Several times, they had trouble mounting inverted stairs-which had no support but magic-until Slip demonstrated that they needed to climb them upside down. That only increased Twilight's unease.
Having not eaten or had more than a few swallows of water in over two days, they were all weak and growing weaker, even the mighty goliath. As Twilight watched, Davoren fumbled and tripped over broken rock. She saw the lack of strength in his movements-the lessened energy.
"A morning meal would have helped, eh?" she asked once as she held him steady after a step crumbled.
Davoren glared at her. "We could've eaten the halfling, you and I," he said. "But oh, yes-you rejected that opportunity. Mark my words-you will regret it."
Twilight decided then that she wouldn't have minded seeing Davoren topple to his doom, were she not certain the fiend would blast them as he fell. She never got the chance to see if she guessed rightly.
Twilight exercised additional caution in those places where unbroken stairs flared outside-Liet had warned her that the bee-creatures might be scouting. No pursuit made itself apparent, though they had to duck and hide once when a trio of the humanoid insects buzzed by. Twilight noted their spears, helms, and shields distantly.
On the tenth floor of the soaring building, they came to a room without stairs. It was like a grand atrium, though the glass ceiling had long ago shattered. Blue trees with bright orange flowers filled the place, along with thorny bushes that might have been giant roses. Vines the thickness of human arms hung all about. The garden spiraled around a grand circle with a black disk in the center that was probably large enough for eight humans at a time.
"Thank the All-Mother!" Slip exclaimed through her gasps and wheezes. "I've had enough stairs to last me two tendays."
"Our thanks for that," Davoren said, "but we are all, not just you, still far short."
"Huh?" Slip looked at the warlock as though he'd sprouted a second head.
On a whim, Twilight checked to see if he had. He hadn't.
"In case you're oblivious, which isn't surprising," Davoren said, gesturing up through the absent glass ceiling, "we are only halfway to our goal."
It was true. The atrium seemed to be the top level of the High Tower, except for the spires that stood around it like tines on a crown. Several were broken off. The central spire leaned over precariously and curled under itself. There was no way into it, though it looked hollow, from windows in its surface above.
"Easy!" Slip said. "We just fly up there!"
"Asson was the only one who could fly," Twilight reminded her in a soft voice.
"Oh. Ah, well… we climb?"
"That far?" Davoren raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious." He mimicked the halfling's accent with considerable skill. Slip bit her lip.
"Options?" Twilight sighed. She'd grown weary of the whole affair, and almost wished some great foe would fall upon them. She'd had too much heartache. Twilight longed for battle.
"This." Liet walked onto the black disk at the center of the garden.
"What?" Davoren hissed.
"This." Liet tapped one of his silvery transmutation rods to the black surface beneath his feet. Magic sizzled, and the black disk shuddered. Immediately, it rose as a disk-shaped platform, powered by Negarath's aging mythallar.
"How did you know to do that?" she asked.
"I saw you," Liet said. "Back in the Forge…"
Twilight almost smiled. The boy was becoming useful, even if they had had a falling out. She stepped up and Gargan immediately joined her-whether out of loyalty or because he still watched her suspiciously, she did not care.
"Is it-safe?" Davoren asked.
"Since when is the 'everything is wretched and dismal and filthy' warlock afraid?" Slip asked, mocking his voice perfectly.
Grumbling, Davoren climbed on. "Now what?"
Liet shrugged. "Now, we-" And suddenly they were shooting up, borne aloft on the flying disk. Twilight reached out to catch the startled human back from the edge. Liet had nothing but awe on his face as she held his hand. Then he came to his senses and squeezed her hand. Reassured, Twilight managed to tear her eyes away from him.
The disk bore them in a rising spiral around the garden, then up through what must have been, in ancient times, a hole in the ceiling, and carried them streaking out over the city.
Slip gasped. "Beautiful!" Then, eyes darting, she added, "And strange-very strange."
Twilight could not disagree. While Negarath showed a primal chaos, the purest of eccentricity in the works of madmen, it was difficult to resist the awe.
The disk twisted and turned its way around the spires, offering a silent tour of what must have been a glorious city in its day. And indeed, despite the oddity of its architecture, the ancient towers and statues whose features were worn away still held a sort of demented beauty. Towers curled downward, and stairs sprouted like teeth on the underside of arches. Spires twisted this way and that like needles thrust into huge stone cushions. Great facades with dozens of statues shrouded nothing, or they concealed great buildings in the shapes of flower gardens, blossoming wings of rooms that curved upward. A huge cathedral to the goddess of magic-Mystryl, Twilight finally remembered, as opposed to her successors, the Mystras-rose high into the cavern, its face looking like nothing so much as syrup poured over a mountain of melting cakes.
Past the cathedral, she saw a curious building shaped like a sun, which seemed to be turning, so slowly she almost did not realize it. It radiated some sort of golden light through cracks in the stone, as though it were the sun itself. Then the disk whipped them away, circling the city faster and faster, higher and higher.
"Wonderful!" Slip cried.
"Yes," Twilight agreed. She pulled the halfling closer, away from the edge. "Wonderful until you fall."
Looking upon that city of wonder, Twilight could not help a spot of pity. Surely this view would have been stunning centuries ago, when all the people within had lived, cried and laughed, hated and loved…
"Look!" Slip shouted, and Twilight did.
The disk circled about the buildings, making its way back to the leaning central tower-the High Tower. Twilight couldn't suppress a twinge of uncertainty-after all, the mythallar could fail at any moment and send them plunging down.
"Are you controlling this?" she asked Liet.
"I don't-" Liet's brow furrowed. "Maybe. I did think about the tower."
"Well, by all means, carry on. Thinking never hurts." The faster the better.
Whether or not the youth controlled the disk, they did indeed float to the tower. Approaching from a new angle, Twilight saw more accurately its fate. It bent against and away from the ceiling of the cavern like a tree growing under a rock, and about thirty hands-about twice Twilight's height-from where it met was a flat space. The disk hovered near and did not move.
Relieved, Twilight took a step onto the curled tower, observed that it was stable, and motioned for the others to join her. Whatever enchantments held up the strange structure must have still operated, for though the tower was bent and curled, it held firm.
Better, they were well within reach of the cavern ceiling.
"Davoren, Gargan," Twilight said. "Find us a way out."
The goliath drew out a great maul he had found in the Netherese smithy. For once, the warlock did not argue. He simply raised his hands and sent burning blast after burning blast into the stone, cracking and chipping the hard earth for Gargan to knock free with the hammer. He looked just as tired of this place as any of the others. Twilight did not like the way he fingered that blasting scepter at his belt, though. What was he planning?
Though the work must have taken nearly a bell's length to accomplish, it felt like a moment, so anxious were they. Davoren's blasts heated the rock, and Gargan hammered the stone again and again. Slowly, bit by bit, they burrowed up, and up, and…