Faeril walked to the arched doorway that opened into the courtyard. "It seems to be emanating from-Oh, Lady of Mysteries, preserve us!"

The others rushed over. On the far side of the courtyard, the desiccated body of a human female hung impaled on a spiked pole. The former fighter had been disemboweled. In place of her organs nested a large membranous sac that pulsed and squirmed.

Kestrel's gorge rose. Anorrweyn's missing skull had seemed bad, but this… Was it the fate of all women in this city to have their remains defiled? She had to turn her head away from the sight. It was then that she noticed the unnatural color of the water in the cistern. The reservoir, which should have held clear rainwater, instead bubbled with murky brownish liquid. The water must have become polluted somehow through the centuries.

Or corrupted recently. Kestrel noted an amber cast to the fluid and closed her eyes against the realization dawning on her. They had found another spawn pool.

When she opened her eyes, despite her fervent wishes the abomination remained. "Uh, guys-"

"I just noticed it, too," Ghleanna said.

Corran and Faeril, meanwhile, had approached the corpse. Faeril gestured toward an insignia on the remains of the body's tattered clothing. "Sisters of the Silver Fire," she said. "This woman was a holy warrior dedicated to Mystra."

"Of your sect?" Corran asked.

"No, another, but I feel the loss as keenly." She studied the writhing sac in the fallen warrior's body cavity. "She appears to be infested by the eggs of some loathsome creature-and I suspect they are hatching. Jarial? Ghleanna?"

The sorcerers joined them. Kestrel and Durwyn followed a little behind. They heard Faeril say sadly, "I'd prefer a nobler death rite, but we haven't time."

The group stood back. Faeril raised her voice in prayer as Jarial hurled a ball of fire at the corpse. The blast incinerated both the fighter and the vile, squirming egg sac. When the last flames sputtered out, the sorcerer waved his hand over the ashes. A light breeze swirled them into a funnel, dispersing the ashes into the wind.

Kestrel watched the dust blow away, then turned her attention back to the pool. The insidious amber liquid was gone. Pure water once again filled the cistern. The pump resumed its normal pace, the mechanism sounding almost eager to get back to work.

At the edge of the reservoir lay the dead fighter's weapon, a gleaming sword with a red tinge to the steel.

Corran picked it up and handed it to Faeril. "Perhaps you can use it to avenge her death."

"With Mystra's aid, I shall."

They returned to the main fortress, where a liberated Harldain Ironbar awaited them. As they entered his chamber, the dwarf met them with a ghostly battle-axe in hand. "Identify yerselves!"

The paladin stepped forward, hands raised to show his peaceful intentions. "I am Corran D'Arcey. These are my companions Ghleanna, Jarial, Durwyn, Faeril, and Kestrel. We are come to free Myth Drannor of the evil that has overtaken it."

"So yer not part of that dragon cult?"

"Nay! In fact we are sworn to defeat them," Faeril said.

Harldain lowered his axe but continued to regard them suspiciously. Corran removed his helm and tucked it under his arm to allow the dwarf a clear look at his face. Following his lead, Durwyn did likewise. Harldain seemed to appreciate the gesture and studied his unexpected visitors.

"The priestess Anorrweyn Evensong advised us to seek your counsel," said Corran. "So did the diviner Caalenfaire."

"So you said earlier." Harldain rested the axe head on the floor and leaned on the shaft as if it were a cane. "Friends of yers, are they? Anorrweyn's a gentle soul, but that Caalenfaire-he gave me the shivers even before he was dead. The old sorcerer's never done me a bad turn, though, so I reckon if he and Anorrweyn are on yer side, then yer on mine. 'Bout time someone came to drive those dragon-lovin' vermin out of my city." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, the priestess and the fortune-teller have teamed up, have they? Things must have gotten pretty bad while I was frozen there. I think that nasty water cloggin' the pump had somethin' to with it. Seems like polluted pools are poppin' up everywhere a glimmer of good remains in this city. Anyway, what have they sent you to talk to me about?"

"We need access to the catacombs," Corran said.

"Do you, now? Well, that's a simple enough matter to help you with. But what are they sendin' you down there for?"

"To find the Protector. We need to talk to him about the Mythal."

Some of the fire left Harldain's eyes. He let out a deep sigh. "They've gone and done it, haven't they? Those dragon worshipers, they've done somethin' to the Mythal." He shook his head sadly. "I'd always hoped that somehow we could use the Mythal to restore the City of Song to its former glory. But now…"

"You may yet," Ghleanna said gently. "If we act quickly to defeat the cult. We need your help."

Harldain nodded. "Yes, of course. Anything I can do." He stroked his beard again. "Dark elves have infiltrated much of the first catacomb level, so don't even try to use the main entrance-I'll send you a secret way. You'll have to face enough of 'em just to move deeper inside."

He crossed the room and pointed to one of the bricks in the wall. "That block is loose. Pull it out." Corran pried out the stone, revealing a hidden cubbyhole. "Now reach inside and get the stone that's in there. The key-take the key out, too. It's a passkey. It'll disable the statues downstairs, make it easier for you to leave."

Corran withdrew the key and a gem similar in appearance to the one set in the Ring of Calling. The gem sparkled with inner white light.

"That's a starstone," Harldain said. "Used to be that lots of folks in Myth Drannor had at least one. The starstones were set in different pieces of jewelry. When the wearer stood in specific locations, magical gates opened to different parts of the city. Helped a body get around faster."

Ghleanna extended her hand so Harldain could see the Ring of Calling. "Is this a starstone?"

"It is, indeed," the spirit confirmed. "That's one of the more common starstones. It got folks to the City Heights from various parts of town." Harldain gestured toward the sparkling rock Corran held. "That's a rarer stone. Belongs in a neckpiece called the Wizard's Torc. Sorcerers of the Speculum used the torc to open a secret entrance from the amphitheater to the catacombs. Restore the starstone to the Wizard's Torc and wear it while standin' on the theater floor-in the Circle of Ualair the Silent-and the door'll open for you."

Harldain's expression grew troubled. "Of course, you have to find the torc first-last I heard, a dark naga in the dwarven dungeons had the thing." He narrowed his brows at Jarial. "What're you grinnin' about?"

"You mean this torc?"