"Can we get out the way that we fell in?"

Mumchance grunted. It was not a happy sound. "I sent Kid and that Procampur fellow to look. But I doubt it. The ceiling of the tunnel has probably collapsed between here and the entrance. We're buried alive and in danger of drowning."

Ivy stared into the darkness, listening to the water hissing below her. "That is a pleasant way to put it," she said at last. "Any bad news?"

Mumchance shook his head. "It could be worse. I can smell fresh air-well, not too stale air-and so could Kid."

"So another way out?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Hope so."

A clatter of hooves against stone announced the return of Kid and Sanval. They shared the party's other light between them, one of Kid's candles stuck in an earthenware bowl. Kid always had candles, bits of string, and a few odd dishes tucked in his clothing. Apparently some of his treasures had survived the fall.

"Blow it out," said Ivy, gesturing at the candle. Kid did as she asked, but Sanval looked like he wanted to protest at the sudden lack of light. With only Mumchance's lantern to hold back the darkness, the humans were at a distinct disadvantage.

"Why do that?" Sanval asked. He kept his voice low and polite, just as if they were sitting in the camp. He hadn't shouted, yelled, or screamed, although Ivy would have done all those things, and a bit more, if she had been dropped through somebody else's tunnel into this mess. Since she was the one who had started this tunnel, she was just managing to swallow her temper. After all, it would do her no good to scream at herself and it would worry the others.

For Sanval, she gave a fuller explanation than usual, mostly because she knew Procampur's forces were predominately human, and he'd probably never fought beside dwarves, half-orcs, half-genasi, and whatever Kid was (one of these days, Ivy meant to figure that out, but she wasn't too sure that she'd like the answer). "Because we may need that candle later," she explained to Sanval. "And by we, I mean you and me. The others can see in the dark."

"It's not so much seeing," explained Zuzzara, as she worked with a quick gentleness to bind Gunderal's arm into a comfortable position. For now, the half-orc seemed content to play nurse rather than nag.

"It's more like using the other senses. Sometimes a scent can have color and texture," said Gunderal.

"Smell, and sound, and touch, my dear," said Kid, with a tilt of his head.

"Even with one eye, I can see farther in the dark than any human." Mumchance snorted.

"So we can't afford to waste a candle while the lantern still has fuel," Ivy concluded. "We save the light and trust the others-by which I mean everyone who isn't human-to keep watch."

"It is your company, Captain," said Sanval, giving Ivy a title that she rarely used. But he was right; she held the high rank in their group, if only because nobody else wanted the title, and it sounded good when negotiating with someone like the Thultyrl. Ivy stared at Sanval. He gave her that straight-ahead, honest gaze that went with the square chin and rigidly straight helmet (she wondered if it had stayed straight during his fall, or if he had shifted the helmet back into its perfect alignment the first chance he got). Still, the level, honest stare was better than that nobleman's down-the-nose look that he wore sometimes when she was being truly obnoxious. Ivy chose to interpret this as meaning he would not openly disagree with her orders-after all, it was her company, not his.

"Thank all the gods little and small, or heavy and tall, that Procampur is too polite to fight," she hummed under her breath. It was another one of the camp songs, a ditty that the mercenaries favored as an explanation as to why Procampur's soldiers rarely got into the kind of camp squabbles that kept life in the mercenary section so interesting on a daily basis.

The Procampur gentleman acted as though he had not heard her and mused in his usual mild tone, "Fighting by candlelight or lamplight poses some interesting challenges."

"We will have no need of swords," Ivy said. "There is probably nothing down here but mud and a few rats." Or at least she hoped that was the case. They had a job to do, and one of the worst parts of tunneling under other people's walls was the nasty little surprises that you found underground. There were days when Ivy could swear that there was more wildlife below the earth than above it.

Mumchance muscled between the two of them.

"So now where?" said the dwarf. "If it would please you, Captain"-and his emphasis on the title was as dry as his beard was dripping wet-"to make up your mind while our boots are still out of the water." Like all the Siegebreakers, Mumchance took Ivy's title for what it was-a sham meant to fool other people-but he generally listened to her orders before criticizing. "Humans are never half as clever with their hands as the silliest dwarf child," Mumchance once told her. "But your race is good at the obvious when it comes to survival. Given half a chance, you can wiggle your way out of a bad situation faster than a rat can gnaw through cheese."

"River isn't over our heads yet," said Ivy, "but we're still all soaked and freezing. I want to be dry and I want to be warm before I start any march out of here. Can't use Gunderal's potions. How about that ring of yours, Zuzzara?"

The half-orc held up her bare hand, displaying a heavy gold ring with a crystal set within the band. "There's only one spell left." She sneezed. "Shouldn't we save it?"

Ivy looked them over. Gunderal looked like a carving made of bone, her complexion more yellow-white than its usual pale pearl. The tip of Zuzzara's nose was turning a nice shade of purple to match the deep gray shadows under her eyes. Mumchance huddled down into the collar of his armor like an old turtle trying to disappear into his shell, while Wiggles shivered at his feet, a miserable bundle of soggy fur. Only Sanval and Kid weren't shivering. In Kid's case, the heat of his ruddy skin was causing the water to literally steam off with a smell like wet goat and sulfur combined. Sanval, of course, stood like a carved post, apparently oblivious to the water dripping off his shiny helmet, streaming across his bright breastplate, and pooling around his well-polished bootheels.

"We need to be dry," said Ivy. "If only to get rid of that stink that Kid is giving off." With a little pointed grin, Kid clattered his hooves and flapped his arms to encourage the cloud around him to drift over the others. Zuzzara sneezed again.

"Zuzzara should save that spell, especially since I can't do anything," argued Gunderal, but she shivered as soon as she spoke. "We may need her ring later."

Zuzzara shook her head. With a worried glance at Gunderal, she replied, "No, we'd better use it now. Your magic will come back quick enough." The half-orc twisted the ring around on her finger and muttered the words needed to set off the spell.

The spell smelled like roses and felt like a desert wind, a long warm breath that blew across them. Heat, dry heat, surrounded them. The whole group was caught in a mini-tornado of hot, whirling air.

The warmth of the spell slid right down into Ivy's bones. She sighed with pleasure. Dry and warm was the best feeling in the world, Ivy decided. And the cleaning that went with the spell was rather nice too. At least one or two layers of grime had disappeared from her armor, not that magic could ever give it a polish to compare with Sanval's breastplate.

The rest of the group looked as happy as Ivy felt. Kid's curls tightened around his horns, Gunderal looked more pink than white, Zuzzara stopped sneezing, Sanval's armor practically dazzled the eye in the lamplight, and even Mumchance's scanty beard had curled back up around his chin, instead of dripping down his chest. Wiggles danced on her back legs, obviously delighted to be a white fluffy dog again instead of resembling a drowned white rat.