Jack looked up so quickly that he knocked his head on the tunnel roof. "The Guilder's Vault? Hold a moment, friend Tharzon, and tell me of the Guilder's Vault."

Tharzon looked back over his broad shoulder. His eyes smoldered beneath his heavy brow, and gold bands glinted in his ringleted beard. He paused in the next intersection, a high chamber where water streamed down from the glow of daylight above, and set his lantern on a ledge high on the wall.

"What do you know of old Sarbreen, Jack?" the dwarf asked, hunkering down on a dry ledge.

"A great dwarven city, built about seven hundred years ago but destroyed soon after. Raven's Bluff sits on top of Sarbreen's ruins. Many of these sewers are old dwarf-work… as are cellars, vaults, and catacombs underneath much of the city."

Tharzon shrugged. "About as much as a human might be expected to know, I guess. Well, let me tell you a little more. These passageways were indeed built by master masons of the City of the Hammer, but carving stone and delving chambers is not all that there is to a city. Dozens of masters skilled in the other arts-armorers, weapon-smiths, jewelers and miners and woodcarvers and glass-blowers and all the others-ruled thousands of skillful craftsmen. That was the wonder and the strength of Sarbreen, my friend. Skill and industry, ceaseless labor in a great thriving city that shone for a brief moment as the richest of all dwarven holds.

"Everyone knows the work of the old stonecutters, but the master masons were only a part of Sarbreen's Ruling Ring. Other masters whose works do not survive today were held in high honor, too-swordsmiths whose blades are scattered from here to Waterdeep, merchants whose wealth now lies in dragon hoards or lost at the bottom of the sea, and others. They were sometimes known as Guilders, since they led guilds of craftsmen.

"Cedrizarun was the master distiller, the maker of dwarven spirits whose fire would consume any lesser mortal who dared imbibe them." Tharzon offered a sere smile. "My folk delight in work well done, but we also delight in strong drink, and it's said that none crafted a better spirit than Cedrizarun. He was an old and honored dwarf when Sarbreen was first built, and he wielded great influence as a Guilder.

"He died before the fall of the city and was entombed in the old manner, with his riches about him. Few of the other Guilders or the master masons received such honors. Sarbreen was sacked a short time later, and most of Cedrizarun's peers died in battle, their hoards carried off by the cursed orcs and vile drow who worked Sarbreen's doom. But Cedrizarun's tomb has not yet been found." Tharzon fixed his eyes on Jack. "What do you know of this mage?"

"She's found Cedrizarun's crypt. In fact, she's recorded some kind of inscription or riddle in or around the tomb." Jack thought for a moment, and then reached into a waterproof pouch at his hip and pulled out the parchment copy of the rubbing. "She's been trying to figure out what this means," he said, handing it to Tharzon. "I suspect that she knows that something of great value is hidden nearby. She is desperate to solve the riddle."

"And you think that I can solve it for you?" the dwarf asked. "Instead of asking me to solve the riddle so that she can loot the Guilder's Vault, I would prefer that you ask the mage where Cedrizarun's tomb lies. We can solve the riddle and respectfully remove the Guilder's wealth ourselves. My people laid it to rest; it is only fitting that I, as their heir and descendant, should bring it back into the sunlight again."

"I doubt that the mage of whom I speak would find such a plan agreeable," Jack said.

"Then she should not be advised of its details."

"Indeed. We can safely assume that my acquaintance will not willingly divulge the location of the crypt to me. That implies that I can only come by the knowledge we require by some means she would resist. I must trick it out of her, steal it from her, coerce her into telling me, or simply watch her closely and see if she leads me to the spot I seek."

"Throw a sack over her head and tie her up," the dwarf suggested. "You can hold her feet over hot coals until she's more cooperative."

"Subtlety is not your strong suit," Jack remarked. "Your plan is simple and direct, but I'd rather obtain the knowledge without giving her reason to suspect that I've learned her secret. Then she would have no cause to be angry with me, since she won't know what I've done."

"With my plan, you could just slit her throat and drop her in the harbor when you finished," Tharzon said. "She might be angry with you, but she couldn't do anything about it."

"I am not a murderer, friend Tharzon. There's no art in it."

"So you say. Well, don't rule it out as an alternative if more subtle tactics fail, eh? Pragmatism can be very practical." The dwarf stood and shook off his heavy cloak, looking at the rubbing from Cedrizarun's tomb. "Can I keep this?"

"If you like. I have other copies now."

"Fifty-fifty, if I break the riddle and you find the tomb's location?"

"I find that eminently agreeable," Jack said.

What he left unsaid was the obvious: If he cracked the riddle and found the tomb himself, Tharzon didn't need to be included as a partner. If the dwarf had any brains in his head-and Tharzon did-he must have noted that Jack didn't mention the identity of the mage who'd found Cedrizarun's tomb. Jack therefore guaranteed that Tharzon wouldn't have an opportunity to cut out Jack in just the same manner. One couldn't make a living at thievery, skullduggery, smuggling, and swindling without a certain willingness to discard obsolete arrangements at need or at least plan for the possibility that would-be partners might do so at their need.

"Good," Tharzon grunted. "Now to the other business of the day. This wall here stands between you and the wizard's cellars." He rapped on one decrepit masonry wall, off to one side of the sewer chamber. "My guess is a foot of hard stone, four or five feet of fill, and then another foot of stone in the cellar. This is old dwarf-work, built to last."

"We're here already?" Jack studied the obstacle. It would take a solid day of digging, and the noise would be considerable-especially breaking through the cellar walls on the other side. And who knew what sorts of magical traps or horrifying monsters might be locked up in a wizard's cellar?

"I have to admit that I'm surprised. Digging in the sewers isn't your normal method, so to speak."

"Iphegor's tower unfortunately offers no windows, and the rooftop is steeply pitched and sheathed in copper. Making use of the front door-the only entrance visible from the street-seemed to be somewhat rash." Jack offered the dwarf a predatory smile. "However, I should think that, were I a powerful and suspicious necromancer, I might want more than one exit from my tower. Let us search the area and see if we can't spot a secret door in this vicinity."

"I've already earned my forty crowns by leading you to this spot," Tharzon said. "If you want my assistance in breaking in, you'll have to cut me in on the take."

Jack rolled his eyes, but he reached into the folds of his cloak and retrieved a small purse. "Your fee, good Tharzon. I will point out that I'm offering to cut you in on the Guilder's Vault, which is a far more valuable prize than the musty old book I seek today. And I'll also point out that if you simply help me find Iphegor's bolt-hole but choose not to dare the perils of the tower's interior, you aren't really helping me break in-you're still guiding me to Iphegor's tower, which is what you agreed to do for these forty crowns."

The dwarf scowled. "A fine distinction, if one exists at all." But he started to examine the masonry wall closely, rapping his thick knuckles against the bricks and running his massive hands over every stone in reach. Jack joined him, working slowly along the passageway for a fair distance both up and down the tunnel. After a moment, Tharzon harrumphed. "A hollow space here, Jack, but I think that your wizard has used some magic to conceal the door, since I cannot find it."