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By Root 981 0

the shivering Slip and looked around. The room in which they found themselves could have been a smithy of some sort. Hammers and chisels and many things he couldn't recognize lay scattered and shattered about them. In the center was something that looked like an anvil, or perhaps an altar-a simple block of jet black stone. Other doors were visible, all shaped like crescents, stars, and inverted triangles. In the center of the room was a black disk, like the trapdoor they had come through.

"I wonder if she sent us here intentionally," the warlock said.

He looked at Liet, panting heavily. "Come-what would your mistress say if she saw you cowering?"

Liet wanted to retort, "She would praise me for having the sense to stay alive under a surprise attack, but by all means, go play if you want. Try not to get yourself killed too messily," like Twilight would have. As it was, he said, "My mistress?"

Then a hissing sound came from below, as of metal grinding against metal. The inert disk gave a shudder and sank. They backed away and hefted weapons. When the disk returned, standing upon it was a familiar, dark-haired elf.

"You called?" she asked, wearily.

" 'Light!" said Liet, moving forward.

Twilight stopped him with a raised hand. Something had unnerved her, clearly.

"What is it?" demanded the warlock. "More foes, coming from below?" He spat.

"What did you find?" Liet asked.

Twilight shut her eyes. "A mythallar," she said.

Davoren scoffed. "And so? This is a Netherese city, and such was the magic of the empire of magic-"

Twilight shook her head. "It isn't that simple," she said. She gestured to the lifting disk that had just carried her up. "The mythallar I found-it's still active."

CHAPTER Eighteen

Sitting in a corner of what Liet had taken to calling the Forge of the Seven Stars, Twilight blew out a long, troubled sigh. Liet had called this a smithy, though there was no pit for fire or water. Neither of these oversights surprised Twilight. If she had seen them-meaning the owner hadn't used magic-that would have surprised her. Netheril.

That they were inside one of the fallen cities of that mighty age was something Twilight could accept. That the city's mythallar still functioned, however-at least partly-unnerved her deeply.

The others hadn't seen the significance until Twilight explained it. Aside from its own essence, she had sensed three types of magic emanating from the mythallar-conjuration, enchantment, and transmutation-which must reflect dweomers that it maintained. That was its purpose, after all, to maintain the function of magical devices-the question in this case was what sort of devices?

Somehow, the mythallar maintained life in this cave, but would that continue? Would Twilight and the others find the limit of the mythallar's range, where the air would simply disappear and they would perish? Or, worse-would the mythallar finally expire, and whatever life-supporting spells it maintained vanish in an instant, killing them no matter where they were in the city?

These considerations fueled Twilight's desire to find a way out, and soon.

The bee-creatures Liet described had not reappeared, but Twilight had seen black forms moving in that strange amber substance. Was it a hive of some kind? That might explain the flowers. A veritable madman's garden bloomed outside, and in here as well. Moss and vines crept through cracks and empty windows.

Nature has conquered this city, Twilight thought.

She looked around at her companions. Davoren lounged against the wall, seeming to sleep but really watching them all. In contrast, Liet snored against the opposite wall. Gargan sat sharpening the band's blades-excepting Twilight's rapier and the stiletto she'd taken from Davoren.

Twilight saw the halfling sitting still-gathering her focus for healing, likely-her face nothing but tranquility. The group was hungry-they had eaten little since Taslin's death a day and a half before, rationing out the remaining food-but calm.

Curious. Even in such tense, dark circumstances, the little one could know peace.

"Slip,"