Angrily Tarn shook his head, thinking. Why was his mother heading to the boat dock and still wearing that helm? Looking out over the sea Tarn saw the inverted cone of the Life-Tree, now scarred by countless fires, pocked by the ravages of destructive Chaos. The fire dragon must have returned there. In an instant of clarity he knew where Garimeth would be going with the treasure she had stolen from his father.

"Okay you've convinced me," he said and turned to the gully dwarves, who erupted in a spontaneous cheer. Scrutinizing the dark dwarf city again, Tarn suddenly saw a possibility-not really an opportunity perhaps, but at least the ghost of a chance. "See there," he told Regal, "on the closest part of the waterfront?"

"Right. Where rocks spilled, dock not so big on this side."

"No, nor so crowded." He studied that part of Daerforge where the collapse had isolated a small section of the waterfront. There were some dark dwarves and a few boats along the edge but nothing like the crowds that thronged on the other side of the lakeshore. "It's cut off almost completely from the rest of the city," he explained, his pulse quickening.

"Not so many boats there," Regal demurred. "We wanta choose from lotsa boats."

"But not so many dark dwarves, either," the half-breed countered. "And believe me, once you've been in a few boats you realize that they're all pretty much the same."

"I dunno." Regal was still skeptical, but he and his fellow Aghar nevertheless followed Tarn as he filed through the channels and ravines of the gully dwarf city. "Main Street Number One," noted Regal, though Tarn could see no way that this path was an extension of the subterranean pipe that had also been labeled as "Main Street Number One."

Nearing the edge of Daerforge, Tarn started down a steep descent. Abruptly one of his boots slipped, and he skidded several feet down the tumbling ravine. Quickly he recovered his balance and, still muttering curses, climbed to his feet. Beside him was a motionless gully dwarf. For a moment he feared he had knocked and dragged the fellow down with his own clumsiness.

"Sorry friend. Can I give you a hand?"

Then he saw the arrow. A steel shaft had punctured the Aghar's neck from behind. Tarn knew the gully dwarf was quite dead.

"An arrow, and poisoned too!" he hissed through clenched teeth, immediately turning to scour the heights.

He could see no sign of the mysterious attacker as the other gully dwarves gathered around.

"Poor Rocco," Regal said sadly. "At least he got to walk right in front of you. That what he wanted."

"And he was shot right after I stumbled," Tarn realized, the knowledge bringing a prickle of alarm.

He didn't speak the rest of the deduction aloud, but it was a certainty in his own mind. That deadly arrow had in fact been intended for Tarn Bellowsmoke, not the unfortunate Aghar named Rocco. But who had shot at him, and why? He wondered if his mother had sent an assassin after him after she had discovered the escape. But he couldn't believe that she would stoop to something so evil as killing her own son.

Again he studied the rising ground behind them, seeing no sign of the attacker. They started down again, but now Tarn led them through some of the deepest trenches and urged the group into a ragged trot when they had to cross the occasional stretches of open ground. They could see several boats along the nearer section of the shoreline, as well as a few more pulling this way as their crews strived to reach the dark dwarf city. The "Main Street" took a dramatic downhill turn, becoming indistinguishable from a natural ravine, and Tarn felt some relief as they were able to follow the deep cut steadily toward the lake shore.

Finally they reached a shelf of rock directly above the flat stretch of Daerforge's docks. The water of the Urkhan Sea, still roiling from the Chaos storm, smashed against the solid stone bulwark of the wharf a short stone's throw away. Several rock piers jutted like stubby fingers into the water, but there were no boats docked close by. However, this section of the waterfront was concealed from the view of the rest of the city by the sloping pile of rubble that had been spilled by the collapse.

"Look! Here comes a boat!" cried Regal, standing up and pointing until Tarn grabbed his shoulder and quickly pulled him back to cover.

But the Aghar's observation had been correct, and now Tarn saw a long-hulled lake boat, propelled only by a half dozen oars, fighting its way through the pitching waters. After its crew had time to observe the crowd and the tangle of watercraft at the main portion of the docks, this boat veered away, making landfall near the isolated and relatively empty section of wharf where Tarn and the gully dwarves lay in wait.

"I'm going to sneak over there and try to get as close as I can," the half-breed whispered softly.

"We sneak too!" cried a dozen Aghar, not softly at all. Fortunately, the sound seemed to be swallowed by the general noise of storm and activity.

Tarn wasn't at all confident of his companions' stealth, but he quickly realized that there would be no dissuading the excited gully dwarves.

"Be careful," he warned, exasperated.

"We good sneakers!" Regal proclaimed, and, sure enough, the Aghar all but disappeared as they followed Tarn down the steep slope. They were indeed good sneakers.

Crouching at the foot of the embankment, Tarn scrutinized the dock, watching as the longboat lurched slightly in the swell and then glided up to the side of the solid wharf.

One dark dwarf hopped out of the boat before it had come to rest. "You wait here," he called over his shoulder to the others. "I'll find out our orders."

There was some loud grumbling from the rest of the crew, but ultimately they remained at their benches, holding the boat in the swell next to the dock while their compatriot scrambled over broken stones and soon passed out of sight.

Tarn looked skeptically at the boat. There were at least a dozen battle-hardened fighters sitting at the oars, ready to row or to fight. With the half-breed were perhaps twice that many Aghar, but he had few illusions about the fighting capabilities of his motley band. It was far better, he decided, to wait for a chance to take an unoccupied boat or one with only one or two dwarves on guard.

Regal Everwise, however, had other plans.

"Get boat!" he cried, leaping to his feet. He hopped down to the dock while the other Aghar, gaping in stupefaction, watched.

"Hey, you! I want boat!" Strutting like a lord, Regal ambled toward the craft. Tarn held his breath, realizing that none of the rest of them had been spotted. Instead, all the dark dwarves' attention was fixed upon the small, rotund Regal, who spoke with such annoying arrogance.

All but spitting in their rage at such insolence, several Daergar dropped their oars and scrambled onto the dock, stumbling over themselves in their eagerness to teach this gully dwarf a permanent lesson. Regal stopped his sauntering advance but made no effort to retreat back to safety.

And Tarn saw only one thing he could possibly do.

"Charge!" he shouted, drawing his short sword and leaping down to the dock. He didn't stop to see whether the rest of the Aghar followed. Instead, he raced at full speed toward the foremost Daergar, a hulking one-eyed axeman who had been quick to lead his comrades onto the dock.

The scarred warrior halted in surprise when Tarn appeared, then raised his axe with a look of enthusiasm, ready to meet this new opponent. But the sprinting half-breed was too fast, and he stabbed first, dropping the Daergar with a fatal piercing into the heart. Tarn's momentum momentarily staggered the rest of the dark dwarves, who were close together at the edge of the dock. With another swift hack and shove, Tarn sent a shrieking dark dwarf tumbling into the deep water beside the dock.