No one was there.

Tohl gazed at the section of floor that hid the passageway to the secret tomb. A feeling of relief washed over him when he saw that the stone was still in place.

"The tomb hasn't been disturbed," Vhoror whispered. "We can go."

"No." Tohl's throat felt phlegmy and thick, making him force the word out.

"Brother Tohl." Vhoror spoke in that precise way of his that grated on the nerves. Over the years, he'd shown his skill in the way of an argument. "We have seen that the tomb has not been disturbed. Our work here is done."

"No," said Tohl, "we have seen that the entrance to the hidden tomb is closed, but we don't know that Borran Kiosk's tomb is likewise undisturbed."

As soon as Tohl spoke the mohrg's name, a cold, wet wind whipped through the front of the tomb and wound through the room until it reached the priests. Even protected as it was behind glass panes, the lantern flame danced in wild abandon, and the priests' shadows performed mad capers on the walls.

'We should leave this place," Micahan whispered, drawing in on himself.

"After," Tohl said, "I have talked with the Quiet One."

"You were dreaming," Vhoror accused.

Stifling the anger that rushed to mix with the fear that filled him, Tohl said, "If I dreamed I spoke with Eldath, then I also dreamed the mohrg has been released from his prison. You have nothing to fear from such a dream, Brother Vhoror."

Vhoror showed no shame at the rebuke. His eyes flickered with anger, and Tohl knew no matter how this night turned out that Vhoror would exact some price for the affront.

"As you wish, Brother Tohl," Vhoror said. "It appears you've gotten us all up from needed sleep and seen us soaked to the skin without need."

Tohl turned from the other priest and crossed the room to the section of false floor. He tapped the floor with his mace and it made hollow echoes on the other side. Nothing else sounded. Feeling a little better, he went to the record keeper's desk and shoved it to one side so that he could get at a hidden place in the wall. When he had the small compartment open, he hung the mace from a strap around his wrist and removed the two hooks from within.

Returning to the false floor, Tohl handed the lantern to Effrim, laid the mace beside the stone section, and slid the hooks into place. The floor section was heavier than he remembered, but he stayed at the task until the stone lifted from the opening.

The stench of death wafted from the secret tomb, made thicker by the storm's humid air. Thunder cracked outside and the noise drummed into the building, echoing once again below. The noise made the secret tomb sound cavernous.

"I smell blood," Vhoror said.

Tohl took the lantern from Effrim. Both of them trembled. Tohl guided the lantern toward the yawning opening and the complete blackness beyond.

"Did you not hear me?" Vhoror demanded. "I said I smell blood."

"Yes, brother," Tohl said, "the monster's tomb has ever been steeped in the stink of blood."

"It's fresh blood," Vhoror insisted.

Tohl thrust his arm into the hole and felt a wet coil of wind slither up his sleeve.

"At the very least," Vhoror continued, "that scent will draw other undead to this crypt. Those foul things that cling to the remnants of the Whamite Isles at times get caught in currents and are washed up here. If they scent this, they will come."

Tohl scanned the spiral staircase that led to the rooms below. Nothing moved on it.

"We're priests, Brother Vhoror," said Tohl. "If the undead come, Eldath, in her infinite wisdom, has seen fit to give us the power to turn such creatures. Perhaps we will save others who would fall prey to their untender mercies."

"You're being foolish."

"I'm following my belief," Tohl responded.

He gathered himself then stepped down into the opening. Keeping the lantern high, he followed the spiral staircase down. Effrim followed him next, and the other priests trailed after with obvious reluctance. Vhoror brought up the rear.

The spiral staircase shifted with a sudden groan and a shriek that felt like fingernails along Tohl's spine. He stopped and wondered if the staircase was going to collapse.

"Here," Effrim said, pointing at a section of the wall.

Tohl redirected the lantern. The beam shone on one of the support posts that had been driven into the wall. Light glanced off bright metal. The staircase had slid sideways enough to clear the bolt and reveal that it was no longer attached.

Effrim touched the bolt sticking out from the wall. He drew his finger back with a jerk, then turned it over to examine it. A thick drop of blood oozed from his fingertip. He put it in his mouth and sucked at it.

The response was a normal one, Tohl knew, but standing there in Borran Kiosk's tomb and prison, knowing what Borran Kiosk was and what he had done, the innocent gesture seemed obscene.

"It's sheared," Effrim said. "Something snapped it off, and recently, or it would not be so shiny."

The words hung heavily on all of them.

"Perhaps," Micahan said, "with all the rains tonight there was a shifting in the earth. The rainy season makes coffins sink into the ground."

"It's been hundreds of years," Vhoror protested.

"It may have been as much as a tenday ago," Micahan said. His face looked hollow and pasty as it was lifted from the recesses of his cowl by the lantern light. "Metal takes time to rust, just as Eldath in her mercies takes time to convert." He nodded at Tohl. "If we're to do this, Brother, we'd be better served by getting it done. Morning will come all too early."

"Of course," Tohl said and took up the march down the staircase again. It quivered and quaked the whole way.

Once at the bottom of the staircase, Tohl kept the lead and guided them through the twisting passageways.

When they reached the final room, lantern light reflected from the pools of water that remained of the ice coffin. The light also reflected from the dead eyes of the boys who sat arranged against the far wall. At least, the light reflected from the eyes of those who still had them.

Astonished fear froze Tohl in the entrance to the room. Borran Kiosk was nowhere in sight.

"Eldath's mercy be upon them," Micahan said. He glanced up at Tohl. "We can't leave those children here. You know what will happen to them if we leave them."

Tohl nodded without speaking or returning the older priest's gaze.

"They will rise," Micahan said. "They will rise in a day or two."

Tohl gazed at the horror before him. He remembered the stories of Borran Kiosk's undead army and how the mohrg had raised it.

"We can't let that happen to these children," he said.

"They're thieves," Vhoror complained. "They came here and broke open this tomb. I say they got what they deserve."

Tohl whirled on the man, his fear and anger getting the best of him. "Still your tongue, Vhoror. The mohrg has been released. Whatever these boys were before this night, they are victims now, and they will be cared for as best as Eldath has taught us to do. In my presence and in theirs, you will speak with respect."

"Of course," the old priest said.

"We've got to get the other priests," Tohl said, gathering his splintered thoughts, gazing with helpless horror at the dead children. "We must lay these…" Words failed him."… to rest. We must find-" He found he didn't want to say the mohrg's name. "We must find the creature that escaped from here."

He gave the children a final look, said a quick prayer, and led the way back to the spiral staircase.

They made their way up, and Tohl shuddered every time the metal construction hammered against the stone wall. The sound echoed throughout the tomb. Tohl clambered through the opening. His exertions and fear wore on him, leaving his breath ragged and harsh.