Wykar gave a humorless laugh. "You say you stayed here for ten sleepings and did nothing but wait for me?" he asked. "No, don't shrug it off. Tell me. Where did you get the crossbow and your clothes?"

Geppo shot Wykar a brief look and licked his lips. "Dead ones," he said quietly. "Dead from fight long time ago, close to blue food cave. Geppo find them, get things."

Wykar nodded. There was nothing wrong with looting a forgotten body. It was standard practice if you were out on your own and needed every advantage. It was proper to give a prayer for the spirits of the dead, of course, and sometimes even thanks for their "gifts," but that was up to the taker.

"Two drow dead," Geppo continued. "One dwarf. Two… two gnomes."

The deep gnome blinked and stared at the derro in a new way. "Two gnomes-like me?" he asked. His voice was cold and flat.

The derro actually appeared frightened, though it was hard to tell. He nodded once, not looking at Wykar. Then he slowed down, trying to drop back behind Wykar again, crossbow aimed at the ground as if in shame.

Wykar let him go, but only after sending him a look that should have killed the derro. The ugly white bastard was looting svirfneblin dead? Wykar stalked on ahead, enraged and heedless of what Geppo might be doing. He looked back once in time to see the derro turn his head to the side, as if he'd almost been caught looking at the gnome.

It was half an hour before Wykar gained control of himself again. He should have let it go. He himself had looted dead svirfneblin, so what did it matter that a derro did? Well, it did seem to matter in a way, but there was no point in dwelling on it. Wykar forced himself to stick to watching his surroundings.

Few interesting formations were about. Legions of past visitors to this region had chiseled away anything of value, and the natural oils from their hands and feet had ruined further mineral growth. The wide, oval-shaped tunnel was rather drab, though quite serviceable as an underground road, but it was little used now. The creation of the Sea of Ghosts had brought the wicked kuo-toa, the two-legged fish-folk, and their presence had discouraged traffic along the Old River Path and its surrounding region. Wykar counted on meeting more than a few fat kuo-toa shortly, but his infrared-vision was better than theirs-he'd see them long before they saw him. He didn't doubt that his combat skills would be better than theirs, too. They were mediocre warriors, though big enough to be hard to kill.

Old kuo-toa were often covered with battle scars, as ugly alive as they were after a week dead.

Wykar looked down at his wiry, muscular arms, lean but growing strong once more. Even with his heat-vision, the gnome could see that his hairless gray skin was crisscrossed with healed-over scars. His back and legs were worse, and lash marks itched all the time under his armor, especially beneath the thin iron plate that protected his back and neck. Physically, he would heal completely, he had no broken limbs or deformities from his captivity, so he counted himself lucky. At least no damned drow kid had tried to strangle him. But healing was not so quick for his mind and spirit. Even seeing the death of his former masters firsthand did not quench his rage at his captivity, nor did knowing those deaths had been hideously painful for the screaming drow. There was no forgetting or forgiving. A thousand deaths like theirs would not be enough for Wykar.

Destroying their precious egg would be a welcome if minor revenge. They had cared for that egg for many sleepings, whatever it was, if it was precious to a drow, it deserved to be smashed before it hatched.

Their march went on for four more hours, unbroken by talk, until Wykar recognized landmarks that indicated they were close to the Sea of Ghosts. He signaled another break in the walk, just below the stumps of three stalactites that had formed in a perfect equilateral triangle. Sand crunched softly under their boots as they shuffled to a halt.

Wykar sighed. He had gotten over the derro's admission of body-robbing, and he hoped nothing would further strain things between them.

"We have about two hundred feet to go," he whispered, making sure the echo would not carry to unwelcome ears. "The side tunnel is ahead, around the corner to the right side of the hall. There are likely to be kuo-toa around, and we'll have to hit them as hard and quickly as we can unless we're too outnumbered. We've been lucky so far, but we'll have to-"

A loud crackling noise shot around them, echoing throughout the broad corridor. They both jumped, taken completely by surprise, and instinctively looked up at the ceiling. Wykar curled his gloved fingers down around the hotstone and cut off the heat-glow. They stood in the blackness and listened.

"I heard it," came Geppo's hoarse whisper. "Dragon. Big dragon sound. My father-"

"Shhh." Wykar shivered. "No, it's not-"

A broken-rock and lightning smell entered Wykar's nostrils. He knew about lightning from the spells that a few deep-gnome wizards and kuo-toan priests were able to cast. But if no lightning was around, and the rocks smelled broken, then-

He suddenly knew. He gasped and sprinted forward, hard and fast. His gloved fingers opened around the hotstone and held it up as his feet pounded the sandy ground. The corridor again leapt into bright monochromatic view, infrared shadows jerking wildly.

"Hey there!" Geppo called behind him. Wykar heard the derro start to run, too.

"Earthquake!" Wykar shouted back at the top of his lungs. It didn't matter now if anyone or anything heard him. He jumped over a large rock in his path and almost lost his footing when he came down on loose debris, hurtling on. "Run!"

There was a second cracking sound, much louder than the first. Not yet! Not yet! begged Wykar in prayer. Dust and rock bits rattled down from the cavern ceiling. Shadows shifted and jerked in the deep gnome's hurried vision. Perhaps it was a trick of the poor light, a trick of the dancing shadows as he ran, but Wykar didn't think so. Heartbeats, heartbeats left, he thought. The tunnel to the underground sea was narrow enough for shelter, well supported at its entrance.

He saw the final bend in the cavern ahead before the tunnel came to the Sea of Ghosts. The air was thick with the frightening broken-rock smell, the ceiling dust drifting slowly about now like Ghost Sea mist. There were new smells, too-moisture, dead fish, rich fields of fungus. The Sea of Ghosts. He might make it. The fishy odor was particularly strong.

The narrow tunnel to the sea appeared around the corner.

Something tall and warm was in front of the tunnel already, half visible and obviously waiting for him. That something stepped out and made a windmilling motion with its arm in Wykar's direction. It had seen his infrared-bright hotstone and heard his shouts.

Wykar threw himself forward into a roll. Bits of sharp floor debris stabbed into his back and neck. He lost the hotstone. An object whispered through the air over him, clattering hard against the far wall. Harpoon, Wykar thought.

Wykar came up on his knees from the roll, snatching two darts from inside his vest. He hurled them, right hand and left. The hotstone, on the floor three yards away, revealed a tall, fat figure less than thirty feet ahead as it hurriedly raised another spear. The darts struck it first and burst into sprays of crystal fragments, releasing a pale gas.

The tall creature hissed like a steam vent, staggering back as it coughed sharply on the gas. The kuo-toan waved its long arms in an effort to clear its vision and throw its next harpoon. Wykar reached for his blade, but hesitated when he realized he was grabbing the weapon belonging to Geppo. It didn't matter, he pulled it out, got to his feet, and charged. If he could just close before-