The deep gnome shrugged. "If you do, you'll have no one to go in after whatever radiated that magical aura you saw."

Q'arlynd's eyes narrowed. He levitated the slab to one side and set it down, gently enough that the only noise it made was a slight grating of stone against stone. Then he held up his left hand and waggled his index finger-the one with the dull black ring on it, the ring whose only surviving counterpart was on Flinderspeld's own hand. "Don't make me use this."

The deep gnome glared. "All right, all right. I'm going." He clambered toward the hole, muttering under his breath.

Q'arlynd narrowed his eyes. He should discipline Flinderspeld, he knew, flay him and leave him staked out for lizards to feed on, but the deep gnome did have his uses. Like all those of his race, he showed up as little more than a blur-if at all-to anyone trying to scry him or otherwise locate him by magical means. It made Flinderspeld the perfect vehicle for carrying objects Q'arlynd didn't want found-the rings Q'arlynd had recently lifted from the body of the dead priestess, for example.

The deep gnome didn't realize he was being utilized in such a way, and he had no idea that the new clothing Q'arlynd kept bestowing upon him had items sewn inside it. He regarded these "gifts" as kindness. He'd concluded that Q'arlynd must have purchased him out of some sense of compassion, after seeing the sorry state the slavers had reduced the deep gnome to. A notion that was laughable, really. Q'arlynd's heart was as dark as that of any drow.

"I see something!" Flinderspeld called out. "It's a… dagger of some sort. It's silver with a thin blade, shaped more like a sword than a dagger really. It's strung on a chain like a pendant."

Q'arlynd knew this, of course. He'd placed the priestess's pendant there himself for the detection spell to reveal.