“How did you know this was here?” asked Catchflea.

“Master Vvelz took me this way before,” the girl replied.

The diggers were inflamed now, outraged that Li El might have escaped and might have hurt their leader Mors, too. They tore the ornamental metal shutters off the windows and climbed in. Some returned to unlatch the heavy doors off the promenade so the Que-Shu men could enter. The mob ransacked luxurious sleeping rooms and found great stores of food, which the hungriest fell upon ravenously. The whole affair was degenerating into a riot of plunder when the cry went up that Mors had been found.

Riverwind ran, covering long stretches of polished metal tile with his long legs. Di An puffed along in his wake. He skidded to a stop when he saw the floor ahead had fallen in. Mors stood on a narrow fragment of stone, surrounded on all sides by a deep drop. He and the stone he stood on floated in midair.

“What holds up your feet?” Catchflea said.

“Li El's joke,” Mors replied from his perch. He was calm, but deeply angry. “The floor collapsed around me, as you see. I cannot move. If I even lift one foot, the spell supporting this stone will instantly end.”

“We need a rope,” Riverwind said.

Di An arrived and saw his predicament. “Mors!” she cried.

“Be still, Di An. I'm not dead yet.”

Di An grabbed the digger nearest her and yelled in his face, “We'll do a mine pick-up! Understand?” The digger agreed enthusiastically.

Riverwind moved out of the way as fifteen diggers threw themselves face-down on the floor. Twelve sat on top of their fellows, linking their arms around the legs of the digger behind. Ten more climbed over them, leaning farther and farther out over the hole. Eight more piled on top of this, then six on top of that, making a lopsided pyramid of living bodies. The two diggers who clambered far out to the end were just an arm's length from Mors.

Di An scaled the living mound as the last link. She crept forward on all fours, deftly finding holds in the sea of bent backs and entwined limbs. She reached Mors and wrapped her thin arms around his neck.

“An Di, what are you doing?” he asked in shock.

“Saving you,” she replied. “Climb on.”

The digger pyramid swayed and groaned under the added strain of Mors's weight, but it held. He climbed to safety, then Di An returned. All the others, from the farthest back, climbed home. As she held Mors's hand tightly, Di An explained to an astonished Riverwind that the technique was one the diggers used to rescue comrades in mine disasters.

“Never mind that now. Li El must be found!” cried Mors.

It didn't take long. The diggers were ranging all over the palace, and a group that was looting the upper floors found Li El hiding in an alcove. She sent them shrieking down the corridor.

Mors and Catchflea entered the end of the hall just as Riverwind and a swarm of armed diggers filled the opposite end. Li El ran toward them, meaning to scatter them like chaff, until they presented a hedge of unwavering sword points. She turned back toward Mors.

Her golden hood was down, and her dark hair was in disarray. She lifted her arms as if to cast some dread spell, but her arms shook so violently that she dropped them quickly to her sides. Desperation gleamed on her sweat-sheened face.

Mors approached her slowly, waving his bloody sword.

“You never understood, you stiff-necked, stone-brained fool of a warrior. I had to be hard! The people of Hest have no place in the Empty World. Up there we would be just another small city-state. Here, in the caverns, we are citizens of an empire.”

“An empire of darkness and silence,” Riverwind said. “Let the Hestites find the sunlight again!”

“Your world is dying, yes,” Catchflea put in. “Your air is full of smoke and your crops will not grow on magic much longer. If the Hestites stay in these caves, they'll all eventually die. Your race will disappear.”

“Lies!” Li El stamped her foot and a dull boom echoed through the palace. She was weak with fatigue. “Humans only want to exploit we of the elder race. If you lead the diggers to the surface, Mors, they will end up as the barbarians' slaves.”

Her crazed eyes roamed the crowd and saw only angry, bitter diggers, the slaves she'd mistreated for decades. She stared at the bloody sword as Mors drew closer and closer. Suddenly her back straightened and one shaking hand lifted the golden hood back over her hair. Li El turned toward one of the windows in the corridor.

“No!” cried Catchflea. “Stop her, Mors!” Li El opened the chiseled iron shutters. They were four floors above the Avenue of the Heroes. Without another word or a single backward glance, Li El stepped through the window.

Riverwind threw himself at her, too late. He saw a brief flutter of gold, then the queen of Hest disappeared from his view.

He turned to Mors. The Blue Sky People's leader rested his hands on the pommel of his sword. His face bore an expression of complete satisfaction.

“Why didn't you stop her?” Riverwind asked.

“A last favor to a beaten foe.” Mors's mouth hardened to a thin line. “And to a lost love.” When the plainsman didn't say anything, he went on. “Don't you realize? This is the same window from which the Jast son of Hest leaped, so many years ago.”

A numb silence settled over Vartoom aften the death of Li El. Slowly, gradually, the people of Hest began to realize what had happened. Acting on advice from Catch-flea, Mors ordered all the mines and foundries to be closed for two days. Spontaneous celebrations broke out in the streets, and the Blue Sky People circulated freely, spreading their message of hope.

Mors did not occupy the palace. Instead, he set up a plain iron chair in the Hall of Arms and governed from there. The warriors of Hest came to him and pledged their fealty. Most he gruffly dismissed.

“Your loyalty is like a bar of pig iron,” he told them. “Heavy to bear and mostly useless!”

The old soothsayer urged him to moderate his tone. “It's strange for you to despise them for failing to protect Li El, yes. Why not make them your brothers again? Give them reason to want to protect you?” he said.

Mors fidgeted a while and replied, “There is something in what you say.” He turned his unseeing eyes to Catchflea and added, “You are wise for an overgrown barbarian.”

“Is size a measure of wisdom?” Riverwind asked.

“Not in your case,” the elf leader snapped.

Later, when the Que-Shu men were alone, Riverwind complained about his position, now that the queen was overthrown. “Mors still thinks of me as a threat,” he said. “And I'm not! All I want is to leave Vartoom and resume my quest.” Each day he remained in the underground world seemed like an eternity to the tall plainsman. His thoughts were filled with Goldmoon. How long it had been since he'd last seen her!

Riverwind looked out from the palace balcony over the city. Diggers were dancing in the streets. Fruit wine was flowing, and the sharp smell of it filled the air, replacing the usual drifting smoke. Over the last few days the air had cleared quite a bit, but once the furnaces were stoked up again, the choking pall would return.

Just then, Di An came running. “Ho, giants!” she said. “Mors wishes to see you right away.”

“How is his temper?” asked Riverwind.

The elf girl shrugged and said, “He has something to tell you.”

The Que-Shu men exchanged probing looks, then followed Di An back to the Hall of Arms. A fair number of warriors was present, swords at their sides. Riverwind's fast walk slowed when he saw that.

“We are here,” Di An announced.

“Come here, An Di.” The girl went and stood by the blind elf's side. Mors said, “I would have some words with you, giants.”