“Nightshade,” Rhys admonished.

“I didn’t ask her for it!” the kender said in a defensive whisper. “I just happened to mention beefsteak in case she was hungry.”

“It was all so beautiful,” said Mina, and she began to cry.

Basalt stood staring glumly at the mess.

“I don’t care what the Master says,” the dwarf stated. “I’m not cleaning this up.” He heard a snicker from Caele and glowered. “What are you looking so damn pleased about? This is a disaster!”

“Not for us,” Caele said, with a sly grin.

Seeing that the monk was occupied with the sniveling brat, Caele crept back quietly back up the stairs, motioning Basalt to come with him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Caele whispered, “Don’t you realize what this means? The dragon’s gone! The Hall of Sacrilege is no longer guarded! Our fortunes are made!”

“If the Hall’s still there,” Basalt returned. “And if it’s still intact, which I doubt.” He gestured at the debris. “And how do you plan to reach it? The dragon might as well be here. Those glass shards are sharper than her teeth and just as deadly.”

“If the Hall survived the Cataclysm, it certainly survived this. You’ll see. As for reaching it, I have an idea on that.”

“What about Mina and her friends?” Basalt asked.

Caele grinned. Sliding up his sleeve, he revealed a knife attached to his wrist.

Basalt snorted. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to gut her? You ended up a prisoner in your own tomb!”

“She had that bastard Chemosh with her,” Caele said, scowling. “This time, all she’s got is a monk and a kender. You kill those two and I’ll-”

“Leave me out of this!” Basalt snarled. “I’ve had enough of your plots and schemes. They only ever get me into trouble!”

Caele paled in anger. A flick of the wrist and the knife was in his hand. Basalt was prepared, however. He had always assumed some day he would end up killing the half-elf and this day was as good as any. He began to chant a spell. Caele chanted a counter-spell. The two glared blackly at each other.

Mina was staring in bleak amazement at the ruins of the crystal globe. “I wanted to swim in the sea water again. I wanted to talk to the dragon…”

“I’m sorry, Mina,” said Rhys, not knowing what else to say to her.

He had his own worries. If the Solio Febalas was truly in the midst of the debris, he should find it, make certain it was safe, the contents secure. He could hear the two Black Robe wizards plotting and though he could not make out their words, he had no doubt that they were making plans to steal the sacred artifacts.

If he had been alone, Rhys would have gladly risked his own life trying to find a way through the broken glass, but he could not venture forth and leave his friends and his dog behind, not with the Beloved massing outside the tower, being held at bay by the gods alone knew what force. Nor did he trust the two Black Robes.

Rhys’ main concern was Mina. As a god, she could have walked across acres of razor blades without being harmed. But she was a god who did not know she was a god. She shivered from the cold, cried when disappointed, and bled when nails scratched her flesh. He dared not take her with him and he dared not leave her behind, either.

“Mina,” Rhys said, “I think Nightshade is right. We should start our journey home. You cannot cross this sand without hurting yourself. Goldmoon will understand-”

“I’m not leaving!” Mina stated petulantly. She had quit crying and now she was sulking. Her lower lip thrust out. She stood kicking the wet sand with the toe of her shoe. “Not without my present.”

“Mina…”

“It’s not fair!” she cried, wiping the back of her hand across her nose. “Why did this have to happen? I came all this way…”

She paused. Reaching down, ignoring Rhys’ warning to be careful, she picked up a small shard of broken glass. “This didn’t have to happen.”

Mina flung the glass shard into the air and it was joined by a million other shards, sparkling like rain drops in the sunshine. The pieces of glass fused together. Sea water, instead of draining out, flowed back inside.

Rhys suddenly found himself inside a crystal globe, submersed in fathoms of blue-green sea water, and he was drowning.

Holding his breath, Rhys stared about frantically, trying to find a way out. Nightshade was nearby, flailing his arms and kicking his feet, his cheeks puffed out. Atta paddled wildly, her eyes wide with terror. Mina, unaware of their predicament, was swimming away from them.

Rhys had only moments of life left. Atta was already sinking to the bottom. Rhys sliced through the water with his arms, kicked his feet, trying to reach Mina.

He managed to grab hold of her ankle. Mina twisted around. Her face was bright with pleasure. She was enjoying herself. The pleasure faded when she saw her friends were in trouble. She stared at them helplessly, seeming to have no idea what to do. Rhys’ lungs were going to burst. He was seeing dazzling stars and blue and yellow spots and he could no longer bear the pain. He opened his mouth, prepared to suck in death.

He gulped salt water and, though the sensation was not pleasant, he didn’t die. He floundered, shaken to find he was breathing water as easily as he had once breathed air. Nightshade, his mouth gaping, his eyes bulging, was spent. He floated limply in the water.

Mina caught hold of Atta, who had ceased to struggle. Mina petted the dog and kissed her and hugged her and Atta’s eyes flew open. The dog looked around frantically, panic-stricken, until she found Rhys. He swam over to her and was joined by Nightshade, who grabbed hold of his arm and tried to talk. All that came out were bubbles, but though Rhys couldn’t hear him, he understood the kender’s general meaning, which was, “You have to do something! She’s going to get us all killed!”

Rhys considered this was quite likely, but as for preventing it, he had no idea what to do. An ordinary six-year-old who misbehaved could be swatted or sent to bed without her supper. The idea of swatting Mina who, as Nightshade had said, could drop a mountain on their heads, was ludicrous. And, to be honest, Mina hadn’t misbehaved. She hadn’t deliberately tried to drown them. She’d made a simple mistake. Since she could breathe water as easily as air, she had assumed they could, too.

Mina swam underwater as though she’d been born to it, darting around them like a minnow, urging them to hurry. Rhys had learned to swim in the monastery, but he was hampered by his robes and by his staff, which he did not want to leave behind, and by his concern for Nightshade.

The kender had never learned to swim. He had never wanted to learn to swim. Now, given no choice in the matter, he thrashed about wildly, making no progress in any direction. He was about to give swimming up as hopeless when Atta passed him, churning the water with her front paws. Nightshade watched the dog and decided to emulate her. Not having paws, he used his hands and arms to paddle, and soon was able to keep up with the rest.

Mina swam excitedly on ahead, motioning for them to hurry. When they reached her, she was floating in the water, making small swirling motions with her hands, hovering above what appeared to be a child’s sand castle.

Simple in design, the castle was constructed of four walls four feet in height and four feet long, with a tall tower at each corner. There were no windows and only one door, though that door was a marvel.

Three feet tall and not very wide, the door was made of myriad pearls that shimmered with a purple luster. A single rune carved out of a large emerald glowed in the center.