He recalled a thing he had found in some old scroll, a bit of advice from some forgotten Hylar scribe of long ago: 'To live is to find the thing that one does best, and then to do it thoroughly, and always. To do less than this is to never live at all."

Tap's comments about Thorbardin had brought back old memories and old feelings. For a moment, it had seemed as though the Theiwar-Neidar was speaking his own thoughts. He didn't like Thorbardin. He was disgusted with the ways of Thorbardin life. He had left Thorbardin, never to return. And yet, in his heart, Derkin Winterseed… Derkin Hammerhand… Derkin Lawgiver was as much a part of Thorbardin as the undermountain fortress was of him.

More often than he would admit, Derkin knew the feelings Tap had described. Tap Tolec had always been Nei-dar, but at heart he was Holgar. Derkin had tried to be Neidar, but at heart he remained Holgar. Sometimes he longed to return to Thorbardin, to live again within the living stone.

If only the people there would live as dwarves should live. If only they would live!

At the foot of the tower stairs Helta Graywood waited for him, bringing his midday meal. She fell into step beside him as he walked toward the Great Hall. On impulse, Derkin said, "You've been inside Thorbardin, Helta. Could you live there?"

"I can live anywhere you live," she said matter-of-factly. "When are you going to marry me?"

"But Thorbardin is a sullen, idle place," he pointed out, ignoring her question.

"It wouldn't be," she said, "if you were in command there."

With a snort, Derkin crossed to Lord Kane's throne and sat down. The chair of state was the only item of human furniture that remained in the palace now, and even it was changed. Derkin had taken a saw to the thing, cutting its base down to a height more comfortable for a dwarf. Helta handed him his platter of meat and bread, then perched on a bench beside him with her own.

Derkin ate some of his food, then looked at her. The bandage was gone from her cheek now, and the scar there was as evident as he had known it would be. But, oddly, it did not make her ugly. If anything, it distinguished her. She was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Tearing his eyes from her, he went back to his dinner. 'That's enough talk about Thorbardin," he said gruffly. "Thorbardin doesn't have a single commander. It never has had a single leader."

"Maybe that's what's wrong with it," the girl said. "Maybe it needs a king."

"Well, I'm not a king," Derkin snapped. "And I don't want to talk about Thorbardin anymore."

"You brought it up, not me," she reminded him. She said no more about Thorbardin, but a sly smile played at her lips when he looked away, a smile that seemed to say, "You aren't my husband, Derkin Whatever, but one day you will be. And who's to say what else you might one day be?"

When all of the stone from the two compounds had been removed to the border of Kal-Thax-huge, neat stacks of cut stone now stood in Tharkas Pass, completely hiding Derkin's Wall-the Lawgiver set his demolishers to work on the palace itself. Through the final weeks of winter, the'towers came down. The entire palace seemed to shrink day by day. As sleeping quarters disappeared, temporary shelters were erected outside. And through all the activity, the distant ring of stone-drilling continued to echo from the peak above.

Then, abruptly and oddly, the weather changed. On a day that had begun clear and sunny, with a northerly breeze carrying promise of spring, it changed. Dark, heavy-looking clouds appeared in the west, and the wind changed to the same direction. By midday, the dark clouds were overhead, blocking the sunlight, turning the day to twilight. Then the wind died to stillness. The dense cover of clouds seemed to settle atop the high peaks, creeping lower and lower as the hours passed. After a time, the ring of stone-drills was stilled, and the delvers came down from above.

"The fog is dense up there," the chief of delvers told Derkin. "We can't see to work."

By the last murky light of evening, the dark clouds floated just overhead, low enough that a sling-stone, flung by a curious dwarf, could reach them. The stone disappeared into murk, then reappeared as it fell. The air was still, and heavy with chill vapors.

Hour by hour, the strange clouds lowered. Beyond the flickering illumination of the dwarves' fires, the night was as dark as any night anyone could remember.

By midnight, the cloud cover had settled to the ground, and dense mist was all around. Even the Daergar were blind in such conditions.

Derkin was awakened from brief sleep by Tap Tolec and the rest of the Ten. They carried hooded candles, but the mists outside had crept inside, and the candlelight was muted and eerie.

"We don't like this weather," Tap said when Derkin was awake. "There's something wrong about it."

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Derkin glared at his friend. "You woke me up to talk about the weather? I can't do anything about the weather. What do you want?"

"It isn't right," Tap insisted. "We've all seen spring storms in these climes, but this isn't one of them."

'Then maybe it's a late winter storm."

"It isn't that, either," Tap insisted. "Put your boots on and come outside. Something's wrong."

"You and your Theiwar intuition," Derkin growled. But he pulled on his boots, wrapped his cloak around him, picked up his hammer, and followed Tap along one of the last hallways in the shrinking palace. Like his sleeping cubicle, the hall was murky with chill vapors. Tap pushed a door open and stepped outside, Derkin and the others following. It was very dark, and very still. The fitful light of the hooded candles carried no more than a few feet.

"It's dark and foggy." Derkin shrugged. "So what?"

"Just wait a minute," Tap said. "Wait and watch."

A minute passed, and then another, and suddenly there was flickering light around them. It was gone in an instant. Tap said, "There. Thaf s whaf s worrying us."

"Lightning?" Derkin puzzled. "Since when are you afraid of-"

"Sh!" Tap hushed him. "Listen."

Patiently, Derkin stood and listened. The others did likewise.

After a full minute, Tap Tolec said, "That's what I mean."

"What?" Derkin demanded. "I didn't hear anything."

"Neither did we," the First explained. "It's been like this for an hour now. Lightning, but no thunder."

Again there was brief, flaring light in the fog, and again it was followed by only silence. Derkin had a sudden intuition of his own and shuddered. "Magic," he muttered. "If s some kind of magic."

"Thaf s what we think, too," Talon Oakbeard said. "But who's doing it? And what's it for?"

"Find a drummer," Derkin ordered. "Alert everyone. It will be morning soon. Maybe this fog will lift then. When it does, I want everyone ready… for whatever is going on out there. Armor, gear, and weapons. And perimeter defense positions, as soon as we can see well enough to move around. If magic is being worked, there's usually a reason." Taking one of the candles, he strode back to his quarters and got dressed.

The candle's muted glow gleamed on the polished breastplate he strapped on, and glistened on his mirror-like horned helm. The kilt he wore was of studded leather, and his cloak was once again bright scarlet. For the taking of Klanath, dark tones had seemed appropriate to the Chosen Ones. But after the city had been taken, they soon reverted to their bright colors. The somber shades then had become depressing.

"If s our nature," Derkin mused to himself, slinging his shield and hammer at his shoulders. "Dwarven nature. We express ourselves with color, the way elves do with their songs."

The fog did not lift with the coming of morning. It simply rolled back as though it had never been there. One moment, the world was a gray, closed-in place. The next moment there was a final, flickering flash of that strange lightning, and the mist began to recede, rolling away on all sides, opening an ever-wider field of vision. Under cold, high clouds in a leaden sky, dwarves scurried everywhere, hurrying from their sleeping shelters and night posts to their assigned places on the perimeters of what had been Klanath.