Pool of Twilight - James M. Ward [60]
She shrugged. "I suppose 'glory' isn't the right word, considering the great evil of the Red Wizard who built this tower. But even you, noble paladin, must admire the loyalty inherent in these stones, a loyalty that compels them to raise themselves anew long years after their master's death."
Miltiades nodded silently, but he found her words curious. The wild mage was something of a mystery to him. Most living beings radiated strong auras that revealed their true natures to the paladin. But from Sirana he sensed… nothing. True, he could detect nothing evil about her-unlike these ruins, which seemed to ooze evil like foul ichor. However, he could not sense any goodness in the wild mage either.
"So where do we start looking for the hammer, Kern?" Daile asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Down," he said, gazing at the jagged, broken tower. "Down in the darkness below."
"Then we must start by locating the stairway," Miltiades offered. "When the tower was whole, there was a vast, spiral staircase of red marble that led from a great hall down to the caverns beneath. That was where the pool of darkness lay, as well as the cavern where Phlan was imprisoned. It must lie somewhere in the heart of the ruins."
"If it hasn't been buried in the rubble," Kern added grimly.
"I think this calls for a little scouting, don't you, Daile?" Ren said.
The archer nodded at her father. "When we rode into the valley, I caught sight of the remains of a guard tower on the far side of the ruins. I bet it would give us a good vantage."
Ren grinned proudly at his daughter.
Miltiades pointed out a huge, headless statue that stood near the center of the ruins. Ren and Daile agreed to rendezvous with the others there in two hours' time. The two rangers quickly disappeared among the boulders.
Well, Kern thought, there's no use in lingering. With a deep breath, he plunged into the ruins, Miltiades, Sirana, and Listle following.
The valley was a brooding place. The air was stifling, and the ground was as hard and cracked as if it had been fired in a furnace. Half-formed walls sketched vague, roofless rooms, and massive lintels marked doorways leading nowhere. Scabrous lichen covered the stones like a disease. Dusting everything was a fine, sparkling powder, the remnants of Listle's spell.
"You have talent, little sister," Sirana said with a pretty smile. "It is no mean feat to cast a spell covering such a large area. Now you simply need to learn how to focus your energies. But I'm certain, once you gain a little experience, you'll have no trouble."
Listle's eyes were diamond-hard. "Why, thank you, Sirana," she said frostily. She knew she shouldn't let Sirana's imperious manner get to her, but Kern was so insufferably polite to the wild mage, so deferential and gallant. Even now he nodded attentively as she walked beside him, talking softly about the gods knew what.
Probably me, Listle thought glumly.
"Are you well, Listle?" a dry voice inquired.
She barely noticed the involuntary shiver that ran up her spine. She was still getting used to Miltiades-and the chill that perpetually hovered around him.
"Do you trust her, Miltiades?" Listle asked quietly, gazing at the wild mage.
The skeletal knight was silent for a time. "Trust is like a shield," he said finally. "It has two surfaces, one facing inward and one facing outward. Without both, the shield cannot be." Miltiades seemed to smile, even though his lips had turned to dust centuries ago. "But in answer to your question, Listle, I do not know whether to trust Sirana. But she has been helpful to our quest so far, and until she acts otherwise, I will regard her as an ally, if not a friend."
"Oh," was all Listle said. His words did not ease her troubled heart, and both of them knew it.
"Listle, take a look at this," Kern said, interrupting the elf's reverie. He and the wild mage had stopped in front of a doorway set into a high stone wall. The magic that was rebuilding the tower had accomplished much in this place. The wall was solid, curving to the