"You not smell like wunna them dark dwarves. You different."

Tarn was startled, and a little embarrassed at the notion that there was a difference between Hylar and Daergar that a crude creature like this could actually smell.

"But tell me, Regal, how do you get to other parts of Agharbardin from here? And where did you go when those other dwarves came in?"

With Tarn following, the gully dwarf crossed to the wardrobe. He reached down and pushed on a corner of the flagstone forming the closet floor. Tarn was amazed to see the whole surface pivot easily to the side. He reached down, found the trapdoor to be plaster instead of stone. Beneath the door was a narrow shaft in the floor with a single-post ladder leaning against the rim. Tarn wondered if the ladder would hold him, but also knew he really didn't care. He was determined to get out.

"Did gully dwarves build this?" he wondered.

"We get some help sometimes. But you be surprised, you see what one clever fella like Regal Allatimesmart can do."

"Will you give me a tour, show me some of the rest of your city?" Tarn asked, picking up his boots and quickly lacing them onto his feet.

Regal looked around the room and shrugged. "No food left. No beer either. Sure, we take a walk."

Tarn went first, finding that the ladder could hold his weight. In another moment Regal was closing the concealed trapdoor over their heads.

Incursion of Madness

The Hylar thane stiffened in his chair, his entire body quivering with excitement. However, Baker Whitegranite avoided touching the ancient parchment that was so carefully laid upon his desk. He knew that the slightest disturbance might be enough to crumble the sheet into dust-a crime of cosmic proportions. He had finally begun to understand that here, at last, he had stumbled upon the treasure he had been seeking his entire life.

He took the time to carefully polish his spectacles, drawing a deep breath and telling his heart to be still. Without the helm it had taken him a whole hour to translate a brief passage, but he had just checked his work and felt certain he was right.

Turning back to the passage scribed in Chisel Loremaster's precise and unmistakable hand, Baker read it again:

At first the young serpents emerged from the Grotto hesitantly, two or three at a time. They would perch at the edge of the precipice and stare into the eternal blackness over the distant sea, wings buzzing with an audible hum. And it was a vast space before them, for we were near the "summit" of the great, inverted mountain. The water was a long way down. Also, the mouth of the cavern faced in the precise direction where the cavern wall lay at its farthest extent from the pillar.

It was the most concrete evidence yet that the ancient lair of the good dragons had lain high on the southwest wall-actually, just west of southwest. Baker's earlier investigations included a detailed survey of the area. In fact, he had been so certain of his hypothesis that he had chosen to have his own house located here, in this quarter of Level Twenty-eight. But now he had real confirmation!

If only he could afford the time for further study. He looked at the scrolls piled at the edge of his desk, and knew that each one might yield a revelation as encouraging as the last one. But even now he knew these moments of scholarly inquiry were a luxury he could not afford.

In truth, he probably should have been in the Thane's Atrium right now. With a sigh, he pushed back his chair and rose. Clumping wearily over to the table, he tried to focus on some materials and information related to his duties as thane.

A messenger, his words duly conveyed to the palace scribe, had come from Belicia Felixia Slateshoulders. Her report told of mercantile interests on the waterfront that were resisting her efforts to make preparations. Next she had presented a plan for defense of the dockside in the event of a waterborne attack by some fractious clan of dark dwarves. Hence, Baker saw the merchants' objection. Belicia had stated that her small company could not hold the docks against any major attack. They would inevitably be outflanked and destroyed after a short and futile fight.

As an alternative she proposed to form a line of defense at the bottlenecks connecting the waterfront on Level One with the great trading plaza of Level Two. Four stout shield-walls could hold the broad stairways leading up from the dockside to the interior of the Life-Tree. With these steps blocked, Belicia was confidant that she could hold out for a long time against a force much larger than her own.

Beside the military report was a stack of letters from those same merchants. The diatribe from Hoist Back-wrench, a prominent shipper, was typical. He complained that this young Hylar captain of the guard had ordered him to move the bulk of his stock up to the second level. He protested that such a demand far exceeded Belicia's authority and that, furthermore, it placed an intolerable burden on his ability to compete with his rivals.

Vale interrupted the Thane to announce that another messenger had arrived from the Thane's Atrium.

A young scribe, his beard short but bristling outward well beyond his ears, hurried in with a parchment. Baker felt a guilty sense of relief that the youngster had caught him here at his worktable instead of perusing musty scrolls at his desk.

"My Lord Thane," he said breathlessly, "this request from the Mercenaries Guild asks you to release weapons from the royal armory. They pledge to bring you two hundred sword arms."

"A good offer to be sure, but I thought all the guildhands went with Thane Hornfel," Baker inquired, perplexedly. He was unwilling to put too much hope into the prospect of additional forces from this unlikely source. "I know he put out a summons to all the mercenary companies."

"Er…" The scribe hesitated awkwardly. "I had a word with the guildman who delivered the note. It seems that these two hundred were unable to meet the requirements. The fact is, many of them are lame. Others are blind, or have lost an arm or a tongue. Still, the man said they were all willing to fight on behalf of the Life-Tree if needed."

"And what of this man who brought the word from the guild? Did he have a name? What was he like?"

"He seemed hale enough-if perhaps a bit on the gray side of middle age. His name was Broadaxe, as I recall."

"Very well." Baker signed the request, authorizing the Hylar armory-which doubled as the royal treasury-to issue enough swords, shields, and assorted elements of armor to outfit a company of as many Mercenary Guild recruits as would present themselves.

"Can you send word about this to Axel Slateshoulders?" he asked the scribe.

"Of course, my Lord Thane."

The young dwarf left. Baker wasn't yet ready to turn to the next paper, a requisition for some new dirtmoss that was needed to augment the water gardens on Level Twenty-two. He was suddenly startled by the sounds of a large crash. The thunder of rock and gravel suggested a cave in. Running from his study, he found Vale throwing open the door to the garden. The normally moist, cool air was thick with dust. Baker was stunned to see that a small section of the ceiling had tumbled down to reveal a dark passageway leading into the mountain.

"Here, you-stop that!" Vale darted into the garden, accosting a dwarf who had apparently dropped from the newly-created opening.

Baker caught a glimpse of wild eyes and a bristling, wiry beard. Then the newcomer whooped and thrust with a short sword. Vale gasped and tumbled backward into Baker's arms, as more dwarves dropped from the tunnel into the garden.

The thane pulled his loyal servant back through the door and slammed the portal shut, dropping the heavy bar. He saw that Vale's chest was covered with blood as he vaguely heard the strange dwarves shouting to each other in a bizarre sing-song. In seconds the sounds faded, and he knew they had charged out the garden gate onto the street.