Coughing and spitting and sputtering, he almost slipped back under the water again until he heard Saqri's voice, so loud and firm that it was like a hand grabbing his collar.

Swim, fool child. Swim to the sh.o.r.e.

Sh.o.r.e? Even the closest part of the bay's edge was too far away, and that was where the cannon was being fired!

Not that part, Saqri told him. Tiring now, Barrick paddled and kicked himself in a tight circle to look around, but he could see no trace of her. He did see something else, however. Saqri told him. Tiring now, Barrick paddled and kicked himself in a tight circle to look around, but he could see no trace of her. He did see something else, however. Yes, Yes, she said. she said. There. Swim. There. Swim.

With his back to the land and his shoulder toward the castle, he could finally see it-another lump of stone that didn't stretch as high above the waves as the castle mount but was washed by the same breezy, white capped bay waters. He had not seen it in so long that it took him a moment to recognize it, even after he made out the angular shape of the lodge at the top of the hilly island.

M'Helan's Rock!

Barrick summoned his weary strength and began swimming.

9.

The Thing with Claws "After many adventures and perils he was taken up at last as an unlawful beggar by the guards of the city and brought before the magistrates. Because the Orphan could show no such crippling injuries as he pretended, he was sent as a slave to the temple of Zuriyal ..."

-from "A Child's Book of the Orphan, and His Life and Death and Reward in Heaven"

"THERE'S NONEED FOR YOU TO GO FARTHER, Captain," Sledge Jasper told Vansen. "Truth is, some of these tunnels may be too small for you."

"We'll see, Wardthane. Carry on, I'll follow."

The other Funderlings, five more new-minted warders, looked from Vansen to Jasper in worried antic.i.p.ation. They all carried gurodir gurodir, heavy stabbing-spears with broad iron spearheads and shafts of precious oak, a war weapon something like a boar spear. It had not been in common use among the small folk for a long time; now every single one that could be found in Funderling Town had been repaired and pressed into service, and more were being made. Even Vansen carried one, although he also kept his dagger and scabbarded sword for their comfort and familiarity.

He waved his hand to pa.s.s leadership of the patrol to Jasper, then let the others file past him into the Moonless Reach. The most recent patrol through the caverns, led by one of Jasper's most trusted men, had gone out that morning and not come back.

As they stepped out of the broad main tunnel, which was illuminated by dim fungus-lights at irregular intervals, Vansen reached up to make sure he was wearing his coral lamp. He had discovered that the Funderlings did not always remember that he could not see as well as they could and he wanted to make sure he didn't walk into any unexpected pits or low-hanging rocks.

"You mark my words, Captain," Jasper said quietly as they made their way across the middle of the great chamber, so full of man-high stone towers that it looked like a hall of frozen dancers, "it'll be the fairy what done it, whatever's gone wrong."

Vansen was confused. "What are you talking about? It's the southerners we're fighting, now-the autarch's men." Had the entire peace council with the Qar fallen on deaf ears?

"Talking about that half-drow my men took with 'em. I don't trust that langedy-leg fellow."

The "langedy-leg" fellow had been a Qar of sorts-one of the Funderling cousins known as "drows"-a scout named Spelter who was a bit taller and longer of limb than Sledge Jasper's folk. Spelter and any of the other drows who were familiar with the tunnels of Midlan's Mount from the last few weeks' siege had been joining the Funderlings on their patrol. "What, you think he did something to them?"

"He had a foul look," said Jasper stubbornly, pulling off his helmet to wipe sweat from his bald head. It was beginning to get warm as they moved away from the tunnel that led up to Funderling Town. Up? Vansen wondered if that could be right. They were certainly above the Temple, but were they still below Funderling Town or just off to one side of it? He again found himself muddled by the way the Funderlings underground world fit together.

"But see now, Sledge," he said, raising his voice a little higher so that the other warders would hear him, too. "I know you don't trust them, but why would the Qar bother to stay and betray us? It would be so much easier for them simply to leave us to fight the autarch ..."

He never had the chance to finish. Something hammered him hard in the back and knocked him forward so that he spilled Jasper and several of the warders like skittles. Vansen lost his spear and was feeling for it when something grabbed his collar and wrenched him another few paces across the stony cavern floor.

"What . . . ?" He struggled to his knees, but before he could turn to see what had grabbed him, a nightmare shape lurched out of a dark place along the wall, a glowing obscenity that Vansen could not even understand, twice as big as a cart horse and with more legs than anything that large should have.

"Perin's Hammer!" he shouted in sudden fright, shoving himself upright and stumbling backward from the huge creature so quickly that he lost his balance and fell down again. All around him the Funderlings were also retreating, howling in dismay and amazement.

It was a monstrous spider or insect, something Vansen could not recognize and would not be able to see at all except for its own green-blue glow. It lumbered toward them with frightening speed, its armored body making a noise like the creaking of bellows-leather; when he saw it whole, he wished he hadn't. The indistinct outline had not only spiderish legs but claws like a crab's and some kind of huge tail swaying above its broad back.

"Have you fire?" a voice said from behind him. "They fear it a little. I chased one away with a torch, but that has long burned away."

Vansen put a large, round stone between himself and the creature, then took a swift glance backward. The light from his coral lamp fell onto a strange, long-jawed, bearded face-the Qar scout, Spelter. "No fire," Vansen said. "Where is the rest of your company?"

"Dead or lost." Spelter spoke the language surprisingly well-one of the reasons he'd been chosen to travel with the Funderlings, no doubt. "We were separated hours ago when the first of these things came out of a tunnel and took the leader and two of the others. Crushed them with its claws. The rest scattered. I tried to get back to Ancestor's Place, to our temple-camp, but found this thing between me and the way back."

"That was you who grabbed me, then?"

"Yes. I heard your voices coming. I did not know exactly where it was waiting, and I was afraid to call because it hunted me, too."

The creaking, whistling monster abruptly tried to clamber up onto the boulder that shielded Vansen and the drow; the monster's scent, musty and slightly fishy, filled Vansen's nostrils. Its huge claws clacked above their heads as he and Spelter scrambled backward. Vansen thought for a moment that they might be able to make a run for the pa.s.sage that had led them to the chamber, but the creature backed down off the rock and began making its slow way around the wide boulder again, searching almost blindly. Then it lurched forward again, astonishingly fast, this time sc.r.a.ping around the side of the rock where Vansen couldn't see it; an instant later it scuttled back with a screeching Funderling warder in its claw. The little man struggled helplessly, and although his comrades stabbed at the monster with their heavy spears, the blows could not penetrate the thing's armor. The Funderling was pulled into the dark region at the front of the head. Vansen heard a hideous crunching noise, and the screaming abruptly stopped.

Sledge Jasper had managed to climb up on top of the boulder, where he was stabbing almost dementedly at the creature. It spread its claws and lifted its front section onto the rock, then the long, lumpy tail quivered as if in preparation for a strike. Vansen jumped up and caught at Jasper's clothing, yanking backward so that the Funderling fell on top of him only inches ahead of a swipe from the deadly tail. Vansen could smell the venom, a sour, hard smell like hot metal. Some of it spattered onto Sledge Jasper, who screamed and began writhing on the floor as if he'd been burned. The Qar, Spelter, leaped to help him.

Vansen stood. "We can't let it keep us pinned down!" he shouted to the others. "Get out into the center of the cave!"

He led the warders to a spot in the middle of a small forest of stone spikes. He grabbed at one with his hand and was able to break off the very tip, but decided that the spikes were thick enough to give some protection. He turned back to help Spelter drag Jasper into the center of the open s.p.a.ce he'd chosen, then quickly set the terrified Funderlings into a tight-packed arrangement, spears pointing outward like the spines of a hedgehog.

The monstrous, green-glowing thing came stilting toward them again but could not immediately pa.s.s between the stone spikes. It stopped short a few paces away from Vansen's side. He leaped out and stabbed hard at the place he thought the thing should have eyes, but his gurodir gurodir only skimmed off hard plate. The tail lashed at him. He danced back out of its reach and his coral lamp fell off his head. Strangely, the monster's glow dimmed, as though some inner light had guttered and almost failed. Vansen s.n.a.t.c.hed up the headband and jumped back into the forest of stones, putting his back against the nearest Funderlings as he pulled his lamp into place. The creature was glowing brightly again. It was too big, too strong, too well armored. Vansen could see no way to defeat it. only skimmed off hard plate. The tail lashed at him. He danced back out of its reach and his coral lamp fell off his head. Strangely, the monster's glow dimmed, as though some inner light had guttered and almost failed. Vansen s.n.a.t.c.hed up the headband and jumped back into the forest of stones, putting his back against the nearest Funderlings as he pulled his lamp into place. The creature was glowing brightly again. It was too big, too strong, too well armored. Vansen could see no way to defeat it.

But what else could they do except fight? From what Spelter had said, this many-legged beast was not the only one of its kind, and even if they could hold it off, that would only bring more unsuspecting Funderlings out in search of them, no better armed against such a horror than they had been.

What would would be useful against this thing? Fire, likely-Spelter had said he drove one away with a torch. But what else? It seemed like nothing short of a rifle ball would pierce it and the Funderlings did not have such things. There was Chert's bombard, the one that had devastated the attacking Qar, but they hadn't brought one of those along on this expedition. Still, if they survived, it would be something to think about . . . be useful against this thing? Fire, likely-Spelter had said he drove one away with a torch. But what else? It seemed like nothing short of a rifle ball would pierce it and the Funderlings did not have such things. There was Chert's bombard, the one that had devastated the attacking Qar, but they hadn't brought one of those along on this expedition. Still, if they survived, it would be something to think about . . .

So-spears and my sword, and a few rocks. If they couldn't beat the creature with the long, strong If they couldn't beat the creature with the long, strong gurodir gurodir spears, they certainly weren't going to be able to kill it with a few small stones . . . spears, they certainly weren't going to be able to kill it with a few small stones . . .

A sudden idea came to him-an unlikely one, but Vansen was growing more desperate by the moment. The many-legged monster had tired of trying to b.u.t.t its way through the stalagmites and was attempting to climb over them instead, and was slowly, awkwardly succeeding. The faces of Vansen's Funderling allies were full of hopeless terror.

"Spelter," he called to the Qar scout. "How is he?"

The langedy-legged man, as Jasper had called him, looked up. "He's burned, but most of the venom is on his plate. ..." He jabbed at the armor with his finger where it lay in a heap beside Sledge Jasper, who was murmuring and twitching as if in a deep fever.

"Leave him. One of the others can see to him." Vansen told the drow scout what he wanted him to find. "I can't see well enough, Spelter, but you can. Go, find it for us! We'll keep the thing's attention here."

Spelter went so quickly that he seemed to vanish like a ghost at dawn. Vansen turned back to the rest of the men, who were crouching as far back from the approaching beast as they could. "Spears up and jabbing!" he ordered. "If you can't find something soft to jab at like a joint or an eye, just whack at the cursed thing as hard as you can! And shout!" He didn't even know if the creature had ears, but he was leaving nothing to chance.

The monster was almost upon them, teetering on a high spike of rock, legs flailing as it sought purchase to pull itself off the pinnacle. The shouts of Vansen and the Funderlings became louder, fueled by panic. The thing actually caught one of the warders in a sweeping claw, but with the Funderling in its grip it could not pull its claw-arm back. Two more warders leaped at it, prying at the crablike claw until the wounded man fell out onto the ground, gasping and coughing, bleeding in a wide band across his chest where his mail shirt had been crushed against his flesh.

The monster tipped and slid backward a little, then could not get up onto the pointed stone again. Heartened, the Funderlings redoubled their efforts, cracking on the beast's armor so hard with the ends of their heavy spears that they made a noise like high-pitched thunder in the echoing cavern.

Vansen had his spear in one hand and his sword in the other. Once he even managed to get his spear into the thing's bizarre mouth, but could not drive it in more than a few inches, and although the monster shied back it did not seem badly hurt. Another moment he saw a black spot that he thought must be an eye on the side of the weird, flat head, but when he tried to reach it with his sword, the beast almost took his head off with a flailing leg and he had to retreat behind a stalagmite.

Vansen was tiring and knew the Funderlings were tiring as well, but the monster did not seem to tire. They were running out of time.

The creature took a few many-legged steps back to find another angle of attack, and as it did, it moved beyond the Funderlings' reach. The clatter of spear on sh.e.l.l stopped, and in that moment of comparative quiet Vansen heard Spelter calling them: "Here! Here! Come now!"

"Follow his voice," he hissed to the warders, then bent down to scoop up the small but solid body of Sledge Jasper and toss him over his shoulder. "Go-now!"

The Funderlings ran deeper into the cavern, away from the center where the stone pinnacles sprouted everywhere. Only a moment pa.s.sed before the monster realized what they were doing and came legging after them.

"Here!" shouted Spelter. He was standing near one of the sloping walls of the cavern, half-hidden behind a large, mostly rounded stone many times his size which looked to have been rolled there when the world was young by some G.o.d playing at bowls. "Here, help me!"

Vansen got there last and carefully lowered the senseless Jasper to the ground. "It's too big. We'll never move it!"

"Balanced. Not so difficult-if we work hard!" Spelter said breathlessly. He had clearly begun already. Vansen and several of the Funderlings hurriedly clambered onto the curving shelf of rock beside him and jammed their spears into the s.p.a.ce between the round stone and the wall. Vansen set his booted foot against the stone and leaned back hard, testing the flexibility of his spear. If it broke, he might well kill himself or one of his fellows with the shards before the monster even reached them, but for the moment it was holding together.

"Everybody!" Vansen shouted. "Now!" The other Funderlings did their best to find a place to throw their own weight and strength against the perched stone, their spears bending like saplings. Vansen felt blood in his temples threatening to boil and burst out, but the stone was not moving and the glowing, spiderlike monster was moving toward them, in no hurry now that it had them out from behind cover and against a wall with nowhere else to run.

Something was pulling hard at his leg. For a terrifying moment Vansen thought it was another one of the creatures, then he realized it was the half-naked form of Sledge Jasper, with armor and helmet gone and a blistering burn up the side of his face, trying to use Vansen's leg to climb up and help.

"Give me room, you cursed, gawky upgrounder!" Jasper cried, then shoved the b.u.t.t of his spear into the crack between stone and floor and lifted his legs off the ground, swinging on the spear until it bent nearly double. The others, too weary now to do anything but keep pulling, leaned back into their own spears. Vansen shoved his back down against the wall so he could use both legs at the same time. The creature lifted its snapping claws, each the size of a fiddler's ba.s.s viol, and reared up on its hindmost legs. Then the stone moved.

Vansen had only a moment to notice that nothing was holding him up before he fell heavily to the floor of the cavern, Funderlings tumbling all around him like frozen sparrows dropping from winter branches. The boulder tottered, then tipped and rolled down the short incline. At first it seemed to move so slowly that Vansen thought it was impossible the monster would fail to evade it, but either the thing's tiny eyes or its weak wits betrayed it, and it only waved its claws impotently as the rock, three times the monster's height, rolled over it and crushed it with a dreadful, wonderful wet crunch. By the time the boulder came to a halt again some twenty paces on, part of the monster was still stuck to it, but most lay in a ruined smear of shadow on the cavern floor, only a leg or two that the stone had missed still showing any last, fitful movement.

"Go!" Vansen shouted. "Back the way we came in, before another one finds us! Go now, and stay together . . . !" The indescribable smell of the thing was so strong as they ran past it that Vansen had to stop shouting and clamp his teeth together to keep from being sick.

If Sledge Jasper had not dragged back a monstrous claw from the thing that had tried to kill him and the other warders and Captain Vansen, and then proudly showed it to nearly every living person in the Metamorphic Brothers' temple, Chert would have had trouble believing that such a horror could exist, even after all the other mad things he had seen in the past year.

The claw itself was almost as long as Jasper was tall. As Chert stared, the chief warder beamed and pointed to his blistered cheek. "See? This is where he spit his poison on me. Would have killed me, too, but Spelter rubbed it off with his own shirt." Sledge nodded proudly. "One of them drows, but he risked his life to save us. That's a pretty tale, isn't it? But true. He's all right, that Spelter."

"Does it hurt?" Chert asked.

"My skin, you mean?" Jasper asked. "Burned like fire at first. Better now, but the healer-brother says I'll always have scars. 'More scars, you mean,' that's what I told him. More scars, 'cause I'd got plenty already. Have I showed 'em all to you?" scars, you mean,' that's what I told him. More scars, 'cause I'd got plenty already. Have I showed 'em all to you?"

"Later," said Chert quickly. "I'd love to see them, Wardthane, truly I would, but Captain Vansen's waiting for me."

"Ah, yes, certain then you'd want to be going. We're lucky to have the captain, you know. Almost as good as . . . no, I'll say it; he is is as good as a Funderling. Thought of that dodge with the big stone right on the spot, he did, while that Elders-cursed crab-spider was trying to kill us. We'd all be in its belly, weren't for Captain Vansen." as good as a Funderling. Thought of that dodge with the big stone right on the spot, he did, while that Elders-cursed crab-spider was trying to kill us. We'd all be in its belly, weren't for Captain Vansen."

"Yes, we're lucky to have him," Chert agreed.

He left Jasper looking for anyone else who hadn't seen the ma.s.sive, odiferous claw and made his way down the hall toward the refectory, which Vansen and Cinnabar and the rest had made the stronghold of the defense effort. Chert was a little worried about what Vansen wanted of him, not because he was afraid of being put back into danger-just being alive beneath Southmarch was danger enough these days-but because he was terrified that Vansen would want to send him somewhere and he would have to tell Opal he was off again. She had not been back long and was already distraught over how strange Flint had become: Chert felt sure having to give her bad news would be a more terrifying adventure than any monstrous spider-crab.

He was surprised to find Vansen sitting in the refectory by himself, poring over a pile of parchments and-even more surprising-piles of the Temple's precious mica sheets. Brother Nickel must have nearly soiled himself when Vansen asked for those and Cinnabar backed him up Brother Nickel must have nearly soiled himself when Vansen asked for those and Cinnabar backed him up, thought Chert, not without some satisfaction.

Vansen looked tired, his eyes shadowed as if bruised, his shoulders slumped, but he found a smile for Chert. "Ho there, Master Blue Quartz. How is your family?"

Chert was touched to be asked. "Well as can be expected, sir. The boy is very quiet and thoughtful, so that we can hardly get a word from him, but that's better than him traipsing everywhere and getting into trouble."

The big man laughed quietly. "He is not the chiefest delight of the Metamorphic Brothers, is he?"

"That's fair to say." Chert couldn't quite muster up the energy to smile himself. "I do not know what we've let ourselves in for with this child, to tell the truth, he is often so strange. It is like living with a fairy child-a changeling."

Vansen looked at him absently for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. "He is deep in these doings. I suddenly wonder why we have not spoken of him to the Qar-and especially to Lady Yasammez."

Chert suppressed a shiver. "I stood before her once as a prisoner-a condemned prisoner, at that. I'm in no hurry to seek out another audience."

"In any case, there is something important to be understood about your boy, Chert, that I feel certain-but it would take a keener eye than mine to see it clear. Perhaps Chaven can solve the riddle." Vansen sighed. "Ah, well. We have troubles enough without inviting more. I was wondering if you could do me a kindness, friend Chert."

"Of course, Captain. We are all here to help you." But now that the moment had come, Chert Blue Quartz could not help flinching a little in antic.i.p.ation of some new, mad venture-being ordered to sneak into the castle to steal Hendon Tolly's handkerchief, or sent out to demand the autarch's surrender.

"Since I have been here beneath the castle," Vansen said, "I have had difficulty making sense of things. Not all," he said hurriedly, "but certainly your people's directions. I do not know what is meant by 'fro-wards' and 'upwise' and whatnot, but ..." he put out his hand to forestall Chert's explanation, "but more importantly, I simply do not know the ground."

"We have many maps ..." Chert began.

"Yes, and I have most of them in front of me," said Vansen. "Come, look. Here is one. It shows Funderling Town and what lies below as a single circle. We are looking down, as from the sky is my guess, if there was no castle and no earth in the way to block our gaze. Am I right?"

Chert nodded. "It does not show the Mysteries, or most of the Stormstone Roads, but those are secret ..."

"Yes, but I wouldn't have known that from looking. I can make no sense of it at all."

Chert smiled. "I can show you easily enough. Here, the different thickness of lines indicates the level, and these marks mean ..."

"No, I mean I can make no sense of it. I cannot see it with your eyes no matter how I try, no matter how your folk try to instruct me. Brother Antimony spent half of last night grimly explaining over and over again, but it is like trying to describe Orphan's Day to a fish." His smile was sad, now, and the weariness plainer than ever. "You have spent much time on the surface, Chert, I know. You of all people here might be able to make maps that an upgrounder can understand. Will you do that?" He spread his hands over the doc.u.ments before him. "It need not be perfect. I do not need every single pa.s.sage-although I would not quibble at it. But the most important thing is that I need to understand how close the different pa.s.sages are to each other, especially which of them are above which others. Also, which ways are pa.s.sable by anyone, which only by Funderlings. Then I can ask questions. Then I can make decisions. Will you do it for me?"

It was potentially a huge task, but Chert could understand how important it was. And, he realized, he could accomplish much if not all of it from the safety of the temple, so that Opal would not fret too much, and he would see her and the boy every day.

"How soon?" he asked. He would have to make sure Cinnabar knew about it, in case Brother Nickel made a stink about Chert using the temple library.

"I need it a tennight past." Vansen rose and stretched, his joints popping so that even Chert could hear them. "I will take it as soon as it is ready-sooner. Show me what you have as you work. Now, if you will pardon me, friend Blue Quartz, I think I should find Jasper and Cinnabar and the others before they say something to turn the Qar back into enemies."

"... So I will be in the library much of the day most days, and perhaps some nights until I finish this for Captain Vansen," he explained to Opal. "But I can do a good deal of the work here at home, too, after I've finished with the Brothers' books, since I doubt that Nickel will let me carry those home under my arms."

"Home," Opal sniffed. "I would not call a cramped, crowded room in the drafty, cold temple a home . . . but I suppose it is all we have for now. At least we don't have to share it with your giant friend anymore." The "giant friend" was Chaven, who on Opal's return had moved to other quarters.

Chert was rea.s.sured. If Opal was complaining, she was . . . if not happy, then at least in reasonable spirits. "Yes, well, the mark of a n.o.ble character is how it stands up to suffering, my only love."

"Then if I become any n.o.bler, I'll have to start screaming." She gave him a sharp look. "Do you have time to talk to the boy before you go hurrying off to play your map games? He said you would understand, and if you do, you may explain it to me because I don't."

"Explain what?"

"Ask him. He's gone down the hall to Chaven's room." She fluffed the straw mattress into a more pleasing consistency, but the look on her face made it clear straw would never compare with their swallow-fluff bed at home. He was surprised she had not carried the mattress down from Funderling Town on her back. "I have things of my own to do, in case you didn't know."

Chert turned back-he knew that tone and knew he should pay attention. "Of course, my love." He waited, hoping she would go on without making him ask. Of course she didn't. "And those things are . . . ?"