Aribeth looked around herself, but found only darkness on all sides. The only thing she was certain of was that she was still in the water. She did not know where Fred was, and had not known since they had been separated going over a waterfall some time after the lake under Neverwinter's palace had drained into a river. She remembered feeling a tingle, as if she had fallen through a portal, part of the way down the waterfall, and then she had fallen through air - not much, apparently, to judge by her bruises - before landing in the water she was floating in now. She felt naked and vulnerable, with no weapons, no armor, nor any other possessions of any kind but the sackcloth clothing she had worn in prison.

She had called Fred's name a few times - until she heard something large splash in the water near her. How near, she didn't know. The echoes threw off her ability to judge distance by sound, and without light, she couldn't see. Now she understood why her old dwarven associates had laughed at her ability to see under the night sky - it was useless here, where there was no night sky to give her light. She would have given anything to see the familiar glow of Fred's sword, but all there was, was unending darkness. As if that wasn't bad enough, she could not use magic to summon light. Her paladin abilities had been lost to her when she fell to Morag. Her blackguard abilities had been lost when Fred had rescued her. Even though Kelemvor had accepted her as a ranger in his service, she had had no chance to pray for spells since then, and so was unable to do so much as call for an animal to help her. If not for the pendant Fred had pressed on her before dragging her into the lake, she would have already drowned - a fate which she sadly considered might be preferable to drifting in the cold, slowly freezing to death and subject to being attacked at any time by unknown creatures.

Aribeth did not know how much time had passed, but it was still dark, and she had gone beyond merely cold, until she was no longer shivering, but was merely drifting in the water, waiting miserably for something to end her suffering. As much as she knew she deserved her fate, she no longer had even the strength to meditate on her sins, but was merely numbly waiting for the end. The cold and darkness had drained her of the last reserves of her strength, leaving her alive only because her body refused to quit, no matter how little she willed for it to live.

She did not remember her name. All she knew was the cold and the dark. Something had changed, though. Noises were penetrating the silence. Noises that sounded like fish, trying to speak like men. But how did she know that? She couldn't remember, and the effort required to consider the question taxed her more than she desired to deal with. Her body banged against something solid. She felt herself being lifted from the water, and tossed onto a solid surface that rocked in time with the movements of the water. She felt slimy hands roughly feeling her body, then sounds like an argument above her. She lay where she had been tossed, unable to care, or even to know why she should care. More time passed, marked by the movements of the surface she was on, and the sounds of the fish-men, before the surface she was on stopped with a jarring thump, and sharp objects poked her from all sides. She moaned, then scuttled away from the points, off the moving surface and onto a colder surface that did not move beneath her.

She whimpered in pain as her eyes sent stabbing sensations through her head. The pain resolved itself into light, painfully bright, glowing from something...she could not see what it was, but it reflected off the ...ceiling?... above her. The fish-men prodded her with their ...spears?... and forced her toward a group of ...dwarves?... that stood around an animal of some kind, arguing with another fish-man. One of the dwarves left the group and approached her, then began prodding her with his hands, feeling her the same way the fish-men were feeling the animal. She stood, numbly, neither understanding nor caring what he was doing, while the pain in her eyes slowly lessened as she grew accustomed to the reddish light ahead of her. The air was hazy, with the haze thickening into smoke near the ceiling, and in the distance, she saw stone pillars that ran to the ceiling, each with chimneys on the sides that continously belched thick, yellow-brown smoke. The dwarf said something to the others, in a language she did not understand, and the animal they had been arguing over with the fish-men changed hands. He took her pendant, then wrapped a rope around her neck and tugged. She stumbled, then followed, neither knowing nor caring where she was being led.

She followed the dwarf silently, cringing from the painful noises, lights, and presence of so many beings, until he stopped in front of a gate. Opening the gate, he pushed her through, into a pen filled with others, all dressed as she was, from several races. She saw dwarves, gnomes, grey-skinned orcs, minotaurs, goblins, kobolds, and humanoids of races she had no name for. She stood inside the gate, silently looking around, until a dwarf approached and looked her up and down intently. She cringed, backing up until she reached the gate, then sinking down on the ground and covering her face with her hands.

"Oy, lass," the dwarf said, her voice rough, and yet, at the same time, soothing. "I won't bite ye, ok? How'd an elf like you get down here?"

"Elf...?" she whispered, then whimpered at the sound of her own voice.

"Aye, lass," the dwarf said, moving closer, a hand extended. "You're an elf. Do ye not remember?"

"I...?" she whispered, uncertainly. "I...? Elf...? I...am...elf?"

"Aye, lass," the dwarf said. "Ye're an elf. I am called Cali. What name do you use?"

"Name...," she whispered. "Name? I...I have...a...name?"

"Ah, lass," Cali said gently, the dwarf's hand finally coming to rest on her shoulder. "They used ye badly, did they? Come with me, and we'll see what we can do, aye?"

She looked down at Cali's hand, then into Cali's eyes, and saw only concern there. She nodded slowly, reached up to her shoulder, and took Cali's hand in her own. As Cali moved away, she followed, her hand gripping Cali's tightly, as if all this were merely an illusion her mind had created, a last burst of insanity before the cold and darkness took her.

Fred wiped his sword on the last kuo-toa's clothing and pushed the body off his island, back into the dark lake. Whereve he was, the one thing he was certain of was that Aribeth was out there, alone, and it was up to him to find her. He tested his breeches, draped over bits of wreckage around a fire he had built when he first washed up on the island, and nodded. They were dry enough to pack away, leaving only the meal of grilled fish for him to eat before testing the raft the kuo-toa had used to come to his island. In the distance, he saw a red glow, as of thousands of forges. Since the water was cold, and not acidic, he assumed the glow meant there was a settlement of some kind, and not a magma pocket, which gave him hope that he could find help in locating Aribeth.

While eating, he took out the parchment that had come with the pendants he had used in their escape. Not only did they allow the wearers to endure any climatic conditions, even to the point of breathing under water or on top of a mountain, they also allowed one wearing one of the pendants to find one wearing the other. He had only to use the command word to activate the tracking function, and it would produce a tugging in his mind, guiding him in the direction of Aribeth's pendant. The fish was strange, with more bones than a carp, but it was food. He ate it quickly, then knelt to pray. As he prayed, he felt Kelemvor's presence, reassuring him that his mission was indeed righteous, and that protecting Aribeth was his duty. The powers of his chosen path filled his mind, girding him for the task ahead.

His prayers completed, Fred doused the fire and boarded the raft. On the water, he spoke the command word as it had been written on the parchment, and immediately felt the promised tug. As he had hoped, the tug pulled him in the direction of the glow. It took a few minutes to work out how to propel and steer the raft, but once he did, his journey toward the glow began in earnest.

She sat with Cali and looked around, her eyes wide with amazement at the variety of beings gathered in this place, all of whom seemed to defer to Cali as their leader. She knew, somehow, that the many varied beings here should normally not be associating at all, yet somehow, Cali had managed to turn them into a community - and because Cali had taken her under her wing, they accepted her. She looked at Cali and asked, uncertainly, "What is my name?"

"Do ye not remember, lass?" Cali asked. She looked around at those closest to her and asked, "What say you? She cannot remember her name, so we must give her one, aye? Have any of you a suggestion?"

"Look at her hair," a grey orc said. "Why not call her Airwen, for her bright, fiery hair?"

"Air...," she said softly, then her eyes grew wide and she cried out, curling up and sobbing brokenly. "Air....Ari...I am...Ari...."

"You are Ari?" Cali asked, gently stroking her hair. "Is that your name, lass?"

"He calls me Ari," she said. "Where is he? Why is he not with me?"

"Who is he?" asked a gnome. "Do you remember?"

"He...," Ari said, uncertainly. "He...his name..." She huddled, her arms around her knees, her head on her knees as she thought, then looked up and said, a tone of wonder in her voice, "His name is Fred. He loves me."

"Fred?" a minotaur asked. "Is your Fred a great warrior? A human?"

"He is," Ari said, nodding vigorously. "I remember...he is...." She sobbed and whispered, "He will come for me...he must!"

"Among my people," the minotaur said, "there is a story of a human, a great warrior, named Fred. He defeated Zor, the gladiator, in a duel of honor, then he told all who would listen of Zor's strength and honor. If he is your Fred, he is a hero to my people, a human who is as strong and honorable as a warrior of the minotaur."

"Gan," the gnome said, "spread the word among your people. If her Fred is your Fred, then he will help us. I have heard of him, too. He is known, among those of the surface world, as the Hero of Neverwinter."

Ari whimpered and curled up beside Cali at the mention of Neverwinter. Cali stroked her hair and said gently, "He will come for you, Aribeth. No matter your crimes, he will come for you."

"My...crimes?" Ari asked, confused.

"You are Aribeth de Tylmarande, yes?" Cali asked. "You are the one who betrayed Neverwinter, who became the High General of Luskan? Obviously, he somehow took you away from the looming war, and whatever will happen must happen without your leadership."

"Betrayed...?" Ari shook her head violently. "I don't know! I can't remember!" She whimpered in fear and confusion. "Fred? Please help me, Fred."

"He will help you," Cali said softly. She looked at the others and said, firmly, "Whatever her actions on the surface, Ari is one of us. You are right, Sigbol. We must spread the word that Fred is coming, so that when he arrives, we will be ready. If anyone can help us escape our slavery, it is he. Gan, tell the minotaur he is coming. Grull, the orog must fight beside the minotaur, as your people and Gan's are the strongest and the most skilled of us all in the ways of battle. Sigbol, be sure your people redouble your acquisition of tools and parts, so we can issue weapons to as many of our people as possible. All of you, we must work more diligently to appear harmless until he appears. We can not afford to miss this chance. The duergar will strike us down if we do not maintain control over our people until the time is right.Now, go and tell the others what we have decided here."

Grull nodded, looked down at Ari thoughtfully, then strode away from the circle, pausing to speak with others of his race as he did. Gan grinned, ran his claws through the fur on his head, glanced about to ensure no guards were within earshot, then growled, as softly as a minotaur can, "I have looked forward to this day since the duergar captured my gang. We shall show Fred that Zor is not the only one of my people who can be called a hero."

"I am counting on it, Gan," Cali said. "Your gang is strong and brave, and you have shown great wisdom in keeping them, and the other minotaurs, in check until this day. Soon, they will be able to show the duergar what it means to anger the minotaur, and I will be proud to say that I was there to see it."

Gan stood proudly, then stalked away, his stride filled with strength and purpose.

"Shall we acquire the weapons they reject?" Sigbol asked. "Not all of them are rejected for defects. Most are rejected simply because they don't have the right pattern, or shine in quite the right way."

"I think you should test a few, first," Cali said. "See if they notice the missing rejects. If not, and if you can find or create hiding places for them, bring in what you can. But be sure your people take extra care to not be caught. We can't afford to lose anyone who can hold a blade, so close to our liberation."

"I understand," Sigbol said. "I'll make sure the others know." He slipped away, vanishing within just a few steps among the rubble and shadows of the slave pen.

"Whatever are we going to do with you, Aribeth?" Cali asked. Ari whimpered and hugged her knees. Cali sighed. "Even the name frightens you, does it? What terrible things happened to break you this way?"

"I can't remember," Ari whimpered. "Where is Fred? Why isn't he here?"

"He will come for you," Cali said, gently stroking Ari's hair. "He will come for you."

Fred crouched on a ledge, less than a foot above the water, and cursed silently as the wreckage of his raft drifted away. He had managed to avoid a duergar patrol, but in doing so, his raft had been attacked and destroyed by some kind of ray. He had made it to the ledge, and had killed the ray when it tried to leap on him from the water, but the raft had been unrecoverable. Now, he was forced to search for an alternative route - one that didn't involve water travel. He watched the wreckage drifting away, then sighed softly and scanned the ledge. His sword's light revealed that he had not been the first to take refuge here. Previous occupants of the ledge had included at least one drow, judging from the remains left behind. He searched through the remains and recovered some jewelry, a strange-looking suit of leather armor, a short sword, a hand crossbow and a half-used quiver of darts for it,  a pair of rods - one made of a dark metal and the other covered with spider and web patterns, a pouch full of clay pellets, a jasper spider figurine, a leather scroll case, and a dull grey cloak. Fred cleared the ledge, carefully placing the bones in a niche in the wall so he could properly bless them, then removed a portable hole from its pocket in his pack and placed it on the

cleared area. The ladder he had left in the hole was still in place, making it easier for him to climb down and deposit the jewelry in an empty box for safekeeping until he could analyze it later. That done, he found his supply of potions of identification. Armed with his potions, he began to study the other items he had found.

It took some time, and a number of potions, but eventually, he identified his findings. The hand crossbow and darts went into a box in the hole, as did the armor Fred had been wearing. He donned the new armor and cloak, tried moving in them, then smiled in satisfaction. Whatever else you could say about Drow, their craftsmanship was amazingly good. The rods went into his pack, while the shortsword and pouch found places on his belt. He tucked the jasper spider into one of his belt pouches, then rolled up the hole and tucked it back into its pocket in his pack.

"All right," Fred muttered as he opened the scroll case. "Since all I could discover about you is that you're some kind of divination scroll, let's see if you have a title I can use to identify what you are." Inside the scroll case was one of the best-preserved scrolls Fred had seen outside a library or temple store. He unrolled it an inch or so, and found no title whatsoever, so he opened it a bit farther. He paused, stunned by what he saw, and opened it fully. "Oh...my...," he breathed, as he stared at the scroll. On its surface, revealed in exquisite detail, was a map, showing every feature of his surroundings, from the ledge he was on - which appeared at the center of the map - down to an area in the lake, about a hundred yards away, that the map indicated was a dead magic zone. According to the legend on the map, its markings covered everything within a mile of his ledge, both natural and artificial. He dug around in his pack until he found a magnifying lens he had picked up a while back, then began studying the map, looking for a way off his ledge.

Ari woke with a start, sat up, and glanced around wildly. Her gaze came to rest on Cali, and she let out a soft sigh, relaxing and laying back down to sleep. Cali, sitting by a nearby fire, noticed her movements and called out softly to her.

"Ari, it's time to wake up," Cali said. "We will be called to go to the fields shortly, and you need to eat" She patted the ground beside her. Ari moved to sit beside her, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the fire. "Rothé dung," Cali said. "You get used to it after a while. Here. Have some sporebread. The duergar make sure we have plenty of it to eat. Not that it's much use to the minotaurs or orog, but so far, we've managed to keep them fed on the rothé the duergar discard."

Cali gave Ari a loaf of bread that looked somewhat blue, and was flatter than she thought bread should look. She looked around for a knife, then realized that she wasn't likely to find one, and tore off a piece of the bread. Inside, the bread was blue, too, but smelled like she thought bread should smell. She took a bite, and decided it was good enough. Maybe it wasn't exciting, but she wouldn't go hungry - and she realized that she was hungry. Hungry enough to devour the loaf and look around to see if there were more.

"That's probably enough for now," Cali said. "The way you went through that, I'd expect you haven't eaten in days."

"Days?" Ari asked. "How do you tell time here?"

"We tell it by him," Cali said, pointing at a duergar on a watch tower over the slave pen, who was preparing to strike a gong. As he struck the gong, the slave pen gates opened, and all around her, Ari saw slaves rising and shuffling toward the gates. Cali emptied a bucket of sand onto her fire, then took Aribeth by the arm and steered her toward the middle of the crowd. "Keep quiet and keep your head down. You don't want them to notice you."

Ari, not knowing what else to do, shuffled along with the other slaves, her head down, as the duergar led them from their pen near the water to a passage that led away from the main cavern. After traveling far enough she could no longer see the red light of the main cavern reflected on the rock, the slaves entered another cavern, one lit by glowing fungus on the walls, and filled with blue mushrooms as far as she could see.

At the entrance to the cavern, each slave collected a sack, then trudged into the mushroom field. Ari followed Cali into the middle of the field, and did her best to copy what Cali was doing. When her sack was full, she followed Cari's lead and emptied it into an ox-cart on the edge of the field, then returned to picking. The rhythm of the work made it possible for her to lose herself in it, and did not require any thought. She lost herself in the darkness of not thinking, simply picking and emptying, picking and emptying.

"Time to go," Cali said, tapping on Ari's shoulder. "We're done for the day."

Fred reached out with a hand mirror and glanced around the corner into the next passage. The beholder was still there, floating in the middle of the passage, as if it were waiting for something to come along. He pulled the mirror back, tucked it into its pouch, then covered his head with the hood of his cloak and hid against the wall of his passage. The beholder bobbed along, paused to examine the footprints Fred had left in the dust, then floated past him, into the passage he had come down. Fred remained still, trusting the magic of the cloak to hide him until the creature was far enough away to no longer be a threat. The beholder traveled down the passage until it was almost out of sight, then returned, scanning with its eyestalks as if studying every inch of the passage as it passed, until it came to a stop in front of Fred.

"Damn it!" Fred thought. "Cloak may hide me, but it doesn't hide my footprints."

The beholder slowly turned - or, at least, it seemed slow to Fred, who had thrown his cloak aside as soon as he felt the gaze of the monster blocking his gear's magic and was thrusting with his sword. As the beholder reached an angle where its central eye could have been a threat, according to what he remembered from his discussions with others in Port Llast, the point of his sword made contact, puncturing the eye and spraying fluid all over the passage. As soon as the eye ruptured, the glow of his sword returned, and he felt the familiar tingle of magic coursing over his body. The beholder let out a roar of pain and rage, and its eyestalks flailed wildly.

Fred didn't wait to see what the beholder would choose to do, now that its central eye was destroyed. He continued moving, ducking beneath the beholder, and thrust upward, putting all of his once more magically-enhanced strength behind his blow. The point of his sword skidded for a moment against its hide, caught on a fold, and sank in, penetrating the base of the monster's body, coating Fred in a gusher of its blood. Fred kept his grip on his sword only because of the power of his strength-enhancing belt, as the beholder bucked and tossed from one side of the passage to the other, slamming him into first one wall, then the other. Each time he hit the wall, Fred twisted his sword in the beholder, forcing the wound open again and dousing himself in another flood of blood. It wasn't long before, even with enhanced strength, only the sharkskin covering his sword's hilt allowed him to keep his grip. Luckily, the beholder was weakening, its wild bucking was fading, and even its eyestalks were growing limp.

Fred held on, sheer determination keeping him attached to his sword at the last, until the beholder sank to the floor and every one of its eyestalks hung limp. He pushed the body off and crawled from under it, then pushed it over onto its back, stood astride its central eye socket, and plunged his sword in to the hilt. The beholder gave one last spasm, its eyestalks fired a brief burst to all sides, and then it gave up its struggle to live.

Fred remained where he was, stirring the point of his blade around inside the beholder's brain case for another minute, before deciding it was dead enough to consider safe. He dropped to the floor and glanced around, holding his sword up to take advantage of its light, scanning for anything hostile that might have been attracted by the battle. When he looked around, he let out a soft whistle at the destruction around him. He had been so busy holding on, he hadn't noticed that the beholder had apparently been randomly using its eyes in an attempt to kill him. The walls of the passage were blasted with craters and scars, deep enough to fit an ogre into comfortably in some cases, some of the craters showing the signs of fire. Not remembering anyone ever mentioning a beholder having the ability to shoot fire, Fred considered the damage he saw, then turned to closely examine the corpse. There had to be some explanation for the firey explosions, and he meant to find it.

Two possible answers to the puzzle appeared quickly, once Fred cleared away the blood and gore from the corpse. Around the base of one of the eyestalks, Fred found a golden headband, elaborately braided and engraved with symbols indicating it was associated with the sun. As if that wasn't enough, clutched in a death grip by another eyestalk was a wand with a Liberace-sized ruby embedded in one end. Fred wasted no time in carving off the offending eyestalks, then wrapping and storing the headband and wand in his pack, so he could clean and identify them later. He suspected, though, that both of them had played their part in the destruction around him. Regardless, he wanted to get them packed and clear out before scavengers showed up to pick over the beholder's corpse.

Ari sat by the fire and listened while Cali dispenced advice and judgments to everyone who came to her, whether they were dwarf, gnome, orog, or whatever race. Every single being in the slave pen seemed to consider her their leader, and even the goblins and kobolds did not jockey to displace her. She didn't know why this surprised her, but she knew she was surprised.

"Ari?" Cali's voice penetrated her thoughts. Ari jumped, blushed, and looked at Cali. "There you are. I was starting to think you had drifted off somewhere. You'd better get some bread if you intend to eat."

"Oh," Ari said. "I...you're right. Thank you." She took the offered loaf and tore off a piece. "How long have you been here?"

"Time doesn't mean much here," Cali said, "but since I started keeping track of working shifts, it's been almost three hundred. Why?"

"Almost three hundred shifts?" Ari asked, her heart sinking. "I...I'm just worried about Fred. I...."

"Shh," Cali said softly, an intent look in her eyes. "He will find you. He will make it here. You have to rely on that. You have to believe it."

Ari nodded, biting her lip. She knew, somehow, that Fred would not give up on her, that as long as he lived, he would come for her. All she could do was pray that he was alive. She knew that she had to keep up her strength until he found her, no matter how uninspiring the food was, so she began eating, focusing on that need to stay strong for him.

While she was eating, the gates opened, and a group of duergar entered the pen, their weapons in hand, with others on watch towers around the pen aiming their crossbows into the pen around the group, which was working its way through the slaves, apparently searching for one in particular. Not knowing what or who drove them, Ari crouched with her bread, doing her best to be inoffensive and uninteresting.

"You! Elf!" the lead duergar said, his Common so thickly accented it made Gan's seem smooth and literate by comparison. Ari huddled over her bread. Surely he wasn't talking to her? Surely there had to be another elf among the slaves? Her hopes were dashed when the duergar knocked her over with a sharp blow to the side of her head. "Get up! You are coming with me!"

Ari whimpered and scrambled to her feet, then stood, head hanging, waiting for the duergar to lead her where he wanted. The duergar struck her with a short whip, driving her ahead of him as they left the pen, the armed escort surrounding them all the way to the gates. Outside the gates, the duergar looked her over and grumbled loudly in dwarven.

"Damned drow, anyway," the duergar grumbled to himself. "Still, her gold's as good as any. Better than I would have got for the rothé I traded for this slave. Don't know why she wants the necklace, too. Damned thing's ugly and poorly made."

"It may be," purred a drow woman, wearing robes that gave Ari a sinking sense of dread, standing in the middle of the street with her escort, "but the gold I gave you is enough that you should humor me." She walked around Ari, looking her over the way a cougar looks over a lamb, and smiled coldly. "So you were telling the truth. A surfacer elf. And a female, at that. Yes, I do believe the price we agreed on is more than worth any work you would have got out of her. You know how fragile these elves are. Nothing at all like a drow. I'll just take possession of her now."

"Fragile, and stupid," the duergar agreed. "She nearly ruined an entire shipment of bluecap. Too stupid to tell ripe from unripe. Now she's your headache." He lashed Ari across the back, driving her toward the drow. "Well, go on, you stupid elf. There's your new mistress."

Ari stumbled toward the drow with a faint whimper, then stopped and stood in front of her, her head lowered, hoping that she wouldn't follow the duergar's example and use a whip on her. The drow reached out and grabbed her jaw, lifted her head so she could look her over thoroughly, pinched her arm, then nodded to one of her escort.

"Shackle her to the wagon. She's strong enough to keep up," the drow said. "She may even be strong enough for what I have in mind."

"Yes, mistress," the escort - a male drow in glistening black chain armor said. He grabbed Ari's arm and dragged her to the rear of a nearby wagon, laden with a variety of weapons and armor, all of it packaged for transport. Once there, he bolted a steel collar around her neck, then locked it to a chain that was anchored to the bed of the wagon. The chain was long enough to allow Ari to move around easily, but not long enough to allow her to get into the wagon, or to get away from the gazes - or weapons - of the drow. She stood where she had been chained, shivering with dread. What did the drow have in mind that would require her strength? Did she want to know?

"So, my pretty surfacer," the drow purred, once her escort was done, "you made it all the way down here, where you're at my mercy. And I have no mercy. Isn't that wonderful?" She smiled coldly, then grabbed Ari's hair and pulled her close, enough that Ari could feel the drow's breath on her face when she spoke. "I've been looking for a suitable subject for my researches, and now you've fallen into my hands. Surely Lolth is smiling on me. You should be grateful to be granted such an important place in my work."

Ari shuddered and turned her head. The drow laughed and patted her cheek, then walked away, while examining the necklace Ari had been wearing when the fish-men captured her. It was heavy, with a platinum pendant. The drow studied it a moment, then cast a spell and studied it some more. When she was done, she laughed.

"So, you have a partner, do you?" she taunted Ari. "As long as I hold this, I can tell where your partner is. How very convenient. I think I'll keep it. Two elves for the price of one is always a good bargain."

"No! Fred! Stay away!" Ari thought. "Don't let her catch you, too!"

Still laughing, the drow ordered her escort into motion, and within minutes, they were on their way out of the city.

"Hmm," Fred thought. "She's moving. I wonder if it's to avoid something, or she's hunting." He found a defensible alcove and crouched in it, took the map out of his pack, and studied it. "Damn. The only way to get to her is to go through that huge cavern she was in. I hope it's not a drow city." He memorized the route from his current location to the huge cavern, then packed away the map and started down the passage.

It took less than six hours to get close enough to the cavern that Fred no longer needed the light from his sword. As he was putting his sword away, a rough voice called out in Dwarven, "State your name and business!"

"I am Fred MacManus," he called back, "and I am here to do business."

"The pass fee is one thousand gold," the dwarf said, suddenly appearing from the side of the passage as it lowered the hood of its cloak. "If you're here to do business, I'm sure you know about the fee."

"One thousand, huh?" Fred asked. He grumbled, while sliding his pack off and digging through it, one eye on the dwarf in case of a sudden change in attitude. "Next time, I tell my employer if he wants an errand boy, he pays expenses up front." He paused a moment, thinking rapidly, when his hands touched the objects he had recovered from the beholder's body, then looked up at the dwarf, while taking the wand out of the pack. "Will a wand of fireballs do? When I picked it up, back up the trail, it still had forty uses left."

"Let me see that," the dwarf demanded. Fred shrugged and handed the wand over. The dwarf studied it intently, then drank down a potion and studied it some more. After a few seconds, he tucked the wand into his belt and smiled at Fred, like a police officer who had just been adequately bribed. "That will do very nicely. Welcome to Gracklstugh. Keep your weapons sheathed at all times, and stay in the Darklake District. That'd be the north side of town, closest to the lake. If you're looking to do business, you'll find plenty of dealers there. Anything you want that they don't have, they'll connect you with someone. For a suitable fee, of course."

"Thank you," Fred said. "You are very helpful. Where's a good place to get tanked?"

"Get...tanked?" the dwarf asked, scratching his bald head in confusion. After a few moments thought, his eyes lit up. "Oh! You mean drunk! I suggest the Shattered Spire. Can't miss it - it's on its own little island, with a rope bridge between it and shore. Best damned booze an outlander can hope to get, on the surface or below."

Fred nodded, tossed a platinum piece to the dwarf, and said, "Thanks much. Have a few on me, eh?"

The dwarf snatched the coin out of the air, grinned when he realized it wasn't silver, and said, "You get to the gates, they're gonna challenge you. The answer you need is 'King Horgar's honor'."

"King Horgar's honor," Fred said. "Got it. Thanks. And watch out out here, eh? I got that wand off a beholder. Lucky for me it was alone."

"A...beholder?" the dwarf asked, looking Fred over as if he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or insulted.

"Yeah." Fred shrugged, then unwrapped the eyestalks he'd chopped off to get at the wand and circlet. "I kept these, in case they have any sale value."

"A...beholder," the dwarf whispered, giving Fred a look of awe. "Mister, if you can kill a beholder, without any help from anyone else, you can find all the work you want around here. Just talk to Durna Thuldark. We have caravans going out all the time that can use guards with your skill."

"Durna Thuldark, eh?" Fred confirmed, while wrapping up the eyestalks and putting them back in his pack. "Got it." He extended a hand and said, "If you happen to wander by the Shattered Spire when you're off duty, I'd consider it an honor to down a few pints with you."

"I'd be delighted," the dwarf said, grasping Fred's hand firmly. "My name is Ivar Shadowhunter."

"Well then, Ivar," Fred said with a smile, "I'll be sure to keep a pint at hand for you."

Ivar nodded and grinned, then pulled up his hood and vanished against the rock again. Fred shouldered his pack and started back down the trail toward Gracklstugh.

The drow caravan, all one wagon of it, stopped in a cavern that it got to through a passage that was barely wide enough for the wagon. From the time they had left the city, they had traveled without any light, which left Ari stumbling over every uneven spot in the floor. When she fell, the wagon didn't even slow, and the drow escorts had simply laughed at her attempts to regain her footing while being dragged by her neck. Now that they had stopped, Ari leaned against the wagon, whimpering miserably. She knew that, no matter what happened here, it had to be better than the journey here had been.

Ahead of her, Ari saw the drow in charge of the caravan - all anyone had called her on the entire trip was 'Mistress' - as she took the cover off a magical torch and used it to read a scroll. After a few moments of reading, the back wall of the chamber shimmered, then vanished, revealing a double doorway. Mistress stepped aside while two of her escorts wrestled with the stone doors. They groaned and scraped along their tracks, but eventually opened wide enough for the wagon to go through.The wagon driver started the rothé moving, and within a minute, they were through.

On the other side of the doorway, Ari thought she had stumbled into some kind of twisted wonderland. Then she wondered where that word - wonderland - came from. Her wondering didn't stop her from staring around her in wonder, even as she stumbled along behind the wagon. She was in a cavern large enough to hold several hundred people, with areas outlined in faerie fire, some with cages in them, some with tables, or book shelves, or weapons racks, or things she could not identify at all. Mistress stopped about a hundred feet inside the cavern and levitated out of sight, into the darkness. The escorts headed off in different directions - two of them closing the doors at the entrance, a couple clearing an area near some of the weapons racks, one guiding the wagon as the driver steered it toward the area being cleared.

Just being in the cavern, with all the faerie fire lighting it up, made Ari feel less frightened. She still didn't know what Mistress wanted, with her or with Fred, but whatever it was, she knew that it couldn't be good. But, no matter what it was, as long as Mistress didn't throw her into the darkness, Ari was sure she could handle it. At least, she hoped she could.

The wagon stopped, and Ari bumped into the back of it, the impact bringing her back from her thoughts. The escorts laughed, and one of them commented in elven, "Looks like she's as blind as a human. Stupid surfacer."

"Maybe so," another replied, also in elven, "But Mistress wants her for her experiments. I just hope there's enough left for us when she's done."

"I hear you," the first said, laughing. "Spiders may be sacred and all, but I sure wouldn't want to do one."

"Even if you did," the second said, while grinning, "you wouldn't want what comes after."

"No arguments there." The first rubbed the back of his neck. "I like my head right where it is."

Ari shrank against the wagon, until the driver walked around and unbolted her chain from the bed. He handed it to one of the others and pushed her toward him, while muttering, "Move it, surfacer. You're in my way."

Ari scurried after the escort who held her chain. He muttered in a language she didn't understand, then pushed her into an empty cage and locked her in. From within the cage, she watched as the escorts carried the weapons and armor from the wagon to the racks it was parked near, then the driver re-boarded it and drove it to the far side of the cavern, where she saw some glowing blue fungus. While he was removing the yoke from the rothé, the others were arranging the weapons and armor on tables. When they were done, one of them levitated to the ledge Mistress had gone to.

Fred stood and examined his handiwork. The trap wasn't exactly complicated, but it would serve to alert him if anyone tried to enter the room while he was sleeping - and he knew that whatever happened, he was going to need to be fully rested if he hoped to rescue Aribeth. The food and drink here in the Shattered Spire was as good as any he'd found in a roadside inn, and the room was big enough to hold a bed, a chest, and a shelf, which was all he needed. Now that he'd alarmed the door, he could take the time for prayers, so he was ready for whatever came of the morrow.

He opened a bag of holding he kept in the bottom of his pack and pulled out an altar case he'd bought from an Aurora's outlet in Neverwinter, way back when he was still training at the Academy. Once it was opened and set up on top of the chest, he knelt and began his prayers, using the time to calm himself and focus his mind on his faith and his god. As he prayed, he felt the weight of the last few days lifting, and the surety that he would find a way to succeed at his mission settled over him. He had just opened his eyes, and was reaching for his snuffer, when he felt a vision coming upon him. With a soft sigh, he sank back on his heels and waited.

"Yes, I know you're only interested in rescuing Aribeth," Kelemvor's voice said, filling his mind with a sense of understanding and love. "However, there are some in the city you are visiting, who, knowing who you are, have begged for my help. Naturally, I cannot intervene directly. In truth, even sending you to help may be pushing things a bit, but they did ask for my help, and since they do not have gods of their own who are taking a hand in their fate, I feel I may have justification to become involved."

"Yes, Father," Fred said, chuckling softly. "You already know I'll do it. Just tell me what it is you need me to do."

"Lead a slave rebellion," Kelemvor said. "Or, at the very least, lead the slaves out of the city, so they can find their way back to their home realms."

"Eh...," Fred considered how difficult the second alternative would be, considered the first alternative, and pinched the bridge of his nose, as he muttered, "I'm getting too old for this shit." He sighed and asked, "Do you have a plan, or is that up to me?"

"I am giving you directions for how to find the mushroom fields where the leaders of the slaves work. Talk with them. Once you know the arrangements they have put into effect, you'll be able to make better plans."

"What about Aribeth?"

"I have my eye on her," Kelemvor said gently. "She is as safe as any person is in the Underdark."

"That's not saying much," Fred sighed.

"I know. Remember, she has dedicated herself to my service, so I am able to keep a closer watch on her than I could on an ordinary person."

"Thank you, Father," Fred said, deeply comforted by that reminder. "I will keep my trust in you."

The sensation of Kelemvor's presence faded, and Fred sank back against the bed with a sigh.

"Slave rebellion, or slave escape. Either way, I'm going to be here a while longer. Might as well rent the room for a full tenday. Tomorrow."

Ari huddled in the corner of her cage, whimpering softly and quivering in terror as she watched Mistress and her escort working on the arms they had brought in the wagon. They were only working on their third item, but the last item, a sword, had been enough to convince her that even if she were to do everything Mistress wanted, the darkness would still be a constant threat. Mistress had conjured up a giant spider, which had - as far as Ari could tell - been sucked into the blade. Then she had used the sword to murder a drow woman who had been in another cage, and when the sword sank into the woman's chest, the room had filled with darkness, so deep it had blotted out the faerie fire while it existed. Ari didn't remember anything after that, until she found herself where she was now, shuddering with terror and pressed against the bars of her cage.

Mistress spoke in that language Ari couldn't understand, in a tone that indicated she was answering a question. The wagon driver answered, and she gave him - Ari guessed his name was Rizzen - a command. He, in turn, gave orders to the others, and they immediately set about gathering materials from several locations around the cavern. Meanwhile, Mistress slunk over to Ari's cage and studied her like a cat studying a mouse.

"So tell me, surfacer," Mistress purred in elven, "have you ever serviced a drow before, or am I going to have to train you in how to please me?"

Ari stared at her, confused. Serviced? Was that a strange drow way of saying served?

"Answer me!" Mistress screamed. On her belt, a whip lashed about, somehow managing to move without being held. Ari saw that the whip had several tails, and each one was actually a snake, not a leather lash.

"M-mistress?" Ari stammered. "What do you mean? What kind of service do you desire?"

"You can't possibly be that stupid!" Mistress screamed. The lash was in her hand, and Ari felt it a deep burning pain, her muscles knotting as the fangs of the whip sank into her flesh, shooting wave after wave of agony through her. She fell down, spasming and screaming out the agony of the lash. Mistress' arm rose and fell, again and again, until Ari's mind retreated into the darkness where pain did not exist.

Fred crouched in a niche on the edge of a large cavern, where beings from a number of races worked, bent over blue-capped mushrooms like sharecroppers picking lettuce. With his cloak covering him, and the distance he was from the duergar guards, he was fairly sure he wouldn't be noticed, but he kept a ring of improved invisibility on his finger, just in case. As he watched, he noticed that a female shield dwarf seemed to be the one the other slaves, regardless of race, went to as their leader. He waited, keeping watch, until she was near the side of the cavern farthest from the guards, before he quietly slipped into the field to contact her.

"Hello," Fred called out softly, when he was near enough to be heard without raising his voice. "Are you the leader of these slaves?"

Cali raised her head, looked around quickly, then answered, "I am. Is your name Fred?"

"Yes, it...," Fred paused. "How did you know?"

"Aribeth said you were coming," Cali said. "She was certain you would not abandon her."

Fred rested his hand on the drow sword and looked in the direction it indicated. The end of the cavern was much closer than he felt she was. He looked back at Cali, worry in his eyes. "What happened to her?"

"She was taken away by one of the masters," Cali said, "before the beginning of our last shift."

"Damn," Fred muttered. "I'm too late." He pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered, "Father, please keep her safe until I can catch up to her."

"You made it this far," Cali said. "For a human, that's impressive. Call me Cali." She looked him over and asked, "Why did you come out to the fields?"

"I need to know everything you can tell me about your situation here," Fred said. "Guards, alarms, traps, anything that they use to keep you contained. I also need to know what resources you have - priests, warriors, rogues, weapons, the works."

"Just like that?" Cali asked. "You sound as if you're on a mission."

"I am," Fred said. "Your people are my mission."

"Just like that," Cali said, shaking her head in amazement. "From what I heard about you, I had expected great things, but you surprise even me. My people can be ready by the next shift, but you should know that even though most of the army is not in the city, there are still enough armed duergar here to make things difficult. Beyond the duergar, there are the derro to deal with, a tribe of stone giants, and Themberchaud. If we're lucky, he won't get involved, but if he does, he could make escape difficult all by himself."

"Themberchaud?" Fred raised an eyebrow. When a single being's name was enough to cause worry, it was worth knowing more about that being.

"The Wyrmsmith," Cali said. "He's a red dragon. The duergar feed his hoard in exchange for the use of his flame to power their forges. They also feed him any openly rebellious slaves."

"I see," Fred said softly, his grip on his sword tightening angrily. "Is there a place here where we can talk more without the guards noticing?"

"Follow me," Cali said. She turned and began moving between the rows, choosing an area where the mushrooms were tall enough to mostly conceal even the orog and minotaurs. After a couple hundred yards, she led Fred into a passage, narrow enough to make him glad he was wearing the armor he'd recovered from the dead drow. The passage opened into a small cave, which was filled with battered crates and barrels, each one filled with partially-completed weapons. A mixed group of goblins, kobolds, and gnomes worked feverishly in the cave, doing their best with the resources at hand to provide the weapons with usable grips to match their functional blades.

"Sigbol," Cali called. A gnome separated himself from the rest and trotted across the cave to join Cali and Fred. "How are the weapons coming?"

"Much better than I'd hoped," Sigbol said. "Once they decide a weapon doesn't meet their standards, the duergar simply toss it aside. I wouldn't want to try enchanting any of these, but they're all solid enough for ordinary use."

"Good," Fred said. "Are they strong enough to stand up to being used by the orog and minotaurs?"

"Definitely," Sigbol said. He peered at Fred and asked, "Hero of Neverwinter?"

"I was, once," Fred said, a tone of bitterness filling his voice. "Now, I wouldn't piss on Neverwinter if it was on fire."

Sigbol whistled softly. "I don't know what Neverwinter did, but to lose two of its heroes like that...."

"Regardless of what Neverwinter did," Fred said, "I'm here to back you all up. Is there a table free?"

"Right here," Sigbol said. He led Cali and Fred to a crate that was still closed, and moved the weapons that had been laying on it to one side. "Will this do?"

"Perfectly." Fred slipped off his pack and took out his map. Once it was unrolled, he asked, "All right. Where can I find the giants, and where can I find the dragon?"

Cali and Sigbol joined Fred in studying the map, quickly losing themselves in discussion of the city's defenses. By the time one of the goblins warned them of the end of the shift, Fred had agreed that Sigbol's plan for dealing with the giants was the best they could come up with, and Cali had promised that the weapons would be dealt out to the rest of the slaves, to be smuggled back into the city with their return at the end of their next work shift.

"Just watch out," Cali warned Fred as they prepared to slip out of the cave to join the end of shift return. "The minotaur have decided you are a hero, and will want to show you that they are worthy of the same honor you gave Zor."

"If they do, I'll be glad of seeing them in action - and of telling the story," Fred said. "What the arena masters did to Zor was an abomination, especially to a barbarian."

"What did they do to him?" Cali asked. "Why did you make such an impression on the minotaur?"

"The arena masters told him to take a dive - to deliberately lose a fight," Fred said. "When he refused to, they had him imprisoned for murder. Personally, if I were to run into those arena masters, I'd feel no qualms about executing them all myself. The only reason Zor is dead now is that he asked me to do him the honor of a proper duel. He died a happy man, but if he hadn't asked me to duel him, I would have helped him go free."

"If you ever want someone to help you hunt them down, just ask," Cali said. "People like that make a mockery of the law."

"Count on it," Fred said."If you happen to be in Waterdeep when I go hunting, I'll keep my eyes open for you."

Cali grinned and nodded, then joined the rest of the slaves, while Fred triggered his ring and slipped invisibly back through the tunnel to the city.

Ari curled up at the foot of Mistress' bed and shuddered in a mixture of pain, fear and disgust. She knew that what the drow had demanded of her was something that should only be given freely, to one your heart was bonded to, yet Mistress had demanded it of her as if she were some kind of tool, to be used and tossed aside without any thought. Every time she hesitated, Mistress had used that horrible whip on her, and had only ceased attempting to force Ari to 'service' her when she had vomited. Then, rather than continue to force her, Mistress had simply gone berserk, beating Ari with her whip of serpents until she was too exhausted to continue. Then she had thrown herself down on her bed, after informing Ari that she would force her to eat any vomit that was not gone when she woke.

Now, Ari looked out at Mistress' chambers from the spot she had found at the foot of the bed that most effectively hid her from the view of the sleeping drow, and rocked, her arms wrapped around her knees, sobbing silently as she prayed for Fred to find her soon. She didn't know what Mistress would demand of her when she woke, but she was afraid that, whatever it was, she would not survive it. At least she didn't have to fear being forced to eat her vomit - she had used the shredded remains of her clothing to clean it up, all that it was good for after Mistress had finished using her whip. All she had to fear was Mistress, and whatever cruelties she decided to inflict.

"Well," Mistress purred, sitting up in her bed and reclining against the headboard, "I see you know how to clean up after yourself, at least. Maybe you aren't totally useless, after all."

Ari shrank into herself, attempting to hide at the foot of the bed, as Mistress scanned the room. Mistress laughed, a laugh that drew forth a squeak of terror from Ari.

"You don't really think you can hide from me, do you?" Mistress laughed. "You aren't the first slave I've brought up here, you know. I know all the tricks." She paused thoughtfully. "You are, however, the first slave who hasn't done everything in its power to please me after being brought up here. That is an interesting twist."

Mistress rose from the bed, crossed the room, and opened an armoire. While she looked inside, she continued talking.

"Since you won't see reason and perform as commanded, I guess I'll just have to use you." She turned from the armoire, holding a harness that was as dark as her skin in one hand, and some sort of strange, twin-phallus object in the other. "We'll just have to see if you're in any condition for the experiment I had originally intended, by the time I'm done with my new experiment." She leered evilly at Ari and asked rhetorically, "How much abuse can an elf take before it is too broken to use as raw material for the spider crossbreeds the Matron Mother demands of me?" She grinned and purred, while donning the harness, "Let's find out!"

Ari found enough strength to scream as Mistress crossed the room toward her, the twin-phallus object anchored in her harness and bobbing obscenely before her as she walked.

Fred woke abruptly, a cold sweat on his brow, the feeling that Aribeth was calling for him echoing in his mind. He glanced around his room, automatically checking that things were as he had left them when he went to sleep - the trap on the door, the candle indicating he had slept for six hours, his weapons and armor neatly arranged in reach - everything was as it should be. He slid out of bed, knelt, and prayed for protection for Aribeth, that he would be able to get to her in time to rescue her.

His prayers complete, Fred sighed and packed his gear. Even though he had the use of the room for another tenday, he had the feeling he wasn't going to be returning after today. Whether their plan worked or not, the city would be in chaos by the time it was over, and he intended to be leading the escaped slaves to the nearest portal during the fuss. Right now, he had to maintain his image as a surfacer who was here to buy duergar weapons. Of course, given the quality of weapons he'd seen, he intended to do some shopping - not only to keep up the act, but also to acquire some weapons and armor of enchantable quality, as backups for his own and to replace Aribeth's lost swords and armor. Regardless of anything else there was to say about them, the duergar's craftsmanship was impeccable.

Packing his gear took just a few minutes, as did disassembling and storing his traps. Once he was packed and armored up, he headed into the inn's main room to get some food and drink.

"MacManus!" a gruff voice called from across the taproom. Fred stopped, then turned to look toward the voice.

"Ivar!" Fred called out, a grin on his face. "How's hunting?"

"Not bad, not bad," Ivar said, crossing the room to clasp Fred's hand. "No beholders, but I count myself lucky at that."

"Damned right," Fred said. "Those things are nasty. So, ready to take me up on that offer of brew?"

"You bet." Ivar hooked a chair with a foot, pulled it out, and sank into it, while waving a waitress over. "So how's your business coming?"

"Better than I expected," Fred said. "I'd always thought the rumors of duergar workmanship were exaggerated. Then I wandered through the shops yesterday, and was amazed. The stories I'd heard about the quality your smiths produce weren't even close to the mark. Even the poorest weapon is good enough to enchant. And I'm assuming the only way I'd ever see the best is by special order."

All around the room, held breaths were released, as listeners relaxed when Fred praised the quality of the local smiths.

"You love skating close to the edge, don't you?" Ivar asked, grinning. "An outlander, questioning the quality of duergar workmanship is positively insulting. Good thing you realized how wrong your assumptions were. So, are you going to settle for weapons off the rack, or do you have special orders in mind?"

"I'm thinking both," Fred said. "I got so wrapped up in shopping yesterday, I never got around to talking to Durna Thuldark, but I did see some nice pieces in the shops near here, too. I'm assuming, if she's got authority to hire outlanders for caravan guards, she's also got the contacts to point me to the best smiths for the work I want done, right?"

"You're pretty smart for a human," Ivar said, nodding cheerfully. The waitress slammed a hand down on the table between Fred and Ivar, who looked up and said, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "I'll take a kneecracker, and the human will have nimergan. And bring us both a bowl of stew."

"Why do I get the feeling I've just been given the liquid equivalent of lutefisk?" Fred muttered, as the waitress gave him a calculating look, then left for the kitchen. He shook his head, then chuckled. "Stew sounds like just the thing to start the day. I'm going to need the energy, especially if I'm going to try to get special orders taken."

"Two rules I operate under," Ivar said. "First, if there's food available, eat it. It'll keep better in your belly than in your pack. Second, if you're in a defensible spot, get some sleep. You never know when you'll have to go without."

"Ayup," Fred agreed. "And if you have a choice between beer and water, take the beer. It's more likely to be safe to drink."

"No matter what it tastes like," Ivar said, nodding. "We got some kegs of something called Iriaeborean North Brew in a while back. Stuff tasted like rothé piss. But it was still better than bad water."

"Ug," Fred said. "You've had that stuff, too? My condolences."

Ivar laughed in unison with Fred. While they were laughing, the waitress returned with mugs and bowls. Fred dug out his purse and paid for both, then eyed the nimergan suspiciously. "So this is drinkable, eh?"

"As drinkable as North Brew," Ivar said, grinning.

"That's so reassuring," Fred said, then sighed and muttered, "Well, here goes nothing." He took a pull off the mug, swallowed, it, then sat back, a look of surprise on his face. "Say...that's actually...not bad. Not bad at all.Here you had me worried it'd taste like some cheap stout, but it's more like a good yeasty ale."

"Well, I'll be damned," Ivar laughed. "You like it? No joke?"

"I do," Fred said, taking another drink, this time taking the time to enjoy it. "If this stuff travels, I may just have to find a merchant to buy a few kegs from."

Ivar stared at Fred, then leaned back in his chair and laughed. "He likes it. I'll be damned."

Fred and Ivar dug in to their stews, sharing jokes and hunting stories as they ate and drank. By the time they finished their morning meal, Ivar had offered to introduce Fred to a few merchants he knew and used to stock up his own supplies from. The rest of the day was spent traveling from merchant to merchant, arranging purchases of various pieces of equipment, the likes of which Fred recognized from their woodland incarnations, but had never seen in Underdark configurations. After shopping, the two talked well into the afternoon, over a noonday meal of rothé and sporebread, trading tips about their respective preferred hunting areas, from how best to track a deer, to how to recognize Fool's Water by torchlight. Eventually, Ivar pushed himself to his feet and announced, "I need to think about heading home. Sorry we didn't get those special orders you wanted, but we had a good day anyway, right?"

"Damned sure did," Fred said, extending a hand. "I'll just have to see about making those contacts tomorrow. And if I don't see you again while I'm here, I'm extending you an open invitation to visit if you're ever up above. You are welcome as my guest, should you ever visit the surface where I live."

"That's mighty gracious of you," Ivar said, taking Fred's hand. "I accept your invitation."

"Excellent," Fred said, with a grin, as he clasped Ivar's hand. "It's good to know I have a solid friend down here."

"Count on it," Ivar said, then slipped off through the Darklake District crowds.

Fred headed back to the Shattered Spire, where he locked himself in his room and packaged his purchases. Once the bags of holding were stashed back in their pockets in his pack, he donned his ring of improved invisibility again, put on his stone cloak, and headed back out to meet Cali and the rest of the slaves.

The trip from the inn to the slave pens was uneventful, but when Fred got to the pens, he saw that several of the guards wore helmets with built-in lenses of some kind. Staying out of sight behind a building near the pens, Fred watched the guards, and guessed, based on the way they worked their way around the pens, that the lenses allowed them to see either active magic or invisible things. Not knowing which it was, Fred decided he needed another way to contact the slaves.

After thinking for a few minutes, Fred concluded that the best way to contact the slaves was to send a message as if the first part of the plan were already under way. If he sent the message, then it would not be traced back to any slave, and so it would become a part of the undercurrent of the city itself, if it worked. He wandered back into the Darklake District, shedding his invisibility and concealment as he did, and bought several loaves of sporebread at a baker's booth. Once he had the bread, he took several pieces of parchment and scribbled on them, in Dethek, "Did you hear that the King finally gave the Stonespeaker permission to crush the derro?"

Once he'd written the message several times, he wrapped a few of the parchments around loaves of bread, tied them in place with twine, and re-activated his ring. Invisible, he took up a position near the slave pens and tossed the wrapped loaves over the fences. Not waiting to see the results of his missiles, he walked back into the District, invisibly placing the remaining copies of his note on merchant stalls, bars, and slipped into the cracks of doors where there were interesting buildings with closed doors. Once he had all the notes distributed, Fred returned to his room at the Shattered Spire and settled in for evening prayers.

Ari sobbed brokenly, curled around herself, clutching her belly as she spasmed in pain, inside and out. Mistress was outside of her chambers, but had left Ari behind, with a sneering, "Clean up the blood before I get back," as she left.

Ari knew she was going to be punished, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. Even if she had the materials to clean up the blood - both from repeated rapes and from repeated beatings with Mistress' snake whip - she wasn't capable of moving enough to do the cleaning. She was too injured to stand, let alone perform the cleaning Mistress demanded.

"Please, help me," Ari prayed silently, her heart filled with hopelessnesss and despair. If there were anyone out there other than Fred who cared for her, why was she suffering the way she was now?

"Because I could not act until you asked for help," a voice in her mind answered her unvoiced question. "All I could do was watch, and wait for you to call on me."

"You...," Ari whispered, surprised. "Who...who are you?"

"I am Kelemvor, your god," he said. "You dedicated yourself to my service just minutes before you traveled to the Underdark

"I...don't remember," Ari said sadly. "I don't remember anything...before the fish-men."

"Hmmm," Kelemvor said. "You don't, do you? Well, we'll just have to take care of that, then. I can't have you not remembering who you are."

Ari gasped as she felt warmth flow through her body, washing away the pain of her injuries. Her body glowed as the healing energy flowed through it, and she felt her strength returning along with her memories. Now she remembered being separated from Fred when she was washed over a waterfall, then falling through a portal into the darkness, and all the time in the cold and dark. She shivered as she thought about that cold, that darkness, and whispered, "My Lord...I...thank you, my Lord. How may I serve you?"

"You can start by taking care of your current problem," Kelemvor said. "Your captor is so convinced of your helplessness that she left weapons and armor unlocked in the chamber you are in. Drow or not, it's still useful. Once you do that, you can stay where you are until Fred gets there. Between the two of you, I'm sure you can take care of the rest of your captors. Remember, Aribeth, I am watching over you. So don't hesitate to call on me next time."

"Yes, Lord," Aribeth said softly, imagining how much of her recent suffering she could have avoided if she had just asked for Kelemvor's help sooner.

Aribeth began searching the chamber, starting with the armoire that 'Mistress' had taken her implements of torment from. Seeing some of what was stored in there still, she shuddered, but set it aside and continued searching. Among the things in the armoire, she found a leather harness that tingled with power when she touched it. It looked like something Mistress would keep for herself, rather than make a slave wear, so Aribeth took it out and set it aside, despite its far-from-modest appearance. After further searching didn't reveal anything else that could be worn as armor, Aribeth moved on, checking chests. After searching through most of the chests in the chamber, all she had come up with was a short sword that felt unclean to the touch, but since it only disquieted her, rather than making her ill, she decided she'd make do with it.

"I look like one of those 'special' employees of Omphala's," Aribeth muttered, while looking at herself in the mirror, dressed in the harness she had found. It covered her breasts and groin, but in a way that emphasized, rather than hiding, and the straps that wrapped around her body only served to accentuate what curves she had. If not for the tingle of magic that she felt while wearing it, she would have thrown it back in the armoire and donned an ordinary robe. As it was, she felt uncomfortable with the thought of being exposed to 'Mistress' the way the harness exposed her.

The sounds of 'Mistress' landing on the ledge outside her chamber carried through the doorway, spurring Aribeth into action. She moved to hide on one side of the doorway, the sword she had found in her hand, ready to strike.

"So," 'Mistress' said as she walked through the doorway, "is the blood cleaned up, as I commanded?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Aribeth snarled as she leaped to attack. The sword bit into 'Mistress' arm as she whirled, a look of shock and anger in her eyes. The sword's blade pulsed red when it hit, and Aribeth could have sworn she saw tentacles sprouting from the edge, drinking in the blood from the wound.

"So," 'Mistress' snarled, snatching the whip off her belt, "the little surfacer thinks she can fight back, does she?"

"The little surfacer," Aribeth shot back, while slashing at the hand 'Mistress' was using to grab for her whip, "is Aribeth de Tylmarande, Servant of Kelemvor." When 'Mistress' jerked her hand back to avoid being slashed by the sword, Aribeth added, "And, the little surfacer is going to be your death!" She moved in, slashing and thrusting with the sword, her attacks forcing 'Mistress' backward around the room.

"Aribeth the Betrayer?" 'Mistress' sneered, finally grabbing her whip and striking back. Aribeth held her breath at the sight of the incoming serpents, then released it with a sigh of relief when they hit an invisible barrier, just before touching her skin. 'Mistress' let out a scream of rage and began wildly flailing at Aribeth. "You're nothing! You hear me? Nothing!"

"Well then," Aribeth growled, "why don't I give you something more suited to you?" She stepped back, placing the bed between her and 'Mistress,' and began chanting, her hands moving in motions she hadn't used in years, but which came back as naturally as if she had never stopped.

Recognizing that Aribeth was casting a spell, 'Mistress' began a spell of her own. Aribeth completed casting her spell just moments before 'Mistress' did. The magic of Aribeth's spell coalesced in the form of a four foot long rat, immediately behind 'Mistress.' The rat leaped to attack, just as 'Mistress' finished her spell. Aribeth found herself surrounded by a swarm of fist-sized spiders, which swarmed over her, distracting her with the feeling of their bodies crawling over and biting her.

'Mistress' turned away from Aribeth to fight off the rat, giving Aribeth a few moments in which to cast another spell, this one producing a curtain of roaring wind that completely surrounded her, the force of the wind launching the spiders on and immediately around her into the air, hard enough that they splattered like bags of goo when they hit the ceiling. While the wall of wind was blowing spiders around, Aribeth began another spell. Meanwhile, 'Mistress' finished off the rat and began a spell of her own. Once again, both spells were complete within moments of each other. Spiders began scrambling over each other to get away from Aribeth. Within moments, she was surrounded by a ten foot clear zone, in which the only spiders were those that had died before they could escape. Meanwhile, a thick, greasy wave of darkness poured out from 'Mistress.' When it rolled over Aribeth, she felt her guts knotting up with the need to vomit. She managed to keep moving, but the spasms and chills raced throughout her body as the darkness passed, leaving her feeling as weakened and drained afterward as if she had given in to the need.

Aribeth and 'Mistress' glared at each other across the room. Without any further ado, Aribeth launched herself at 'Mistress,' sword raised to strike. 'Mistress' lashed out at Aribeth with her whip, then let out a scream of rage when Aribeth dodged the blow. Aribeth felt a wave of nausea pass over her when she hit 'Mistress' and heard something that sounded like a slurping noise, while the blade of her sword pulsed and she felt her wounds healing. 'Mistress' raised her hands to cast a spell. What it was, Aribeth would never learn, as the process of casting the spell opened her up for a strike to her throat. Again, Aribeth felt her gorge rising, as the moment the sword penetrated 'Mistress' throat, the tentacles she had imagined seeing before confirmed their existence, by rapidly growing, completely enveloping 'Mistress' head, then retracting, her brain impaled on their tips. Aribeth sank to her knees and vomited, dropping the sword in revulsion, as 'Mistress' body fell to the floor.

Fred looked across the bridge from the Shattered Spire, and studied the Darklake District. Things seemed to be a bit more active this morning - or whatever time it actually was - and he wanted to be sure he didn't walk into anything unexpectedly. Guards were rushing about, while merchants and shoppers seemed to be doing their best to avoid them. Fred leaned on the top of the post one of the rope railings of the bridge anchored to, and kept watch, until he saw what he was hoping for. The guards were abandoning the District, all of them running toward the far side of the city. Fred reached into a pouch and took out a bit of cheese saved from breakfast, casting a spell to summon one of the rats that he had noticed scurrying about. Within a few moments, a rat approached and took the cheese. While it was eating, Fred focused on an image of the bluecap field and tied a note to it. Once the rat finished the cheese, it scurried across the bridge and vanished into the distance.

That business taken care of, Fred walked across the bridge and into the market area. He walked into the first shop he came to and studied their wares, selected a couple items he'd noted the day before, but passed on, and took them to the shopkeeper.

"So, what's all the excitement?" he asked, once the purchases had been paid for.

"Guards have gone crazy," the merchant muttered. "Rumor has it, Stonespeaker's fed up with the Council of Savants. About time, you ask me. King should be squashing them, instead of haring off after drow."

"Sounds right to me," Fred said agreeably. "Gracklstugh is a duergar city, and the king should be watching out for duergar interests, not letting derro run rampant. Guards should remember that, it seems to me."

"Damned right," the merchant muttered. Then he looked at Fred suspiciously. "Why should you care?"

If the derro get out of hand," Fred said, shrugging as if what he had to say were the most obvious thing in the world, "they interfere with business. How am I supposed to get quality smithwork if the derro interfere? And they always interfere, sooner or later."

"You're right," the merchant said. "Why the hell don't other people see that?"

"Oh, I'm sure they do," Fred said, "if they are reminded. Nobody wants business messed up. Well, except derro. They're insane."

"That does it!" the merchant yelled, pushing Fred toward the door. "I'm going to talk to the others! Shop's closed!"

Fred smiled quietly as the merchant pushed him out the door. Stage one was almost complete. All he needed now was to find the dragon. Cali's description of it made it sound like it was a youngster, barely old enough to have a proper hoard. The big problem was going to be its attendant priests. Why a dragon needed priests, he didn't understand, but hopefully they would be distracted when the derro lost it and attacked the giants. He wandered over to The Gohlbrorn's Lair and rented a room, bargaining the tenday price down to a level that was merely outrageous, rather than exhorbitant. Once in his room, he checked the map. It confirmed what Sigbol had noticed when studying it in the weapon cache. One of the cracks in the walls of the rental rooms was large enough to squeeze through, if you had the right equipment or skills - and the armor he had picked up from the dead drow had proven to be just the right thing for squeezing through narrow passages. He studied the map, committing to memory the connections from the Lair to Themberchaud's cavern.

The journey through the passages around the back side of the city was mostly uneventful. The one area Fred had most worried about, where the passages were near the derro quarter, was quiet - almost too quiet. When he reached Themberchaud's cavern, the explanation was loud enough to be heard even at a distance. The sounds of combat were unmistakable. Fred paused in the crack he had followed to the back of the cavern and studied what he could see without exposing himself. The hoard was directly in front of him, coins, gems, and other items glinting in the light of fires, both from a great forge at the entrance of the cave, and from braziers arranged around the walls. High up on one wall, Fred could see a ledge, large enough to allow even a dragon Klauth's size to rest comfortably. He mentally marked its location, assuming that if Themberchaud was in his lair, that would be the most likely place for him to be. Once he was certain of his location, and had marked those priests he could see moving about in the cave, Fred double-checked his equipped gear. Nightscale armor - check; Dragon Slippers - check; Bracers of damage reduction - check; Ring of protection - check; Amulet of spell turning - check; Ring of regeneration - check; Helm of brilliance - check; Belt of storm giant strength - check; Greater cloak of protection from evil - check; Chaos shield - check; wands of the heavens - check; Ripper - check; and finally, his personal holy sword - check. He was as geared up as he was ever going to be. He slipped off his pack and wedged it into a safe spot in the crack, then cast a spell of superior darkvision, after which he searched in a marked bag of holding until he found a special arrow, with strips of red hide between the flights, and tucked it into his quiver, separate from the other arrows, in case an opportunity to get a clear shot at the dragon came up. With Ripper strung and slung across his back, he turned to the rest of his preparations. Now that he could clearly see into areas that had been in darkness before, Fred finished his preparations by casting Righteous Fury and Favor of Kelemvor. Assuming he was as ready as he was going to be, he cast a decoy image into the cavern, about fifty feet his side of the greatest concentration of priests, and began jumping up and down, yelling in dwarven.

"Hey!" Fred yelled, knowing his decoy was transmitting everything he said. "Are you people naturally idiots, or do you practice at it? I mean, seriously! Serving a dragon instead of a real god? How dumb can you be? You'd think you were derro, that's so dumb! Why don't you just bend over and kiss your asses goodbye, you're so dumb!"

By the time he got to telling them they were as dumb as derro, the priests were reacting. Some were casting spells on themselves, others were hurling spells at the image. Now was the time to up the ante. Fred shook a wand of the heavens into each hand and began calling down flamestrikes on the priests. With the decoy duplicating his actions in triggering the wands, the priests wasted enough time trying to destroy it that he was able to fire off both wands several times before they were able to mount anything that resembled a useful defense. When one of the priests aimed a spell at Fred, rather than the decoy, he knew it was time to stash the wand in his off hand and bring his shield into action. Even with his shield in his hand, Fred was able to continue firing off flamestrikes until one wand ran dry, then began with the other wand, before the sound he'd been hoping for echoed through the cavern.

"So the rumors were true," Fred thought. "Some of those priests are telepathic. Poor dragon must have got a headache from all the priests yelling for help. Well, it won't have its headache when it's dead."

Themberchaud flew into the cavern, roaring with the rage of someone whose head had to be splitting with the pain of having way too many people screaming for help directly into his brain. Fred fred stepped out of his crack, onto the hoard, and called out, "Yo! Thembie! Having a bad day?" One of the priests fired a crossbow at Fred. The bolt struck his shield, and a lightning bolt surged back, striking the priest, finishing the job the flame strikes had started. "Sure looks like your priests are, don't you think?"

Themberchaud roared with rage and belched out a blast of flame as he flew toward Fred. At the last moment, he brought his legs up, planted them on the wall above Fred, and pushed off in the other direction. Meanwhile, Fred ducked behind his shield, then glanced over the edge as the flames passed over and around him, letting out a sigh of relief as he discovered the fire had not penetrated his defenses. Up in the air, Themberchaud was making his way back down the cavern, his wings stirring up dust with the strength of the air currents they stirred up as he passed over the area the surviving priests were huddled in. Just to make sure they hadn't forgotten him, Fred fired another flame strike iinto their midst, then blinked in surprise when most of them died in the column of flames.

"Wow. I didn't realize I'd done that much damage. Guess they weren't as powerful as I'd expected. Oh well. Too bad Themberchaud wasn't caught in it, too."

Fred saw Themberchaud swing around for another pass, and decided it couldn't hurt to try targeting him with the wand. The column of fire he expected appeared, filling the space from floor to ceiling, and killing the last of the priests, but Themberchaud sailed right through as if nothing had happened at all. Fred scrambled to leap behind one of the piles of coins, getting enough shelter from the blast of draconic fire that he was able to think about his next action, while Themberchaud launched himself back down the cavern, far enough that he could sweep around for another pass.

"Oh well. No guts, no glory," Fred thought. "He's going to get in a lucky shot, sooner or later, so I might as well go for broke."

Fred dropped his shield and brought Ripper around, nocked an arrow, and tested his range with a shot. Themberchaud easily dodged the arrow, but the fact he had to dodge it confirmed for Fred that he had the range. He fired another shot, loosing his arrow just as Themberchaud was firing a blast of magic missiles. The arrow and missiles passed in mid-air, but neither caused any injury: the missiles fizzled when they hit Fred's spell turning, and the arrow hit the dragon and bounced off.

"All right, then," Fred thought. "Here goes nothing."

He nocked the special arrow he'd placed in his quiver, drew the bow, and aimed, holding his aim and waiting until Themberchaud's chest swelled in the way it had immediately before both previous blasts of fire. Fred released the arrow, then dropped his bow and snatched up his shield, praying for enough speed to get behind it before the flames hit.

The arrow sailed into Themberchaud's open mouth and bit into the back of his throat. The sound of beating wings suddenly ceased. Fred peeked around his shield, let out a weak "ohshit" and scrambled for the crack he'd entered the cavern through. The falling dragon body plowed into the hoard and slid across the floor of the cavern, pushing gold, gems, and other objects in front of it, until it hit the wall where Fred had been standing. Fred opened his eyes and looked out, directly into Themberchaud's dead, glazed-over eye. He sank to the floor of the crack with a heavy sigh of relief, then reached out to pull down the dead dragon's eyelid.

"Sorry, old thing," Fred muttered, "but when I heard you were dining on uppity slaves, I knew I couldn't just sit back and do nothing."

Aribeth found the pendant that 'Mistress' had taken from the duergar slaver and put it on. Immediately, she felt a tug, reassuring her that the matching pendant was still in contact with Fred, and that it was in a location where the link was not broken. Now that she knew roughly where he was, she felt safe exploring 'Mistress' chambers. She found a robe and slipped into it, then let out a sigh of relief, now that she no longer felt more naked than she had been with no clothes at all. Once she was more comfortable, she set about stripping the dead drow's body and piling her gear on the bed. The armor 'Mistress' wore was too heavy to be worth the bother of trying to wear herself, but now that she knew Fred had bags of holding, it could be sold when they got back above ground. The ring and belt, on the other hand, seemed to be useful, and when she put the belt on, she felt her strength grow to an unimaginable level.

She finished her search of 'Mistress' chambers within just a couple hours, piled her findings on the bed, lit every available light source, and settled down to meditate and wait for Fred. As much as she would have liked to get out on her own and find him, the hundred foot drop from the ledge outside the door did not appeal to her.

Fred wormed his way back into his room in The Gohlbrorn's Lair and checked the door. Still locked, still trapped. So far, so good. He checked his outfit for any signs of blood he might have missed when in one of the pools along the way between Themberchaud's lair and his room, decided he looked as clean as he was going to, and prepared to officially re-appear. He stored his trap, unlocked the door, and wandered out into the main taproom, yawning as if he had just woke up. In the taproom were several customers, mostly rough-looking humans, but with a sprinkling of hin, dwarves, orcs, and other, less common races. The buzz in the taproom carried an air of excitement, rather than the air of barely-suppressed paranoia that had been there when he first came in.

Fred walked up to the bar, yawned, and ordered a mug of nimergan. The bartender just looked at him until he slapped coins on the bar. After that, the mug appeared quickly enough.

"So, what's all the excitement about?" Fred asked, pointedly ignoring his change.

The bartender swept the change off the bar and answered, "War in the city. People coming in say there's fighting between Stone Guard and some of the clan guards, maybe more than that. Too dangerous for an outlander to be on the streets."

"Damn," Fred said, just loudly enough to carry to anyone within a few yards. "I'd planned on trying to talk to Durna Thuldark today. Everyone I talk to says she's the one to talk to if you want custom smithing done." He shrugged. "Guess that's not happening, eh? Not if it's not safe to be out."

"Guess not," the bartender agreed. "You would have had to make an appointment even on a good day, so you might as well relax and join the crowd." He gestured vaguely toward the rest of the bar.

Fred took a swallow of his nimergan, made a face, then leaned over and whispered to the bartender, "You should string your supplier up by the balls. He's cheating you."

"What do you mean?" the bartender asked, giving Fred a suspicious look.

"Taste," Fred said, setting his mug down. "Someone watered this. A lot. I figure it had to be whoever sold it to you, because a good bar never waters its stock. Too much chance of pissing off the customers and losing business."

The bartender didn't even bother to taste the drink. He just made the mug disappear, and replaced it with another. Fred picked it up, took a sip, and nodded. The bartender grunted and moved on to another customer.

"OK," Fred thought, "now that I'm established as having been here when all the fuss started, and being only interested in business anyway, it's time for me to get out of here and meet up with the slaves."

Fred finished his nimergan, ordered another, and wandered away from the bar, through the crowd, idly sipping on his drink as he chatted with anyone who greeted him, and waited for someone to take the bait of his poorly-hidden purse. It took almost five minutes, but eventually, he heard the loud "snap" he'd been waiting for, followed by a cry of pain and angry cursing.

"You!" the pickpocket yelled. "You bastard! You broke my fingers?"

"Oh?" Fred asked, not yelling, but loudly and clearly enough to carry through a good part of the room. "Did my pickpocket trap catch you?"

"You know it did, you bastard!" the pickpocket yelled, too angry - and in too much pain - to notice that every other person in the room was checking his purse. He pulled a dagger and charged Fred. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Amateurs," Fred commented, sidestepping the pickpocket and giving him a gentle push as he ran past. The push gave him just enough extra momentum that he crashed into a table.

When he hit, the pickpocket upended the table, sending drinks flying across that part of the bar, and slashed an orc with his dagger. The orc roared angrily, picked up the pickpocket, and threw him across the room. Another table collapsed under his impact, and the brawl was under way. Fred skirted the edge of the taproom, as far from the bar as he could, and slipped out the door into the street.

The situation in the streets was crazier than Fred had expected. The derro were out of hiding, and it truly was war, between the derro and the duergar. He triggered his ring of improved invisibility and slipped from building to building, working his way to the slave pens. When he got there, he discovered that the fighting he had expected was already over. The guards were dead, and the orog and minotaurs were posted at the gates, killing any duergar or derro that got near. He didn't know how Cali had got them to stay put like that, but he was thoroughly impressed with her ability to do so.

"Hail, the gate!" Fred called, dismissing the invisibility and lowering his cloak's hood. "Is Cali there?"

"Who wants to know?" one of the orog called back.

"The name's Fred," Fred answered. "I'm just back from killing Themberchaud. Hope you all don't mind that I went ahead without you."

"Only a lunatic takes on a dragon solo," the orog shot back. "You must be the Fred the minotaur have been so excited about."

"I'm afraid so," Fred said. "And I'm sorry to disappoint them. It would have been a glorious battle if they'd come with me, but they would have died, and I didn't want that on my conscience."

"You're one strange human," the orog said.

Meanwhile, the minotaur were talking excitedly among themselves, until one - apparently more intelligent than the rest - stepped forward and asked, "Are you Fred, the hero who gave Zor honor?"

"I am," Fred said. "Zor was a worthy and honorable opponent, and I am honored that he chose to duel me."

The minotaur relayed Fred's answer to the others, and they let up a great shout, swarmed around Fred, and picked him up en masse. The one who had spoken put Fred on his shoulders, and the minotaur carried him into the pen as a group.

"I see you've met our minotaur," Cali said, smiling with amusement as the minotaur carried him to her campfire and put him down on his feet. "You realize every one of them is going to want a chance to try his hand at you, right?"

"I'm afraid so," Fred sighed. "But we can deal with that later. Right now, I need you and your lieutenants to take care of something for me."

"What is it?"

"Two things," Fred said, while sliding his pack off. He took the time to untie ten bags from the outside of the pack and pile them in front of Cali. "First, I need you and your lieutenants to divide this stuff up among your people. One of the bags is all platinum, the others are all gold. And I stashed a lot of empty cloth bags inside one of them, too, so you'll have bags to put the loot into. Second, I need a quiet spot to get some sleep. I'm exhausted."

"I'm not sure how much quiet you're going to get," Cali said, "but I do have a sheltered spot I use when I want to hold private meetings. You can use that. Just head over there and look for a cluster of rocks. You'll figure it out quick enough, I'm sure."

"Thanks," Fred said. "Wake me up when you're done sharing out the loot, eh? We can find portals and get you all out of here."

"Will do," Cali said. She called over another dwarf and sent him off to fetch the other group leaders.

"You speak Common, right?" Fred asked the minotaur who had carried him to Cali's fire.

"I do," the minotaur answered, then stood quietly, as if waiting.

"I need to ask two things of you, then," Fred said. "First, I need to know if your people would rather go to the surface when you leave here, or if you'd rather I try to find a route to someplace called the Labyrinth."

"No need to find it," the minotaur said. "Major trade route runs through it."

"Oh, good," Fred said. "Second, I'm assuming you all are from different tribes, yes? Are you going to form a new tribe, or are you going to split up and go your own ways when you leave here?"

"You assumed right," the minotaur said. "We have discussed that question for many tendays. Many of us choose not only to form a new tribe, but to give up hunting other intelligent beings. The rest think we are insane."

"I'm sure they do," Fred said. "However, if you do choose to form a new tribe, and choose to follow a path of good, I would be greatly honored if you would consider me a friend of your tribe."

"Friend?" the minotaur laughed. "If you will do us honor, as you did Zor, you will be a brother, not merely a friend."

Fred blinked, stared at the minotaur in surprise, then took out his dagger, raised his hand, and sliced across his palm. The minotaur grinned and dragged a claw across his own palm, then gripped Fred's hand.

"I am honored to be your brother," Fred said.

"You honor me with your blood," the minotaur said. "I am Gan, leader of our tribe."

"Let our strength mingle as our blood does," Fred said. "I am Fred, brother to the tribe."

Gan clapped Fred on the back, laughing, and said, "Now, brother, go get your sleep. Every warrior knows to sleep when he can. I will speak to the tribe and learn what we choose."

Fred coughed with the force of the blow, then grinned at Gan. "You are so right. Time to sleep." He headed in the direction Cali had given him, found her sheltered spot, and was asleep, his pack forming his pillow, within minutes.

Aribeth heard movement on the ledge, and quickly moved from the bed to her hiding place beside the door. She had barely got into position when Rizzen walked into the room, calling out, "Mistress! The..."

Aribeth stepped up behind him and swung her sword with all her strength. The sword connected, and once again, the tentacles did their thing. Once again, Aribeth knelt, retching, over a dead drow body. When she recovered, she dragged the body away from the door, stripped it, and added its loot to the pile on the bed.

"Hurry up, Fred," Aribeth whispered as she dumped Rizzen's body on top of 'Mistress' body. The thought had barely been translated into words when she heard a banging on the doors below. She ran to the ledge, looked down, and saw Fred standing in the doorway, with what looked like an army of minotaurs pouring into the cavern around him.

"Fred!" she screamed. Fred looked up, then looked somewhere between confused and annoyed. Aribeth looked around, wondering what could be bothering Fred, then realized that the ledge had no light on it, beyond what spilled out through the door, or trickled up from below. She ran back into 'Mistress' chambers, grabbed two lanterns, and carried them back out to the ledge. Once there, she set them as close to the edge as she could without knocking them off.

Down below, the drow were hopelessly overwhelmed. Each one had at least four minotaur on it, and their greataxes were soon covered with drow blood. Those who weren't killing the drow were engaged in freeing the caged creatures, which led to some additional fights when they freed creatures that were inherently hostile. When the fighting ended, Aribeth heard the sweetest sound she had ever hoped to hear.

"Aribeth!" Fred called from below. "Where are you?"

"I"m up here!" Aribeth called back. "You'll need some kind of levitation to get up here!"

"Load up the wagon, Gan," Fred said. "Anything you can get out of here is yours."

"Is ours," Gan said firmly. "We won it as a tribe, we will share it as a tribe."

"You're a good chief," Fred said with a smile. He looked around, laid hands on a minotaur who had been unlucky enough to be in front of a drow's longsword, then found a clear spot where he could look through his jewelry bag, while calling out, "I think I have something in my bag, love! Just give me a minute to find it!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Aribeth said, then laughed.

"D'oh!" Fred yelled, put away his jewelry bag, then searched in his pack until he found a particular portable hole. He unrolled it on the floor, climbed down into it, then cilmbed out again, carrying a rolled up carpet. "I'll be up there in just a minute, love!" he called, then he turned to Gan and said, "I have an empty hole, if you want it. It might make it easier to carry stuff that won't fit in the wagon."

"If it will not fit in the wagon," Gan said, "We do not need it. Thank you for the offered gift, but I can see you know best how to use it."

"Brother," Fred said with a smile, "I'll keep it, but only as long as you agree that it is yours whenever you ask."

"Of course, brother," Gan said. "Now go get your mate."

"On my way!" Fred called as he unrolled the carpet and sat in the middle. "Up!" The carpet rose into the air. With a few simple commands, Fred had it spiral up to the ledge. He had barely landed when Aribeth leaped on him and clutched him tightly, like a drowning woman clutching a barrel.

"You're here!" Aribeth sobbed. "You're real! You're...." She broke down into deep, wracking sobs as she huddled against him.

Fred held Aribeth tight, saying nothing, slowly rocking as he held her in his lap, until her sobs subsided. She wiped her face with the robe she was wearing, and whispered, "Don't ever come down here again."

"Never," Fred agreed, then kissed her gently.

Aribeth responded to the kiss, quickly turning it from gentle to a hungry, demanding, all-consuming kiss. Fred, surprised, followed her lead, returning the kiss with equal fervor. When his hands wandered, one of them slipping down to cup her bottom, Aribeth stiffened and pulled away, a look of terror in her eyes. Fred instantly snatched his hand away and began speaking softly.

"Aribeth," Fred crooned, doing his best to be soothing and reassuring, "it's Fred. I'm here, sweetheart. You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe."

Aribeth shuddered, her whole body tense, her eyes fixed on Fred and filled with terror. As he crooned to her, the tension slowly left her and her terror-filled gaze slowly softened, until she was once again curled against him, sobbing brokenly.

"I'm sorry," Aribeth sobbed. "I'm sorry. I didn't even call for help soon enough. I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Fred said gently. "You're here now, and I"m here with you. It'll be ok. Let's get out of here, ok?"

"Yes," Aribeth said. "Let's get out of here." She pushed away and looked into Fred's eyes, gently kissed him, then stood, wavering unsteadily for a few moments, but ultimately keeping her feet. She started toward the carpet, then stopped. "Oh! We need something to carry stuff in."

"Sure," Fred said. "How much space do we need?"

"I'll show you." Aribeth started through the doorway and pointed at the pile on the bed.

Fred studied it for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I should have room in hole number seven."

"Hole number seven?" Aribeth asked, looking at Fred in surprise. "How many holes do you have?"

Fred slid his pack off and opened the lower compartment. It was separated into a number of pockets, each one holding a rolled up portable hole. Fred did a quick calculation and said, "Right now, I have twenty holes. I have room to carry four more before I need a bigger pack."

"You...have...twenty...," Aribeth said, stunned by the idea. "How?"

"Oh, I've picked them up here and there," Fred said, while pulling the hole out of the seventh pocket in his pack, then laying it on the floor and unrolling it. "Klauth had over a dozen in his hoard, and there was the vampire tomb that had a couple, and there was this poor dragon that Klauth's pet fire giants had killed, who had a couple in her hoard....I forget where I got the others."

"I'm just amazed at how many you have," Aribeth said, while looking down into the hole. "Most people never see one, and those who do are lucky to see one, maybe two, in their entire lives. You...You have so many you had your pack altered for carrying them, and you have ladders and shelves and crates inside them for organizing stuff."

"Just throwing stuff in the hole seems like a good way to break it," Fred said. "So I started doing this with the first hole I got. Besides, Lada would have a fit if she were here and I just tossed them in my pack without any organization at all." He looked at the stuff on the bed, then asked, "Do you want to go down and have me hand stuff to you, or would you rather hand stuff to me?"

"Why don't I hand stuff to you?" Aribeth suggested. "I don't know how you've got your crates organized."

"Ok." Fred climbed down the ladder, then made his way to the side of the hole closest to the bed. "Ready whenever you are."

The loot was stored in the hole in just a few minutes, and Fred had it rolled up and back in his pack in just a minute more. Aribeth and Fred settled onto the carpet, and swooped down to the floor of the cavern, landed beside the hole Fred had retrieved it from, and rose to their feet, just in time for Gan to meet them.

"Brother," Fred said with a smile, "This is my mate, Lady Aribeth de Tylmarande."

"Brother?" Aribeth whispered to Fred, while looking worriedly up at Gan.

"The mate of my brother is my sister," Gan said gravely, then grinned and teasingly said to Fred, "Although I don't understand why my brother would want such a frail mate when he could have a good strong mate of the tribe."

Fred snorted, then broke into good hearty laughter. Aribeth pouted at Fred, then gasped as Gan clapped her on the back, laughing at his joke.

"Aribeth," Fred said, "this is Gan, the chief of the tribe. Everyone around us is a member of the tribe."

"Chief? Tribe?" Aribeth asked, clearly confused. "Explain, please?"

"It's simple," Fred said. "Every minotaur you see here has chosen both to give up hunting intelligent beings and to join together as a tribe. As you can imagine, our totem is the bull."

"Our?" Aribeth asked.

"Our," Fred said. "Gan and I are brothers in blood. Even though I'm puny and fragile," Fred grinned at Gan, who snorted in amusement. "that makes me a member of the tribe. Because you are my mate, you are also a member of the tribe."

"Oh my," Aribeth breathed, clearly amazed. She looked at Gan thoughfully, then said, "I thank you for extending this honor to me, and I promise that I will fight for the tribe whenever you call me."

"You are worthy of the honor," Gan said. "Fred chose well when he chose you."

"Are we ready to go?" Fred asked.

"As soon as you have taken what you want," Gan said. "We have all we need."

"Right." Fred rolled up his carpet, slid down the ladder into the hole, and stored it, then ran back up the ladder and stored the hole in his pack. "All right then," Fred said. "Let's go find a place to call home."