"All the cells are like this," Brenna announced when she was through, her disgust apparent in her voice. "All the occupants are dead. It's as if Maligor forgot about them and simply let them starve."

"Maybe," Galvin said. The druid was leaning against the door to the farthest cell and peering inside. "Bring the keys over here Brenna."

The enchantress hurried over and quickly unlatched the door. Galvin entered first, then turned and held out his hand to her. Taking it, Brenna climbed down the few steps to the cell floor. This cell was cleaner than the others, but splotches of dried blood covered most of the surface and partially obliterated a map that lay spread out on the floor.

Brenna bent to tug the parchment loose from the floor and study it. It was crude map, drawn with a shaky hand. The map depicted tunnels and traps and bore a few markings she couldn't decipher. She showed it to the druid, then blanched as he leaned against the wall to brace himself.

"You're weak. You need to rest," she admonished.

The druid nodded, too exhausted to argue.

They carried their find upstairs, noticing that the candles they had lit had all burned out. The trio had been below ground more than an hour, and the first rays of the dawning sun were spilling in through the windows and reflecting off the marble floor.

Galvin padded through the main hallway until he reached the doors through which they had entered the tower. He still moved unsteadily in his weakened state, and he tottered when he threw open the doors. Wynter trotted after him, the clip-clop of the centaur's hooves reverberating off the polished marble floor.

Brenna remained inside, studying the map and wondering what Galvin was doing. The clink of bones and swish of old, tattered cloth told her. He was ushering all of the undead inside to keep them from worrying Amruthar's citizens and from wandering away. The sorceress went several feet up the staircase and sat down to avoid rubbing up against the ambling corpses that flooded the hallway. The druid directed the skeletons and zombies down to the chambers below and called out to the wraiths to take charge of the other undead.

"I'll summon you when we're ready to leave," Galvin called, his tone halting, as if he were out of breath.

"Heal thyself, human," came the haunting reply. "We will leave at sunset."

It took a long time for the hundreds of sluggish corpses to file into the chambers below. When the last was gone, Wynter pushed the hidden door closed behind them.

Brenna spread the crude map out on some nearby steps, then hunched over to scrutinize it again. Galvin sat beside her.

"The map might not mean anything," he said, leaning back on his elbows and fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Maybe," she replied quickly, "But then again, maybe it's important."

The clip-clopping of Wynter's hooves caused the enchantress to glance up from the parchment. The centaur stood at the bottom of the short staircase and held out his hand. Brenna shrugged and passed him the map.

The centaur's dark eyes puzzled over the rough lines, then grew wide. "There are some hills marked here," Wynter said thoughtfully. "They've got to be Thay's gold mines, its lifeblood. People here will tell you the citrus and other crops support the country. But it's really the gold. If you have enough gold you don't need crops. You can buy anything you want. I'm starting to remember things, Brenna."

The enchantress grabbed the banister and pulled herself up. Galvin stayed rooted to the stairs.

"Show me," Brenna encouraged, and she hurried to Wynter's side.

The centaur pointed to various features on the map. Then he scratched his head. "I don't know what Maligor wants with the gold mines. There's a tharchion who supervises the mines. He's appointed by all the zulkirs jointly. The tharchion isn't going to throw in with Maligor, or with Szass Tam, for that matter," Wynter added. "Besides, the mines are north of here. Galvin said Maligor's army moved east."

"Could a large bird fly to the mines in an evening?" Galvin asked. "Are the mines close enough?"

The centaur knit his brows, puzzled at the question. "I suppose it could," he answered, "if the bird could fly fast. It really isn't all that far, but it would take a man several days, perhaps, to walk there."

Galvin sighed, then grinned at his Harper friend. Wynter certainly seemed to be recovering. The druid wanted the centaur fit and at his side when the confrontation with Maligor came.

"I don't know for sure what Maligor is up to, but I'll wager he's going after the mines," the druid suggested.

"Are we going to the mines?" Brenna asked. "After we rest?" she added hopefully.

"I need to rest." Galvin stood shakily. "There are beds in the apprentices' chambers, where we put the slaves. I'd like to sleep there. I'd feel more comfortable-for a change-with plenty of company around."

"I'll join you later," the centaur said, eyeing the long, circular staircase. "I've got some thinking to do first."

Brenna and Galvin slowly climbed the stairs. Above, in the chamber, they saw that many of the slaves were sleeping. A few groups remained awake, talking in low voices among themselves and examining some of the baubles they had collected.

The hare, mole, and hedgehog rested on a large silk pillow beneath the window.

The druid approached one of the older slaves. "We need to sleep awhile. Wake us in the early afternoon. I have to go into Amruthar to buy horses before the market closes."

"Horses?" Brenna asked incredulously. "There's nothing wrong with the ones we have. They'll certainly be rested enough."

"We can't ride dead ones." Galvin's tone was terse. "It seems that some of the zombies got hungry last night while we explored the tower."

The druid selected an unoccupied bed against the far wall, far from the windows, where it was darker. Removing his sword belt, tabard, and chain shirt, he pushed them under the bed, lay down, and made room for Brenna.

The enchantress paused, uncertain of what to do.

The druid stretched and raised his head off the satin-covered pillow. His green eyes gazed up at her. "Brenna…?"

The young councilwoman eased off her boots and climbed in beside him. He curled about her protectively and held her close about her waist.

"I thought you preferred to sleep on the ground," she said.

"Shhh," he replied, nuzzling the back of her neck.

She enjoyed the sensation, but it stopped much too quickly. Already the druid was sound asleep.

The dense fog lay across the land like a heavy gray blanket, its wispy tendrils wrapping themselves tightly around the dead trees, concealing them. Galvin picked his way through the cloaked terrain, one hand extended in front of him. The fog was so thick he could barely see six inches in front of his face. His other hand was firmly wrapped around Brenna's wrist.

Slowly he inched forward with one foot, discovering a fallen limb and gingerly stepping over it. He knew he couldn't afford stepping on a branch that would crack and give them away.

The druid was uncertain how long they had been moving away from Maligor's tower, but he knew they hadn't covered enough ground to satisfy him. He tried to increase the pace.

His hand met a branch, spooking a horned owl that had been perching on it. The bird hooted loudly as it flew high into the fog, and Galvin's heart raced.

Behind him, quite nearby, he heard the rustle of bushes and the snap of twigs. It was the sound of their pursuers. The druid considered standing still like a statue and pulling Brenna close to him; those following might pass by harmlessly in the fog. But then he heard their voices. Panicking, he ran, pulling Brenna along behind him.