"Two feet," said Tas cheerfully. He dropped in with a splash, the water hitting him around the thighs. He looked up at Tanis inquiringly.
"That way," Tanis pointed. "South."
Holding his staff in the air, Tasslehoff let the current sweep him along.
"Where's that diversion?" Sturm asked, his voice echoing.
Tanis had been wondering that himself. "We probably won't be able to hear anything down here." He hoped that was true.
"Raist'll come through. Don't worry," Caramon said grimly.
"Tanis!" Tasslehoff fell back into the half-elf. "There's something down here! I felt it go by my feet."
"Just keep moving," Tanis muttered, "and hope it isn't hungry-"
They waded on in silence, the torchlight flickering off the walls, creating illusions in the mind's eye. More than once, Tanis saw something reach out for him, only to realize it was the shadow cast by Caramon's helm or Tas's hoopak.
The tunnel ran straight south for about two hundred feet, then turned east. The companions stopped. Down the eastern arm of the sewer glimmered a column of dim light, filtering down from above. This-according to Bupu-marked the dragon's lair.
"Douse the torches!" Tanis hissed, plunging his torch in the water. Touching the slimy wall, Tanis followed the kender- Tas's red outline showing up vividly to his elven eyes-through the tunnel. Behind him he heard Flint complaining about the effects of water on his rheumatism.
"Shhhh," Tanis whispered as they drew near the light. Trying to be silent in spite of clanking armor, they soon stood by a slender ladder that ran up to an iron grating.
"No one ever bothers to lock floor gratings." Tas pulled Tanis close to whisper in his ear. "But I'm sure I can open it, if it is."
Tanis nodded. He didn't add that Bupu had been able to open it as well. The art of picking locks was as much a matter of pride to the kender as Slum's moustaches were to the knight.
They all stood watching, knee-deep in water, as Tas skimmed up the ladder.
"I still don't hear anything outside," Sturm muttered.
"Shhhh!" Caramon growled harshly.
The grating had a lock, a simple one that Tas opened in moments. Then he silently lifted the grating and peered out.
Sudden darkness descended on him, darkness so thick and impenetrable it seemed to hit him like a lead weight, nearly making him lose his hold on the grating. Hurriedly he put the grating back into place without making a sound, then slid down the ladder, bumping into Tanis.
"Tas?" the half-elf grabbed him. "Is that you? I can't see. What's going on?"
"I don't know. It just got dark all of a sudden."
"What do you mean, you can't see?" Sturm whispered to Tanis. "What about your elf-talent?"
"Gone," Tanis said grimly, "just as in Darken Wood-and out by the well…"
No one spoke as they stood huddled in the tunnel. All they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and water dripping from the walls.
The dragon was up there-waiting for them.
21
The sacrifice. The twice-dead city
Despair blacker than the darkness blinded Tanis. It was my plan, the only way we had a chance to get out of here alive, he thought. It was sound-it should have worked! What went wrong? Raistlin-could he have betrayed us? No! Tanis clenched his fist. No, damn it. The mage was distant, unlikable, impossible to understand, yes, but he was loyal to them, Tanis would swear it. Where was Raistlin? Dead, perhaps. Not that it mattered. They would all be dead.
"Tanis"-the half-elf felt a firm grasp on his arm and recognized Sturm's deep voice-"I know what you're thinking. We have no choice. We're running out of time. This is our only chance to get the Disks. We won't get another."
"I'm going to look," Tanis said. He climbed past the kender and peered through the grate. It was dark, magically dark.
Tanis put his head in his hand and tried to think. Sturm was right, time was running out. Yet how could he trust the knight's judgement? Sturm wanted to fight the dragon! Tanis crawled back down the ladder. "We're going," he said. Suddenly all he wanted to do was get this over with, then they could go home.
Home to Solace. "No, Tas." He grabbed hold of the kender and dragged him back down the ladder. "The fighters go first- Sturm and Caramon. Then the rest."
But the knight was already shoving past him eagerly, his sword clanking against his thigh.
"We're always last!" Tasslehoff sniffed, shoving the dwarf along. Flint climbed the ladder slowly, his knees creaking.
"Hurry up!" Tas said. "I hope nothing happens before we get there. I've never talked to a dragon."
"I'll bet the dragon's never talked to a kender either'" The dwarf snorted. "You realize, you hare-brain, that we're probably going to die. Tanis knows, I could tell by his voice."
Tas paused, clinging to the ladder while Sturm slowly pushed on the grating. "You know, Flint," the kender said seriously, "my people don't fear death. In a way, we look forward to it-the last big adventure. But I think I'd feel badly about leaving this life. I'd miss my things"-he patted his pouches-"and my maps, and you and Tanis. Unless," he added brightly, "we all go to the same place when we die."
Flint had a sudden vision of the happy-go-lucky kender lying cold and dead. He felt a lump of pain in his chest and was thankful for the concealing darkness. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, "If you think I'm going to share my afterlife with a bunch of kender, you're crazier than Raistlin. Come on!"
Sturm carefully lifted the grating and shoved it to one side It scraped over the floor, causing him to grit his teeth. He heaved himself up easily. Turning, he bent down to help Caramon who was having trouble squeezing his body and his clanking arsenal through the shaft.
"In the name of Istar, be quiet!" Sturm hissed.
"I'm trying," Caramon muttered, finally climbing over the edge. Sturm gave his hand to Goldmoon. Last came Tas, delighted that nobody had done anything exciting in his absence.
"We've got to have light," Sturm said.
"Light?" replied a voice as cold and dark as winter midnight. "Yes, let us have light."
The darkness fled instantly. The companions saw they were in a huge domed chamber that soared hundreds of feet into the air. Cold gray light filtered into the room through a crack in the ceiling, shining on a large altar in the center of the circular room. On the floor surrounding the altar were masses of jewels, coins, and other treasures of the dead city. The jewels did not gleam. The gold did not glitter. The dim light illuminated nothing-nothing except a black dragon perched on top of the pedestal like some huge beast of prey.
"Feeling betrayed?" the dragon asked in conversational tones.
"The mage betrayed us! Where is he? Serving you?" Sturm cried fiercely, drawing his sword and taking a step forward.
"Stand back, foul Knight of Solamnia. Stand back or your magic-user will use his magic no more!" The dragon snaked her great neck down and stared at them with gleaming red eyes. Then, slowly and delicately, she lifted one clawed foot. Lying beneath it, on the pedestal, was Raistlin.
"Raist!" Caramon roared and lunged for the altar.
"Stop, fool!" the dragon hissed. She rested one pointed claw lightly on the mage's abdomen. With a great effort, Raistlin moved his head to look at his brother with his strange golden eyes. He made a weak gesture and Caramon halted. Tanis saw something move on the floor beneath the altar. It was Bupu, huddled among the riches, too afraid even to whimper. The Staff of Magius lay next to her.
"Move one step closer and I will impale this shriveled human upon the altar with my claw."
Caramon's face flushed a deep, ugly red. "Let him go!" he shouted. "Your fight is with me."