Ferahgo scooped up a pawful of sand and held it under his son’s nose. “Kitchen debris, old nutshells, broken bits of pottery—that’s how. Sometime or other this has been an outlet. When I checked I could see it wasn’t part of the original rock, only stones packed in there to block it off. I was right, you see, cleverpaws. Now do you think that the old one is making a mess of things?”

“How wise of you, Father, you have found a way in.” Klitch put on an expression of respect and kept his tone apologetic. “Now, are you going to stand there sneering at me and patting yourself on the back all night, or are you going to break into Salamandastron?”

Ferahgo’s blue eyes smiled back and his tone was equally civil. “Raptail, Bateye, take this ignorant infant to one side, will you. Now guard him carefully and don’t let him get hurt. Keep him here while his father goes to do the work of a warrior. Klitch is a bit inexperienced for this sort of thing, you know.”

Leaving his son fuming under the eyes of the two guards, Ferahgo drew his daggers and rapped out orders.

“Doghead, Dewnose, bring a single torch. The rest of you, get fully armed and follow us. Keep silent in the tunnel . . . or else!”

*   *   *

The flaring light of a brushwood torch threw elongated shadows across the horde members packing up the tunnel behind Ferahgo and his two Captains. Dewnose patted the large slab when they reached the head of the tunnel.

“There’s only this big ’un and a bit more behind it, Master, then we should be inside the mountain.”

The Assassin sheathed his dagger and grabbed the spear from Dewnose. “Come out of my way, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The muscles stood out like whipcords on Ferahgo’s lean body as he pitted his strength against the slab. It moved and slid. Angling it across the uneven floor, he struck it hard with the spearbutt, cracking it in two halves. “Pass that along and shift it out the way. Move yourselves!”

The Assassin went to work on the remaining rocks with ferocious strength, ripping them out with his bare paws, gouging with dagger and spearpoint. Hastily the rocks were passed back along the lines of hordebeasts jamming the length of the tunnel.

Throwing back a last few small boulders and kicking aside debris, Ferahgo halted abruptly. Licking the edge of his favorite skinning knife, he whispered to Doghead, “We’re through! Feel that draft of cold air—that’s our first breath of Salamandastron. Keep that torch aside a moment, there’s somebeast standing with their back to the entrance. Now listen carefully. Whoever it is I’ll stab him and drag him through for you and Dewnose to finish him off, then we’re in. Keep silent now and I’ll get him.”