Ariakas barely listened-the Hylar's complaint had become a regular morning litany. The human's mind instead drifted into solitary meditation.

Twelve days on the road, and Tale Splintersteel had suggested it would take two or three weeks to reach Zhakar. Despite the rugged Khalkists, to date the trek had not been physically grueling. It surprised the war shy;rior to realize how much, after the bustle and crowds of Sanction, he enjoyed the solitude and silence of the mountain heights. For the first part of the journey, he had been concerned with threats in the rock-bound fast shy;ness around them. Ogres were the traditional foes in the Khalkists, but now they had gotten beyond ogre country. The land between Bloten and Zhakar, where Splinter-steel's vile-tempered cousins dwelt, had seemed to offer few threats. Of course, even with Tale accompanying them, he wasn't certain they would be received with open arms when they reached the dwarven realm.

The Zhakar merchant had told them a little about his homeland. Though the realm itself was extensive, includ shy;ing numerous crags and the valleys between, the dwar shy;ven population was concentrated in the subterranean city of Zhakar. The only part of that metropolis exposed to the light of day was a great, five-sided keep, which stood proudly on the rising slope above a mountain torrent called the Stonecrusher River. Though the keep itself was a respectable castle in size, Tale Splintersteel had told

them that it was nothing compared to the vast network of delvings and warrens concealed underneath. It was those warrens that their expedition hoped to reach. That was where the plague mold grew, and that was where they could gather enough of the dust to corrupt vast numbers of the metallic dragon eggs.

Ariakas smiled privately as he remembered the results of the first hatching of draconians. The lizard beings that emerged from the brass egg had proven strong and hardy, albeit rather stupid. They could not fly, but they were fast and readily used their fangs and claws for battle. Three of them had already been slain in the tests they had conducted in the temple, but Ariakas had become convinced that these draconians would form the backbone of a huge and capable army.

". .. far today?" Ferros concluded his question, look shy;ing at Ariakas expectantly.

"Sorry," the human replied. "What did you say?"

"Forget it," groused the dwarf, reaching around to scratch an itch behind his back. "Just making conversa shy;tion-wondered how many of these ridges we'll have to cross today."

"However many it is, you'll find us the passes, my friend," Ariakas said warmly. Indeed, the mountain dwarf had proven adept at guiding them along the best routes. Sheer granite barriers rose in seemingly endless succession across their path, and Splintersteel had told them that no regular overland route existed between Sanction and Zhakar. Each dwarven trading caravan, laden with weapons and coinage, apparently sought its own path to the port city.

'This isn't turning out like I figured it would," Ferros observed after a few moments' silence. "When I set out to find the dwarven kingdom in the Khalkists, I pictured a place like Thorbardin. Sure, there's bickering 'tween the clans, but by and large it's a prosperous, thriving place. Mountain and hill dwarf don't get along too well, but at least the hatchet's been buried for a few centuries, now.

"But here!" the Hylar continued, his tone growing exasperated. "Can you imagine a whole nation of dwarves like that little weasel over there? I tell you, it makes my skin crawl-and not just because of the way they look on the outside."

"They're not your run-of-the-mill dwarves, I'll grant you," Ariakas said good-naturedly. "Still, without Splintersteel we wouldn't have a chance on Krynn of reaching their kingdom." The warrior looked at the dwarf shrewdly. "Why are you so determined to find this place? I'd have thought you'd given up on the Zhakar as allies, by now."

Ferros shrugged. "I suppose I have . . . but there's something more. What made them into such hateful little snipes? Even if they'll never be allies of Thorbardin, I have to know…. I guess that's why I'm here."

"Do you think they can be changed-that you can change them?"

"I know the answer to that," Ferros sighed with a shake of his head. "At least, I think I do-and it's not hopeful."

"Nobody made you come along," Ariakas reminded him.

"True enough." Ferros went back to grousing. "Still, if you two had been left alone with Fungus-Cheeks, who knows what he might have done? And you!" The Hylar's tone grew accusing. "Bringing a woman along on a trip like this? What's the matter, didn't you get enough in the tower?"

Ariakas flushed. "It's different from the tower, damn it!" he snapped. "I thought you understood that!"

Ferros blinked, taken aback. Then he shook his head stubbornly. "You might call it different, but it looks to me like this one's got you hopping through the rings right in order."

"Never mind about her," the warrior replied, rising to his feet. Suddenly he was in a foul humor, anxious to get moving. He saw that the sunrise had already brightened most of the sky.

"Come on," he said peremptorily. "Daylight's wast shy;ing."

While the Hylar, grumbling, rose from his sheltered niche, Ariakas went to wake Lyrelee and Tale Splinter-steel. In neither case was he particularly gentle, and soon all four of them had dressed and hoisted their packs for another day on the trail.

This day, as on all the others, they climbed a steep ridge only to see from its crest the rolling ranks of the Khalkists, stretching before and behind them like break shy;ers on a vast, restless sea. Still, after all this time on the trail their muscles were hardened and their endurance great. The four travelers barely paused to catch their breath at the first summit before Ferros began picking out a route into the narrow valley below.

Tale Splintersteel followed directly on the heels of Fer shy;ros Windchisel. Always robed from head to toe, the Zhakar dwarf nevertheless made good time on his stocky legs. He seemed to have great freedom of movement even within the confines of his garment, leaping nimbly from rock to rock or scampering from ledge to shelf down a steep defile, and he often demonstrated real strength in his arms and shoulders when called upon to perform a belay or to hoist himself up or down a rope.

Lyrelee came next. Though the priestess was garbed in traveling leathers instead of the silken pants and blouse that she normally wore, Ariakas still saw in her the cat shy;like grace of movement that had first attracted him. Now, as he watched her climb, his mind often wandered over the delightful and sensual experiences they had shared in the past weeks.

Their intimacy had begun in Sanction, immediately following the creation of the first draconians. The combi shy;nation of the dangers they had shared and the thrill of opportunity present in the corruption ritual had infused them both with an animal passion that the time since had done very little to diminish.

Only after their first, exhaustive embrace had Ariakas recalled Takhisis's warning regarding women. Since then he had tried to rationalize the state of affairs, almost con shy;vincing himself that the goddess would not claim the life of one such faithful and capable priestess.

At first, when Tale had agreed to take Ariakas to Zhakar, neither the priestess nor the Hylar had struck the warrior as likely traveling companions. Ferros Wind-chisel remained determined to investigate the dwarven kingdom, however, and Ariakas had not tried hard to dissuade him from making the journey. Strangely, now that he knew the true nature of the Zhakar, Ferros had pursued his quest with more conviction than ever. The mountain dwarf's skills proved such an asset that even Tale Splintersteel had been forced to lay aside his preju shy;dices.