Finally, noticing that Midnight was stumbling with weariness, Sneakabout led her onto the roof of a decaying building. “You need to rest,” he said. “We’ll be safe up here.”
“Thanks,” Midnight replied, resting her head on her arms. As she looked up at the sky, the mage noticed pinholes of light that resembled stars.
Noticing where Midnight was looking, Sneakabout said, “Those are the gates to the Realms.”
“Are you sure?” the raven-haired mage asked. From what Rhaymon had told her, she had concluded the same thing. But, since one of the dots would be her escape route, she saw no harm in being certain.
“What else would they be?” the halfling asked. “There are no stars in Myrkul’s city.”
“If that’s an exit,” Midnight queried, rolling onto her side, “what keeps the dead and the denizens from using it?”
Sneakabout shrugged. “What prevents men from going to the real stars? They’re too far, I suppose, and there are certain barriers. You’d better rest—and eat something, if you have it.”
“I’ll rest,” Midnight replied, realizing she hadn’t eaten in what must be days. It did not matter. Even if she had possessed food, she could not have kept it down. The smell and the cries of the damned were simply too unsettling.
A few hours later, she and the halfling resumed their march toward the low side of the city. Sneakabout led the way through mile after mile of cluttered avenues and twisting alleys. Finally, he stopped on a lopsided bridge spanning a river of black ooze.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Midnight replied. Despite her anxiety, she was telling the truth. Thanks to Sneakabout, she felt as fresh as could be expected after wandering Myrkul’s realm for the equivalent of almost a week.
The pair continued down the street, then turned into an alley that snaked through one of the chaotic boroughs. A few minutes later, an eerie moan began to drift up the narrow lanes. Sneakabout slowed his pace and moved cautiously forward. Midnight followed half a step behind.
The alley turned sharply to the left. The stench of rot and decay grew so strong Midnight began gagging. She tapped Sneakabout’s arm and they stopped so she could get used to the odor. Several minutes later, they moved forward again. The alley joined a broad boulevard, and on the other side of the boulevard was another wall built from human bodies.
Having seen one of the hideous barriers did not minimize the effect of this one. It still turned Midnight’s stomach. Now, it also enraged and depressed her because Adon would share the fate of its hapless building blocks.
“This is Bone Castle,” Sneakabout said. He pointed to a tall, ivory-colored spire that poked its crown above the barricade. “And that’s the keep tower.”
Midnight could not believe what she saw. Behind the wall, just a hundred feet away, rose a spiraling tower built from human bones. The tower ended in a steeple. Atop the steeple, lit by six magical torches and in plain view of anybody who could see Bone Castle, was a stone tablet. The mage immediately recognized it as the twin to the one she had left with Kelemvor.
Like a hunter displaying a prized trophy, Myrkul had put his tablet where all his subjects could admire it.
“There it is!” Midnight whispered.
Sneakabout sighed. “So I see. How are you going to get it?”
“I’m not sure yet,” the mage replied, studying the situation. “This is too easy—it doesn’t make sense to leave the tablet unguarded.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s not guarded,” Sneakabout said. “There are thousands of guards.”
“How so?” Midnight asked.
“If we can see the tablet, so can all the denizens—and dukes and princes—within sight of Bone Castle.”
“Dukes and princes?” Midnight asked.
“Who do you think commands the denizens?” Sneakabout replied. “The dukes rule the boroughs. The princes rule the dukes. Each is more vicious than its vassals.”
Midnight nodded. If Myrkul’s court was like most others, there would be no shortage of dukes and princes near Bone Castle. “What else?”
“The best way to guard a treasure is to lull the thief into thinking it’s unguarded—then trap him when he tries to steal it. I’d expect a magical ward or two near the tablet.”
Midnight did not bother asking Sneakabout how he knew so much about theft. Though he had claimed to be a scout, and had proven that he was when he was alive, it was no secret that many halflings learned the basics of thievery to survive. Right now, Midnight was grateful that he had. She would never have been foolish enough to go after the tablet without looking for possible defenses, but it was good to have the halfling confirm her suspicions. “Anything else?”
“That’s enough,” Sneakabout said. “A thousand guards and a trap or two will safeguard almost anything—unless you happen to have pretty potent magic at your disposal.”
Though she knew the halfling had added this last comment to bolster her confidence, Midnight was hardly encouraged. “Let’s hope it will be enough.” She studied the tower for a moment, considering her plan of attack. “We’ll turn invisible—”
“No good,” Sneakabout interrupted. “The denizens—especially the dukes—will see through that without a second glance.”
Midnight frowned, then thought of another plan. “All right, then. We’ll fly up there, I’ll dispel the magical wards. Then we’ll take the tablet and be gone.”
Sneakabout considered this plan for a moment. “How long will that take you?” His use of the second person was deliberate. He knew he could not go with Midnight.
“Not long,” Midnight said confidently.
“Probably too long,” Sneakabout answered. “They’ll be after you in the time it takes you to fly up there, maybe less.”
“Then what can I do?” Midnight gasped.
“You’d better think of another plan,” the halfling said. “You can’t keep your promise if they capture you.”
Midnight fell into a long silence and tried to think of another approach. Finally, she said, “This will work. I’ll prepare our escape route before touching the tablet. Then, instead of going to the tablet, I’ll bring it to us. We’ll be gone in an instant.”
“That should work,” Sneakabout replied. “But I’ll take my leave before you try it.”
“Leave?” Midnight asked. “You aren’t coming with me?”
Sneakabout shook his head. “No. I’m dead. In the Realms, I’d be undead and more miserable than I am here.”
Midnight took the halfling’s hand. “You’ll never know what your help has meant to—”
“And I don’t care,” Sneakabout interrupted tersely. He could not help resenting the fact that Midnight would be leaving and he would not. “Just remember your promise.”
He pulled his hand away and walked up the alley.
Midnight watched him go, confused and hurt by his sudden coldness. “I’ll remember,” she said.
Sneakabout turned a corner and was gone.
Midnight looked after him for a moment, once again lonely and more than a little afraid. The mage silently vowed that, after returning the Tablets of Fate to Helm, she would find a way to help Sneakabout, and not only because of her promise.
But the first thing she had to do was recover the tablet and get out of Myrkul’s city before she was killed. The magic-user summoned Elminster’s worldwalk to mind. Then, remembering what Rhaymon had said about finding her way back to Waterdeep, she began to pick the spell apart, to look at how Elminster had put it together.
It required fifteen minutes of hard concentration for Midnight to understand the intricacies of Elminster’s construction. It took another fifteen minutes to alter the incantation so the other end of the portal would seek out the access well to Waterdeep. After finally finishing, Midnight was still unsure she would emerge near the City of Splendors. If she had known which one of the pinholes of light was the gate to Waterdeep, the alteration would have been much simpler. As it was, she would have to trust her fate to the fact that she had done her best.