to the Labyrinth. Better the sun-blasted surface than that," Halisstra murmured.
She picked her way across the floor of the sinkhole, studying the forest overhead. The air was cool, and she noted that the trees nearby were mostly needleleafs of some kind, trees that did not lose their foliage in the wintertime, if she remembered correctly. A number of barren trees of a different sort stood in and among the evergreens, trees with slender white trunks and only a handful of ragged red and brown leaves clinging in an odd clump near the crown. Dead? she wondered. Or merely bare of leaves for the winter months? She'd read many accounts of the World Above, its peoples, its green plants and animals, its changing seasons, but there was a great difference between reading about something and expe-riencing it firsthand.
"Where on the surface are we?" Quenthel asked.
Valas stared hard at the trees for a long time, and craned his head up to squint at the dimly glowing patch of clouds that hid the sun. He turned in a slow circle to examine the hillside nearby. Finally he knelt and ran his fingers over the soft green mat of mosses clinging to the boulders in the cavern mouth.
"Northern Faerun," he said. "It's early winter, as it should be. You can't see the sun too well to judge its position in the sky, but I can certainly feel it, as I suspect we all do. We're in the same general latitude as the lands above Menzoberranzan - not more than a few hundred miles either north or south, I think."
"Somewhere in the High Forest, then?" Danifae asked.
"Possibly. I'm not sure the trees look right. I've traveled the surface lands near our city, and the foliage looks different from what I remember of the High Forest. We might be some ways distant from Menzoberranzan."
"Excellent," muttered Pharaun. "We trek through the Underdark to Ched Nasad, are forced through a portal to the surface hundreds of miles from home, then we trek back down into the Underdark through shadow and peril, only to pass through another portal that takes us back to the sur-face, perhaps even farther from home. One wonders if we might have simply marched here from Hlaungadath without our pleasant detour through the Plane of Shadow, the delightful hospitality of Gracklstugh, and our lovely little tour of the minotaur-infested Labyrinth."
"Your spirits must be rebounding, Pharaun," Ryld observed. "You've found your sarcasm again."
"A sharper weapon than your sword, my friend, and just as devastat-ing when properly employed," the wizard said. He ran his hands over his torso and winced. "I feel half dead. Every time I turned around, some hulking bull-headed brute was trying to cleave me in two with an axe or pin me to the floor with a spear. Might I trouble you for one of your heal-ing songs, dear lady?" he asked Halisstra.
"Do not repair his injuries," Quenthel snapped. She still stood with one hand clamped around her torso, blood trickling between her fingers. "No one is mortally injured. Conserve your magic."
"Now, that is precisely - " Pharaun began again, glaring at Quentheland climbing to his feet.
"Stop it!" Halisstra snapped. "I have exhausted my songs of power, so it does not matter. When I have recovered my magical strength I will heal all who need it, because it is foolish to press on in our state. Until then, we will have to rely on mundane methods to address your injuries. Danifae, help me dress these wounds."
The battle captive turned to Jeggred, who stood near, and motioned for him to sit down, shrugging her pack from her shoulders to search for bandages and ointments. The draegloth did not protest, a sign of how ex-hausted he was.
Halisstra glanced over the others and decided that the wizard was most in need of attention. After pushing him back down onto the boul-der, she took out her own supply of bandages. She studied Pharaun's upper arm, where Jeggred's talons had scored the flesh, and she began to apply an ointment from among the supplies they'd purchased in Gracklstugh.
"This will sting," she said pleasantly.
Pharaun mouthed an awful curse and jumped as if he had been stabbed, yelping in pain.
"You did that on purpose!" he said.
"Of course," Halisstra replied.
While she and Danifae worked on the others, Valas scrambled up a narrow path hidden along the wall of the sinkhole. He studied the ground carefully, and paused to stare thoughtfully into the forest nearby.