It had been a glorious day, one of their first extended experiences as companions, marred only by an incident on the following morning. Tas had "found" a boat, then persuaded the rest of them to launch it on peaceful Crystalmir Lake. Some distance from shore, Caramon had spotted a large green dart-eel lazing about, and with typical ebullience, he had boasted he could catch it by hand. However, Raistlin's twin had leaned over too far, and the boat capsized.

Quick thinking by Raistlin led him to bob up underneath the boat in the air pocket entrapped there. Tas and Sturm were good swimmers and succeeded in righting the boat. Flint dove to rescue the burly Caramon, who couldn't swim and had sunk to the bottom. The long seconds stretched into minutes as the trio waited anxiously. Finally Sturm and Tas jumped in again. Sturm hauled a sputtering Caramon to the surface, and shortly thereafter, Tas came up holding on to Flint's collar. The half-drowned dwarf, choking and chilled to the bone, vowed that nobody would ever coax him into another boat for the rest of his life.

"Considering what a weak swimmer Flint is," said Tanis, "it was rather heroic of him to try to save your brother."

"Heroic and foolish," grunted Raistlin. But his tone had grown milder. Tanis, his gaze diverted by the rhythmic swaying of the treetops, didn't notice the young mage as he slumped down on his blanket and wrapped his cloak around himself.

"Yes," chuckled Tanis. "Heroic and foolish. Two words that go well together." He gazed up at the beauty of the moons and stars, drinking in the peacefulness of the place.

"Flint has mentioned that incident several times," he mused softly. "It's engraved on his consciousness. Worst of all, for him, may be the fact that he was rescued by Tasslehoff. Any way you look at it, he owes his life to the kender-at least that time. Repaying that debt might be the only thing that gets him back onto a body of water-even one as accursed as the Blood Sea."

Tanis paused, his thoughts returning for a moment to Kitiara. A rush of confused emotions swept over him. The half^elf had never been able to bring himself to speak to Raistlin about her. This might be a good time.

"Tell me, Raist," Tanis began. Then he heard soft breathing, turned, and saw that the young mage was deep in slumber.

He crossed over to Raistlin and dropped an extra blanket on him. The air was turning cold. Tanis sat back down, pulled his own cloak over his shoulders, and sighed. Although they should be in safe territory, he decided that he'd better keep watch for a few hours before catching some sleep himself.

By late morning of the next day, after following a rugged, steep path up the mountain flanks, the companions came to the place that the ogress had described and that Flint knew from his previous journeys. Standing in a narrow ravine, he pointed upward to a cluster of eroded sandstone crags that rose like a fortress high in the sky. At the top of one of them, they could see a shelf of stone that jutted toward the east, where the spectacular configuration was dwarfed by even more imposing mountain ranges.

Flint took the lead, climbing up the sheer rock face, following the line of crooked trees that clung stubbornly to cracks and crevices. Tanis came next, trailed by Raistlin. Each was roped to the other around the waist.

The crag they were scaling must have been four hundred feet high. It was slow going, made slower by the fact that Flint insisted on leading and doing things his own way. Meticulously he inched upward, pounding short iron stakes about an arm's length above his head and tying himself firmly before finding a new foothold. Raistlin had been prescient with his suggestion that the dwarf bring along everything necessary to survive a mountain expedition.

Tanis and Raistlin had an easier time of it, thanks to Flint's trailblazing. Still, even for an experienced climber, it was arduous work. The footholds that provided a secure respite were few. Tanis and Raistlin had to claw and cling to pitted rock while hoisting themselves ever upward. Toward the top, the temperature cooled noticeably, and unexpected gusts of wind buffeted their backs.

Flint had to admit that Raistlin possessed grit. The young mage didn't complain.

Only once did Raistlin weaken and slip. Ahead of him, Tanis was alert enough to pull the rope taut, breaking the young mage's fall, while with his other hand, he gripped the link to Flint above. Raistlin managed to pull himself up and grab hold of the rock face. Fluttering his hand, he signaled Flint to continue. The dwarf had been right in thinking that his sinewy friend Tanis would have no trouble safeguarding Raistlin.

After nearly two hours of hard climbing, the three of them attained the summit of the precipice. They slumped on the ledge, out of breath, before turning their eyes to behold what lay beyond. The shelf was just large enough for the three of them. As the precipice rounded to the east, it revealed massive mountains with dramatic escarpments and snowcapped domes.

Directly below them was a deep, jagged gorge. Steam from fissures in the rock obscured its bottom. A plunge down that craggy face would mean certain death.

As Flint stood on wobbly legs, he realized that the strong gusts of wind were coming at him from two directions, east and west, the ledge caught in a crossfire of physical forces.

The strong winds tore at him. He motioned for the other two to wait and crawled unsteadily to the far side of the ledge, where he pitted one of his iron stakes. While Tanis and Raistlin watched, he pitted several more, and then rigged his rope so that they might all stand, anchored to the crag, without being blown off into space.

They stared below.

"Is that where the portal is supposed to be?" asked Tanis skeptically. He had to repeat his question more loudly before it was heard over the rushing cry of the wind.

"Yes," shouted Raistlin, his voice hoarse.

"I wouldn't want to trust in it," said Flint. The other two said nothing in reply, because they would rather not depend on it either. But what choice did they have?

Flint picked up a loose rock and held it over the side. Tanis nodded. He let it drop.

They waited for several minutes, straining against the noise of the wind to hear it hit bottom. Finally Flint thought he heard a ping off the rocks below.

"No portal," said Flint disgustedly.

"Inanimate object," disagreed Raistlin, shouting again. "The portal won't accept an inanimate object unaccompanied by a mortal being, and in any case, it won't open until I cast the proper spell!"

After a long pause, Tanis asked, "How can we be sure?"

Raistlin didn't reply immediately. The three of them stood on the rock ledge, high atop the crag, leaning out over the craggy gorge that extended hundreds of feet below. The wind blasted around them, tearing at their hair and clothing. Flint's ropes kept them from toppling off, but even so, they had to struggle to maintain their balance.

"We don't know," yelled Flint finally.

"Is that right?" Tanis asked, turning toward Raistlin.

"Yes."

Tanis and Flint looked at each other. Flint rolled his eyes. Tanis unsheathed a knife.

"Then say the spell," the half-elf said.

Raistlin closed his eyes briefly, concentrating, then opened them. He murmured some ancient words that sounded incomprehensible to Flint. Then, in common language that both of them understood, he shouted, "Open portal!"

With his knife, Tanis slashed at the ropes that held them to the stakes. Swiftly he jammed it back in its sheath. As he did, the three of them moved forward, leaping off, Flint and Raistlin linking arms with Tanis in the middle. An unintelligible shriek escaped their lips.