Downfall

"I hate it when he does that," Rikali told Dhamon. "Wish you'd make him stop that gibberish. Although I can't tell if he's cursing you or reciting some kobold recipe for lizard steaks. It's like trying to listen in on…"

"There's some writing on the pillars," Dhamon interrupted. He'd silently left the dais while she was talking and had moved to stand behind the kobold. "I can't make it out. Didn't see it at first." He leaned over Fetch to get a closer look.

"I can't read," she whispered.

"Well, I can read it," the kobold interjected. "Some of it, anyway. It's magical symbols, mostly."

"And…" Rikali waited. "If it's nothin' much interestin' I'm all for headin' into the river again and tryin' to find a way out before it rises and there ain't any air pockets left. Ain't anythin' valuable here that I can see. Shoulda plucked them onyx eyes out of them wooden dwarves when I had the chance. Ain't never going to get them now."

"We need to leave," Dhamon said. He was a few feet away, no longer haloed by the green light. His skin had dried, his hair and clothes were starting to dry, too. His black locks curled gently around the base of his neck. "We've wasted too much time."

The kobold ignored him and climbed the steps again, circled the pool, sat opposite Rig and Rikali and started more of his magical humming. He paused and looked up at them. "I don't have to hum, you know," he informed them. "Just makes the magic easier fer me. I can concentrate better."

"Magic?" Rig let a breath out between his teeth. "The kobold really knows magic? He's a sorcerer? A kobold sorcerer? I thought him lighting that pipe was just a trick."

Fetch made a great show of pushing back the sleeves of his robe and twisting the gold ring in his nose. "I'm not familiar with the kind of magic the people who built this placed used," he said officiously. "See those globes? They represent Nuitari, one of the moons of magic that used to be in the night sky. ‘Course that was quite a while before I was born, back when magic was something most anybody could pick up-before you had to have some special spark inside of you. Wizards of the Black Robes and such, I think they called ‘em. Raistlin. He was one of ‘em."

"Ray-za-lin." Rikali echoed. "Never heard of no Ray-za-lin." She was looking back and forth between the kobold and what she could see of the river. Had it risen a little in the past few minutes?

Fetch shook his head sadly. "Don't have a whisper of Raistlin's mastery. Never will. But even though that kind of magic isn't around anymore, I figure I can do this. Or at least try. Be a shame not to try."

"We need to leave." This came firmly from Dhamon. "I intend to get out of here. With the three of you, or alone," he added. "I'm not waiting much longer." Softer, "I can't afford to."

But they weren't listening to him, as Fetch's humming and the mysterious pool continued to hold their attention.

"It represents an eye," the kobold stopped to explain. "Even shaped like one. See? Works like one, too, in principle. At least if I understand what I deciphered on that… that…"

"Pedestal," Rig supplied.

"Yeah, the pedestal over there. You look through the eye and see things. Whatever it is you want to see. Now be quiet, the both of you, an' let me do some scrying." Then he was off humming again, a fast, off-key melody intercut with bits of gargling. His fingers were waggling in the air, for effect, not out of necessity, but he wanted to put on a good show for Rig and Rikali. He cursed himself for revealing that he didn't need to hum. Have to remember not to talk about the machinations of spells, he scolded himself. Then he placed his hands just above the water, fingers splayed, thumbs touching.

He felt the energy in the pool, the swirls of green sending faint waves of heat against his palms, almost relaxing him, making him. warm and comfortable and making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open. The blue swirls made his skin itch, though not as bad as the itch of the callus on his palm, and he concentrated on the latter to keep himself alert.

Concentrating harder than he ever had before, trying to awe his small audience and master what he had decided was a buried treasure of Raistlin and the Black Robes, he focused on the motes of yellow light. Feeling them with his mind, he coaxed them to the surface, as the pedestal had instructed. The kobold wished he would have taken the time to translate both pedestals, but his fear of being trapped here if the river rose unexpectedly demanded haste. Besides, he knew Dhamon didn't have the patience for his magic. When he thought he saw one flash of light rising, he closed his eyes and pictured all of the yellow-white flashes, imagined them all surging above the dark colors and performing their twinkling magic just for him.