"Don't worry about them," one voice, louder than the others remarked. "They'll never get out of there, they're done for."
The four at the bottom of the strange shaft remained still until the echoing footsteps faded away. Then, after a few aborted attempts that resulted in feet in faces, elbows in stomachs, and fingers in eyes, the two kender and the two gully dwarves sorted themselves out. They discovered that their landing place had a ceiling high enough so they could stand up.
"What happen?" asked one of the gully dwarves.
"We run away," the other said.
"From what?"
"Don't know."
"You want torch?"
"Why? Got no light."
"I've got a tinderbox," Trap said.
"Who that?" one of the gully dwarves exclaimed.
"Kender, I think," the dwarf's companion offered. "Never seen one before."
"You've got a torch and I've got a light, so you can see one again," Trap suggested.
"You can see two," Ripple added. "Though why you've never seen kender before, I can't imagine."
After a considerable amount of fumbling (during which Ripple had to slap someone) fingers caught the hand Trap was holding tinderbox with and guided it to the torch. More fumbling followed before he lit what turned out to be a musty bundle of already half-burned rags around a broken mop handle. Once the first torch was lit, they were able to find a second, and light it too. The two kender and the two gully dwarves stood quietly, inspecting each other.
Trap decided his first estimate was correct. The tallest, with the beginning of facial wrinkles, was the eldest. The wrinkles were easy to see, being filled with grime. His hair was dark, probably dark brown, but overlaid with dirt that lightened it slightly. The smaller dwarf had no wrinkles, but was no less dirty. Their hair was approximately the same color, but the subtle difference of dark hair lightened by dirt and light hair darkened by dirt, led Trap and Ripple to believe that the younger dwarf was originally blond.
The gully dwarves were dressed in ragged cast-offs that had once been human clothing. Their trouser legs and sleeves had been carelessly rolled into bulky cuffs. During the run the smaller dwarf's right pants leg had unrolled and fallen down over his boot so he was walking on the bottom portion of the trouser leg.
Finished with his inspection of the Aghar, Trap considered their surroundings. They were in a passage, rock lined and arched. A few feet from where Trap stood, an empty sconce showed where one of the dwarves had found the torch.
Ripple blinked against the light and walked to the bottom of the steeply canted chute that had dumped them more than a hundred feet below street level. She tried three times to climb it, but the bottom was slick. It was marginally too wide and high for a kender or a gully dwarf to reach the sides or ceiling. They could not brace themselves to climb.
"Beans!" she said as she slid back a third time. "We'll have to find another way out."
"Could have told them," the first dwarf said.
"Me too," said the second.
"Hello," Trap was already growing tired of the dwarves conversation that excluded the kender. "I'm Trapspringer Fargo. This is my sister Ripple."
"His name Trapspringer," the taller dwarf said.
"She Ripple. She pretty," the other replied.
"Thank you. That's very nice. What's your name?" Ripple asked. The compliment had made her forget her irritation.
The larger of the two seemed to draw himself up. "Me Umpth Aglest. Me leader mighty Aglest clan."
"You have a clan?" Ripple asked. "Can they help us? Maybe they could drop a rope down the chute."
"That's a good idea," Trap nodded.
"No. Clan here," Umpth pointed at his companion. "Grod Aglest, brother. Him clan."
Trap looked around, peering up and down the passage as far as he could see in the light of the sputtering torch.
"Which way?" he asked of no one in particular. Umpth immediately pointed to the right and Grod to the left. They exchanged glances and both pointed in opposite directions. Since Ripple had not expressed an opinion, Trap set off to the left, with his sister close to his side. Behind him came the dwarves. Umpth rolled the wagon wheel. "Kender smart," Umpth observed. "Me point this way."
"Me too," Grod said.
"What is this place?" Ripple asked.
"This no This Place," Umpth answered. "No live here."
"I know you don't live here, I just thought you might know about this place."
"No This Place," Umpth said again. "Not know what place this is."
"Kender don't talk good," Grod said.
"Don't know This Place from any place," came the reply.
"Do they make any sense to you?" Ripple asked Trap. She spoke softly, not wanting to hurt the feelings of the gully dwarves.
"It's hard to tell," Trap replied. "I hear words I think I know, but they're not strung together right."
"Kender have big words, no sense," Umpth observed.
"Keep eye on him," Grod suggested. "Me watch her. She pretty." He reached out to touch the single long golden curl that had fallen over Ripple's left shoulder, but she stepped back, away from his grimy hands.
As they walked along the passage, they occasionally saw old torches in the wall sconces. Ripple inspected them, taking the first three that were at all usable. When she found more she gave Grod three to carry. They had been walking for half an hour when they found a set of steps going up about thirty feet. At the top was a door with a heavy lock.
The dwarves ascended the stairway behind them, but were having a hard time rolling the wagon wheel up the steps.
"Why did you bring that wheel?" Ripple asked, looking back at the struggling dwarves. "It's no good. Half the spokes are gone. The rim is loose too."
"Wheel magic," Umpth said. "Aglest clan magic."
"Wow! Really? Big jiggies!" Trap asked, suddenly interested. "How can a wheel be magic?"
"Belong to ancestor. All left of wagon bring Aglest clan to This Place. Ancestor magic strong."
"I've never heard of a magic wheel," Trap said, not sure he believed it, but at the first opportunity he wanted to see what the wheel would do.
"See, no sense," Grod said. "Not know This Place, not know magic, no sense."
"Don't be rude!" Trap said with a dark look over his shoulder. In his irritation he forgot his interest in the wheel.
While Ripple held the torch, Trap pulled out the set of lock picks his father had given him as a traveling present. After a few pokes and twists the lock clicked. Trap pushed the door open to the squeal of rusty hinges and a shower of crusted dirt and small stones fell way. Obviously it had not been opened for many years.
They found themselves in another passage. This one was already lit with torches, dry and swept clean, though a few cobwebs decorated the arched ceiling. The air was reasonably fresh, kept so by the burning torches, and from a distance they heard voices. Ripple put out the light she carried by the simple expedient of rolling it on the floor until the flames died. The four wanderers crept down the hall as quietly as the rolling wagon wheel would allow.
The voices became louder as the foursome reached a doorway at the end of the passage. The thick heavy door stood ajar, and Trap looked in to see a huge chamber, one unlike anything in his experience. Shelves of books in red bindings lined the wall on the far side of the chamber. At the end of the room more shelves held hundreds of glass jars containing strange and wonderful objects. Old but still colorful rugs overlapped each other on the stone floor. In the center of the room, a litter of books, scrolls, and strange paraphernalia covered four tables.