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There were numerous gasps throughout the chamber. Pilos looked straight ahead, ignoring them all. All, except for Grand Syndar Lavant, who sat regally upon a central chair, leading the discussion. When the fat priest spotted the Abreeant watching him, a strange, cold look came over his face.

"There must be some mistake," Grand Trabbar Perolin said, sounding doubtful. "Young Pilos, are you certain this is what you want? You understand what you're asking for, correct?"

Pilos merely nodded, never taking his eyes from Lavant. He began to quote. "Upon hearing of a demand for immediate sentencing, the high priests of Waukeen have before them two paths. They may either dispense justice for the perceived crime without an investigation, or they may suggest a Truth Inquiry be held on the spot. If one submits to such an inquiry and is found to be guilty-or worse yet, lying-the sentence is death," he said, reciting the dictums of the temple from his youngest days of lessons within its confines. "I want to be heard in Truth Inquiry," he repeated. "I have faith in the will of Waukeen to clear my name, and those of my fellow prisoners."

Lavant stood up. "This is the young priest who has been charged with treasonous crimes against the entire temple," he said, his tone deprecating. "And this is nothing more than a ploy to stall the inevitable. It is fortunate he turned himself in. But I see no reason to waste the council's time in deliberations. We know what he has been involved in, and we have more pressing matters to attend to."

As outside, the murmurs of many voices began to fill the chamber. Pilos could hear some of the high priests arguing in favor of Lavant's suggestion, while others railed against the notion of denying a Truth Inquiry when one had been demanded. By right, Pilos deserved to be heard.

"I have evidence that reveals corruption in the temple," Pilos said, loudly enough that the Grand Trabbar Perolin caught his words.

Suddenly, a ripple of "Shhh!" and "Be silent! Let him speak!" spread through the chamber. When the room had quieted, the Grand Trabbar asked in a hesitant tone, "What did you say?"

"I have evidence of corruption within this very chamber," Pilos answered. "Testimony from myself, as well as several others, that all of you will very much wish to hear."

"Are we to let this whelp of an Abreeant come in here and spread his lies? He has already demonstrated that he is capable of grand subterfuge, sneaking into the Shining Lord's palace uninvited, associating with known criminals, and attempting to escape custody in the company of outlaws to all of Arrabar. What value is there in letting him further deceive us?"

"You know the laws, Lavant," Perolin said. "It's his right to call for it."

Again a murmuring arose, but Pilos shouted before it could grow too loud, "And you're the center of the rot in this temple!"

A heartbeat of muffled words followed, then utter silence. In the next instant the chamber exploded in voices, all of them clamoring for a hundred different things. Through the cacophony of shouting, Lavant stared daggers at Pilos.

CHAPTER 13

Vambran clunked against the sides of another narrow passageway as water washed him down into the depths of the world. He tumbled and bounced and was forced to tuck his head between his arms to avoid being knocked unconscious. When he finally slowed, drifting in an open space with water still churning and tossing about, he uncoiled himself and risked a glance.

The lieutenant appeared to be in a void, his glowing coin the only light. The illumination formed a bright bubble around him, allowing him to see the disturbed sediment in the water, but nothing visible lay beyond the range of the light. Vambran had no idea what place he was in. He felt exposed to unseen enemies by his glowing light. He wondered if things swam beneath him, detecting the light and rushing forward to attack him.

Vambran had to fight a panicked urge to douse his light, to cancel the magic so he wouldn't feel so much like a target. But he didn't want to be in utter darkness, with no idea where he was and no idea how to get out. He calmed his fears, used his soldier's training to force himself to focus on the elements he could control.

If it's so dark, I must be inside something, he mused. There must be walls. A roof, at least.

The mercenary oriented himself and determined which way was up, then began to swim in that direction, slowly. He had no wish to strike against rock without warning. As he swam, he tried to control his terror.

If I sank down here, I can swim back out, he reasoned.

If you can find your way out, a little voice told him.

I will.

Suddenly, Vambran's head broke through the surface. He coughed for a moment as his body tried to adjust to air after so long underwater. Water flowed from his lungs, spilling out of the gills the necklace had magically produced, and at last, he could draw in a solid breath.

The air was terribly cold, so cold in fact that Vambran could see his breath in the dim light of his coin. It smelled stale, musty. Old.

Knowing that he must be inside a sealed area for air to still be present, Vambran held his light up, as high as he could reach, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ceiling overhead. He could not.

Well, then, I guess I'd better start swimming, the lieutenant decided. Somewhere around here there must be walls, something that's keeping the air trapped inside.

Vambran tried to select the direction that would lead him toward the opening he had tumbled in through, but he had become so disoriented that he had no clue. He paddled along slowly, again not wishing for his face to meet stone. Even so, he was startled when something solid appeared in his view.

It was a wall, not just of rock, but of worked stone blocks. The seams of the blocks were slanted, angling sharply, giving him the impression that the wall was tilted, cocked to one side. He began to follow the wall, swimming in the direction that the seams angled upward, hoping that he might find the bottom of something and perhaps dry land beyond.

When his feet brushed against something, Vambran yelped and flailed, certain that some creature had nudged past him, menacing his toes. But then his foot struck again and he realized it was a surface, a smooth stone surface, and a moment later, he was ascending a steep, paved slope. Wet and naked, he was keenly aware of the cold air.

The incline was sharp enough that Vambran had difficulty walking up. More than once he nearly lost his balance, but he hunched forward and picked his way with care, following the wall, which seemed to have a gentle curve to it.

All at once, Vambran found himself at the edge of the slope, reaching up and grasping for a handhold to pull himself the last few feet. Beyond was more blackness.

He shivered in the cold, wondering what was beyond his puny little light.

I need more illumination, Vambran thought. To the Hells with it, he decided.

The mercenary spoke the familiar magical phrase aloud and pointed his finger upward and ahead, A searing, bright flash of light shot forth from his fingertip and raced ahead. For the first few seconds, Vambran simply could not see, for the brightness of the flare hurt his eyes. But as his eyes adjusted, he began looking around, and what he saw amazed him.

The remains of a city block spread out before him, as if at the bottom of a steep hill, tilted at an awkward angle. The place where he stood had cracked and folded somehow, so that he was at the crest of a ridge between two downward slopes. Behind him, sliding back into the water, was the paved slope he had ascended, with portions of ancient walls enclosing it on either side. Only parts of those walls remained upright, for much had been crushed by massive rockfall piled on top of it. For the first time, Vambran had a real sense of just how much debris must have rained down on top of the ruined city after it slid into the ocean.