"How do you know he can't?" Basalt roared. "He's a god! Just end it!"

Caele took one look at the god's face-livid with rage, his eyes blazing like the eternal fires of the Abyss-and decided his fellow archmage might be right. The half-elf placed both hands on the heavy dragonmetal basin, dug in his feet, and pushed the basin off the pedestal, dumping the contents onto the floor. Blood sloshed over Caele's bare feet and splattered the black robes of the dwarf.

The god and his sword vanished.

Basalt mopped his face with a black sleeve. "That was close!"

"I still don't think he could have done anything to us," Caele muttered.

"We didn't dare risk it."

Caele thought back on the enormous sword the god had been wielding and was forced to agree. He and Basalt stood in silence staring gloomily at the empty dragonmetal basin and the pool of blood. Both of them were thinking of another god who was going to be angry, a god much closer to home.

"It wasn't our fault," Caele muttered, biting his nails. "We have to make that clear."

"It was only a matter of time before Chemosh discovered the deception," Basalt agreed.

"I'm surprised it lasted this long," Caele added. "He's a god, after all. Be certain to remind the Master of that when you tell him what happened-"

"When I tell him!" Basalt glowered.

"Yes, of course, you should tell him," stated the half-elf coolly. "You are the Caretaker, after all. You are the one in charge. I am but your underling. You tell the Master."

"I am the Caretaker of the Tower. You You were the one tasked with casting the illusion spell. For all I know, it was your fault that Chemosh found out! Perhaps you made a mistake-" were the one tasked with casting the illusion spell. For all I know, it was your fault that Chemosh found out! Perhaps you made a mistake-"

Caele quit biting his nails. His long, thin fingers curled to claws. "Perhaps if you hadn't panicked and ordered me to end the spell prematurely-"

"End the spell! What are you talking about?"

The stern voice came from behind them. The two Black Robes exchanged alarmed glances and then, cringing, both turned to face their master, Nuitari, God of the Black Moon.

Both wizards bowed low. They both wore the Black Robes, symbol of their dedication to Nuitari. Beyond that, the likeness between them ended. Caele was tall and gaunt, with straggling, greasy hair that he rarely bothered to wash. He was half-human, half-elven, and united in his hatred of both races. Basalt, the dwarf, was short and stocky. His black robes were neat and clean, his beard combed. He didn't much like anyone of any race.

Straightening, the two tried to appear at ease, as if they were completely unconscious of the fact they were standing on a stone floor awash in dragon's blood, with the overturned basin of dragonmetal wobbling about at their feet.

The tall Caele looked down his long nose at Basalt, who glared up from beneath his heavy black brows at Caele.

"Tell him," Caele mouthed.

"You tell him," Basalt growled.

"Someone had better tell me, and tell me soon," hissed Nuitari.

"Chemosh discovered the illusion," Basalt said, trying to meet the god's dark and unforgiving eye, and finding it difficult.

"He was coming straight at us," Caele whined, "waving a huge sword. I told Basalt the god couldn't harm us, but the dwarf panicked and insisted on ending the spell-"

"I didn't insist that you upend the basin," snapped Basalt.

"You were the one howling like a wounded wyvern-"

"You were just as scared as I was!"

Nuitari made an abrupt gesture with his hands.

Basalt, quailing, asked in a low voice, "Master, will Chemosh come to free her?"

No need to name which "her" he was talking about.

"Perhaps," said Nuitari. "Unless the Lord of Death is more wise than he is obsessed."

Caele looked sidelong at Basalt, who shrugged.

The god's round moon face with its lidless eyes and full-lipped mouth held no expression. The mages could not tell if he was pleased or displeased, surprised, or alarmed, or simply bored with the whole procedure.

"Glean up the mess," was all Nuitari said before he turned on his heel and walked out.

It took both Caele and Basalt to lift the heavy basin, which was in the shape of a serpentine dragon with the coiled tail forming the bowl, back onto the pedestal. Once the basin was in place, they stared down at the pool spreading across the stone tile floor.

"Should we try to salvage some of the blood?" Basalt asked. Dragon's blood, especially that given by a willing dragon, was an extremely rare and valuable commodity.

Caele shook his head. "It's been tainted now. Besides, the blood loses its potency for spellcasting after forty-eight hours. I doubt the Master will be attempting this spell again any time soon."

"Well, then fetch rags and a bucket and we'll-"

"I may be your underling, Basalt, but I am not your lapdog!" Caele returned angrily. "I do not fetch fetch! Get your own rags and bucket. I must inspect the basin to see if it was damaged."

Basalt grunted. The basin was made of dragonmetal. He could have dropped it off the top of the Lords of Doom, and it would land at the bottom without suffering a dent. He knew from experience, however, that he could either spend the next half hour in a bitter argument with Caele that the dwarf would never win, or he could go fetch the rags and bucket himself. The pantry where they kept such mundane objects was located some three levels from where they were standing, a long trek up and down the stairs for the dwarf's short legs. Basalt considered magicking away the spilled blood or conjuring up rags. He rejected both, however, for fear Nuitari would find out.

Nuitari had forbidden his mages from using magic for trivial or frivolous tasks. He maintained that for a mage to use magic to wash his supper dishes was an insult to the gods. Basalt and Caele were expected to do their laundry, catch their food (one reason they had devised the contraption in which they had caught Mina), cook and clean-all without the benefit of spellcasting. Other mages who would eventually come to live in the Tower would have to live under the same restriction. They would be required to perform all such menial tasks with labor that was physical, not magical. Basalt stalked off on his errand, returning with aching calf muscles and in a bad mood.

He came back to find Caele amusing himself by drawing stick figures with his toe in the dragon's blood.

"Here," said Basalt, tossing Caele a rag. "Now that you've inspected the basin, you can clean it."

Caele regretted not having taking advantage of the dwarf's departure to leave. The half-elf had continued to hang about the spellcasting chamber in hopes that Nuitari would return and be impressed to find Caele taking such excellent care of the basin that was one of the god's favorite magical artifacts. Since there was still a chance Nuitari might come back, Caele began to wipe away the remnants of dragon's blood.

"So what did the master mean by Chemosh being wiser than he is obsessed?" asked Basalt. The dwarf was down on his hands and knees, scrubbing vigorously at the stained stone with a bristle brush.

"He's obsessed with this Mina, that much is clear. That's how we were able to perpetrate this fraud on him."

"Something that I never understood anyway," Basalt grumbled.

Caele, mindful that the Master might be in earshot, was effusive in his praise.

"Actually, I consider Nuitari's ploy quite brilliant," said the half-elf. "When we first captured Mina, the Master intended to use the threat of her death as a way to keep Chemosh's mouth shut. Chemosh, you see, had threatened to tell Nuitari's two cousins that he had secretly built this Tower and was trying to establish his own power base independent of them. He threatened to tell all the gods that the Master has in his possession a cache of holy artifacts belonging to each and every one of them."

"But the threat of death didn't work," Basalt pointed out. "Chemosh abandoned Mina to her fate."

"This is where the Master's true brilliance shone," said Caele. "Nuitari killed her as Chemosh watched, or rather, the Master pretended pretended to kill her." to kill her."

Caele waited a moment, hoping Nuitari would enter and thank his faithful follower for the compliments. Nuitari did not come, however, and there was no sign he'd overheard the half-elf's flattering remarks. Caele was growing bored with cleaning. He threw down the rag.

"There, I'm finished."

Basalt stood up to inspect the job. "Finished! When did you start? Look at that. There's blood in the scales around the tail, and in the eyes and teeth, and it's seeped in all these little crevices between the scales-"

"That's just the way the way the light hits it," said Caele carelessly. "But if you don't like it, do it yourself. I have to go study my spells."

"This is precisely the reason why I was made Caretaker!" Basalt told Caele's back as the half-elf was walking out the door. "You are a pig! All elves are pigs."

Caele turned, enmity flickering in his slanted eyes. His fists clenched.

"I've killed men for such insults, dwarf."

"You killed a woman for it, at least," Basalt said. "Strangled her and pushed her off a cliff."

"She got what she deserved and so will you, if you keep talking like that!"

"Like what? You have no love for elves yourself. You say worse than that about them all the time." Basalt polished the basin, working the rag deep into the crevices.

"Since the bitch who gave birth to me was an elf, I can say what I like about them," Caele retorted.

"Fine way to talk about your mother."

"She did her part. She brought me into this world, and she had a good time doing it. At least I had had a mother. I didn't sprout up in a dark cave like some sort of fungus-" a mother. I didn't sprout up in a dark cave like some sort of fungus-"

"You go too far!" Basalt howled.

Just not far enough! Caele hissed in fury, his long fingers twitching.

The dwarf threw the rag to the floor. The half-elf forgot about studying his spells. The two glared at each other. The air crackled with magic.

Nuitari, watching from the shadows, smiled. He liked his mages to be combative. It kept the sharp edges honed.

Basalt was half mad. Caele was wholly mad. Nuitari knew that long before he'd brought them to his Tower beneath the Blood Sea. He didn't care, not so long as they were good at their jobs, and both were extremely good, for they'd had years to perfect their gifts.

Due to their long life spans, the half-elf and the dwarf were among the few spellcasters remaining on Krynn who had served the God of the Dark Moon prior to his mother's theft of the world. Both had excellent memories and had retained their knowledge of their spellcraft over the intervening years.

These two were among the first to look into the heavens and see the black moon, and they were among the first to fall down on their knees and offer their services to their god. Nuitari transported them to this Tower on one condition-that they not kill each other. Both the dwarf and the half-elf were exceptionally powerful wizards. A battle between would not only end in the loss to him of two valuable servants, it would probably do serious damage to his newly reconstructed Tower.

Caele-half Kagonesti, half-Ergothian-was prone to violent rages. He'd committed murder before and had no compunctions about doing it again. Having renounced both the human and the elven side of himself, he had left civilization, roaming the wilderness like a savage beast until the return of his magic had made life worth living again. As for Basalt, his use of dark magic had gained him numerous enemies, who, when the gods of magic vanished, were elated to find their foe was suddenly powerless. Basalt had been forced to hide deep underground, where he'd lived in despair for years, mourning the loss of his art. Nuitari had given the dwarf back his life.

Nuitari waited patiently to see the outcome. Such flare-ups were frequent between the two. Their dislike and distrust of each other paled in comparison to their fear of him, however, and thus far, nothing had ever come of their altercations. This confrontation was more tense than usual, for both were nervous and on edge after the encounter with Chemosh. Sparks and spells might have flown, but Nuitari gave a loud cough.

Basalt's head jerked around. Caele's eyes flickered in fear. The magical tension whistled out of the room like the air out of an inflated pig bladder.

Basalt thrust his hands into the sleeves of his robes lest he be tempted to use them. Caele swallowed several times, his jaw working, as though he were literally having to masticate his anger before choking it down.

"You want to know why I went to all this trouble to create this illusion of Mina?" Nuitari asked, entering the room.

"Only if you want to tell us, Master," said Basalt humbly.

"I am intrigued by this Mina," said Nuitari. "I find it hard to believe the death of a mere mortal would have such a shattering effect upon a god, yet Chemosh was nearly destroyed by his grief! What kind of power does this Mina hold over him? I wonder, too, about Mina's relationship with Takhisis. There are rumors the Dark Queen was jealous of this girl. My mother! Jealous of a mortal! Impossible. That's why I ordered you to continue using the illusion spell-to stop Chemosh from coming to Mina's rescue so that we could study her."

"Did you learn anything about her, Master?" Caele asked. "I believe you must have found my my reports particularly enlightening-" reports particularly enlightening-"

"I read them," said Nuitari. He had found the reports of Mina's behavior in captivity to be extremely enlightening, especially in one regard, but he wasn't about to tell either of them that. "Now that I have satisfied your curiosity, return to your duties."

Caele grabbed up a rag and began polishing the basin. Basalt rinsed out his rag in water that now had a pinkish tinge to it and got back down on his hands and knees.

When Nuitari's footfalls could no longer be heard echoing through the corridors of the halls of magic, Caele flung his rag into the water bucket.

"You finish. I have my spells to study. If the Lord of Death is on his way to tear down our Tower, I am going to need them."

"Go along then," Basalt said grimly. "You're of no use to me anyway. But wash your feet before you leave this chamber. I don't want to see bloody footprints marking up my clean halls!"

Caele, who never wore shoes, thrust his bare feet into the water bucket. Basalt eyed the dried blood spattered on the half-elf's already filthy robes but said nothing, knowing it would be useless. Basalt considered himself fortunate Caele deigned to wear robes at all. He'd spent years running around the forest naked as a wolf and just as savage.

Caele started out the door, then stopped, turning around. "I've been meaning to ask you. When you were alone with Mina, did she talk to you about becoming a disciple of Chemosh?"

"Yes," said Basalt. "I thumbed my nose at her, of course. What about you?

"I laughed in her face," said Caele.

The two eyed each other suspiciously.

"I'll be taking my leave now," Caele stated.

"Good riddance," Basalt said, but only to his beard.

Shaking his head, he went back to scrubbing and muttering.

"That Caele is a pig. I don't care who hears me say it. That long nose of his is always stuck in the air. Thinks he's Reorx's balls, he does. Lazy bastard, too. And a liar. Leaves me to do the work and he takes the glory."

The dwarf scrubbed vigorously. "Can't let blood soak into the grout. Leaves a permanent stain. The Master would have my beard. I wonder," Basalt added, sitting back on his haunches and staring after the half-elf, "if Caele really laughed at Mina, or if he took her up on her offer to become one of Chemosh's chosen. Perhaps I should make mention of this to the Master..."

Caele shut himself up in his room and took out a spell book. He did not open it, however, but sat staring at it.

"I wonder if Basalt fell for Mina's lies. I wouldn't put it past him. Dwarves are so gullible. I must remember to inform Nuitari that Basalt might be a traitor..."

Chapter 3.