It was good to be a goblin.

Squee continued toward the rail. En route, he came across two metallic beings-squat, roughly spherical, with a variety of legs extending in many directions. They stank of oil, and liquids flowed through tubes that bounded their bodies. The creatures' eyes jutted on long stalks and rotated slowly to look at him.

Squee squealed in alarm, cowering as the metal spiders scuttled up to inspect him. Feelers, pincers, and antennae methodically prodded the shivering little goblin. He'd spent his life poking bugs, but now the bugs were poking him. The scent of oil was overwhelming as they bent over him.

"Squee wasn't doing nothing," he said defensively.

Neither creature gave the slightest heed. The one on his left put out a long, jointed feeler and touched the goblin. A sharp, brief pain, like an electric shock, coursed through Squee's veins. Then the two beings turned toward one another. The one that had touched him reached out an arm to the other and inserted it into an available socket in the top part of its spiderlike body. There was a long moment of silence between the creatures, and then they moved away, apparently satisfied.

Squee heaved a sigh of relief and proceeded on his way, licking his arm. "Least Squee didn't get ate."

He reached the rail. A ship slowly and gracefully rose just beyond. It glided through the air like a fish feeling its way through unfamiliar waters. Its decks were crowded with workers-Kyren, human, and otherwise. The craft passed overhead and moved through an enormous arch on the far side of the cave, disappearing from Squee's view.

He rose to his feet, rubbing his head in a desperate attempt to stimulate his thought processes. "Gotta follow da boat," he muttered to himself, scurrying after the ship.

As much as possible, he kept within the great shadows along the edges of the cave. He rounded the arch, raced along a huge passageway, and then emerged through a second doorway into another chamber, equally large.

Here he saw additional lines of ships moored, their runners resting on the cave floor. There were fewer here than he'd seen in the first cavern, but the size of the complete fleet was immense beyond his imagining.

Stunned, Squee wandered down aisle after aisle of vessels, staring, stroking, tapping, poking. No one questioned him, no one stopped him. There were fewer workers here, but those who did pass between the ships carried bundles and boxes of supplies, which they were loading onto the ships.

Then he saw the ship-Weatherlight, resting on her landing spines. She was moored there in the midst of the fleet. She seemed small and delicate next to the bristling monsters around her, but just now, Squee could think of no more beautiful sight in all the worlds.

"Squee found it! Squee saved everybody all over again! Gotta go tell Hanna!" A loud growling in Squee's stomach reminded him he'd not had a full meal in some time. With a pang, he thought of the huge bug he'd been pursuing earlier. "Get sumpthing ta eat and tell Hanna 'bout all this."

Squee's mind, as Hanna had once remarked to Gerrard, rarely had room for more than one idea at a time. Now all he could think of was a plate of tasty grubs and worms. Turning his back on the fleet, he headed back the way he'd come. Indeed, he was so intent on thoughts of eating that he paid little attention to where he was going and ran full-tilt into the stomach of a creature coming from the opposite direction.

Whuff!

Squee sat down quickly and looked up, a whine already forming on his lips.

A pair of Kyren looked down at him. Goblins might have looked alike to other races, but to each other, they were as distinct as goats and chickens. With a sinking feeling, Squee recognized the Kyren advisor to the chief magistrate, the one who'd insisted that Squee be made a captain in the Mercadian guard. Now the Kyren advisor was staring at Squee with a look both surprised and disapproving.

From his years of service aboard Weatherlight, Squee was thoroughly familiar with that look and was generally adept at evading its consequences. He rose, wheeled to one side, and dove across the cavern floor in a movement that ended in a roll and jump. With a loud parting squeal, he dashed into the passageway. Behind him he heard shouts and the beating of flat, flabby feet against the stone. As the sounds became more distant, Squee gave a gurgle of triumph.

Something slammed across his chest. He fell backward, striking his head against the stone floor. As blackness closed around him, he saw dimly the form of a Phyrexian dock workerbig, ugly, and dead looking.

"Phyrexians… h-here!" Squee stammered.

The monster's club struck him again. Squee slid across the floor and lay still, feeling the long arms of darkness embrace him.

Chapter 19

"Dryads," Sisay repeated breathlessly, staring at the surrounding thicket of creatures.

Attenuated limbs, oblong faces, features formed of wood grain and patterned bark-the dryads were beautiful, otherworldly. Beneath minimal clothing lurked skin as smooth and tough as birch bark. Their eyes were narrow and a deep green shade, though the color seemed to shift in the dappled sunlight. They sang a song that stilled the rioting forest and the roiling ground. As swiftly as the song had begun, it died away.

Gerrard cleared his throat and edged forward. Instantly, the ground beneath his feet grew soft, sucking his boots down. He was mired to midcalf. The Benalian stopped and held up one hand, palm outward in a gesture of peace. "I'm Gerrard," he said. He indicated the rest of the party. "We come in the name of Ramos."

The creatures made no response. None of the dryads so much as lifted a finger.

Tahngarth brushed a hand over his horns.

His sudden motion alarmed their captors. From one dryad came a single soft note.

The minotaur looked sleepily at his comrades. "Must sleep," he said in a voice filled with weariness. "Tired. Must

…" Without another word, he fell forward on the ground, almost flattening Sisay. He began to snore.

"What the…?" The dark woman leaped back. "They enchanted him somehow."

The dryads regarded the sleeping minotaur stoically.

Gerrard quietly lowered himself to the ground and told the others, "Sit down."

"What?" Sisay stared at him. "Are they enchanting you, too? Chamas, take Gerrard's right hand, I'll take the left-"

"Belay that." Gerrard's voice was low but sharp. "Sit down, all of you."

Slowly, the crew sank to the ground.

Sisay glared at Gerrard, but she too followed suit. "What are we doing?"

"A long time ago, I overheard Multani tell Rofellos that among the tree people sitting is a sign of peaceful intentions. While we were standing, they thought we might attack them."

There was a long moment of silence. Then the dryad who had sounded the note glided a foot or two closer. His eyes were half-closed, as if in concentration. From his lips there came a series of notes, some long and languorous, others sharp and sparkling.

Gerrard bowed his head submissively. The dryad chieftain advanced to within a foot of the Benalian and slowly, tentatively, extended long fingers toward him. Gerrard's hand came out in response, and the two gently touched.

Something passed between their fingers-small, leaping energies. The others in the glade could see the tiny lightnings in the air. Auras roiled up Gerrard's arm and sparked in his eyes. He felt power jagging through his mind, and he suddenly knew this was the way whole forests thoughtinfinitely intricate networks of bough and vine, tangled masses of root, and energy leaping from one to the next. Each tree and plant was an individual being until those minute synapses were bridged, and then, each and all became one.