nto relieved  laughter. "Gives  us a  lot Of
 credit, doesn't he?" Kitiara  said. They  Streamed back  to the
 unfinished Scaffold.
   Stutts explained, in great detail, the vitriol Plan  to Cupe-
 lix.  The  dragon  was  not  sanguine  about  it.  He  was more
 interested in taking the top Off the tower,  but there  was not
 enough Wood to erect a Scaffold five hundred feet high.
   "It's  too  bad  you  can't  go down  to the  cavern," Said
 Wingover. "You'd be Safe there."
   "Who Says I can't?" the dragon answered.
   "The holes in the  floor aren't  big enough  to let  you pass,"
 the gnome Objected.
   "Then  we  Shall  make  them  bigger.  Will this  corrosive Of
 yours eat through marble?"
   "Ah, we're  not certain,"  said Stutts.  "I wish  I'd Studied
 alchemy more closelyl Then I could tell you."
   "Why  don't  We  try  a  more  direct  approach'  Let's apply

 vitriol to the floor stones," Offered Cupelix.
   The flying ship's erstwhile china  milk pitcher  was pressed
 into service as a vitriol vessel. They  breached the  keg head
 and dipped the pitcher in until it Was full.
   "Careful!"  said  Stutts.  Kitiara nodded,  tight-lipped, as
 drops fell from the pitcher's lip and landed, sizzling, On the
 ground, leaving black, smoking scorch marks.
 Kitiara  walked  very  Slowly  to  the  Obelisk,  gnomes danc-
 ing attendance  On each  Side, prattling  On with  useless but
 well-intended advice. Sturm  hurried ahead  to clear  the way.
 Cupelix  had  come  all the  way down  to the  floor to  be as
 close as possible to  the experiment.  Holding the  pitcher at
 aim's length, Kitiara dribbled a thin Stream Of vitriol On the
 rim Of One  Of the  Micones' holes.  The corrosive  hissed and
 Sizzled villainously, and  after a  few minutes,  the bubbling
 stopped.
   "Whewf" said Kitiara. "This Stuff Stinksl"
   Wingover  tapped  the  doused area  With a  Slender mineral
 hammer.  "The  stone  has  definitely decayed,"  he announced,
 "though  not by  much. It  would take  gallons and  gallons Of
 Oil Of vitriol to eat through this thick marble."
   "We haven't got  an endless  Supply," Kitiara  reminded him.
 "Fifty gallons; that's as much as we have."
   'Then it's picks and  mattocks," Said  Sturm. "Hand  work. I
 knew it would come down to sweat and blisters eventually."
   The  gnomes  returned  Outside  to  work  On  extending  the
 scaffolding  around three  sides Of  the Obelisk.  Kitiara and
 Sturm  found  the heaviest  digging tools  the gnomes  had and
 Set to work. It was hard going. The floor  Was tough,  and the
 tools were Small.  What amounted  to a  full-sized pick  for a
 gnome was little bigger than a hand adze to a human.
   It was hot inside  the tower,  as they  chipped away  at the
 marble.  Kitiara  Stripped Off  her cloak  and mail  Shirt and
 worked  in her  light blouse.  Sturm set  aside his  armor and
 quilted tunic, too. Cupelix did  What he  could to  make their
 labor  easier.  He  fanned  them  with  his  broad  wings  and
 flushed the chips and dust Out  Of their  way. He  told clever
 stories that he'd garnered from his reading.
   Sturm discovered  that Cupelix  was a  devotee Of  the elven
 bard,  Quivalen  Soth.  The  dragon  knew  the "Song  Of Huma"

 by heart. Even more interesting Was a lost  cycle Of  songs by
 Quivalen  about  Huma  and  the  Silver  Dragon.  Kitiara  had
 not heard the tale Of Huma's love for  the Silver  Dragon, and
 was fascinated.
   "A  true  tragedy,"  said  Cupelix,  fanning  a  breeze Over
 them. "That  a dragon  should descend  from its  noble natural
 form to that Of a mortal. Tsk, tsk."
   Sturm traded  his small  pick for  an equally  small sledge-
 hammer. It hit the floor with  a crack  that stung  his hands.
 "You think dragons are better than people?" he asked.
   'Without  a  doubt.  Dragons  are  bigger,   Stronger,  have
 more  abilities  and powers,  live longer,  do more,  and have
 unequaled   mental   qualities,"   Said  Cupelix.   "What  can
 humans do that dragons can't?"
   "Walk Out Of here," said Kitiara, leaning  On her  pick. The
 fanning Wings missed a beat, then started up again.
   "Too  bad  you  can't  change  into  a  man,  even briefly,"
 Sturm said. "Then all this digging would be unnecessary."
   "Alas,  shape-Shifting  has  never   been  a   talent  known
 among brass dragons. There are  texts On  the matter,  that Of
 the  elf  wizard  Dromondothalas  being  the most  famous. But
 my library is completely lacking in Such books."
   Kitiara  kicked  a  Wide  Wedge Of  stone loose.  It slipped
 through the hole. Seconds later, a distant thud  revealed that
 it  had  landed  in  the  cavern below.  She Said,  "Where did
 your books come from?"
   "What  books  I  have I  had from  the beginning.  The maker
 Of the Obelisk provided them, I believe, So that the Keeper Of
 the  New  Lives  Would  have  some  knowledge  Of   the  Wider
 worlds beyond Lunitari.  There are  tomes Of  history, geogra-
 phy, letters, medicine, alchemy -"
   "And magic," said Sturm, bringing the hammer down.
   "Half the Scrolls are related to magic," agreed Cupelix.
   In two hours' Work, the humans Succeeded in widening
 the hole by several inches all around. Cupelix  expressed sat-
 isfaction with their progress, but Kitiara Was disgusted.
   "At this rate, well be too Old to lift the tools by the time
 We cut a hole big enough for you," She said to the dragon.
   "I think We're going about this the  hard way,"  Sturm Said.
 His  alms  and  back  ached,  and  his  head pounded  from the

 Strain  Of  working So  hard in  the thin  air. "I  remember the
 masons  at the  castle cleaving  Stones as  thick as  this floor
 With  One  Or  two  blows.  Let  me  have  Some cool  Water, and
 I'll think  about it  a while."  He took  the water  bottle from
 Kitiara and Slumped by the near wall.
   Kitiara   went   Out.   To   her  unconcealed   surprise,  the
 gnomes  had  already  wrapped  their  rickety   platform  around
 three sides  Of the  Obelisk to  a height  Of Six  feet. Boards,
 posts,   tool  handles   and  beams   were  pegged   and  lashed
 together Wherever space allowed.
   "How  goes  it?"  she  said,  turning  away and  almost bowl-
 ing Over Stutts.
   "We're  ratcheting  right  along,"  he  Said. "Are  you making
 any progress On the floor?"
   "Very little, I'm afraid." She fingered her left  biceps. "All
 this  extra  muscle  power  is going  to Waste.  If I  swing too
 hard, 111 Only break the tool."
   "I  see." Stutts  squinted at  the midday  sun. "Only  two and
 a half hours Of light left. Let's have a look at your progress."
   They  entered  and found  Sturm kneeling  On the  floor, star-
 ing  at  the  water pitcher.  He looked  from it  to One  Of the
 areas  where  they'd  Scarred  away  the polished  Surface. Then
 he  Stared  Once  more  at  the   Water  pitcher.   Cupelix  had
 hopped back up to his perch.
   "What are you doing?" Kitiara asked Sturm.
   "I  remember  how they  did it,"  Sturm replied.  "The masons
 at  castle  Brightblade used  to quarry  Out enormous  blocks Of
 granite with just four men."
   "How did they do it?" asked Stutts.
   "They bored holes along the block they wanted to free
 and  drove  in  thick  Wooden  pegs. Then  they Soaked  the Pegs
 in water. The Swelling wood cracked the stone."
     Stutts looked at Sturm and blinked. "That's ingenious."
   Kitiara Said, "But can We bore holes in the marble?"
   "We  have  some  steel  augers,"  Said  the gnome.  "With your
 strength and the right approach - yes, easily!"
   Stutts ran back to the pile Of goods  discarded from  the fly-
 ing  ship  and  returned  with  a  large   brace  and   bit.  He
 explained  quickly  how,  when  boring  Stone,  it   Was  impor-
 tant to keep the bit  cool and  lubricated. Sturm  would trickle

 water around the bit while Kit turned the brace.
   They  tried  it,  and  bored  through  the twenty-inch-thick
 floor  in  thirty  minutes. Flushed  with success,  they bored
 more holes,  connecting the  first Micone  hole with  the Sec-
 ond, about twelve feet away. Using this line as the base  Of a
 triangle, Sturm  and Kitiara  angled Out  into the  main floor
 Space. They  were well  into the  triangle's Second  arm, When
 the  sun Went  down and  the gnomes  came Streaming  in. Flash
 announced that the scaffold was done.
   "Then find a bit and  join in,"  Kitiara said.  "More Water,
 Sturm! The handle feels hot!"
   It  was well  past midnight  when they  finished, thirty-Six
 holes in all. Cupelix worked up  an especially  bracing repast
 with  thick  soup  and  lots  Of  bread.  They had  mined four
 bits, and Kitiara's hands were blistered.
   ъainspot   Offered   her  Some   soothing  Salve,   but  She
 declined. "Let's get On With it," She Said. "Get the pegs."
   The  gnomes  did  the peg  work. They  cut lengths  from the
 remaining  Scrap  Wood,  and  Sturm  banged  these  home  with
 the sledge. Everyone cleared Out Of  the triangle  area formed
 by the bored holes. Kitiara filled a canvas bucket  With Water
 and handed it to Sturm.
   "Your honor," she Said. "Your idea."
   He  took  the handle.  "This is  for the  good yeoman  Of Cas-
 tle  Brightblade,"  he  answered,  dousing  each peg  in turn,
 refilling the bucket, and dousing them all again.
   Nothing happened.
   "Well?" Said Kitiara, bracing One hand On her hip.
   "It takes a  while," said  Sturm. "The  pegs have  to swell.
 We'd better have some more water."
   Sturm  poured  water  On  the  pegs  three  more  times. The
 tops Of the pegs clearly Swelled above the level Of the floor,
 but little else appeared to happen.
     "wonderful," Kitiara said Sarcastically. She loped Out,
 Snorting  With  ill-concealed  contempt.   One  by   One,  the
 gnomes gave up, and went Outside. Sturm Shook his head.
   "It Worked for my father's masons," he Said.
   "Masonry is an arcane art," Cupelix  said. "Its  secrets are
 not easily adapted by the untrained."
   Then the floor went crack.

   Near  the  hole that  Sturm and  Kitiara had  So laboriously
 enlarged, a hairline crack reached from the first  peg, across
 the marble, to the peg On the  Other Side  Of the  hole. Sturm
 laid the sledge On his shoulder and hurried  to the  scene. He
 Was  about  to  smite  the  Splitting  Stone,  When  he  heard
 another crack, and a  fissure slowly  zigzagged from  the tri-
 angle's far point to its base; Sturm raised the hammer.
   "No, wait," Said the fascinated dragon.
   The line between the Micone holes jumped apart, and
 Sturm started backward. A  section Of  stone, larger  than any
 they'd  released  by  hand,  broke free  and plunged  into the
 cavern  below.  That  Opened  the  floodgates, and  the entire
 triangle collapsed into the  cavern with  a rush.  The Obelisk
 rang with the concussion as a ton Of  marble hit  the resonant
 floor a hundred feet down.
   Kitiara burst in, the gnomes at her heels.  "Great suffering
 gods! What was that?" She cried.
   Sturm  dusted  his  hands  and  pointed dramatically  to the
 gaping hole in the  floor. "The  way is  clear for  Cupelix to
 descend!" he Said.
   The gnomes were all for  going On  and bringing  the Obelisk
 down  that  very  night,  but  Sturm  and  Kitiara  were  both
 exhausted  and  begged  Off.  Cupelix  supported  them, saying
 that  he  had  many items  he Wished  to Save  from destruction
 before the tower  Was demolished.  He flew  up to  his private
 aerie and left the mortals to take their ease.
   The gnomes quieted after  the initial  rush Of  Success wore
 Off.  They   burrowed  into   the  Cloudmaster's   jetsam  and
 Slept,  their  tinny  Snores  Sounding  like  an  Operatic war
 between  bullfrogs  and  crickets.  Sturm  Stretched Out  On a
 blanket  surrounded  by  Stacked  crates.  The  Sky  Was bril-
 liantly clear as usual, and he counted  Stars to  make himself
 drowsy.
   Kitiara  sauntered  around  the  crates. "Asleep?" she asked.
   "Huh? No, not yet."
          She slipped down opposite him, her back braced by a
               box.,"This may be our last night On Lunitari."
    "Sounds good to me."
    "You know, I've been trying to figure out how, long We've
  been here. In local terms, We've seen about forty-four days

 and forty-five nights. How long does that make it back
 home?"
   "I don't know," he admitted.
   "Suppose  We  get  back to  Krynn and  find that  years have
 passed?"
   He almost laughed at the idea, but stopped himself.
 Sturm  couldn't  prove  that  years  hadn't elapsed  while they
 were On the red moon.
   "There  are  so  many  Old  tales about  humans who  Went Off
 to elf  realms and  returned in  What they  thought were  a few
 months  to  find their  children grown  and their  friends dead
 Of Old age," Kitiara said.  Sturm thought  She was  just musing
 Over possibilities, but then he realized that she Was seriously
 concerned.
   "What are you afraid of, Kit?" he asked gently.
   "The five-year reunion. It's important that I not miss it."
   "And Tanis?"
   "Yes."
   "Do you intend to go back to him?"
   Kitiara shifted uncomfortably. "No, that's not it. We
   didn't part on the best of terms, and I want to patch things
   up, before -" She started to say Something but stopped.
   "Before what?" Sturm prompted.
   "Before I begin my travels with Cupelix."
   So, she was Owning up  to it.  "Are you  giving up  trying to
 find your father and his people?"
   "My  father  always  said  his  family  had disowned  him and
 his forever," she said. "Much as I'd love to  ride up  to their
 front door and spit in their faces,  partnership With  a dragon
 promises to be  more exciting."  She Shrugged.  "I say,  to the
 Abyss with the Uth Matars."
   The  quiet  interval grew  long, and  Sturm felt  his eyelids
 droop  With  Sleep.  He  was  about  to  nod  Off  When Kitiara
 said, "Sturm, if you see Tanis before I do,  will you  tell him
 I'm sorry, and  that he  Was right?"  Sturm was  too much  Of a
 gentleman  to  inquire  What  she  had  to  be sorry  about. He
 promised  upon  his  honor as  a Brightblade  to bear  her mes-
 sage back to Tanis Half-Elven.

                      Chapter 29

                  The Obelisk Falls

   The dragon cal1ed to them, rousing them from their
 slumber.  The  gnomes bounced  up, eager  to be  about their
 business. Sturm rubbed  his eyes  and looked  about. Kitiara
 was not in sight.
 He  stretched and  hunted around  for a  drink of  water. As
 he was gulping a  cool drink,  Kitiara appeared.  She tossed
 aside a handsaw and said, "What's the beast yelling about? I
 couldn't quite make it out."
 "He wants us  to get  on with  the demolition,"  said Sturm.
 "Fine. I'm ready."
 All the glass and porcelain jars and cups  they had  were to
 be  used  to  pour  vitriol  on the  lead mortar  seams. The
 gnomes lined up like  soldiers, mugs  and cream  pitchers in
 hand like swords.  Kitiara  gave them  a mocking  salute and

 told them to bide their time.
   Inside,  Cupelix  was  nervously  hopping from  one massive
 leg to the other. "All my books and manuscripts are  safe," he
 said.  "The  Micones  have  transferred  everything to  a safe
 place  in  the  cave." There  was no  longer reason  to delay.
 Cupelix put his three-toed feet into the  hole and  curled his
 tail up close to his chest. It would be a tight fit.
   "Get your wings in," Sturm said. "Closer. That's it."
   "Good  thing I  am a  svelte example  of my  race," Cupelix
 said. His massive body was in the hole. Only his head
 showed inside the obelisk.
   "I believe I shall miss this place," he said.
   "Go  on!"  Kitiara  shouted.  Cupelix's  head  disappeared. He
 fell  forty feet  before getting  his wings  open. He  hit the
 cavern  floor  with  enough  force  to rock  the tower  on its
 foundations,  but  to  the dragon  it was  a minor  tumble. He
 telepathed his good health and told the mortals to proceed.
   "Cupelix  is  safely in  the cavern,"  Sturm said  to Stutts
 when they were outside.
   Stutts put two  fingers to  his mouth  and blew  a shrieking
 whistle. "Begin pouring!" he cried.
   The gnomes, spaced around  the three  sides of  the obelisk,
 applied vitriol to the lead. Wisps of noxious vapor coiled off
 the  walls,  choking all  the gnomes  but ъoperig  and Fitter,
 who  had  invented  Caustic  Smoke   Filters  for   Noses  and
 Mouths  (Mark  II).  Keen  observers  would   have  recognized
 the filters as being made of old bandannas and suspenders.
   "ъight! Now clear off  the top  level and  pour on  the sec-
 ond!" Stutts called. Convenient beakers of vitriol  were posi-
 tioned on the lower platforms of the scaffold.
   Flash  climbed  down  the  spindly  collection of  poles and
 planks.  He  swung  to  the second  level and  promptly kicked
 over his beaker. Oil  of vitriol  streamed down  the scaffold,
 eating  away  the  wood and  rope lashing  with as  much vigor
 as it consumed the lead.
   "Look out!"  said Sturm.  The poles  under Flash  sagged and
 came  apart.  The  gnome wavered  back and  forth on  his toes
 and toppled from the planking.
   Kitiara  gauged  his fall  and stepped  below him.  She held
 up her arms and caught the plummeting gnome.

  "Thank you so much," he said.
  "Certainly," she asked.
  The  walls  of   the  obelisk   steamed  with   vitriol  vapor.
 Streaks  of  black  showed  on  the  flawless  red  marble where
 the liquified lead ran down.  The corrosive  fluid ate  into the
 joints between the courses of stone with  alacrity, and  half an
 hour  after  starting,  the  gnomes  were  down  to  the  fourth
 level of their scaffold.
  "It  looks  like it's  weeping," Sturm  observed of  the struc-
 ture. "But I don't think it's suffering much damage."
  "The  effect  should  be  cumulative,"  said  Stutts.  "Without
 the  lead  support,  each course  will sag  under the  weight of
 the  upper  blocks. By  the time  we get  down to  ground level,
 the whole structure may  be leaning  as much  as three  feet out
 of  plumb.  The  remaining  fourth  wall  cannot   support  such
 an imbalance, and the obelisk will collapse."
  The   wine-purple   sky   segued   into   claret   red.   Sturm
 frowned.  "Sunrise," he  said. 'Will  the discharges  affect the
 process?"
  "How  can  they  not?"  Kitiara  replied.  "They may  bring the
 whole thing down  on our  heads." She  went to  the foot  of the
 scaffold and yelled, "Get a move on! Dawn is coming!"
  There   were   accidents,   gnomes   being  gnomes,   with  the
 imminent  sunrise pressing  on them.  Vitriol burns,  falls, and
 sprained ankles  multiplied. The  stars faded  from view  as the
 heavens  changed  from  claret  to  rose.  The  usual  streak of
 meteors  ricocheted  from  one  horizon  to  another,   and  the
 intense stillness was broken by a stirring in the air that Kiti-
 ara felt, though Sturm could not.
  "Hurry!"
  The gnomes tumbled off the scaffold like mice from a
 burning   building.   The   platform   groaned  and   curled  up
 wherever  the  vitriol  dropped on  it, and  the lower  third of
 the obelisk was coated with sickly gray steam.
  "ъun!" Sturm said. "ъun as far and as fast as you can!"
  He  grabbed  Cutwood,  who  was  slow, and  dragged him
 off his feet.  Kitiara scooped  up ъoperig  and Flash,  the last
 ones off the scaffold.  And they  ran, past  the point  at which
 they'd left  Cloudmaster, on  the unscarred  side of  the tower,
 as far  as where  the valley  began to  rise in  elevation. A hor-

 rendous  grinding  noise  fille