Just then, a burst of raucous laughter greeted him. Tarscenian froze. It wasn't until a loud female voice sounded, prompting more laughter, that Tarscenian real shy;ized he hadn't been spotted.

Footsteps came his way, though. He dived across the hall, behind another curtain.

Steamy air engulfed him. The dim light showed nothing but a row of what looked like two dozen coffin handles. Tarscenian grabbed one of the handles and yanked-perhaps a secret passage?

A drawerlike contraption rolled smoothly toward him on tiny wheels. Inside were wooden dowels that held rolls of white fabric. Hot air rose from some heat source under the floor.

"A clothes-drying room," Tarscenian muttered, intrigued despite himself. "Ingenious."

"Hello, dearie!"

Tarscenian leaped around to see a smiling nymphet of a woman. Her red hair was wild, her grin suggestive, her clothes barely decent. Her feet were bare-no doubt the reason why he had not heard her approach. She laughed coarsely. "Are you one of the new girls, dearie? My, my, Hederick has taken to hiring some ugly women!"

"What is it, Helda?" Another woman shoved aside the curtain. "Are you talking to yourself… Oh, looky here!"

Tarscenian, for the second time in as many days, found himself speechless before a woman. He clutched his lance and waited.

"Well, man?" asked a black-haired woman. "Are you one of Hederick's prisoners?"

"Mmmm, not yet," Tarscenian muttered. "Any moment now, though, I suspect."

The women laughed as though he'd said something ter shy;ribly witty. It occurred to him that they were just this side of drunk. More of them appeared behind the first two. "Do you work here, ladies?" Tarscenian asked.

Another chorus of giggles resounded in the humid room. "Ladies! He called us ladies." "Well, ain't he a sweet one?" "I ain't been, called a lady some twenty years or more." "Are you married, sweet man?"

At Tarscenian's hesitant nod, they sulked for a bit, then resumed their chatter. The redhead who'd discovered Tarscenian waved an imaginary fan and curtsied deeply to the black-haired woman. The rest of them went into gales of mirth, and soon everyone was curtsying and fan shy;ning someone else.

Perhaps the Seekers were operating a home for lunatics or dipsomaniacs, Tarscenian decided. Perhaps he had stumbled into the main dormitory. He had no idea how far he'd traveled in the discharge tunnels, after all.

He put a hand on the nearest woman's arm. "This is Erolydon, isn't it, my dear?" he whispered. "The temple?"

Clearly he'd scaled new levels of hilarity with that remark. The women giggled until one of them, practicing a curtsy in the crowded drying-room, slipped on the damp floor and landed with a yowl.

Then the little redhead was back by his side. "Here, dearie," she said. "My name is Helda. You ain't going to get far running around the temple in those clothes." She shooed all but one of the women into the corridor. "He's mine. I saw him first. So back to work, ladies," she said, causing even more hilarity. Tarscenian could see he'd pro shy;vided them with entertainment for days to come.

With the help of the black-haired woman, Helda hauled on the handle of another drying rack. This one held brown robes.

"You'll make a nice-looking priest, even if you are taller than most of them," Helda said, rummaging through the garments. "So what are you, an escaped prisoner? An assassin? Ah, I do hope you're an assassin. I'd stick a par shy;ing knife in old Hederick's gut myself, except he pays reg shy;ular. Not much, but regular. Can't say as I'd mourn long if someone else did him in, though." She didn't wait for Tarscenian's answer. "How about this one?" she asked, holding up a brown robe.

"It's gonna be too tight across the shoulders," the black-haired woman said.

"If s the biggest one in here. It'll have to do."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Tarscenian said quickly. He grabbed the robe. "Don't the temple guards patrol down here?"

"Sometimes," Helda said. "When we're baking pastries, they sometimes come to visit. It don't pay to get 'em mad. We always make enough extra. But they only come down here during baking time, not cleanup. Which is now."

"Isn't that just like a man?" the black-haired woman said with a sigh. "Show up for the goodies, but…"

Tarscenian interrupted. "I'd like to try this on."

"So go ahead." Both women stared at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted wings.

"Could you two ladies, ah, that is … well, give me some privacy?"

Helda and her friend poked each other, giggling. "That's a sure sign of quality, Helda," the black-haired woman said as they left him alone. "Modesty in spades. Me, I've never had a problem with modesty. Did I ever tell you about the time I…"

Eventually the voice faded. The black-haired woman must have returned to the kitchen. Tarscenian pulled the robe down over him. It was tight but dry, and it did have a hood. Tarscenian poked his head around the curtain.

Helda stood outside, leaning against the wall. She held out a dagger, hilt first. "It's mine," she said softly. "You never know when the temple guards'll overstep them shy;selves, and I do maintain some standards." She shook off his thanks. "You'll need it. That lance don't exactly go with a robe, you know. And I gather you're trying to be sneaky." She accepted Tarscenian1s lance in exchange for the dagger, slipping it behind a pile of sheets in a nearby closet. "You're sure you're married, now?"

"Absolutely," Tarscenian said, smiling.

"A shame," she rejoined.

"I have no way to pay you for the dagger."

"Do me a favor, then." Helda leaned forward and scooped aside the thin strap that held her blouse in place. She showed Tarscenian her back, which was crisscrossed with welts, some barely healed before they had been retraced. Then her blouse was back in place, and Tarscen shy;ian was gazing into fierce blue eyes. "Make him suffer," she hissed. "Make him pay."

He hesitated, then nodded. Helda whirled back toward the kitchen without another word.

Chapter 21

Mynx!

For a short time after Kifflewit deposited her and the Diamond Dragon in his pocket, Mynx continued to fume and drum her fists against her knees.

Eventually, though, she realized the startling fact that someone was calling her name.

Mynx!

She sat up. She could see nothing but the inside of Kif-flewit's pocket, lit by the dragon's purple glow.

Mynx!

Outside, then. Someone outside the pocket was speaking to her. Rejuvenated, the woman jumped up and rocked the artifact from side to side until Kifflewit Burrthistle's hand returned to retrieve it.

"My, this thing is lively tonight," she heard the kender say. He held up the Diamond Dragon and peered at it. Mynx glared back. Couldn't he see her? Couldn't he remember that the Diamond Dragon had enveloped her?

Perhaps the magical artifact ensorceled him.

Mynx looked around. The kender was seated upon the centaur. Night had fallen. The vallenwoods had thinned out until there were vast distances between them. One of the huge trees towered over them.

Mynx did a double take. This tree glowed at the bot shy;tom. The voice that called came from that glow, she real shy;ized, although she could not have said how she knew. Either the tree was alive, or someone inside the tree was calling to her. Perhaps the Diamond Dragon made it pos shy;sible for her to hear. Mynx shook her head. She was beyond understanding things by now.

"Thou had best put that thing away, little one, lest thou drop it," Phytos warned. "We shall enter my home glade soon. I do not want to be delayed pawing about in the brush."

"Oh, I'd never drop it, Phytos. I'm really careful with important things…"

Mynx! Come here!