“Harpell,” Wulfgar muttered again after they had crossed to the island and made a complete circuit of the structure.

The tower had no door.

“Patience,” Drizzt reminded him.

They did not have to wait long, though, for a few seconds later they heard a bolt being thrown, and then the creak of a door opening. A moment later, a boy barely into his teens walked right through the green stone of the wall, like some translucent specter, and moved toward them.

Wulfgar grunted and brought Aegis-fang, his mighty war hammer, down off his shoulder. Drizzt grasped the barbarian’s arm to stay him, fearing that his weary friend might strike in sheer frustration before they could determine the lad’s intentions.

When the boy reached them, they could see clearly that he was flesh and blood, not some otherworldly specter, and Wulfgar relaxed his grip. The youth bowed low to them and motioned for them to follow.

“Malchor?” asked Drizzt.

The boy did not answer, but he motioned again and started back toward the tower.

“I would have thought you to be older, if Malchor you be,” Drizzt said, falling into step behind the boy.

“What of the horses?” Wulfgar asked.

Still the boy continued silently toward the tower.

Drizzt looked at Wulfgar and shrugged. “Bring them in, then, and let our mute friend worry about them!” the dark elf said.

They found one section of the wall—at least—to be an illusion, masking a door that led them into a wide, circular chamber that was the tower’s lowest level. Stalls lining one wall showed that they had done right in bringing the horses, and they tethered the beasts quickly and rushed to catch up to the youth. The boy had not slowed and had entered another doorway.

“Hold for us,” Drizzt called, stepping through the portal, but he found no guide inside. He had entered a dimly lit corridor that rose gently and arced around as it rose, apparently tracing the circumference of the tower. “Only one way to go,” he told Wulfgar, who came in behind him, and they started off.