“As foreigners, we'll be blamed for everything.”

“What can we do?”

Riverwind brushed tears from his smoke-stung eyes and coughed. “Let's try to get some rest, then see what comes when we waken,” Riverwind said.

“An excellent idea. I am wrung out.”

They tried to make their way back to the brass urn, but the smoke and lack of landmarks confused them. The Que-Shu men wandered aimlessly a short distance until Riverwind called a halt.

“A strange dungeon, but an effective one,” he said. “Not knowing how big this place is, we could wander in circles and never find the boundaries.”

Catchflea sat down where he was. “Then all places are the same.” Soon he was asleep and snoring, even as the noxious smoke poured over him.

Riverwind lay down and closed his eyes. How strange it was that only a short while ago he had set out on his courting quest and now found himself in an underground world embroiled in a political struggle. But the ways of the gods were not easily fathomed by humans. Perhaps these elves were important in his quest. Perhaps they would end up helping him.

A sigh escaped his lips. He fervently hoped there was some point to all this. His quest was of paramount importance. His quest and his future marriage to Goldmoon. He relaxed and allowed sleep to overtake him. Though he had hoped to dream of his beloved, Riverwind's sleep was silent and deep and dreamless.

Riverwind felt a touch on his face. Lightly, fingers traced the line of his jaw. He stirred and brushed at the disturbance. A small thumb and forefinger tweaked his nose gently. He snorted, almost awake, then settled back into slumber. A finger tickled his ear until the itching sensation was too strong to ignore. Riverwind snapped to a sitting position. The kerchief he'd tied over his nose and mouth was up around his eyes. He snatched it off and saw Di An.

She signaled for him to remain quiet.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“No noise. We leave,” she said.

“But how-?”

Di An put a small finger to his lips. “You want to go, don't you?”

He roused Catchflea. The soothsayer coughed and cleared his throat. “Argh,” he grumbled. “Now I know how a smoked ham feels.”

They drank greedily from a flask Di An offered them. Being in a cave so far from the sun, Riverwind didn't know if it was night or day. The bronze sun burned on, a dull orange orb far out in the smoke.

“Why are we being so quiet?” Catchflea hissed. “Who can hear us?”

“Ro Karn,” said Di An.

“Did you bring us weapons?” Riverwind asked. “A sword would improve my spirits greatly.”

“Follow and make no noise,” Di An said. She crouched low and sprinted away, her bare feet tapping lightly on the iron floor. Riverwind and Catchflea trailed her at a circumspect pace. They couldn't see more than ten feet ahead, and chasing Di An was not the safest thing in the world to do, as they well knew.

They caught up with her as she knelt by a copper chest. 'This was sent for you,” she said. The men crouched beside her. She raised the lid. Inside were brightly colored fruits and vegetables: apples, pears, plums, radishes, carrots. Two tin bottles held more water, and in the bottom of the box were two stubby Hestite swords. Riverwind slipped one of the weapons through his belt. Catchflea declined the other.

“I'm no warrior,” he objected. Riverwind didn't press him to take it.

They fell upon the food. “I can't remember the last time we ate,” the plainsman said.

“It's been too long ago, yes,” Catchflea mumbled through a bite of pear. “Even this sorry stuff is welcome.”

It was sorry food indeed. For all their brilliant colors, the apples and pears lacked any sweetness, and the vegetables were bitter and metallic-tasting. The men's frantic chewing and swallowing slowed and stopped. Catchflea paled.

“I'm going to be ill, yes.”

“I am too,” Riverwind muttered. “Is this stuff poisoned?”

Catchflea grasped his stomach. “I pray it is-at least we won't suffer long!”

Di An gawked at them. “What's wrong? This is warrior food. It's very good.”

“It's tainted,” Riverwind gasped.

The elf girl shook her head in wonder and helped herself to an apple. She sank her teeth into it and munched away with every evidence of satisfaction. “Come,” she said. “They are waiting.” With that, she darted off, still devouring the fruit.

“'They'?” Riverwind repeated. Catchflea, who had been sipping water to clear the taste of bitter radish from his mouth, looked alarmed. Riverwind said, “If enemies wanted to trap and kill us, they wouldn't put swords in our hands, would they?”

“No,” the old man said. “They'd probably poison us.”

Riverwind, gripping the sword tightly, set off after Di An. Catchflea lingered by the chest, still holding his stomach. Riverwind went no more than twenty yards and found the girl waiting by a gigantic stalactite a dozen feet wide. Where the massive spire thrust through the floor, several iron rails had been bent back, creating enough of a gap for Riverwind and Catchflea to squeeze through. Di An waved for him to come on.

“Where are we going?” he insisted again.

“Just come!” Di An pushed herself forward and slipped into the hole. Riverwind ran to the opening and looked down. Di An was floating slowly down, hands held tightly against her sides. The slow-falling spell again.

A commotion arose in the smoke behind him. He turned and saw two figures struggling. Catchflea cried, “Tall man, help!”

Riverwind dashed back. He found the old man fighting a losing battle with Karn for possession of the second sword Di An had brought. Riverwind shouted a challenge. The elf warrior punched Catchflea in the belly and seized the sword.

“I knew you were up to something,” Karn said triumphantly. “Surrender, giant!”

“You'll have to fight, bully,” Riverwind replied.

Karn whirled his sword around his head and cut hard at Riverwind. The plainsman easily turned the attack and countered with fast slashes at Karn's face and neck. He knew from experience that fighters used to armor would retreat if these vulnerable areas were threatened. Karn backed up.

“Get moving, old man!” Riverwind snapped. Catchflea crawled weakly behind him. “That way.” Riverwind tossed his head. Catchflea tottered to his feet, clutched his stomach, and shuffled toward the stalactite.

“You can't escape!” Karn yelled.

Riverwind sidled away, always keeping his sword toward Karn. He found the old soothsayer leaning on the stone spire, breathing hard.

“What are you waiting for?” Riverwind said. “Jump!”

“Down there?” Catchflea gasped. “Are you mad?”

“The slow-fall spell, remember?”

Understanding gleamed in the old man's eye. “So? Be of stout heart, Catchflea!” he admonished himself. “Here I go, yes!”

Catchflea eased himself into the space between the stalactite and the floor. Eyes screwed shut, he let go the stone spire and plunged a few feet before an invisible net slowed and caught him in its folds. The spell felt different than that in the long shaft that had brought them to Hest-weird tickling sensations crawled over his skin, like the strands of an enormous spider web. The spell was different in another way, too, for Catchflea could feel himself fall faster, slow down, fall, slow, and so on as he descended. He prayed aloud to Majere to strengthen the hand of whomever was performing the spell.

Riverwind saw his friend disappear. In the next instant, Karn was on him, slashing madly, first from one side, then the other. Riverwind retreated before the elf's wild assault until he felt the great spire at his back. He couldn't lower his guard long enough to get through the opening in the floor. If he could just distract Karn for a moment…