"What manner of device is that?" the chatelaine demanded.

A demure smile curved the half-elfs lips. "It is an amulet of water breathing. In my line of work, I have found that the ability to remain under water for a length of time can be very… useful."

Penelope gaped, then closed her mouth with a faint click. She nodded thoughtfully as she considered the possibilities. "Can you start tomorrow?"

Arilyn walked silently along the tunnel, counting her steps and concentrating intently upon distance and direction. She could find her way on the open moor or through the deepest forest as well as any ranger she knew, but her sense of direction was badly skewed in this deeply buried passage. Fortunately, the tunnel was short and relatively straight. There was little need for false turns and multiple passages, for the tunnel was well and truly hidden. And, if Arilyn's estimations were correct, the tunnel did indeed go under Abrum Assante's palace.

Suddenly the tunnel took a sharp downward slope. At the bottom of the incline, Arilyn could see the churning warmth of the mineral spring. This, she did not doubt, would lead her into Assante's palace. She was also quite certain that a surprise or two lurked in the water.*.

The Harper instinctively took a deep breath- although the amulet of water breathing made this unnecessary-and then slid down the hill into the water. She plunged down, then flipped and began to swim even deeper. The tunnel continued for what Arilyn estimated to be at least twenty feet. On the rocky wall near the tunnel's floor was a hole, not quite two feet across and as smoothly rounded as a ship's portal.

Arilyn peered through the opening into what appeared to be a large well. Several similar openings dotted the rock walls. All had been carved to similar size and shape. Arilyn took a small knife from her belt and wedged it into a crack near the opening. It would be exceedingly easy to wander from one portal to another before finding the way out. And even with an amulet of water breathing, her time in that larger well was best limited. On the well floor, some five feet below her, several enormous crustaceans milled about in a frantic search for food.

Arilyn had never seen such creatures, had no idea what they might be called. More than seven feet in length, not including their fanlike tails and long antennae, they scuttled along on several pairs of small, curved legs. Large, toothless mouths spanned the entire width of their heads, and their paired antennae groped about constantly-one sweeping the floor, the other flailing about in the water. The creatures were armored with a platelike, translucent shell. It took Arilyn a moment to realize what the things reminded her of To all intents and purposes, they were gigantic shrimp.

One of the creatures swirled up into the water, legs churning. As it passed, close enough to touch, the Harper realized what had become of Assante's former servants. The giant crustacean's innards were clearly visible, from the single large vein pulsing along its curved back, to the partially digested halfling in its stomach.

Arilyn glanced down at the floor of the well. It was littered with large rocks, a few bits of rope, and nothing else. Obviously, anyone Assante wished to be rid of was weighted down and tossed into the well. The bottom-feeding shrimp devoured anything and everything that came their way.

But Arilyn felt safe enough where she was. The crustaceans were too wide to squeeze through the openings in the wall. She watched the creatures for a while, learning their patterns of movement and judging their speed. After a time she drew her moonblade and waited. When one of the creatures again ventured within reach, she lashed out and severed three of its legs. The limbs drifted down. The other crustaceans were upon them instantly, their antennae flailing each other like whips as they fought over the morsels. The wounded creature, unable to swim, spiraled down toward certain death.

Assured that the giant crustaceans would be occupied for some time, the Harper shot out of the tunnel and swam for the light. There was precious little of it, which indicated that she would probably emerge in some darkened-and hopefully deserted-chamber.

Even so, Arilyn eased her head out of the water slowly, silently, taking careful stock of her surroundings. The well was in a round, dark room with a low ceiling and a dozen arched portals leading off into long corridors. There was a deep, earthy smell and an intense moisture in the air-unusual for temperate Zazesspur-which suggested that this was a dungeon perhaps two floors below ground level. Yet the entire room-from ceiling to floor-was of the same exquisite pink marble that graced the outer palace. Nor was it without luxury. A tangle of pipes led from the spring to a low, curved bath, and a nearby table held the expected sybaritic accoutrements: a heap of towels, several candles in silver holders, a jeweled decanter, and a pair of goblets. Arilyn's keen eyes noted the faint sheen of dust on the table, and she suspected that the luxurious set-up was

mostly intended to distract the eye from the well and its true purpose.

When she was certain she was alone, Arilyn climbed carefully onto the marble rim of the mineral spring. She unstrapped a tarpaulin bag from her back and took out a large linen square; with this she quickly dried herself off. She wanted to leave nothing-not even a damp footprint-that would enable Assante's minions to trace her back to the bathhouse. The thin silk garments she'd chosen to wear for her first day at the Foaming Sands were ideal for this. Not only did they dry quickly, but they were of a sandy pink hue, one especially woven and dyed to blend with the marble of Assante's palace.

The dungeon's silence was broken by distant footsteps that echoed though the marble corridors like large hailstones on a slate roof. Behind the labored tread was the scrape and clatter of some large, heavy object being dragged along. Soon the sound of a disgruntled male voice joined in the general racket. Arilyn got the gist of the situation from the muttered complaints and the occasional resonant clang that occurred whenever the servant stopped and kicked what she surmised to be a water-filled cleaning bucket.

The Harper crouched behind the fountain and waited. This was precisely the type of opportunity for which she had hoped.

Her optimism wavered for a moment when the servant entered the room, a mop over one shoulder and the bucket dragging behind him. He was a male dwarf, with a form that resembled nothing so much as a squat, two-legged mushroom and a face that brought to mind an image of storm clouds over a craggy mountain. The dwarf was young by the measure of his people-seventy or eighty, judging from the length of his dun-colored beard-and not more than four feet tall. Yet the Harper, for all her skill with the sword, was hesitant to tangle with the obviously ill-tempered little man.

On the other hand, what choice did she have?

Arilyn watched as the dwarf dipped and wrung the mop, then turned away and fell to scrubbing the marble floor, muttering imprecations all the while. She rose and silently came up behind him, her sword in hand. A well-placed kick overturned the bucket and sent a tide of soapy water racing toward the dwarf. He spun to face the sound, saw the battle-ready elf, and instinctively kicked into a running charge.

The dwarfs booted feet shot out from under bom before he'd taken three steps. After a brief, airborne moment, he landed flat on his back. His shaggy head hit the marble with a thud so resonant that Arilyn could feel it in her bones and teeth. While the dwarf was still trying to uncross his eyes, she strode forward and plunged the tip of her sword through his beard until it pressed hard against his throat.

"Take me to the treasure room," she demanded.