Except that a wound that Mystra's silver fire couldn't heal was anything but trivial.

"I'll keep an eye on the High Moor for you, sister," Laeral promised. "Let you know if anything unusual happens here. Any more 'endings' or 'beginnings.' I'll consult my scrying fonts. If I learn anything, I'll let you know immediately." She slipped a hand into the crook of Qilue's arm. "In the meantime, can I offer you food? Or wine?"

"No, thank you, sister. I must return to the Promenade as soon as possible."

Laeral gave her sister's arm a comforting squeeze. "The Faerzress?"

Qilue nodded. "The Faerzress." She plucked Laeral's hand from her arm. "Farewell." Then she teleported away.

Laeral stared for several moments at the spot Qilue had just occupied. Like all drow, Qilue was reluctant to show her emotions. Laeral could tell, however, that her sister was deeply troubled-and not just by the undoing of a lifetime's work. There was more going on; Laeral was certain of it.

But until Qilue confided in her, Laeral could do little to help.

Mazeer lifted the bottle to her lips, inhaled, and swam forward a few more strokes. Her exhaled bubbles flattened against the roof just above her head. A Nightshadow swam immediately ahead of her, his feet fluttering the water. Ahead of him, the passage they were following narrowed to a crack that looked barely wide enough for a drow to squeeze into. The cleric paused there, sculling in place, and stared into the fissure, his face illuminated by the blue-green Faerzress that permeated the nearby stone. Mazeer took another suck on the bottle that trailed by a cord from her wrist, and swam up next to him.

Another dead end? she signed. The Nightshadow shook his head and his mask fluttered back and forth like wave-lapped seaweed. It leads down. His chest rose and fell as he breathed water.

Mazeer sucked another breath from her bottle. Bubbles continued to stream out of it as she lowered it, tickling her arm. This is pointless. We should go back. This place is a labyrinth.

It looks as though the crack widens, about a hundred paces below. What if it's the passage that leads to the Acropolis?

Mazeer peered down the narrow crack. She'd been uneasy about closed-in places ever since the time, as a novice wizard, she'd miscast a teleportation spell and wound up wedged inside one of the college's chimneys. Unable to climb out, unable to refresh her teleportation spell because her spell-book was inside her pack, mashed tight against her back, she'd remained stuck inside the chimney until she was faint with hunger and thirst and her clothes were soiled. Eventually, someone conjuring darkfire in the fireplace below had at last heard her hoarse screams for help.

She'd made a point, after that, of learning a spell that would reduce the size of her body. It helped, a little, to know she could use it to free herself if she did get stuck. Yet as she stared down into that long, narrow fissure the old fear made her shudder. She didn't want the Nightshadow above her, blocking the way out.

You go first, she signed. I'll follow.

The cleric nodded and edged sideways into the gap. He nodded at the wands sheathed at her wrists. Just don't be too long in following. If this leads to a monster's lair, I don't want to be fighting alone.

Mazeer laughed out the breath she'd just drawn from the bottle. 'Monsters' didn't scare her. Back at the college, she'd slain everything the teachers had summoned and thrown at her. Hordes of undead, however, were another matter entirely. Given a choice, she hoped the fissure would deadend in a monster's lair, and that one of the other search teams would have the dubious honor of finding the route to the Acropolis. Daffir had predicted that one of the pairs of searchers would find it, though he'd been woefully short on details. Nor had Khorl been much help in predicting what they might face along the way, despite his haughty pride. So much for the "best" the College of Divination could provide. Eilistraee's priestess had been right, Kiaransalee's followers weren't so crazy that they couldn't cast wards.

The cleric pushed away from the ceiling, forcing his body down the fissure. Mazeer waited until he was about a dozen paces below. She pinched the tiny pouch that hung at her throat, whispered a word that shrank her to half her normal size, and followed. To keep the panic at bay, she kept her head tilted back, her eyes on the opening above. Bubbles streamed up toward it each time she exhaled. Up toward freedom. Each push of her hands sent her farther away from it. Even though she had lots of elbow room and plenty of space between her diminished body and the walls of rock on either side, her heart was pounding by the time her foot touched the bottom of the shaft. Loose rock shifted underfoot with a dull clunk.

She tore her eyes away from the exit above and stared ahead. The Nightshadow hovered a few paces away, sculling water. He glared back at her. Quiet!

He'd been right, the passage did widen. The cavern at the bottom of the fissure was at least a dozen paces across. About fifty paces beyond the Nightshadow, the ceiling curved up and out of a flat spot on the water: the exit to an air-filled chamber. A rhythmic noise came from that direction, muffled by the intervening water. It sounded like sticks clattering on stone.

The Nightshadow's eyes glittered. Hear that? He drew a "breath" of water, held it a moment then exhaled. I think we've found it. The water here smells of death. Let's take a look.

Mazeer nodded. The sooner they confirmed it as the passage leading to the Acropolis, the better. Then they could return to the rest of the group.

Mazeer hadn't been keen on setting out to search the maze of water-filled passages with only a Nightshadow as backup. She would have felt better with other conjurers flanking her and the priestesses in the lead, their magical swords between Mazeer and whatever dangers lay ahead. Yet she'd done as Gilkriz ordered.

The Nightshadow touched the phylactery on his arm and motioned for her to follow. Dagger in hand, he swam up toward the surface. Mazeer restored herself to her usual size, and pushed off from her crouched position. Halfway through the cavern, she noticed a spot where the Faerzress was dimmer, as though screened by a gauzy curtain. A kick of her legs sent her in that direction. As she swam closer to it, breathing from her bottle, she saw that the "curtain" was a loose tangle of thick strands of colorless thread, nearly invisible in the water, that made up a loosely woven bag with several large tears in it. She touched it, and the strands felt slightly sticky. Below it, she noticed what looked like a knobby white wand wedged in a crack in the floor. She swam down for a look. It turned out to be a femur, small enough to have come from a child.

Or from a svirfneblin.

Spit me like a lizard, she thought. The svirfneblin who found this passage didn't drown, he got eaten by a water spider.

She twisted around to warn the Nightshadow. Ripples marked the spot where he'd just climbed out of the water. A heartbeat later, he plunged into the water in a dive. He was only waist-deep when his body abruptly halted and his eyes flared open in alarm. Then something yanked him out of the water, and he vanished from sight.

Mazeer took a breath from her bottle and shouted a spell. Her words exploded in a flurry of bubbles. She swept her free hand in a circle, fist clenched, then opened it. The water shimmered as magical energy infused it. At her command, the water elemental she'd summoned bulged toward the surface just as an enormous spider plunged into the water, dragging the web-bound Nightshadow behind it. The elemental crashed into the monster, snapping two of the spider's legs. Then the battle raged.