The Mole waited until she took her hand away, then quickly
tucked his own under the table. He spoke reluctantly. “There
are tunnels all through the rock beneath the palace of the Kings
of Tyrsis. They connect with cellars and dungeons that lie for-
gotten. Some, one or two perhaps, open into the Pit.”
Damson nodded. “We need you to take us there.”
The Mole shivered. “Dark things-Shadowen–will be there.
What if they find us? What will we do?”
Damson’s eyes locked on Par. “This Valeman has use of
magic as well, Mole. But it is not magic like mine that plays
tricks and entertains, it is real magic. He is not afraid of the
Shadowen. He will protect us.”
Par felt his stomach tighten at the words-words that made
promises he knew deep down inside he might not be able to
keep.
The Mole was studying him once more. His dark eyes blinked.
“Very well. Tomorrow I will go into the tunnels and make
certain they can still be traversed. Come back when it is night
again, and if the way is open I will take you.”
“Thank you, Mole,” Damson said.
“Finish your tea,” the Mole said quietly, not looking at
her.
They sat in silence in the company of the toy animals and did
so.
It was still raining when they left the maze of underground
tunnels and sewer channels and slipped back through the
empty streets of the city. Damson led the way, surefooted in
the mist and damp, a cat that didn’t mind the wet. She re-
turned the Valemen to the storage shed behind the gardening
shop and left them there to get some sleep. She said she
would return for them after midday. There were things that
she needed to do first.
But Par and Coil didn’t sleep. They kept watch instead, sitting
at the windows and looking out into a curtain of fog that was
filled with the movement of things that weren’t there and thick
with the reflected light of the coming day. It was almost morning
by then, and the sky was brightening in the east. It was cold in
the shed, and the brothers huddled in blankets and tried to put
aside their discomfort and the disquieting thought of what lay
ahead.
For a long time neither of them spoke. Finally Par, his im-
patience used up, said to his brother, “What are you thinking
about?”
Coil took a moment to consider, then simply shook his head.
“Are you thinking about the Mole?”
Coil sighed. “Some.” He hunched himself within his blan-
ket. “I should be worried about placing my life in the hands of
a fellow who lives underground with the relics of other people’s
lives for possessions and toy animals for companions, but I’m
not. I don’t really know why that is. I guess it is because he
doesn’t seem any stranger than anyone else connected with
what’s happened since we left Varfleet. Certainly, he doesn’t
seem any crazier.”
Par didn’t respond to that. There wasn’t anything he could
say that hadn’t already been said. He knew his brother’s feelings.
He pulled his own blanket tight and let his eyes close against the
movement of the fog. He wished the waiting was over and that
it was time to get started. He hated the waiting
“Why don’t you go to sleep?” he heard Coil say.
“I can’t,” he replied. His eyes slipped open again. “Why
don’t you?”
Coil shrugged. The movement seemed an effort. Coil was
lost within himself, struggling to maintain direction while mired
in a steadily tightening morass of circumstances and events from
which he knew he should extricate himself but could not.
“Coil, why don’t you let me do this alone,” Par said sud-
denly. impulsively. His brother looked over. “I know we’ve
already had this discussion; don’t bother reminding me. But why
don’t you? There isn’t any reason for you to go. I know what
you think about what I’m doing. Maybe you’re right. So stay
here and wait for me.”
“No.”
“But why not? I can look out for myself.”
Coil stared. “As a matter of fact, you can’t,” he said quietly.
His rough features crinkled with disbelief. “I think that might