Paks snorted, but moved away. She decided to take the pack off Star and see if there was anything she might want to take underground. Macenion, she noticed, hadn't thought of that. As she went through their gear, she wondered again what she was doing following such a person. She did not like the thought of going underground, in an unknown place against unknown dangers, at all. Especially with someone like Macenion. Perhaps with a squad of the Duke's Company, but a single half-elf? But a scene from her dream recurred: after victorious combat, she was receiving the homage of those who had asked her help—she was given a new weapon, of exquisite workmanship, and a suit of magical armor. Honor—glory—her reputation made, as a fighter. She shook her head, driving the vision away. A chance for glory, Stammel had always said, was a chance to be killed unpleasantly. Still—she had left the Company to seek adventure and fame and a chance to fight for such causes as now lay before her. Could she miss the chance? She piled on one side the things she thought would be useful, and made the rest into a small bundle.

"We'll need something to light the way," said Macenion suddenly. "Whatever the elves used may not be working, and I don't want to use magical light until it's needed." He was going through his own pack. "This should do. This oil—these candles—and yes, I can set a spell at our backs that will keep out any trouble—at least give us warning. We probably won't be that long, but I suppose we should take water and some food."

"How about the fountain? Is it safe?"

"I should think so. Try it." Macenion held out his water bottle to Paks. She frowned.

"If it's elvish, you try it first."

"What a brave warrior! Very well, then." Macenion dipped his bottle in the fountain pool. Nothing happened. "You see? Just water."

"Good." Paks, too, filled her water bottle from the fountain pool, then bent to drink directly from it. The water was cold and had a faint mineral tang. Although the water seemed perfectly clear, she could not see the bottom of the pool. Somehow, after drinking, she no longer considered not following Macenion under the ruins.

* * *

Macenion led the way through a tangle of ivy into the building. From within, Paks could see that the original domed roof had been pierced by a number of skylights, each with an ornamental molding around it. The interior walls had been inlaid with many-colored stones that formed a dazzling array of designs. The floor was a mosaic of cool grays and soft greens, rounded pebbles that looked like those in any mountain stream, but chosen carefully to match in size and shape.

"Here it is," said Macenion, pointing to a circle of darker stones laid in the center of the room.

"What?"

Macenion looked smug. "The door—the way in."

"That?"