Dissolution

The contempt in the prisoner's tone had reminded the rogue of a basic principle. It was best to keep information to yourself, at least until you figured out how to reap a benefit from sharing it. This rogue didn't want anyone overhearing what Ryld had to say. The door clacked as a key turned in the lock. It creaked open, and the renegade stepped through. He was stocky, with a broken nose squashed across an angular face. He'd decorated rather nondescript clothing with gaudy ornaments, including a silver fillet set with garnets. His rapier hung from a baldric, the hilt of a dagger protruded from the top of either boot, and a hand crossbow dangled from his belt. He stopped just inside the doorway, where he had every right to think himself safe. The cell was large enough, and the prisoners' shackles short enough, that he was beyond their reach. He swung the door shut behind him but didn't permit it to latch. «All right,» he said, «now you can tell me.» «First,» said Ryld, «unchain me.» He thought he had to keep the renegade occupied for just a few more seconds, long enough for Pharaun to cast his spell. The guard just laughed and said, «Don't be absurd.» «Why not?» «You know why not.» «But you might just listen to the secrets and leave me imprisoned,» said Ryld, watching Pharaun from the corner of his eye. To his dismay, the wizard wasn't conjuring. He wasn't moving at all. Had he passed out again? «You're caged,» said the renegade, «and I'm not. Therefore, you will have to trust me, not the other way around.» Ryld scowled, meanwhile racking his brains for inspiration. With Pharaun inert, he was going to have to improvise a story to detain the rogue and pray the wizard would make a move before much longer. «All right, I suppose I have no choice. Not far beyond Bauthwaf lies the entrance to a tu

el leading to the deepest reaches of the Underdark, where even our people do not—»

«What's this got to do with weapons masters killing slaves?» the guard demanded.

«Listen, and you'll find out. At the lower end of the passage is a mineral I've never seen anywhere else. .» At last Pharaun moved his feet. Now, if only the renegade didn't notice. «When you crush the rock to powder. .» «Hey!» Evidently the guard's peripheral vision was almost as good as Ryld's, for he pivoted toward Pharaun, but not in time. A disembodied hand made of pale yellow light appeared beside his shoulder and gave him a push. The impetus sent him staggering closer to Ryld. The weapons master grabbed him and smashed his head against the wall until it left a sticky mess on the stone, then he searched the corpse and found a ring of keys clipped to its belt. He discovered the one that opened his own restraints, and Pharaun's. The wizard flexed his fingers, restoring circulation, produced a silken handkerchief from his sleeve, and dabbed at the blood on the sides of his mouth. «I think I'll establish a new school of magic,» the wizard said. «Pedomancy—the sorcery of the feet.» «Why did you wait so long to throw the spell?» Ryld asked. «I was looking for our friend's keys. It wouldn't have done any good to attack him had he not been carrying the means to release us from our fetters. His cape was hanging over them, and it took me a minute to spot them.» «I was certain something had gone wrong. Are you ready to get us out of here?» «Momentarily,» Pharaun said as he pulled on his socks and boots. «I think everything's going splendidly, don't you? We've acquired the knowledge we came for, and now we'll escape, just as pla

ed.» «We didn't plan on having to do it without our gear.» «Please, don't harp on the obvious. It makes for a dreary conversation. Where exactly are we, by the way? Where's the nearest exit?» «I don't know. They gave me a knock on the head before they carried us here. I think we're up inside the cavern ceiling.» «So we won't encounter a window or balcony unless we descend a ways, but we might find a door opening on a tu

el.» Ryld scavenged the dead rogue's weapons and piwafwi. The cloak was much too small for him, but would provide some protection nonetheless. The mail shirt, alas, he simply couldn't wear. «No gear for me?» Pharaun asked. «I'm the fighter, and I'll be standing in front.» «Well, when you put it that way …» «Let's go.» The masters stood up. Ryld felt dizzy, swayed, but then recovered his balance. They started for the door, and something happened. It was like the blare of a trumpet and a white light, too, but it was neither. The weapons master didn't know what it was, only that it froze him in place until it faded away. «What just happened?» he asked.

«The Call,» Pharaun replied. «This close to the source, one can vaguely sense it even if one isn't a goblin. The slaves are rising.»