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the scent of fresh blood emanating from the bodies lying on the road. Snarls, growls, and the snap and crack of whips soon filled the air as the hooded Mordi overseers attempted to keep the mutare from pawing and devouring the dead.
    Ignoring the confusion around him, Goblin captain shaded his eyes from the morning sun with his right hand as he carefully searched the cliff faces on both sides of the pass, but he saw nothing suspicious, for the footpath the three companions had followed was well hidden. Again the Uruc questioned the one survivor of the battle, but he had no better luck than before, for the mutare continued to give a confused account of what had taken place in the pass, mentioning the blinding sun and an invisible enemy as well as a number of fierce Dwarves and horsemen.
    “I hate these stinking creatures,” thought the Goblin captain disgustedly to himself as he glared into the hairy, bestial face of the mutare. “They lose better than half of their wits when they make the change. The creature’s talk of Dwarves and an invisible enemy I can discount, for they are most likely the imaginings of this half-witted creature before me. It seems more reasonable to me to suppose that a small force of Tarsi attempted to come over the pass from the east, for some of the dead are marked by the hooves and teeth of horses. Finding the way guarded, they must have retreated back to the plains. If they manage to escape the dragon a second time and return home, the most that they will have accomplished is to carry the news south that the pass over the mountains is guarded.”
    Having resolved the incident to his satisfaction, the Uruc ordered the guard on the pass to be doubled and Dwarf slaves brought up to construct a high, strong wall across the defile. In the unlikely event that the horse herders returned, they would find the last entrance into the Dwarf kingdoms sealed against them. The attention of the Uruc now turned to the dead Goblins and mutare who were still lying about the pass where they had fallen.
    “Bring the bodies of the dead back to camp,” he ordered those around him.
    Immediately a pack of mutare, watched over by Mordi overseers, cheerfully began carrying the bodies of the slain down the road toward the Goblin encampment. Whether it came from friend or foe, fresh meat was always welcome.

 
    A FALLING-OUT
     
    On the cliff face above the pass Ascilius now felt that it was safe to move again, for the sentries that the Goblin captain had left behind were concentrating their attention on the road leading down to the plains. Even though they were invisible, he and his companions took full advantage of the cover along the outside edge of the footpath they were following as they cautiously made their way back to the ledge that stood before the tunnel entrance. Before stepping out onto the narrow stone shelf that led to the hidden door, Ascilius looked down at the road and pass to make certain that they were unobserved. Seeing that no unfriendly eyes were turned their way, he walked quickly to the hidden door, darting into the passageway behind it the moment that it swung open at his command. He was followed first by Dacien and then Elerian, who sent away his ring, rendering everyone visible again. After sealing the door shut, Ascilius lit a small mage light, which took up a position about a foot above his head. Turning at once to Dacien, Elerian addressed the Tarsian in a grim voice.
    “Tell me all that you can about Anthea, Dacien?”
    “Four days ago, at the dawn shift change, the relief for the guards at the palace gate raised an alarm, for the sentries they were to replace were not at their posts,” replied Dacien in somber tones. “Their bodies were soon discovered hidden near the gate. Hounds were brought in to track their murderer, but they were unable to find a scent trail to follow. A search of the grounds and the palace eventually led the discovery that Anthea’s apartment was empty except