"That way." Ariakas pointed into the darkness to the left of the pier, utterly certain of his bearing across the black water.

Lyrelee untied the boat swiftly, and Ariakas stepped into the low hull. The seats were narrow, six of them lined across the beam at four-foot intervals from bow to stern. The craft bobbed slightly as the priestess also entered. She sat at a middle bench, hoisted the oars, and propelled them cleanly out across the lake. Ariakas stepped to the bow, allowed his glowing gem to sweep the water before him like a beacon.

And then he saw them: ripples, almost imperceptible, rolling toward the starboard bow in an arc so broad it was almost a straight line. Only the utter placidity of the water allowed him to discern the effect, and that just for an instant, before the ripples were cleanly split by the gentle bow-wave of the boat.

"Bear to my right," Ariakas hissed, and Lyrelee smoothly swung the bow through a gentle curve.

She rowed for several minutes, steady strokes of the oars propelling the sleek boat through the water. Then, with shocking suddenness, a solid surface jutted into the scope of the warrior's light.

"Stop!" he hissed, dropping to the seat just before the priestess dug the oars into the water. The lake swirled and churned, but Lyrelee slowed the boat to a gentle bump by the time they reached the barrier.

The wall seemed to be the shore of the lake. Since the lake was contained by a cavern, however, this shore rose in a vertical barrier of moisture-streaked stone, extend shy;ing upward and then, perhaps twice the height of Aria-kas's head, leaning above their heads to begin its vast dome over the water. Turning to each direction, Ariakas couldn't see any clue as to how someone or something could have left the lake.

"Bear right," he commanded again, guided by a name shy;less instinct.

Dipping the oars with silent power, Lyrelee started them slowly along the shore. She hadn't taken more than five strokes when his intuition was rewarded. Breaking the solid wall of the lake shore was a narrow crack. At first glance, Ariakas thought the opening too small to allow the passage of a boat.

Then his eyes fastened on an irregularity in the sur shy;face, just outside of the crack. He stared, and in a moment made an identification-it was an oar.

"There-into the crack," he ordered, and the priestess turned the prow toward the gap.

The boat slipped between two slick walls of rock. They found the route tight, but passable, and in another moment it opened around them.

"Here's a landing," announced Ariakas, satisfied to see a platform of rock that sloped right down to the water's edge. Beyond the platform a dark hole promised at least the beginning of a passageway. Even more signif shy;icant, drifting several feet away from the slab was a boat that was the twin of their own.

Lyrelee cast a look over her shoulder and glided the craft on a perfect course toward the landing. Ariakas looked around, and several facts confirmed his convic shy;tion. First, he saw streaks of water on the sloping stone floor, some of which still trickled back to the lake. What shy;ever had dripped onto the stone, he guessed, had done so not terribly long ago.

As the bow nudged the ramp, Ariakas stepped onto the shore, his sword held one-handed, pointed up the passageway beyond, the bowline grasped by his other hand. With a solid tug, he brought the first third of the boat up the ramp-enough, he felt certain, to prevent their transportation from drifting away.

Lyrelee stepped lightly beside him as they started up the passage. He winced inwardly at the thought of his bright light, which clearly revealed their position to any shy;one who lay in wait for them. Still, without it they would be handicapped even more.

Abruptly the priestess halted. "Let me walk behind you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He agreed with a nod, realizing that Lyrelee would at least be able to conceal herself from any observers in the shadows. Now Ariakas made a point of checking the ceiling, remembering the net that had swooped down, unobserved, costing him his prisoner. The warrior saw no threat above, nor did he see anything amiss in the shadows to the front. The passageway twisted and climbed, narrower and more roughly hewn than any of the catacombs Ariakas had seen before.

One wall, in particular, struck him as unusual. The stonework was natural, ancient limestone that had been buried for ages, but a curious grid pattern had somehow been scored into the rock. As they walked they were forced close to the strange wall by a tight passageway.

Then the grid flew outward, muffling the curse explod shy;ing from Ariakas's throat. This time the net struck him with such force that it knocked his sword from his hands before tightly rolling Ariakas and Lyrelee into a compact, completely immobile bundle.

Chapter 16

Vallenswade

Ariakas struggled to turn his head, but once again a net bound him too effectively to allow even minimal movement. Lyrelee breathed heavily, pressed by their bonds against the armor of his back. He felt her wriggle, but the net restrained them so tightly that she could do little more than move her fingers.

"You are persistent, humans." The well-modulated voice emerged from the shadows, the tone cool but not unimpressed. "I would have thought we lost you back in the catacombs."

Again Ariakas tried to turn, to bring his light to bear on the speaker, but he could not. Something tall and lanky moved through the shadows beside him, and then that supple form squatted on the floor.

Ariakas cursed, recoiling involuntarily from an ape shy;like visage that suddenly dropped into his line of sight. The creature's face was covered with fur, and it had a protruding muzzle flanked by two yellow eyes centered with dark, slitted pupils. Those huge eyes blinked, pre shy;sumably in reaction to the light, and then a wide mouth gaped open, revealing several sharp fangs.

"Who are you?" demanded Ariakas.

"I am called Vallenswade. Like you, I am a warrior," replied the ape creature, lips and tongue articulating in a very humanlike fashion. In fact, this bizarre-looking fel shy;low seemed better spoken than a good number of the men and women Ariakas had known. "And you, two- how are you called?"

The warrior bit his lip, refusing to answer, anticipating a kick or some other prodding persuasion. Instead, Val shy;lenswade simply rose to his feet and turned away. The man saw a bare foot, also furred, equipped with a large toe that reached to the side like a thumb, before the crea shy;ture was swallowed by the darkness.

Sudden panic infused Ariakas. "Wait!" he cried, curs shy;ing the tension that thrummed in his voice. "I am called Ariakas-I am a warrior with the temple that stands above our heads. Tell me, Vallenswade," he pressed, his voice sounding more relaxed. "What manner of creature are you? Do you live here, in the Sanctified Catacombs?"

He heard a dry, rustling chuckle. "I am one of a very old race-as old as the ogres, we are. We are the Shilo-Thahn- you humans, I believe, know us as the shadowpeople."

"Only by repute," Ariakas said with a grunt. His posi shy;tion became increasingly uncomfortable. "Do you sup shy;pose you could loosen this net a bit?" he asked.

"Will you give your word that you will not attack me or my people?"

"Yes-I give my word," Ariakas said hastily. "I just want to talk."

"Of course," Vallenswade agreed. He barked some commands in a strange tongue, and the warrior immedi shy;ately felt the strands loosen around them. Lyrelee rolled free, gasping for breath and rubbing her chafed arms.

Ariakas sat up, looking out the corner of his eye for his sword. He saw a flash of red in the darkness, and sensed that one of the shadowpeople had picked it up and whisked it away.