlock said. "Perhaps it's time to introduce ourselves better. For instance-what means that star on your naked back, she-elf? Why is your sword so named? 'Betrayal' is so charming. And I believe I heard you muttering a name in your sleep-Neveren, was it?"
Stunned, Twilight opened her mouth, but Taslin gave Davoren a warning glare, her hand falling to her own sword hilt. "She will tell you when she wishes," she said. "If she wishes. I suggest you respect her privacy else."
The warlock looked at her hand and scoffed. "Drawing steel against an unarmed man?" he asked. "Surely your petty Colonal would frown on such a dishonorable act."
Davoren's pronunciation sounded closer to a human military rank than to Corellon Larethian himself, Lord of the Seldarine. The wizard had not even bothered to disguise his provocation. Twilight might've taken his words as an insult, but she hated this whole bloody band far too much.