Ren stifled a caustic reply. He knew that "worthy of the council's trust" could be translated "who might come back alive," but there was nothing to be gained by challenging the man. At least they weren't being tossed over the wall of the city at night, which was widely rumored to be the fate of some criminals. "I don't suppose you'd care to foot the bill for the boat, would you, Your Honor?"

"If you bring it back, I'll buy it from you… for an excellent price," said Cadorna with a grin. "Which reminds me… it has come to my attention that the Lord of the Ruins himself has somehow gotten wind of your impending venture. I suspect he'll send some of the rabble from beyond the wall to harass you-orcs, goblins, kobolds perhaps. Surely nothing the three of you can't handle."

"The Lord of the Ruins?" Shal asked, wondering if her companions knew whom Cadorna was referring to.

Ren started to reply, but Cadorna quickly cut him off. "The hordes of monsters that plague our fair city are obviously controlled by someone or something, or they surely would have killed each other by now. Occasionally hobgoblins, orcs, or other humanoids we capture make mention of their leader, the 'Lord of the Ruins.' From all accounts, his power is awesome. Naturally he fights every effort of the council to regain sections of Old Phlan."

Cadorna paused, as if expecting some sort of response. When there was none, he plunged ahead. "Of course, I'm sure the Lord of the Ruins would have no way of anticipating a party of three such as yourselves."

"Thank you, Councilman," said Shal, comforted by his apparent confidence in them. "However, what we've heard of Sokol Keep"-she pointed to the island-"and what we've seen are hardly encouraging."

Cadorna's face formed its most sincerely sympathetic expression. "I'd be lying if I told you there was nothing to fear on Thorn Island. In the months since I've sat on the council, four parties have undertaken this mission, and none has… ah… been successful. But I sincerely believe that your chances for success are greater than those of the parties who have preceded you. I am, of course, here to see that you fulfill your sentence, but I am also here to wish you a safe and fruitful mission."

Shal and Tarl bowed in the manner customary when taking leave of an official. Ren simply turned on his heels, stepped down into the boat, and snugged it up close to the mooring so the other two could board more easily.

Cadorna remained to watch as they rowed out into the bay. They just might be the ones I've been waiting for, he thought. I've waited too long for the chance to recover the dignity and position of the Cadorna family… and the fortune that is rightfully mine. If they succeed, it'll be an ideal situation. They'll receive a reward and recognition from the council. Phlan will prosper because shipping will increase greatly. I'll be rewarded and will gain power within the council. And the Lord of the Ruins will be grateful because I tried to warn him! Cadorna shuddered at the indignities he had to bear to communicate with the Lord of the Ruins-sending messages through slime-bellied hobgoblins-but he grinned from ear to ear when he thought of the rewards. In exchange for passing on the simple message that a small, ill-matched party of three was headed for Sokol Keep on a reclamation mission, a highly promising meeting had been arranged between Cadorna and a certain sensual, doe-eyed woman, who just happened to be the daughter of the head councilman from Thentia. Still, Cadorna couldn't wait for the day when the Lord of the Ruins would be forced to send messengers to him, instead of the other way around.

Shal was watching Ren row when they entered the dark veil that shadowed the island. She immediately felt her breath constrict, almost as if someone had pushed hard against her lungs. She thought at first that it could be her own fear finally getting the best of her, but a glance at the others told her that they felt it, too.

Tarl leaned forward in the boat and held up his holy symbol. "Bless me with the strength of your faith, Tyr. Grant us power over the darkness that reigns over this place."

Whether coincidence or not, Shal immediately felt a loosening of her breathing. "Your god serves you well, friend."

"I just hope that's a sign that you're the right man to have along on this trip," said Ren, taking a deep breath.

Tarl didn't respond. His prayer had been a reaction to his own terror. The pressure on his lungs had been a vivid reminder of the powerlessness he had felt that day in the graveyard. The undead seemed to have the power to suck a person's very life energies, making breathing, even the beating of the heart, things that couldn't be taken for granted. Tarl couldn't help feeling contempt for himself for not being able to help Anton or his other brothers when they needed him. He spoke once more, silently this time, to his god. My prayer was born out of fear for myself, but you responded nonetheless. Let this day enhance my faith and add a measure to my experience so I can better serve you and return to you and your servants what is rightfully yours.

Tarl lifted his head and pointed. "Over there, Ren. There's a break in the rocks."

"Not much of an opening," said Shal, eyeing the small opening to which Tarl was pointing. "Are you sure you can get through there, Ren?"

"I'm about as handy in a boat as either of you are, which isn't saying much," Ren replied. "But I'll jump out and pull the boat to shore if I have to."

Shal laughed nervously. Ever since breakfast this morning, she had been stealing glances at Ren when she didn't think he was looking. She hadn't missed the fact that his ruddy complexion had grown paler as they drew closer to their destination. "I'd use a Navigation spell if I only had one," she said. "But since I don't, you'd better pull on those oars if you don't want us to smash into those rocks."

Ren managed to maneuver the boat between the two rocks unscathed, and in a few minutes they had beached the ancient rowboat on a sandy segment of shoreline.

"So we're here. Now what?" asked Shal, looking anxiously toward the low, sheer cliffs that made the island a natural fortress.

"There's a stone stairway over there," said Tarl, pointing down the shoreline.

"Why don't we just knock and see if anybody's home?" Ren offered.

"Save the sarcasm," Shal scolded. "Do you have another idea?"

Ren reached into his pack and pulled out one of his favorite thieving tools. "Simple but effective," he said, holding up a three-clawed hook with a long, coiled rope to it. "I'd vote for following the shoreline a couple thousand feet and then making our way up somewhere where it's secluded."

"Agreed" said Tarl, realizing that Ren's suggestion made good sense. Why announce their presence to whoever-or whatever-waited up there?

The air was uncannily still as they made their way along the shoreline at the base of the cliff. As they went, they spotted wreckage from several small sailing craft. Rotting remains of bodies dead for weeks, perhaps months, lay in grotesque attitudes amidst the debris.

"They may have run aground in storms. I've heard the island is practically invisible at night." Ren paused and pointed up toward the cliff. "Looks like there's a break in the stone face up there. This looks like as good a place as any." He began to twirl the rope above his head in ever-lengthening circles. "One, two, three…" he counted softly, and then he released the grapnel into the air. It arched up over the lip of the cliff and landed with a muffled clink. Ren pulled the rope taut and then tested his full body weight against it. The rope held firmly in place.

"After you," he said, bowing quickly to Tarl and Shal.