of magi-cal force that bound the demon would have stretched - and snapped. Which was what the demon had obviously intended, all along.
Pharaun cleared his throat, and the demon returned its attention to him.
"Now then," the mage said. "We need to get to the Demonweb Pits. Where's the nearest gate to the Abyss?"
Belshazu bared yellowed fangs in a smile and stared down at Pharaun as if contemplating which of the wizard's limbs to tear from his body first.
"Right here, in this cavern," it rumbled. "Just beneath my feet. Let me show you."
Summoning its magical fire again, the demon directed the flame from its hands downward, onto the ice at its feet. Because the magic was not trying to cross the hexagram itself, the flame took effect. Enormous clouds of steam rose from the melting ice, obscuring the spot where the demon stood. A crater appeared beneath the demon's feet, and as melt water rushed to fill it, Belshazu plunged flaming hands into the water and set it aboil.
Pharaun was leaning forward, intensely curious to see the gate the demon had promised. He reached into a pocket of hispiwafwi at the same time. Jeggred was still flexing his claws in barely sup-pressed anger at the insult to his mother. Danifae and Ryld stood closer to the tunnel entrance, and were talking in rapid sign. Their backs were turned to Valas, making it impossible for him to see what they were saying.
Beside him, Quenthel suddenly tensed.
"Pharaun, stop Belshazu!" she shouted. "He's trying to - "
Her order was lost in a furious hiss of steam and the loud bubbling of boiling water. Valas himself could only hear Quenthel because she stood right beside him. Then he saw what Quenthel was pointing to: the edge of the crater of knee-deep water Belshazu was standing in was crumbling back toward the line of the hexagram. At last awaken-ing to the danger, Pharaun saw it too - but too late.
With a hissing roar, the line of flowing blood tumbled into the boiling water and was gone.
The hexagram was broken.
"Wizard - you are mine!"
Roaring his triumph, Belshazu waded through the boiling water toward Pharaun, eyes blazing violet fury at the mage who had so foolishly dared to attempt to bind him.
Chapter Four
Ryld pulled the bag of sand out of the pocket of hispiwafwi and placed it on a ridge in the rock wall at the point where the tunnel forked, then carefully balanced a large stone on top of it. He pulled from his quiver one of the crossbow bolts Halisstra had taken from the surface elves and checked its barbed head for traces of poison. Seeing none, he used it to cut his palm. He smeared blood on the tunnel wall, then snapped the point off the bolt. As he placed the broken bolt on the tunnel floor, he glanced nervously back down the fork that led to the cavern, worried that someone might have heard the sound.
Silence. The noise had been slight, and no one was coming to investigate.
He balled his hand around a rag to staunch the flow of blood, then dropped it to the floor beside the broken crossbow bolt. Then he pulled his portable hole out of a pocket and flipped the folded piece of phase-spider silk open, laying it on the ground just below the sand-filled bag. Carefully, he loosened the bag's drawstrings un-til just a trickle of sand began to fall from it into the portable hole. Then he hurried back down the steeply sloping corridor to the cavern where the others were.
He'd been worried that Jeggred would smell the fresh blood on his palm, but the draegloth seemed to have been doing a little blood-letting of his own. It was Danifae who stared at him as he returned.
Ryld paid little attention as Pharaun summoned the demon, his mind instead focused on the silent count he'd begun after leaving the bag. He did glance down in alarm, however, when the demon told Pharaun there was a gate to the Abyss directly under the frozen pond. It was obviously a ploy of some kind, but Pharaun didn't question it. Instead, when the demon's handsflared with fire for the second time, Pharaun merely stood and watched, as if curious to see what the de-mon would do.
Ryld concentrated on his count: fifteen, fourteen, thirteen . . . almost time.
"Listen," he said, touching Danifae's arm. "Do you hear that?"
Danifae gave him a suspicious look. Then, from farther up the tunnel, came the sound or