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"Well, um, I, uh," said Slip. Some of her confusion might have come from shock at Twilight's guess-some from fear. "I'm not really, um, a priest, uh, exactly."

"Fair enough." She turned back and beckoned. "Taslin."

The elf moved up to Twilight's side. Clad in full armor, hand on her sword hilt, the eldritch priestess looked bold and strong compared to the hesitant halfling at her side. Slip crossed her arms and assumed a pout.

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "Y›oyou have power over the walking dead?"

"The power of Corellon shall smite them if they dare rise against us," Taslin said.

"An 'aye' would do as well, sun-but onward. Conjure some light and let us go."

Twilight, Slip, and Taslin strode into the room. In her armor, the priestess made enough noise to wake the dead, but Twilight decided that was irrelevant. If anything objected to being roused, Taslin would give them a morning feast of Corellon's power. The Seldarine had their uses.

Slip, not to be completely undone, sent a flicker of magic into a stone that she held, lighting it.

The crypt was wide with a low ceiling. Compartments for the dead were carved in the walls. Decorating the walls were runes and crumbling mosaics. The former she could not read, and the latter depicted great battles between spellhurlers, dragons, and creatures she didn't recognize-strange worms shaped like cones, with arms that flung fire. The humans seemed to be winning, but Twilight knew appearances could be deceiving. A central mosaic on the ceiling depicted a number of casters-one crowned wizard in particular-surrounding a black creature in a cage of magical force.

She and Slip scanned the coffins but found nothing. Neither rat nor insect moved, and not a shadow stirred. They found no corpses, nor bones become half-dust-though the fresh stains were curious. In several of the compartments, Twilight also found teeth-broken and discarded-which she didn't reveal to the others. No sense worrying them.

Twilight waved forward the others. Gargan and Liet, blades at the ready, stood at the flanks of Davoren and Asson. The warlock sneered, uncertain whether to be insulted at the concern or pleased at the attention. Jaw set, Asson gripped his walking staff with its silver flame.

From the way Taslin, Asson, and Gargan moved, Twilight could tell they had delved into crypts before. Slip and Liet, not so much.

Several long breaths passed and nothing sprang from the darkness to attack. Each visibly relaxed, and even the nervous Slip breathed easier.

"Aye," she said, making them all jump. "Why do you suppose we're here?"

"Philosophy is a waste of schooling," Davoren said with a dismissive wave.

"No, silly," Slip said. "I mean here in this dungeon, of course."

That got a reaction. Twilight saw Davoren staring at her. His mouth opened, and she held up a hand to stop them all. "Perhaps later," Twilight said. "Keep your guard."

"Twilight is correct," Taslin said, though the words didn't seem to please her. "We cannot be too careful." She fell into a chant, then, beseeching Corellon's aid.

"A meaningless gesture," said Davoren. He leaned against an open sarcophagus and illuminated its interior with ruby fire. Empty. "There hasn't been anything alive in these catacombs for many years."

Twilight thought of a riposte, but Asson beat her to it. "Undead are, by definition, dead," he said.

Davoren spat on the floor.

Taslin finished her spell and laid a hand on Asson's shoulder. A golden aura surrounded him, then faded. "Soyou will need no aid," she said to Davoren.

The warlock scoffed. "As though I would accept your pathetic spells."

"As you say," said Taslin. "I can cast the spell once more." She looked at Gargan, but the goliath stepped away.

"No," said Twilight when Taslin turned to her. The sun elf didn't seem convinced, so Twilight added an explanation. "As much as I can avoid it."

Though her eyes remained suspicious, Taslin shrugged. She looked to Liet, who made no protest. Tenderly, she laid her hands on his