After a few minutes of travelling, the road bed began to slope towards the sea, leading eventually through a pair of iron gates and into the majestic seat of the principality.

"Krondor," Locklear said with a sigh that seemed to indicate both relief and concern. "If assassins have been sent against us, it seems a safe bet they'll be lying in wait for us between here and the palace. What's your guess, Gorath? Do we go in now or not?"

After half an hour's journey, they returned once more to the main road.

For all the troubles he had been through to get them all alive to Krondor, the locked palace gates simply added insult to injury. Calling out to the gatemaster angrily, he pounded the hilt of his sword against the portcullis.

Stirred by the racket, a young man liveried in the colors of the Krondorian Lancers strode out of his watch house and squinted at them, snapping up his bardiche which leaned against the interior wall.

"Would you get this gate open, please?" Locklear said. "We have business with the Prince."

"Can't help you, Seigneur," the guard replied. "The gate mechanism's broken, has been since three nights ago. Unless you and your companions have a mind of climbing the walls, there won't be any getting through here until we can find the plans for the portcullis. The castle engineer is absolutely livid."

Locklear accepted the news with irritation, but knew of nothing else that could be done. "Could you go and get Prince Arutha for me then? It's a rather urgent matter."

Again the guard shook his head. "He's meeting with Pug of Stardock and some Tsurani fellow named Makala. Gave explicit instructions he wasn't to be disturbed unless the castle was burning down around their ears."

"Could you at least find Seigneur James..."

The guard cut him off with a shake of his shaggy head. "Been missing for two days. No one knows quite where he's off to, but you know how James can be."

Locklear nodded. "All too well. My bump of trouble tells me he's looking for whoever sabotaged the gate."

"Sabotaged?" The guard looked puzzled, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Why would anyone do that?"

"I'm not sure, but if the thought occurs to me, I can guarantee that it has occurred to Seigneur James." Resheathing his sword, Locklear bid the guard farewell and motioned for his companions to follow him.

"I have a feeling that the only way to solve both our problems is by going through the sewers that lead beneath the city," Locklear whispered, hurrying them to the northern gate. "There is a secret passage that will lead us into the palace, and I also suspect that we may bump into Seigneur James down there as well."

"Once again," Locklear stressed, "I have a feeling that the only way to solve both our problems is by going through the sewers that lead beneath the city. There is a secret passage that will lead us into the palace, and I also suspect that we may bump into Seigneur James down there as well."

"After all the trouble we went through to avoid being noticed, don't you think it would be a bit stupid to stroll back through the gates," James fumed. "Lets get headed to Romney before we are spotted."

Announcing the small party, he escorted them inside the enclosure of the Krondorian palace.

After a long time examining the lock, he brushed the dust off his hands and knees. "Someone's tampering before us has done this lock in," Locklear said. "They've broken the mechanism trying to pick it. No one will be getting through that lock with a key, picklocks or otherwise."

Locklear turned to his companions and motioned for them to follow him up the ladder.

"That's the way into the palace," Locklear said. "Shall we?"

YES:

They made their way out of the reeking blackness...

Halfway down its spiral, they discovered a heavy iron door which prevented them from moving any further downward. "Looks like it's rusted shut," Locklear said, examining the reddish dust which caked the lock. "No going further for the time being."

Disheartened, he led the way back up to the mouth of the stairwell.

Expecting a foul aroma from the lower levels of the sewers, he was pleasantly surprised that it seemed less rank than the sewers through which they had already trudged. "Believe it or not, it smells better down there," he remarked. "Shall we go down and have a look around?"

YES:

They descended noisily.

Several times Owyn nearly lost his footing on the mossy steps, but fortunately caught himself before sending them all tumbling down the stairwell. At last, they emerged into a large corridor.

It was definitely a way up, but he questioned whether it was the right way for them to be going at the moment. "What do you think, Owyn?" he asked. "Feel like climbing all that way back up?"

YES:

Owyn nearly broke his neck.

Less footsure than Gorath and further encumbered by his bulky staff, it was a constant struggle for him to keep upright as they wound up the mossy steps. However glad he was to see level ground, he was less pleased with the smells that now assaulted him.