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The man smiles smugly as you recount everything about yourself, your quest for the Lorestone, and your ordeal at the Senate House. When finally you reach the end of your account, he gives vent to a long, sardonic laugh. ‘I, Maghana, the Guildmaster of Thieves, in all the years I have dwelt beneath the velvet fortress, I have dispatched many men to the Tahou Cauldron to seek out ancient treasures, though few have gone willingly, and fewer still have returned alive. Know you this, Sommlending: the Cauldron is but one way to enter the main shaft to Zaaryx. There are other routes, other shafts, and all of them are known to me. I will show you one such shaft, but you must do something in return. Is it agreed?’
Cautiously you ask his terms. ‘My son, Aiebek, entered the shaft three moons ago, drawn by the stories of dragon gold. He has not returned. All I ask is that if you find his body, you bring me the ring he wears upon his right hand.’ Without hesitation you agree to these terms, for they seem most reasonable. He smiles, but this time his eyes glow with a strange intensity, as if he were a man on the brink of madness. ‘Do not fail me,’ he says, softly, holding aloft the sparkling mind-gem. ‘I shall know if you lie.’
