The lumpy-flat stony surface blended in with all the other rock formations a furlong south of the keep. Hardy fir trees, desiccated ferns, and abundant outcrops dotted the landscape. The clouds threatened rain, but so far had failed to deliver more than a smattering of cold, wet pellets.

But it's not ordinary, Séa thought. There's a ... an absence of light, but not the kind of light you can see. A raindrop impacted her helmet with a light ping. Restless air stirred the surrounding pines. Nothing about the spot appeared unnatural or out of place, at least, to the eyes.

Tash stabbed a pointer finger downward with confidence. "This is it. It looks about how I remember it."

Ghomarck hovered at Séa's elbow. His eyes followed Tash's movements from under bushy brows. "How was the trap door opened, before?"

The rogue circled the flattened outcrop as if it were a sleeping lion. She pointed to a loose rock about the size and shape of a loaf of bread. "We twisted that one."

The wizard combed gnarled fingers through the snarls of his beard. "But ... the gnomes. Perhaps I should cast a dispelling, to be safe."

Séa caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Does it feel ... wrong ... to you?"

The rogue squinted at the paladin. "Eh?"

"A darkness. An oppression." Séa gestured aimlessly in the air with her hands as she met the suspicious gazes of her companions. "Oh, never mind. Pardon the mysticism."

Tash's eyes shifted to the wizard. "I vote for caution. De-magic away."

From his collection of belt pouches, Ghomarck pinched diamond dust into a vial of water. His hoarse incantations atomized the water into a misty jet, which he aimed toward the hidden trap door. The mist sparkled merrily, and a spring-fresh scent wafted on the air.

Séa's lips curved upward at the display of arcane wizardry, but her delight died swiftly. The magical cleansing did nothing to dispel the unease that hung about her like an invisible fog.

"Nice." Tash strode toward the latch-rock.

Séa chased her down, rattling as she jogged. "Tash, let me. I'm wearing protection."

Tash pursed her lips. "That's ... not entirely illogical."

The paladin lowered her helmet visor. "Then it's agreed. The switch is my bitch."

The rogue retreated and groused in Ghomarck's ear, "So she's a poet, now?"

Séa flexed gloved fingers, then gripped the stone. She tensed her legs and applied clockwise force to the block. It spun with a rasp. A subterranean clunk vibrated the soles of their feet. With frictive rubbing sounds, the flattish rock split and the halves tilted away.

With a satisfying snap of sinew, Séa brandished her mace, but no ravaging hordes erupted from between the rock slabs. Breezes threaded through pine needle combs and the sighs caressed the ear.

"Anticlimax," declared Tash. "I see stairs, like I remember. No change."

Ghomarck inched toward the stairs, "We should stay alert as we explore, of course. And we should explore quietly. If we can extract the princess without alerting anyone, that is by far the safest course."

Séa strolled the ten paces to her charger and hugged the mare around the neck. "Don't run away, Rumpy-cakes, all right? And don't eat so much you get fat." The mare tolerated the metallic squeeze with noble dignity.

The trio crept down stone steps lightly strewn with rubble but not worn by foot traffic. The cloud-filtered daylight faded fast. Ghomarck incanted to summon his hovering magelight, and blue mote glided ahead like a coin-sized night star. The steps flattened to a ramp that sloped downward, and a rotary lever stuck out of the wall. After Séa passed the device, Tash grasped its handle and spun it. The rocky door rumbled closed again.

Another wave of delight washed over Séa. "Fantastic. So clever."

With a musical giggle, Tash reached to Séa's helmet, raised her visor, and gave her cheek the lightest of pats. "Glad you appreciate it."

The paladin blinked, and the spot where Tash's fingers had touched tingled.

Tash took the lead, most often crouched low to scrutinize the uneven stone floor. Other times, she peered up into the vaulted ceiling. Arched columns lined the tunnel sides like skeleton ribs. The stale air smelled of damp ash, with hints of rot and brimstone. Squeaks and clanks from Séa's armor echoed in the confined tunnel.

Tash shot Séa an annoyed glance. The rogue's eye-scar added black emphasis to her crusty glare. "I don't suppose you can quiet down the squeaky-squeaky. But I guess you can't. Never mind."

"Sorry," stage whispered Séa. "I have grease for the joints, if you want to pause for maintenance."

"Not now," Ghomarck wheezed.

"You carry extra lubrication, eh?" Tash's annoyance evaporated to cheeky glee. "What else do you use it for?"

Séa considered. "Well, I have used it once or twice to help with some chafing."

"I bet you did." The rogue's teeth gleamed merrily.

The wizard muttered, "Tash."

The rogue lapsed into silence, but only for two heartbeats of time. "Wait a minute. You have grease that helps with chafing? Do you have any idea how blistered my rear end is? That musclebound horse has a gait about as smooth as a berserker at the brothel. Not to mention your armored ass up front."

Inside her helmet, the paladin blinked. "Golly. I mean, if you need medical attention ..."

Tash raised her eyebrow and speared Séa with a glare, but her expression melted away and her trademark grin split her face. "Naw. I mean ... mostly no need." She rubbed her hind end and winced. "Mostly."

"Tash." Ghomark's eyebrows worked as he stared with intensity at the leather-clad woman. "Are you paying proper attention to our surroundings?"

Séa certainly wasn't. Tash's fanny-rub had blown Séa's ship of mental focus far off course. The rogue's sleek body moved like a spring-steel shadow, a savage blend of flexibility and strength. Given an invitation, Séa would eagerly apply liniment to any derriere blisters she might have. Stop being so randy, Séa. Pay attention to where you are and what you are doing.

But the here-and-now still contained that feeling of lurking oppression. Like the shadow that passed over Séa before they came upon Renna, it seemed like a dark blot on the world, but unlike that previous encounter Séa could not locate its direction. She shook it off and tried to walk quietly.

The passage snaked from side to side, but always trended downward. Holes big enough to roll a plump apple down appeared, drilled into the walls. "Rock mole burrows," Ghomarck said. "The creatures are harmless, for the most part, though I once heard that they bite sleeping people. We have gone deep and far. I imagine we have passed underneath the moat."

Tash threw up a hand. Dutifully, the others halted as she crouched to examine the ground. "Footprint," she said. "Impressed in dirt scattered by the moles. Large humanoid, much bigger than a human. Light shoes or maybe bare feet. Hard to be sure."

"Recent?" Ghomarck said.

"More recent than the mole that left the dirt, but that's not saying much." The rogue rose to her feet. "The time or two I was here, vermin ruled the chambers under the keep. But one room smelled like gnoll and had a lot of trash in it. The footprints could be from an overweight gnoll."

"I can handle a gnoll," Séa said. "Theoretically, I mean. I've never actually seen one."

"Chambers underneath?" Ghomarck said. "I wonder if the princess is captive down here. It might simplify matters."

"We shall see, eh?" The rogue's teeth flashed white for a moment. She crept forward.

The frequency of rock mole burrows increased for the next fifty paces, but then the walls, floor, and ceiling abruptly smoothed. Loose dirt vanished. Clean, almost polished rock slabs accented with black striations remained. Tash examined, felt, and even smelled the stark surfaces. Every few feet, a seam stretched across the hall, but each seemed inert.

Ten paces further on, a rectangular end to the tunnel yawned blackly, opening to some vaster space. The rogue did not go there. Instead, she frowned at vertical slots in the passage walls. Overhead, she traced the outlines of a huge block of stone. Everywhere she tested, she could insert the tip of her dagger between the block and its stony sheath. But the floor seemed innocent, smooth, and flat. She whispered, "It's like a crush-trap, but there's no trigger. On we go."

Séa did not wish to go on. A formless gloom still nibbled at the edges of her psyche. The nameless fear that had troubled her at the entrance still clogged the dead air. It had sharpened the deeper they delved, until it almost took shape at the edge of her perception, indistinct, but blacker than the stygian darkness that would surround them if the wizard's glowing mote should die. Guide my footsteps, Endurer, for my path is not clear.

The trio inched past the smooth section into a large chamber. The wizard's eldritch light barely reached to its ceiling. Ropy carvings decorated circular walls and a circular dais in the center.

"Seems empty," Tash said.

Séa shuddered in her armor. "It is not. Something is here. I thought I felt it back at the entrance, but I'm sure, now."

The wizard rotated to face the paladin. Impertinently, he reached to lift her visor and peer into her earnest face. "Oh?" he murmured. "How interesting. Perhaps it is a sense fostered by your clerical pursuits, Séa. In that case, the presence of mercenaries or gnomes would be insufficient to explain it. Perhaps it's ..." His voice trailed off.

"Just smells dead," the rogue muttered, "though the floor is oddly clean. No dust, even. The architecture is sort of fake-dwarven. An inauthentic copy. That circular stage in the center of a circular room is weird. If you stood there and spoke, you'd hear echoes of yourself." She waggled a hand forward. "I see an exit yonder."

Séa shuffled for the doorway out, but her eyes roved, and the hairs on the back of her neck refused to lay flat. Even when she entered the arched tunnel, she cast glances over her shoulder, back at the circular room.