At that warning, the half-elf sprang away from the magical pool and hurried down the steps, brushing by Dhamon. "I don't want to drown," she softly wailed. "I want me a fine house."

The mariner let out a deep breath and swept his hand to the side. "If this vision is to be believed, and I think it is, Fiona's brother is dead. I have to tell her. If, or when, I see her again."

The kobold started to rise.

"Wait, Fetch!" Dhamon said, an idea forming. He saw Rig's eyes narrow. "One more question."

"I thought you decided we were done with the magic pool," the mariner muttered.

The kobold's shoulders sagged. I'm tired, he mouthed. Indeed, he looked spent, and the green light that haloed him made him look shriveled. "I can't," Fetch said in a strained voice. "I just can't."

"Ask it about the rain," Dhamon persisted. "Where is all of this coming from?"

"The sky. The clouds," Rig said. "That's where the rain is coming from. I really don't know you anymore, Dhamon Grimwulf. You're a selfish churl. Look at him. He's exhausted. I pushed him too hard as it was."

"What is causing it to rain?" Dhamon's words were clipped.

The mariner moved to leave, but something stopped him. The Shrentak vision had melted and again the pool showed a black spot on its surface, as Fetch resumed stirring the magic at Dhamon's demand. "The swamp. So what?" Rig grumbled. "The rain's somehow coming from the swamp. But it ain't even raining there, according to that image. So…"

"This rain isn't natural, Rig. Can't be. It's rained more in Khur in the past few days than probably the past couple of years. Simply out of morbid curiosity, I want to know what's responsible. The information could be valuable. And this…" He waved his hand at the pool. "This apparently is one sure way to find out."

The image focused more sharply on a marshy glade ringed by a tangle of ancient cypress trees with roots that sank deep into the muck. Lianas flowed from the branches, forming a flowery curtain. Colorful parrots were thick in the trees, and a dawning sun managed to peek through a break in the closest canopy.

"There, ask it about that." Dhamon was pointing at a shimmering, yet shadowy image behind a veil of purple flowers. "There's something hiding there. Ask it if that thing's responsible for the rain. Can't hardly make it out. Might be part of a dragon."

"Dhamon, I can't. So-o-o tired."

"Hurry, Fetch," Dhamon ordered. "I want an answer."

The kobold sighed and summoned just enough energy to stir the air above the pool again, fought to catch his breath and felt his heart flutter in his chest. The shadowy image came into better focus. "A dragon. Hah! Isn't big enough to be a dragon. Why… it's a little girl," the kobold said.

The flowers parted, showing a thin waif of five or six with long coppery hair and blue eyes. She was delicate, and dressed in a filmy garment that looked to be made of pale purple and yellow flower petals. There was a slight smile on her unblemished, cherubic face, but it was a sly smile, not a pleasant one. She raised her hands-they were misted in silver-gray-and she made a beckoning motion, as if she had somehow spotted Dhamon and Rig and Fetch in this cave beneath the mountain and was motioning them closer. The scent of flowers became intense, almost suffocating. Then suddenly the image was gone, the black spot was shrinking, swallowed by the bright yellow. A heartbeat later the yellow was fading, becoming sparkling motes forced to the bottom by the oppressive blue and green swirls. The sickening fragrance was gone, too, replaced by the musty smell of the cave.

"Wait, I've another question!" Dhamon practically shouted.

Fetch sagged onto his back. The kobold was shaking, staring at his hands. "I've been robbed," he said in disbelief. "I'm older. That foul device stole years from me! Dhamon!"

The kobold's voice was different, softer, and the words were less distinct. The kobold was different, too. The scraggly hair that clung to his bottom jaw turned white as the companions watched. Then it began fluttering to the floor, like dry pine needles falling from a dead tree.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something again. His eyes were wide with fright and disbelief, and his fingers, which were feeling frantically about his face, were trembling. Fetch's scaly skin was flaking and losing its color, becoming as gray as the stone on which he sat. His eyes had lost their glossiness, the red fading to a dark pink. The kobold gasped, a rattling wheeze escaping his lips, and he glanced between Dhamon and Rig as his chest heaved.

The mariner stared slack-jawed. "Dhamon…"

"I see him, Rig."

"Magic. The little guy mentioned something about the magic exacting a price."

Rikali sucked in her breath. The half-elf had been watching the river, and only now truly noticed that the kobold had changed. "Pigs, what happened to you, Fetch?"

The kobold didn't reply, though he gestured feebly to the pool.

"Well, make it change you back," the half-elf stated. "Wiggle your fingers and make it fix you."

Rig shook his head. "I don't think that's possible."

"Well, maybe it'll wear off."

"I feel…" Fetch began in his soft voice. "Cold."

"Dhamon, what are we gonna do about him? Can Grim…" Rikali's words trailed off as she glanced again at the river. "Dhamon, the river really is risin'! We have to hurry. Please, lover! Let's just grab Fetch and get out of here. We'll take him to Grim Kedar's. That old ogre'll fix him up, just like he did you and Mai."

Dhamon glanced at Fetch, his face an unreadable mask, then he turned and hurried toward the water. He rugged his boots free and tucked their tops under his belt in the back. The half-elf followed him, asking what they should do about Fetch and would Dhamon carry him. He didn't answer her, simply grasped Rikali's hand and eased into the water, taking several deep breaths. Rikali clung to the edge for a moment, looking at the dais.

Rig padded closer to the kobold until he was towering over Fetch.

"Shouldn't we wait for them, lover?" she asked.

Dhamon took several more deep breaths and shook his head. "No, the river's rising too fast." His tone was emotionless. "I'm not waiting around for them. It might have been a mistake to wait this long." He dropped below the surface, beginning to swim with the current. Rikali took a last look at Rig and Fetch, then followed after Dhamon, the green light fading as they swam from the chamber and were swallowed by the absolute blackness.

Rig stared at the kobold. Was the green light playing tricks? Simply making the kobold look… older? An illusion. Perhaps it was something from the pool, maybe it took the kobold's energy. And, perhaps when the kobold rested he would revert to his more youthful appearance. The mariner wished Palin Majere was here. The sorcerer would know what to do. Though he wondered whether Palin would have toyed with the pool to begin with.

"We have to leave," he said finally, scowling when the creature twitched and wheezed. "You all right? Fetch?"

The kobold shivered and wrapped his arms around his chest. His eyes had faded further. "No, I'm not all right," he hissed. "Damn Black Robe magic. Said there was a price. I paid it all right. A big one."

The mariner seemed genuinely concerned for the creature and took a closer look at him. The usual mix of scales and skin beneath the robe, though the color had changed, still had the stench. But when the kobold looked up to meet his stare, the mariner noticed something else different. It was an illusion or a trick of the green light.

There were wrinkles about his eyes, like an aging human would exhibit, and the hairs that grew in scattered clumps along the sides of his head were a smattering of red and gray, and there weren't as many of them. Rig extended a hand, and the kobold took it, grimacing a little when he got up.