The dwarf led them up the river path to where the moon revealed a large rock protruding out toward the water. To Hadrian it looked vaguely like the dull tip of a broad spear. Magnus thumped the dirt with his boot, then pointed toward the river. “We go in here. Swim straight down about twenty feet—there’s an opening in the bank. The tunnel runs right under us, curves down, and then runs under the river to the tower.”
“You can tell all that with your foot?” Royce asked.
Hadrian looked at Esrahaddon. “How are you at swimming?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the opportunity since …” he said, lifting his arms. “But I can hold my breath a good long time. Drag me if necessary.”
“Let me go first,” Royce announced, his eyes on Magnus. He threw his coil of rope on the ground and tied one end around his waist. “Feed this out to me, but hang on to it. I don’t know how swift the current is.”
“There is no current here,” Magnus told them. “There’s an underwater shelf that juts out, creating an eddy. It’s like a little pond down there.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. Once I am down I’ll give three tugs indicating that it’s safe to follow. Tie off the end and follow the line down. If, on the other hand, I jump in and the rope runs out like you just caught a marlin, haul me back so I can personally kill him.”
The dwarf sighed.
Royce slipped off his cloak, and with Hadrian holding the rope, he descended into the river as if he were rappelling off the side of a wall. He dropped and vanished under the dark water. Hadrian felt the rope slip out gradually from between his fingers. At his side, Magnus showed no signs of concern. The dwarf stood with his head cocked back, looking up at the sky. “What do you suppose it’s doing tonight?” he asked.
“Eating knights would be my guess,” Hadrian replied. “Let’s just hope they keep the thing busy.”
Deeper and deeper, the rope trolled out; then it stopped. Hadrian watched where the line entered the water; it made a little white trail as it cut the current.
Tug. Tug. Tug.
“That’s it. He’s in,” Hadrian announced. “You next, little man.”
Magnus glared at him. “I’m a dwarf.”
“Get in the river.”
Magnus walked to the edge. Holding his nose and pointing his toes, he jumped and disappeared with a plop.
“That leaves you and me,” Hadrian said, tying the end of the rope to a birch tree that leaned a bit out toward the river. “You go first—I’ll follow—see how well you do. If need be, I’ll pull you through.”
The wizard nodded, and for the first time since Hadrian had known him, he looked unsure of himself. Esrahaddon took three deep breaths, rapidly blowing each out; on the fourth inhale, he held it and jumped feetfirst. Hadrian leapt in right after.
The water was cold—not icy or breathtaking, but colder than expected. The immediate shock caught Hadrian off guard for an instant. He kicked out with his feet, pointed his head down, and began to swim along the rope. Magnus had been right about the current. The water was still as a pond. He opened his eyes. Above him, there was a faint blue-gray shimmer; below, it was black. Panic gripped Hadrian when he realized he could not see Esrahaddon. Almost in response, a faint light appeared directly below him. The wizard’s robe gave off a blue-green glow as he swam, paddling with his feet and stroking with his arms. Despite the lack of hands, he made good headway.
The light from the robe revealed the riverbank and the rope running down. It disappeared inside a dark hole. He watched the wizard slip through, and with his lungs starting to burn, followed him. Once inside, he kicked upward, and almost together their heads emerged from a quiet pool in a small cave.
Royce had the other end of the rope tied to a rock. There was a lantern burning beside him. The single flame easily illuminated the room. The chamber was a natural cave with a tunnel leading out. Magnus stood off to the side, either studying the cavern walls or just keeping his distance from Royce.
When Esrahaddon surfaced, Royce hauled him out. “You might have had an easier time swimming if you’d taken off—” Royce stopped as he saw the wizard’s robe. It was dry.
Hadrian climbed out of the pool, feeling the river water drizzle down his body. He could hear the drops echoing in the cave like a rainstorm, but Esrahaddon was exactly as he had been before entering the river. With the exception of his hair and beard, he was not even damp.
Hadrian and Royce exchanged glances but said nothing.
Royce picked up his lantern. “Coming, short stuff?”
The dwarf grumbled and, taking hold of his beard with both hands, twisted a bit of water out. “You realize, my friend, dwarves are an older and far more accomplished—”