“This has nothing to do-”
“Don’t deny it! Let’s be clear about what you’re saying,” Sadira said. “If I’ll help the chief recover, you’ll let me go in peace and stop blaming me for Gaefal’s death-isn’t that what you’re offering?”
“If you were able to help Faenaeyon, it would convince me of your goodwill toward the entire tribe, yes,” said Huyar, studying the sorceress with a wary expression.
“I’m sorry, but it fell to Rhayn to keep your last promise. I don’t see how I could trust you to honor this one.” Sadira smirked at the elf.
“Besides, I have her obsidian,” the sorceress’s sister added, as much for Sadira’s benefit as Huyar’s. The same day Rhayn had been named chief, the Sun Runners had come across another caravan, and she had traded two kanks for several hunks of unshaped obsidian. Sadira did not know whether the shadows would accept the pieces as a gift, but it was the best she would be able to offer.
Huyar narrowed his eyes at the sorceress. “If you think this is over, you’re wrong,” he spat. “The Pristine Tower is still a long-”
The warrior’s threat was interrupted by a scream echoing out of the cleft. Sadira jumped to her feet and followed the elves to the fissure, then peered down into the darkness.
“Help!” cried a child. “They’re-”
The voice was cut off. The only sounds coming from the cleft were the high-pitched hum and rasping gurgle that Sadira had noticed when she had first approached the fissure.
“In the name of the wind, what’s wrong?” boomed Magnus.
When no one answered, Katza stepped forward. Her broken arm was still in a sling, but she seemed otherwise untroubled by the injury. “Cyne’s down there!” she said. “What are we going to do?”
Sadira had already taken her satchel from Grissi’s shoulder. She pulled out a handful of faro needles and began laying them out in a large square, with the rope at the center.
“Magnus, anchor that line,” Sadira said, motioning at the hemp cord. “A spear shaft might support the weight of a child, but I doubt that it will hold adults.”
“Then you can get us through this crack?” Katza asked.
Sadira nodded, summoning the energy for a spell. Considering the number of trees growing on the hillside, the flow of life-force seemed surprisingly weak. Nevertheless, by the time Magnus had tied the rope around his waist, the sorceress was ready. Motioning for the others to stand back, she cast her enchantment.
Inside the square she had laid out, the rock turned to fluid, then slowly swirled around in a sluggish whirlpool. The current began to move faster, and as it did, the liquid changed to mist. Soon, when nothing but vapor remained inside the square, all motion ceased and there was a black cloud where rock had been a few moments earlier.
Sadira took the rope, passing it over her shoulder and around her thigh. She stepped into the mist and started to slide downward, saying, “Before you follow, wait until Magnus feels me tug on the rope.”
After descending more than a dozen feet, Sadira left the dark cloud her spell had created. She found herself at the top of an immense cavern filled with steam. She could see the green outline of her rope dropping into the pink-glowing murk below, but beyond twenty yards, which was as far as her elven vision allowed her to see, there was nothing but darkness.
The sorceress pulled the rope tight across her thigh and stopped her descent, listening for any noises that might hint at what was happening below. She heard nothing but the same hum she had detected from outside, punctuated at short interludes by a strangled gurgle and the sound of trickling water.
Sadira looked up and saw a vaulted ceiling shaped from porous white stone that bore a faint resemblance to pumice. The dome had not been carved, for its contours were so softly rounded that the structure looked more grown than hewn. The entire surface seemed to glisten with tiny, pink-glowing droplets that occasionally fell free and plunged into the darkness below.
Deciding it would be wisest to see what she was getting into, Sadira pulled a wooden ball form her satchel. She pointed her palm toward the ceiling to summon the energy for a light spell, but did not feel the tingle of life-force entering her body. Instead, mottled pastel colors glowed deep within the porous stone above her hand. She pulled harder, and the stain deepened in hue and spread outward, but still no energy came to her body. Sadira gasped and closed her hand, both puzzled and frightened. The ceiling itself seemed to be absorbing the life-force she summoned, but she never heard of any rock that could do such a thing.
The sorceress put the ball back and continued her descent into the pink haze. As she slid down the rope, the humming and the gurgling grew steadily louder and more ominous, until at last noises completely muffled the sound of trickling water.
Within a few moments, the cavern bottom came into view. Below the sorceress rose the jagged form of a huge crystal, glowing red-hot and standing at least as high as Sadira. A thick coat of minerals crusted its exterior, while a shrill hum rose from its hollow interior. Every few seconds, a raspy sputter interrupted the buzz. A puff of steam, glowing red to elven vision, billowed into the air.
Sadira came down next to the crystal, atop a gently sloped dome of porous rock. After disentangling herself, she tugged on the rope to signal the others to come down, then drew the dagger Meredyd had given her. She stepped away from the rope, feeling strangely blind. She could see her own body and the floor of the cavern, but the chamber was so large that its walls were beyond the range of her elven vision. Never before had she experienced quite the same sensation of standing alone in the dark.
A drop of condensation hit the top of Sadira’s head, then she felt a warm trickle running down her face. She wiped the bead off her brow, then licked the water from her finger. It was the temperature of her own skin, but tasted clean and fresh.
Huyar came down the rope, followed by Grissi, Katza, and ten more elves. Except for Katza, who carried only a dagger, all were armed with longbows and bone swords.
“Where’s Rhayn?” Sadira asked.
“The chief must stay with the rest of the tribe at times like this,” said Grissi.
“You’ll have to trust me instead,” said Huyar, smirking at the sorceress. He motioned to the other elves. “Spread out and see what you can find.”
It was only a moment before Katza called, “Over here! Tracks!”
Sadira and the others followed the sound of her voice, traveling a short distance down the sloping floor. Once they had come close enough to see her, they found the woman kneeling near the edge of the huge chamber. Runnels of steam condensation, glimmering pink, were running down the domed ceiling in glistening rivulets. This water was collecting in a shallow black brook that apparently ringed the entire cavern. On the opposite side of the stream opened a tiny corridor, so small that even a dwarf could not have stood upright inside it.
“What did you find?” Huyar asked.
With her good hand, Katza pointed to a few clumps of damp dirt. “Someone came out of that tunnel and into the cavern,” she said. “It looks like they went back the same way.”
“What race would you guess, and how many?” Sadira asked.
Grissi, who was also studying the faint trail of mud, shook her head. “Several humans-it’s impossible to say how many, but their feet were too large to be our children.”
“Could they be from Nibenay?” the sorceress asked. She feared that, guessing she would have to pass through this oasis, Dhojakt had sent a company of retainers to ambush her.
“They could be,” Huyar said, scowling. “Let’s go and see.”
He waded across the black stream and crawled into the cramped tunnel, followed by the other elves. After pausing to gulp down several mouthfuls of water, Sadira brought up the rear. She followed the elves through the passage and onto a slender causeway, which crossed a chasm so narrow and deep it could only be described as an abyss. From its bowels came the gurgle of another stream, though it sounded as though the brook was a mile away.