He kept his face serious with effort. Jaeleen had always lorded it over him that she knew more than he did when he'd been Gol-sway's pupil. That hadn't stopped in the days since Baylee had been on his own, even though they both knew it wasn't true. "What have you been told about the well?"
Jaeleen shrugged. "Not much. I only just found out about it." She paused, looking deep into his eyes in that way that she had that Baylee found so damned irresistible. "Probably not nearly as much as you have."
"Probably not," Baylee agreed. "May I have the lamp?"
She handed it over somewhat reluctantly.
"I heard the tale in Jester's Green two tendays ago. You know where Jester's Green is?"
"North of Suzail." Baylee was intrigued. He had heard of the legend himself in Dhedluk while searching for another treasure altogether. Mention of the sacrificial well of Vaprak had been contained in a history of herbalist's lore the ranger had borrowed from a private library in the town to conduct research. The writer had been a native of Waymoot back in the days when the trollkin ruled the hills around that city, attacking caravans and travelers at their leisure. "Who told you the tale?"
"They have a number of soldiers garrisoned there." Jaeleen peered over Baylee's shoulder.
From the periphery of his vision, Baylee saw the smooth, rounded curves of the woman's breasts pressing from the top of her bodice as if they were going to fall out. He reminded himself to breathe.
"Those soldiers were all too willing to try to impress a woman with a nice smile and seeming innocence with their stories. Most of them were twice-told tales as stale as a fishmonger's love life. But, as you know, every now and then, there is that kernel of truth."
Baylee knew. He shifted, sending the lamp further down into the yawning mouth of the cursed pit.
"One of the stories told was by a retired sergeant of the Purple Dragons," Jaeleen went on. "As a boy, he'd lived in Waymoot. Most of the stories he told were of course about Lord Filfar Woodbrand, the local legend." The woman leaned in closer and her cheek brushed against Baylee's bare shoulder. The touch of perspiration covered skin was electric. "He told the story of how Woodbrand killed all the marauding trollkin in the area five or six times before he ever mentioned the well. In their day, the trollkin were very successful. A number of caravans as well as private individuals were murdered by the trolls. Thrown into this very well."
"That's not all of the story," Baylee said. "This well was used as a sacrificial altar for Vaprak. He put a permanent spell of silence over the well to mask the screams of the dying from any passers-by. That's why you didn't hear the rock hit"
"Then there is a bottom."
"Yes."
"What are we waiting for?"
"Because the spell of silence may not be the only magic Vaprak put over the well."
"The faint of heart never gets white meat at a family banquet," Jaeleen said.
"And the daring adventurous who leap before they look end up in unmarked graves," Baylee growled. It was the first rule Golsway had given him as a boy.
"Baylee," the woman urged, reaching out to turn his face toward hers with a soft hand. The lamplight made her blond hair glisten like spun gold. "Do you know what riches might be waiting down there to claim? For us to claim?"
"Wealth is a burden only weak men choose to carry," Baylee said. "I'd rather not have more than I can pack into a good travel kit, and what I can put into my head."
"That's only Golsway talking to you," Jaeleen said irritably. "I'd hoped by now that you'd learned to think for yourself."
The words stung Baylee, surprising him. He turned his attention back to the well and the lamp.
"I've offended you," Jaeleen said. "Tymora's sweet kiss, I'd not meant to do that, Baylee, truly."
Baylee wanted to believe her so badly. Too often in most of his travels, he encountered only those who measured life and the worth of a man in gold pieces. The friends that he could trust could be counted on the fingers of both hands. The ones he felt comfortable with asking for something that he could not get for himself could be counted on one hand with fingers left over. "I've got a climbing rope in my kit. Get it."
Jaeleen disappeared instantly from his side. She rummaged in his travel kit and brought the rope back. The ranger tied the string to the lamp through his belt, then took the rope.
I could go first, Xuxa offered.
No, Baylee replied. I need you here in case something goes wrong.
You need someone to watch your back if you're going to turn it on that woman.
And the ores could come back and bury us all.
Go, Xuxa said. If we are fortunate, you won't be out of my reach by mindcall.
Baylee secured the grappling hook around a tree bole, then shook out the length of rope. Knots were already tied into it. He kicked the coil of rope into the well. The hemp slithered audibly for the first few yards, then became totally silent.
"What was the spell of silence for?" Jaeleen asked.
"Not all of the sacrifices were dead when they went into the well," Baylee answered.
Sobriety dulled the excitement in Jaeleen's features. She peered down into the well. "You've never said what you were here for."
"Before Woodbrand ended the trollkin raids, the well had been in existence for decades." Baylee said, testing the rope and finding that it held. He eased his feet over the well's edge, then put his weight on the rope. Satisfied it continue to hold, he started down, going knot by knot. Dust and rock debris tumbled down around him. He glanced up where the rope hung over the edge of stone above. Bracing his feet against the walls of the well, he took his weight off the rope long enough to slide a worked bit of leather under the rope to prevent the rough rock from sawing easily through. "I'm here to see what bits of the past might yet remain."
"You're talking about the dead Obarskyr kings that are purported to sleep somewhere beneath Waymoot." Jaeleen climbed onto the rope as Baylee made his way down.
Baylee went slowly, noting the scratches and old stains on the ragged walls of the well. The deep smell of must filled his nostrils with carrion and rot. He didn't bother to correct the woman's thinking about the Legend of the Sleeping Kings. If the day truly came that the Obarskyr kings were needed and did return from the dead, he felt certain they would return from some other place than Vaprak's sacrificial well. The power of the well hadn't been enough to conquer Woodbrand, or prevent the man from sealing it once he'd killed the trolls.
"What do you hope to f-" Jaeleen's voice suddenly stopped in mid sentence.
Baylee halted his descent and looked up at the woman. Her face was barely visible from the lamp burning below. Her mouth was still moving, but no sound was coming out. The ranger tried his own voice, but discovered he was also forced into silence by the spell.
The well bottomed out at nearly forty feet, opening into a final, wide chamber. Baylee stopped ten feet above the rough stone floor and peered around. He had left the bow above, feeling little room would exist to use the weapon. Instead, he was not able to see the sides of the chamber below.
Jaeleen impatiently kicked him in the head.
Baylee reached up and swatted her foot away. Grabbing the string attached to the lamp, he moved it around in a slowly widening circle. The lamplight burned evenly, trapped inside the glass walls.
The dark stone floor seemed to absorb the light except for tiny patches that appeared luminescent. Baylee recognized the green glowing patches as lichens. Presence of the lichens confirmed the occasional presence of water in the well.
The lamp swung nearly fifteen feet across in an elliptical arc. Broken bones and smashed skulls showed yellowed white in the lamplight. Estimating from the number of skulls he was able to see, Baylee knew dozens of people had been thrown into the well over the years. Jaeleen kicked him in the head again.