Amber and Blood dd-3

by Margaret Weis

  But now all that remained of Nuitari’s ingenious aquatic strongbox were mounds of wet sand glittering with shards of broken glass.

  The tower’s upheaval had shattered the globe. The sea water had poured out, carrying the sea monsters with it. Midori, rudely awakened by the shock, had apparently decided enough was enough and gone off to find more stable housing. The destruction stretched as far as the eye could see.

  “No! Atta, stop!” Nightshade cried, grabbing the dog by the scruff of her neck as she started to venture out onto the sand. “You’ll cut your paws to ribbons! Where’s the Feeble Soloness?” he asked Mina.

  She pointed silently and unhappily into the midst of the wreckage.

  “Oh, well. I guess we can’t go there,” Nightshade said cheerfully. “Say, I have an idea. Let’s sail to Flotsam. I know an inn that serves beefsteak and crispy potatoes with a side of green peas and-”

  “Nightshade,” Rhys admonished.

  “I didn’t ask her for it!” the kender said in a defensive whisper. “I just happened to mention beefsteak in case she was hungry.”

  “It was all so beautiful,” said Mina, and she began to cry.

  ***

  Basalt stood staring glumly at the mess.

  “I don’t care what the Master says,” the dwarf stated. “I’m not cleaning this up.” He heard a snicker from Caele and glowered. “What are you looking so damn pleased about? This is a disaster!”

  “Not for us,” Caele said, with a sly grin.

  Seeing that the monk was occupied with the sniveling brat, Caele crept back quietly back up the stairs, motioning Basalt to come with him. When they were out of earshot of the others, Caele whispered, “Don’t you realize what this means? The dragon’s gone! The Hall of Sacrilege is no longer guarded! Our fortunes are made!”

  “If the Hall’s still there,” Basalt returned. “And if it’s still intact, which I doubt.” He gestured at the debris. “And how do you plan to reach it? The dragon might as well be here. Those glass shards are sharper than her teeth and just as deadly.”

  “If the Hall survived the Cataclysm, it certainly survived this. You’ll see. As for reaching it, I have an idea on that.”

  “What about Mina and her friends?” Basalt asked.

  Caele grinned. Sliding up his sleeve, he revealed a knife attached to his wrist.

  Basalt snorted. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to gut her? You ended up a prisoner in your own tomb!”

  “She had that bastard Chemosh with her,” Caele said, scowling. “This time, all she’s got is a monk and a kender. You kill those two and I’ll-”

  “Leave me out of this!” Basalt snarled. “I’ve had enough of your plots and schemes. They only ever get me into trouble!”

  Caele paled in anger. A flick of the wrist and the knife was in his hand. Basalt was prepared, however. He had always assumed some day he would end up killing the half-elf and this day was as good as any. He began to chant a spell. Caele chanted a counter-spell. The two glared blackly at each other.

  ***

  Mina was staring in bleak amazement at the ruins of the crystal globe. “I wanted to swim in the sea water again. I wanted to talk to the dragon…”

  “I’m sorry, Mina,” said Rhys, not knowing what else to say to her.

  He had his own worries. If the Solio Febalas was truly in the midst of the debris, he should find it, make certain it was safe, the contents secure. He could hear the two Black Robe wizards plotting and though he could not make out their words, he had no doubt that they were making plans to steal the sacred artifacts.

  If he had been alone, Rhys would have gladly risked his own life trying to find a way through the broken glass, but he could not venture forth and leave his friends and his dog behind, not with the Beloved massing outside the tower, being held at bay by the gods alone knew what force. Nor did he trust the two Black Robes.

  Rhys’ main concern was Mina. As a god, she could have walked across acres of razor blades without being harmed. But she was a god who did not know she was a god. She shivered from the cold, cried when disappointed, and bled when nails scratched her flesh. He dared not take her with him and he dared not leave her behind, either.

  “Mina,” Rhys said, “I think Nightshade is right. We should start our journey home. You cannot cross this sand without hurting yourself. Goldmoon will understand-”

  “I’m not leaving!” Mina stated petulantly. She had quit crying and now she was sulking. Her lower lip thrust out. She stood kicking the wet sand with the toe of her shoe. “Not without my present.”

  “Mina…”

  “It’s not fair!” she cried, wiping the back of her hand across her nose. “Why did this have to happen? I came all this way…”

  She paused. Reaching down, ignoring Rhys’ warning to be careful, she picked up a small shard of broken glass. “This didn’t have to happen.”

  Mina flung the glass shard into the air and it was joined by a million other shards, sparkling like rain drops in the sunshine. The pieces of glass fused together. Sea water, instead of draining out, flowed back inside.

  Rhys suddenly found himself inside a crystal globe, submersed in fathoms of blue-green sea water, and he was drowning.

  Holding his breath, Rhys stared about frantically, trying to find a way out. Nightshade was nearby, flailing his arms and kicking his feet, his cheeks puffed out. Atta paddled wildly, her eyes wide with terror. Mina, unaware of their predicament, was swimming away from them.

  Rhys had only moments of life left. Atta was already sinking to the bottom. Rhys sliced through the water with his arms, kicked his feet, trying to reach Mina.

  He managed to grab hold of her ankle. Mina twisted around. Her face was bright with pleasure. She was enjoying herself. The pleasure faded when she saw her friends were in trouble. She stared at them helplessly, seeming to have no idea what to do. Rhys’ lungs were going to burst. He was seeing dazzling stars and blue and yellow spots and he could no longer bear the pain. He opened his mouth, prepared to suck in death.

  He gulped salt water and, though the sensation was not pleasant, he didn’t die. He floundered, shaken to find he was breathing water as easily as he had once breathed air. Nightshade, his mouth gaping, his eyes bulging, was spent. He floated limply in the water.

  Mina caught hold of Atta, who had ceased to struggle. Mina petted the dog and kissed her and hugged her and Atta’s eyes flew open. The dog looked around frantically, panic-stricken, until she found Rhys. He swam over to her and was joined by Nightshade, who grabbed hold of his arm and tried to talk. All that came out were bubbles, but though Rhys couldn’t hear him, he understood the kender’s general meaning, which was, “You have to do something! She’s going to get us all killed!”

  Rhys considered this was quite likely, but as for preventing it, he had no idea what to do. An ordinary six-year-old who misbehaved could be swatted or sent to bed without her supper. The idea of swatting Mina who, as Nightshade had said, could drop a mountain on their heads, was ludicrous. And, to be honest, Mina hadn’t misbehaved. She hadn’t deliberately tried to drown them. She’d made a simple mistake. Since she could breathe water as easily as air, she had assumed they could, too.

  Mina swam underwater as though she’d been born to it, darting around them like a minnow, urging them to hurry. Rhys had learned to swim in the monastery, but he was hampered by his robes and by his staff, which he did not want to leave behind, and by his concern for Nightshade.

  The kender had never learned to swim. He had never wanted to learn to swim. Now, given no choice in the matter, he thrashed about wildly, making no progress in any direction. He was about to give swimming up as hopeless when Atta passed him, churning the water with her front paws. Nightshade watched the dog and decided to emulate her. Not having paws, he used his hands and arms to paddle, and soon was able to keep up with the rest.

  Mina swam excitedly on ahead, motioning for them to hurry. When they reached her, she was floating
in the water, making small swirling motions with her hands, hovering above what appeared to be a child’s sand castle.

  Simple in design, the castle was constructed of four walls four feet in height and four feet long, with a tall tower at each corner. There were no windows and only one door, though that door was a marvel.

  Three feet tall and not very wide, the door was made of myriad pearls that shimmered with a purple luster. A single rune carved out of a large emerald glowed in the center.

  Mina motioned to Rhys, and as he swam awkwardly near her, pushing the staff ahead of him. She gestured at the sand castle and eagerly nodded.

  “The Hall of Sacrilege,” she mouthed.

  Rhys stared in astonishment.

  The infamous Hall of Sacrilege-a child’s sand castle. Rhys shook his head. Mina frowned at him and, reaching out, she grabbed hold of his staff and pulled him through the water. She pointed to the emerald rune embedded in the door. Rhys swam closer and caught a watery breath in awe. Carved into the rune was a figure 8 turned on its side, a symbol with no ending and no beginning, the symbol of eternity.

  Rhys propelled himself backward. Mina regarded him, puzzled. She pointed at the door.

  “Open it!” she commanded in a flurry of bubbles.

  Rhys shook his head. This was the Solio Febalas, repository of some of the most holy artifacts ever created by gods and man, and the door was shut and the door was sealed. He was not meant to enter. No mortal was meant to enter. Perhaps not even the gods themselves were meant to enter this sacred place.

  Mina tugged at him, urging him. Rhys shook his head emphatically, and drew back. He wished he could explain to her, but he could not. He turned and started to swim off.

  She swam after him and grabbed hold of him again. Childlike, she was determined to have her way. Rhys had the feeling that if they’d been on dry land, she would have stamped her foot.

  Rhys would have continued to refuse, but at that moment, the decision was taken away from him.

  Even deep below the sea, he could hear the one single word dreaded throughout Krynn by anyone traveling with a kender.

  “Oops!”

  ***

  “Hey!” Caele cried, alarmed. “Where did they go?”

  The two Black Robes, intent on killing each other, had been muttering arcane words and fumbling about in their pouches for spell components when they realized they were alone. Kender, kid, dog, and monk had disappeared.

  “Damn their eyeballs!” Caele swore, seething. “They’ve found a way inside!”

  The half-elf dashed down the stairs, skidding to a halt when he reached the bottom. The shards of broken glass were still there, sticking up out of the sand.

  “If you hadn’t been so eager to slit my throat, we’d be in there helping ourselves to the riches.” Basalt shook his fist at the half-elf.

  “You’re right, of course, Basalt,” said Caele with sudden meekness. “You’re always right. Give the Master my regards.”

  The half-elf raised his hand in a flourish and vanished.

  “Huh?” Basalt blinked. “What-”

  The dwarf suddenly understood. He sucked in a huge breath and let it out in a roar. “He’s gone after them!”

  Basalt did a quick mental run-through of his spell catalog and began a feverish rummage through his pouches of spell components to see what he had on hand. He’d come prepared to do battle, not for traveling to an unknown destination across a sea bottom covered with broken glass. He wondered what magic Caele had used, decided most likely the half-elf had cast a spell known as Dimension Door, a favorite of Caele’s, for it required only spoken words, no spell components. Caele disliked casting spells that used components, mainly because he was too lazy to gather them.

  Basalt was familiar with the Dimension Door spell himself, but it had one drawback. In order to cast the spell, the wizard had to know where he was going, for he had to visualize the location. Basalt had no idea where the Hall of Sacrilege was or what it looked like. He had never been inside the water-filled globe that protected it.

  Caele, on the other hand, had been inside the globe. He had been sent-under duress-to the dragon, Midori, to collect a small amount of her blood which Nuitari had used in the Dragon-sight bowl, allowing him to spy on his enemies. Caele had never mentioned seeing the Hall, but the half-elf was a sneaking, cunning, lying bastard, and Basalt guessed that Caele had done some snooping about while he was down there and simply not mentioned it.

  Picturing Caele in the Hall, scooping up treasures right and left, Basalt gnashed his teeth in anger. He glared irately at the broken glass blocking his way and thought wistfully about how wonderful it would be if he could just float over it, and that brought a spell to mind.

  Basalt didn’t have the requisite pure components on hand, but he could make do. The spell required gauze; he tore the bandage from his forehead and, using his knife, cut off a piece. He generally carried a bit of candle with him, for flame or wax always came in handy. The candle was beeswax, one he’d made himself and he was quite proud of it, for it was magical.

  Holding the gauze in one hand and the candle in the other, he spoke the command word and the candle burst into flame. He held the gauze in the flame until it caught fire, let it burn a moment, then blew it out. A thin wisp of smoke trailed up from the blackened fabric. Basalt spoke a magical word and waited a tense moment to see if the spell would work.

  He felt a strange and unpleasant sensation, as though flesh and bone, skin and muscle were being magically rendered into a liquid state and then he oozed away, leaving behind a gaseous, insubstantial form. Basalt had not used this spell in some time and it occurred to him-belatedly-that he wasn’t sure how one managed to get one’s body back again. He would worry about that later, however. Right now he had to catch up with Caele.

  Drifting along with the air currents, the gaseous form of Basalt-looking like a hairy cloud of black smoke-wafted over the broken glass and entered what was left of the crystal globe.

  10

  Nightshade had been understandably miffed at Mina for dunking him in sea water and then nearly drowning him, but, after a while, he forgave her. He liked the novelty of being able to breath under water and swim like a fish-or rather, like Atta. He was paddling along through the sea, enjoying the view, wondering if he had gills on his neck and if they were pulsing in and out, and feeling his neck to see if he did, and being disappointed to discover that he didn’t, when he came to the sand castle.

  Rhys and Mina were arguing. Mina apparently wanted Rhys to go inside, and Rhys was having none of it, which Nightshade, as a kender with common sense, approved, for he guessed immediately this building must be the Solo of the Feeble-minded or the Hall of Sacred Litches or whatever it was called.

  Nightshade paddled about, waiting for the argument to end, and soon grew bored. There was nothing to do down here except swim. He wondered how fish stood it. There being nothing to look at except the sand castle, he decided to look at it, and he noticed the castle had an extremely interesting door made up of pearls and the largest, most beautiful emerald the kender had ever seen. He swam over for a closer look.

  Nightshade was never certain what happened afterward. Either his common sense decided to pack its pouches and take a holiday or the kender side of him rose up, struck common sense a blip on the head bone, and knocked it out cold.

  Not that it made any difference.

  The fact was that the emerald was the largest and most beautiful emerald Nightshade had ever seen, and the closer he swam to it the larger and more beautiful it grew, so that in the end the kender part of him that was really there, despite what his father thought to the contrary, simply had to reach out his hand, take hold of the emerald, and try to pry it loose.

  Two things happened, one which was unfortunate and the other more unfortunate.

  Unfortunately the emerald did not come loose.

  More unfortunately the door did.

  The door flew open. All the kender had time fo
r was to yell one startled “Oops!” then the sea water rushed inside the sand castle and took Nightshade with it.

  The door slammed shut.

  Nightshade was tumbled about in the rushing water and for several tense moments he had no idea if he was on his head or his heels, and then the water dropped him down on a solid surface and went on without him. He lay still for a moment gasping at the suddenness of it all. When he was over his shock, he noticed that he was breathing air, not water, for which he was grateful. He’d been going over in his mind what he knew about a fish’s diet and thinking sadly that he was going to have to live on worms.

  After gulping in few deep, reassuring breaths, he decided to get up and take a look around.

  He looked around and looked around again and the more he looked the more he was certain, with a quaking feeling in his gut, that this was somewhere he should not be and there was only thing for a kender of common sense-even a kender with horns-to do.

  “Rhys,” Nightshade wailed, “help!”

  ***

  Rhys turned just in time to see Nightshade sucked inside the Hall of Sacrilege and the door slam shut on him. Mina was laughing and clapping her hands. “Now, Mister Monk, you’ll have to go inside. I win,”

  She grinned and stuck out her tongue at him.

  Rhys had never been a parent himself, and he had often wondered how any adult could bear to spank a child. He was now beginning to understand.

  Mina swam to the door, and brushed her hand across the rune-carved emerald. As the door swung slowly open, sea water carried Mina and Rhys inside and bowled over Nightshade, who had been beating on the door with his fists.

  Rhys picked himself up. He looked back through the open door onto the desert-like landscape of rippling wet sand.

  Atta stood outside the door in the wet sand, shaking off the water, starting with her hind end and working her way to the front. When Rhys called to her, she slunk warily through the door. She clearly did not want to be here. Pressing her body up against his, she stood there, shivering.