“No one ever bothers to lock floor gratings.” Tas pulled Tanis close to whisper in his ear. “But I’m sure I can open it, if it is.”
Tanis nodded. He didn’t add that Bupu had been able to open it as well. The art of picking locks was as much a matter of pride to the kender as Slum’s moustaches were to the knight.
They all stood watching, knee-deep in water, as Tas skimmed up the ladder.
“I still don’t hear anything outside,” Sturm muttered.
“Shhhh!” Caramon growled harshly.
The grating had a lock, a simple one that Tas opened in moments. Then he silently lifted the grating and peered out.
Sudden darkness descended on him, darkness so thick and impenetrable it seemed to hit him like a lead weight, nearly making him lose his hold on the grating. Hurriedly he put the grating back into place without making a sound, then slid down the ladder, bumping into Tanis.
“Tas?” the half-elf grabbed him. “Is that you? I can’t see. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. It just got dark all of a sudden.”
“What do you mean, you can’t see?” Sturm whispered to Tanis. “What about your elf-talent?”
“Gone,” Tanis said grimly, “just as in Darken Wood-and out by the well. . . .”
No one spoke as they stood huddled in the tunnel. All they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and water dripping from the walls.
The dragon was up there-waiting for them.
21
The sacrifice.
The twice-dead city.
Despair blacker than the darkness blinded Tanis. It was my plan, the only way we had a chance to get out of here alive, he thought. It was sound-it should have worked! What went wrong? Raistlin-could he have betrayed us? No! Tanis clenched his fist. No, damn it. The mage was distant, unlikable, impossible to understand, yes, but he was loyal to them, Tanis would swear it. Where was Raistlin? Dead, perhaps. Not that it mattered. They would all be dead.
“Tanis”-the half-elf felt a firm grasp on his arm and recognized Sturm’s deep voice-“I know what you’re thinking. We have no choice. We’re running out of time. This is our only chance to get the Disks. We won’t get another.”
“I’m going to look,” Tanis said. He climbed past the kender and peered through the grate. It was dark, magically dark.
Tanis put his head in his hand and tried to think. Sturm was right, time was running out. Yet how could he trust the knight’s judgement? Sturm wanted to fight the dragon! Tanis crawled back down the ladder. “We’re going,” he said. Suddenly all he wanted to do was get this over with, then they could go home.
Home to Solace. “No, Tas.” He grabbed hold of the kender and dragged him back down the ladder. “The fighters go first- Sturm and Caramon. Then the rest.”
But the knight was already shoving past him eagerly, his sword clanking against his thigh.
“We’re always last!” Tasslehoff sniffed, shoving the dwarf along. Flint climbed the ladder slowly, his knees creaking.
“Hurry up!” Tas said. “I hope nothing happens before we get there. I’ve never talked to a dragon.”
“I’ll bet the dragon’s never talked to a kender either'” The dwarf snorted. “You realize, you hare-brain, that we’re probably going to die. Tanis knows, I could tell by his voice.”
Tas paused, clinging to the ladder while Sturm slowly pushed on the grating. “You know, Flint,” the kender said seriously, “my people don’t fear death. In a way, we look forward to it-the last big adventure. But I think I’d feel badly about leaving this life. I’d miss my things”-he patted his pouches-“and my maps, and you and Tanis. Unless,” he added brightly, “we all go to the same place when we die.”
Flint had a sudden vision of the happy-go-lucky kender lying cold and dead. He felt a lump of pain in his chest and was thankful for the concealing darkness. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, “If you think I’m going to share my afterlife with a bunch of kender, you’re crazier than Raistlin. Come on!”
Sturm carefully lifted the grating and shoved it to one side It scraped over the floor, causing him to grit his teeth. He heaved himself up easily. Turning, he bent down to help Caramon who was having trouble squeezing his body and his clanking arsenal through the shaft.