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sizes are made equal, dragon. Take a good look around."
Windrush glanced warily out of the corner of his eye.
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Sizes made equal? Certainly the cavern dwarfed both of them.
Several boulders stood nearby, and he realized that there was something
unusual about them. They were streaked with large veins of malinor
crystal-stunningly large veins. Unless those rocks weren't really the
boulders they seemed. Windrush touched them with his undersense and felt
something odd.
"Note the lumenis branch to your right," Hodakai said.
The dragon shifted his gaze. A large branch from a dead lumenis plant lay on
the stone. An enormous branch ...
unless it was actually a twig, as the size of the desiccated blossom-nub at
its tip seemed to indicate. Windrush recalled the entry spells that had
brought him into this plac@the crack on the outside, and the way that the
inner passage had seemed much larger, but otherwise identical.
Suppose the passageway had not been made larger. Suppose he had been made
smaller.
The shadow-spirit crowed and made little cackling sounds, delighting in the
dragon's discomfiture.
Windrush tugged with his undersense, hoping to unravel any remaining spells of
illusion. Nothing changed that he could see: not his size, nor the size of
the jar, nor the lumenis branch. How could this have happened, without his
even noticing it? Had his wisdom fallen so far?
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The spell must have been left here by the departed guardians of this vault;
and if so, its makers might return to discover whom they had ensnared. And if
they were Tar-skel dragons, or drahis, or other beings sympathetic to the
Enemy ...
Windrush slowly scanned the area, trying not to betray his alarm.
Was someone else watching him? The cavern walls were full of shadows,
shifting in the light of the spirit jar. For an instant he thought he spied a
moving gleam in a far corner, and he swung his head, flame hot in his throat.
But he saw nothing.
"Feeling edgy, all of a sudden?" the spirit asked.
The dragon checked an urge to flame the jar.
"Spiritnamed-Hodakai, you play a dangerous game, toying with matters that you
little understand."
"Oh. Tsk, tsk. Do you intend to stop me?"
"I have no need to stop you. But your life could perhaps be pleasanter if you
chose your enemies more wisely-and your friends."
"Ah-you know so much of my life, then. Perhaps you would have me choose a
dragon as a friend. You, perhaps?"
"I have no need of your friendship," Windrush answered coldly. "I
merely remind you of the difference between choosing well and choosing
poorly."
He shifted his gaze. There were clear signs of dragonwork here:
faceted surfaces that spoke of artisan spells, and surfaces burnished by
dragon fire or scarred by dragon claws.
Everywhere was the rubble and dust of long neglect. Why had
Hodakai's captors abandoned him here? Had they planned to return, and
forgotten? Servants of the Enemy might well do such a thing.
"Perhaps indeed you were wronged," Windrush said offhandedly.
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"Tell me, what do you know of the Keepers of the Words? Were you imprisoned
by their enemies?"
There was no answer.
The spirit's shadow was no longer visible in the jar.
Windrush cocked his head, puzzled. It seemed unlikely that the spirit had
escaped; more likely, it was busy sending a message out through the
underrealm.
"Dragon!" he heard-a soft, whispery voice, not at all like
Hodakai's. Where had that come from?
"Dragon!"
This time he glimpsed movement, in the gloom off to his left-just a shimmer in
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