Soon Zarjephwu saw Tanis hard at work, trying to dig something out of the ground. He signaled his warriors to keep their heads down and wait while he studied the half- elf. When Tanis raised his head to wipe the sweat from his brow, the slig leader knew the man in the village square was the one he sought, the one who had kicked him into the fire. The half-elf looked worn and battle- scarred, but a light shone in his face, a light that the warrior slig interpreted as the euphoria of nearing a yearned-for goal. Zarjephwu gave the grimace that passed as a smile with sligs. He figured he knew just what Tanis sought.

The slig unconsciously rubbed his burnt, hard-scaled skin. Half of his back and one of his arms was discolored from his roll in the flames. Zarjephwu had spent the better part of two days thinking about what he would do to the person who had caused him this pain. He'd lingered lovingly over the goriest details.

It was clear to the slig leader that the half-elf was looking for something. And if it was buried so deeply underground, then it had to be something very valuable-like the enchanted quill. Zarjephwu grinned, choosing to wait and let the half-elf do all the work before the slig snatched the prize.

Consumed by the task at hand, Tanis was unaware of the eyes that watched him from the ruins. The hole he had dug was nearly an arm's length deep, and he was finally ready to give up. There was nothing to be found. All he had to show for his clawing at the hard, rock- strewn dirt were bloody fingers and aching arms. In disgust, he threw his sword into the hole.

A strange sound greeted his ears: The blade clanged against something metallic!

Tanis instantly dove down on his stomach, sticking his head and shoulders into the hole. He pulled his sword up and tossed it behind him, scrabbling at yet another layer of dirt. There were more stones, more roots, and more crusted clay. And something entirely different.

It felt like the lid of a box.

Zarjephwu had wedged himself partly underneath a large slab of stone that once had anchored Ankatavaka's main gate; lying under a rock where it was cool and damp came naturally to the lizardlike slig. With deceptively sleepy eyes, he watched and waited. He was beginning to worry that he'd seen no sign of anyone else. Where was the woman? Where was the half-elf's accomplice in her rescue? Had they gone to the shore and sailed away? If that was so, reasoned the slig, then what was the half-elf digging up?

When Tanis suddenly leaped into the hole, Zarjephwu sensed that his wait had finally ended. He gave a signal as he rose to his feet. Fourteen other sligs immediately appeared as if by magic, rising from their hiding places. Silently, they advanced upon Tanis.

Tanis's heart was pounding harder than when he'd fought the giant spider on this same spot. He frantically worked his fingers in every direction, probing the edges of his find.

It was a small, square box, still brightly painted in reds and blues in the same distinctly feminine style as the paintings in Brandella's room, but dotted with specks of rust. His soul soared with hope. Hurriedly digging around all four sides of it, Tanis freed the box from its resting place of nearly one hundred years.

With the box finally in his hands, Tanis pulled himself out of the hole with a triumphant cry.

Had he looked toward the outer edges of the village, he would have seen the sligs coming toward him. But when he came out of the hole, his back was to them and he had no eyes for anything except his prize.

The sligs were spread out over a wide area, the nearest, Zarjephwu, a mere thirty feet away and closing in fast.

Tanis tried to open the box; it was rusted shut. He pulled his knife from his belt to try to pry it open.

Twenty feet away, the sligs began to come together as a pack. They moved with a deadly stealth, their spears, bardiches, and battle-axes already in their sharp-nailed fingers.

The knife seemed to help. Tanis managed to wedge it under a corner of the lid and edge it upward. The top was bending a bit, coming off, but slowly.

The sligs crept just fifteen feet away. Zarjephwu signaled to the others that he wanted to take the half-elf prisoner. The torture would be exquisite.

Then Tanis heard something… inside the box. It was impossible that an animal could have been in it; the box had been sealed thoroughly. Nonetheless, he held it a little farther away from his body as he popped the top off. Inside, he saw two things: the quill he'd given Brandella and a folded piece of ancient parchment. In large letters across the parchment, written in Common, was the emphatic warning, Sligs Behind You!

44

Tanis spun around to see long, reptilian arms stretched out to drag him down. Knife still in his hand, he slashed at the hand of the closest slig, eliciting a scream. Two others hit him with their heads, butting him in the shoulder and chest. He went down from the impact, the metal box flying out of his hand. The quill tumbled free and fell to the ground. The note-Brandella's note-with the warning scrawled across it fluttered out of the box and down into the hole from which it had been dug. Rolling sharply to his left, drawing a sharp breath as he tumbled over shards of broken cobblestone, the half- elf avoided a spear that clattered to the ground, narrowly missing one of his legs. His sword lay somewhere behind him. He was dead if he couldn't get to it-and probably dead even if he did. But he had to try.

The sligs swarmed after him, but the biggest one, the one with ugly burns on his body, shouted, "Get the quill!"

The sligs fell into confusion, momentarily breaking off their attack to follow Zarjephwu's orders. Tanis also saw the quill, but grabbing it and dying with it in his hand wasn't going to do him any good. Instead, he lunged backward for his sword, grabbed it by the handle, and rolled over and up unto his knees.

A tall, skinny slig scooped the quill off the ground. It didn't have the writing instrument long. Tanis swung his sword, lopping off the creature's arm and slashing into its chest with one sweep. The quill dribbled from lifeless fingers.

The closest sligs scrambled for the quill again. Tanis jumped to his feet, slashing at one of the creatures, but found his sword blocked by a spear held up at both ends by Zarjephwu. Black eyes with points of silver stared at the half-elf with palpable hatred; the powerful creature's muscles barely bulged with his effort. "The quill is ours," he said in guttural Common. "And so is your life." With that, he let out a stream of poisonous spittle, aimed at Tanis's face, trying to blind him.

The half-elf ducked out of the way, falling backward, trying desperately to keep his footing. Two arms caught him and tried to crush him: another slig. Tanis felt the air whoosh out of his chest as the creature used all its strength to squeeze the life from him. The half-elf tried to fight back, but his arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn't do anything to free himself.

Just as Tanis was about to black out, the slig suddenly let go. Tanis did not know what had saved him; he simply sagged to the ground. This time, however, another set of hands grabbed him and pulled him back up.

"Clotnik!" the half-elf gasped.

The dwarf had used his sword to stab the slig, running it through from back to front. The blade was still stuck in the slig, and Clotnik was unable to get it out.

Tanis couldn't help remembering that Mertwig had saved Tanis's life in this same place. Plucking from the ground the spear that had recently missed his leg, he tossed it to the dwarf. As he did so, Tanis, breathing heavily, managed to call out, "You remind me of your father."