* * * * *

Kall tackled Cesira, pressing her beneath him as wood and stone rained down around them. He gritted his teeth as splinters embedded themselves in the flesh beneath his collarbone.

He looked out of the bare hole where the ceiling had been. Debris struck the earth at least ten feet out from the tower in a destructive ring, slicing through the Morel colors flying on the opposite tower.

Kall looked across at Dantane but couldn't tell if the wizard still breathed. Kall started to rise but fell back again as the light from the cupboard shot across the room, seeking release in what was left of the confined space. It struck the tower wall but did no discernible damage. Kall gave silent thanks. If the light had punctured the wall, the resulting explosion would have caved in their skulls and buried them in stone. Instead, the beam thickened and began to take shape—a humanoid shape, to Kall's eyes. He could make out little else in the dust-choked room.

Cesira raised a hand and clasped his shoulder. Dantane, she said, and Kall nodded, keeping his eyes on the shape.

Kneeling beside the wizard, the druid probed his wounds with careful fingers. At her touch, Dantane blinked his eyes open, focusing on her blearily. He seemed beyond speech.

Kall positioned himself in front of the pair as a dwarf figure stepped out of the dust and into the sunlight that now poured through the roofless tower. He was half Kall's height but easily his equal in girth and stride-length. The dwarf carried a broken battle-axe and a visage completely devoid of expression. His body passed through furniture and debris as easily as if he walked through dust. His boots made no sound, and left no footprints on the stone.

"Greetings, Kall."

Kall startled so badly at the sound of the voice he nearly dropped his blade. The ghost's lips formed the greeting, but the voice that came from the dwarf's throat was not the deep grating of the mountain folk, not at all like Garavin's steady rumble.

The voice was female.

The voice was Meisha's.

Kall turned, daring to take his eyes off the spirit to look at the cupboard. Cesira followed his gaze, and her eyes widened.

The magical light had incinerated his mother's pouch. It had also consumed any mundane items the pouch might have contained. All that remained was Alytia's silver Harper badge, standing up on end. The light emanating from it shone straight out to the dwarf's form like a banner in a high breeze.

Kall looked back at the specter. "Meisha?" he asked. He couldn't believe it. "What is this?"

There was a long pause, but just as Kall started to ask another question, the dwarf spoke again. "I don't have long, and I can't answer the questions crowding your tongue, so listen well to what I can tell you.

"I need your aid, Kall," the ghost continued with Meisha's voice. "I'm trapped in the Howling Delve with a group of Esmeltaran refugees. They escaped the siege, the same one that drove your father out of the city those years ago.

"The Delve is a stronghold long inhabited by my master, Varan Ivshar. Its location is underground roughly twenty miles southwest of Keczulla, but that information will do you little good. The entrance to the Delve has been hidden and sealed magically, by agents of the Shadow Thieves."

Cesira caught her breath in surprise, and Kall muttered a curse.

"The only way in or out now is a portal used by the Shadow Thieves, a portal that leads to somewhere within Amn. I'm asking you to find the door in, if you can, and come to get me. The Shadow Thieves are after magical items. There's a warehouse worth stored in the Delve, and they're putting considerable manpower behind removing and selling them on the black market."

The message paused. "There's something else down here, a beast of fire. I haven't seen it, except in nightmares, but my friend the ghost says it's worse than the Shadow Thieves. I think... I think it might have done something to Varan, as well—changed him. I can't be sure.

"The only thing I can tell you about the portal is that the dwarves probably used it when they were still alive. Varan's markings aren't on it. The dwarves used the Delve as a stronghold, so they must have had the portal connect to a major city, a place to sell what treasure they collected. Keczulla is closest, but it could just as easily be Athkatla or Murann, gods forbid." There was another short pause. "If you receive this message, come soon, Kall. I need eyes, and blades, and whatever else you've got. It's not just the Shadow Thieves, old friend. When the Shadow Thieves come, Balram and his son come with them."

The dwarf fell silent. Kall took an unsteady breath. Indeed a thousand questions swirled in his thoughts, but he forced his lungs to work instead. He addressed the messenger. "Can you speak?"

The ghost seemed to focus on him for the first time, but he said nothing.

"Who are you?" Kall asked.

The ghost lowered his battle-axe. Kall got a good look at his hands and realized the dwarf had lost parts of multiple fingers. They flexed against the wooden handle.

"I have given my warning," the dwarf said simply. "By Dumathoin's command."

"Wait!" Kall cried, but the ghost had already gone. With him went the brilliant light, and as the clouds of swirling dust began to settle, the full extent of the damage to the tower was revealed.

The ceiling was obliterated. Boards and blocks of broken stone littered the floor. Most of Dantane's equipment was destroyed.

Cesira had her hands over a deep wound in the wizard's throat. She murmured a prayer, and soft, yellow light spooled from her fingers. The physical manifestation of the spell covered Dantane's bloody gash, closing and mending the tender flesh.