"Yes," Pharaun lied. "As soon as we reach the Abyss."
The demon's whiskers twitched.
"The mouth is in the belly of the ship," it said.
"In the hold?" Pharaun asked.
The demon nodded.
"How do we reach it?"
"Use her wand," the demon said, flicking a finger at the forked wand in Quenthel's belt. "The hatch is hidden by magic, but the wand will show you its location."
Pharaun's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sly smirk in the de-mon's eye. A wand of location was easy to recognize by its distinctive forked shape, but it was almost as if the demon wanted Quenthel to use it. Was there some additional property of the wand that Pharaun had missed - something the demon hoped to turn to its advantage?
"Just a moment, Quenthel," Pharaun told her. "We'll use my wand, instead."
Reaching into the slender case that hung from his belt, he drew one of his four wands and waved it in a slow pass in front of him, level with the deck of the ship. A hatch that had been previously hid-den by magic suddenly became visible, its edges limned with a faint purple glow. The ring-latch that would open it was recessed into the hatch itself, flush with the deck. Nodding, Pharaun tucked the wand back inside his case.
Quenthel chuckled and reached for the latch, then paused as her whip vipers hissed a warning. She glanced at Pharaun, parted her lips as if to speak, then decided against whatever order she'd been about to give.
Instead she turned to Jeggred and commanded, "Open it."
Obediently, the draegloth bent forward.
"Jeggred, wait," Pharaun barked.
He had no love for the draegloth, but Pharaun was still suspi-cious of the demon's motives. Waving Jeggred back, the wizard mo-tioned for the demon to open the hatch, instead. It was just within the demon's reach. By straining, the uridezu was able to hook its fingers into the latch.
Be ready,Pharaun signed to the others behind the demon's back, reaching for a different wand. Somethings going to come out.
He was right. As soon as the demon yanked open the hatch, a wave of rats scurried out, tittering and squeaking. And no ordinary rats but gaunt, half-rotted caricatures of life - a swarm of tiny undead.
With a speed born of long practice, Pharaun fired his wand. A lightning bolt exploded from it and careered along the deck, turning nearly a dozen of the creatures instantly to charred flesh and black-ened bone.
Quenthel and Jeggred were equally quick to react. Quenthel lashed at the rats with quick flicks of her whip, and Jeggred batted whole handfuls of them away with powerful sweeps of his fight-ing arms.
Pharaun chuckled as he blasted the last of the swarm with his wand. Was that the best the demon could do - summon up a few undead rats?
The laughter died in his throat. He'd been expecting a compli-cated trick worthy of asava master and had felt somewhat disap-pointed when the demon had done nothing more than send a swarm or undead rats against them. Then Pharaun realized the demons real plan - one so simple it had slipped under Pharaun's guard. The undead rats' attack on Pharaun, Quenthel, and Jeggred was just a diversion. All the demon needed was for a single rat to survive. Thatanimal's true target, as directed by the imperative telepathic com-mands of its demonic master, was the chain.
The soft lead chain.
An instant later the rat's sharp teethparted the chain, and the demon was free. Whirling in place, it lashed out with its tail once - knocking Jeggred headlong down the slanting deck, through the dome of force and out into the whirling sea - then again, sending Quenthel tumbling after him.
It turned to face Pharaun, whiskers quivering.
"Wizard," it squeaked. "You are mine."
Pharaun made no answer as his free hand plunged into his pocket, whipping out a glove. As the demon bared its fangs, then leaped for his throat, Pharaun was silently thankful it had chosen a simple fron-tal attack, rather than to use its magic - it would give him the instant he needed to cast his spell.
Demons reallywere predictable.
Sometimes.
Chapter Thirty-four
As the mouth of the tunnel came into view, Ryld's heart sank. Fresh snow lay ankle-deep on the slope that led up to the surface, and enor-mous flakes of white were falling into the tunnel so thickly it was im-possible to see more than a few paces beyond the opening. How were he and Halisstra ever going to find their way across the Cold Field in