She'd promised Kall she would look into where the crystal came from. Meisha clutched the small object in her hand. She'd sooner destroy the magical toy than question its owner. She'd sworn long ago never to return to the Howling Delve.

How she could consider breaking that vow for a man who'd once threatened her life, Meisha had no idea.

Obviously, something about Kall Morel affected her. Maybe it was that night in Esmeltaran, when he'd been willing to burn alive rather than let her get to his father. She'd never witnessed such loyalty. Or perhaps it was what she'd learned of his family in the years since meeting him.

Or maybe it had nothing at all to do with the merchant's son, and everything to do with her own private demons. If she could make peace with her former teacher, perhaps she could move forward. She could feel as if she belonged to the Harpers instead of merely fulfilling a role.

Meisha shook her head in disgust. Keeping her emotions buried had softened her.

She lifted her hand, examining the small gold ring on her finger. She'd never gotten rid of the magical gift—in fact, she rarely took it off.

"I don't want to go," she whispered aloud, surprised at how frightened her voice sounded, "but I don't have a choice, do I, Master?" A part of her still lived in the Delve, whether she chose to admit it or not.

She spoke the command word on the band, and the ring winked with a brief, magical burst. The radiance spread outward to engulf the Harper's entire body.

The sunlight disappeared.

* * * * *

Meisha blinked the white light from her eyes as the ever-present chill of the underground seeped through her jerkin. Water dripped in a distant rhythm, a sound from her earliest memories of Varan. With it came the familiar sense of intangible dread, a feeling she'd tried to forget in the years since her tutelage had ended.

She took comfort in the fact that she was still in Amn, albeit far beneath the land's surface. Varan had wisely scorned the idea of taking up residence in a populated area. A wizard living openly in a tower or estate would not go unmolested. Amn had persecuted wizards longer than Varan had been alive—for crimes he'd had no part in, but that didn't matter. The people still remembered the plagues, the waves of magical death wrought by practitioners of arcane magic. Amnians were not forgiving, which made Syrek Dantane's presence in Kall's house all the more confusing. What had Morel been thinking?

Meisha pushed the thoughts aside. She had more troubling concerns. She had to find Varan and learn how one of Balram's men came into possession of her master's work.

As Meisha's eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized the cavern in which she stood was unfamiliar. Her ring should have teleported her directly to her old chamber, unless some magic of Varan's had malfunctioned.

Automatically, Meisha drew a stiletto from her boot and listened. Three of Varan's enspelled stalactites cast a dull glow from the ceiling. By their light, she could see two tunnels branching off opposite ends of the cavern. The only other features of the chamber were two gaping holes: a wide shaft dug into the cavern's ceiling and a deep chasm in the floor directly beneath.

Cautiously, Meisha approached the edge of the chasm and looked down. Chaareff, she chanted, and her stiletto burst into flame. The fire licked along the blade to stroke her fingers, but she ignored the heat. Twisting her wrist, she flicked the blade, dropping a tiny ball of fire down the hole. It plummeted quickly out of sight, the last burst of light in some dying creature's eye. The fire illuminated writing on the walls of the chasm, but the script was unlike the markings on her ring. Not Varan's work, then—some other wizard? Either way, Varan must have known they were here.

Off to the side of the chamber lay a pile of rope that looked like it had once been a net. One end was tied to a nearby stalagmite, but the rest was hacked into several pieces.

Meisha extinguished her blade with a word, but at the same time, she found herself bathed in green light. She dived away, landing hard on her elbow just as a circle of light filled the ceiling shaft and shot downward. The green thread briefly connected the two holes.

A portal, she thought. She got to her feet as the first figures dropped through the magical doorway.

There were six in total, but they came through in pairs. Magic slowed their descent, allowing them to twist in midair to avoid plummeting down the chasm. They landed opposite her across the hole.

A woman and five men—one a halfling. Meisha managed to note that much before they saw her. The chasm yawned between her and any close-range weapons, but the woman had a crossbow. She and the halfling stood off to one side. Three other men stood behind them, one in robes with a wand swinging from his belt. Their leader was sizing her up just as she evaluated them.