" Is this where it was?” Royce asked, stopping and studying the base of the tower. “How should I know?” Hadrian replied as his eyes coursed up the length of the south tower. Up close, it blocked everything else out, a solid wall of black rising against the light of the moon. “I can never understand why such small people build such gigantic things.” “Maybe they’re compensating,” Royce said, dropping several lengths of rope. “Damn it, Royce. It’s been eight years since we did this. I was in better shape then. I was younger, and if I recall, I vowed I would never do it again.” “That’s why you shouldn’t make vows. The moment you do, fate starts conspiring to shove them down your throat.” Hadrian sighed, staring upward. “That’s one tall tower.” “And if the dwarves were still here maintaining it, it would be impregnable. Lucky for us, they’ve let it rot. You should be happy—the last eight years would only have eroded it further. It should be easier.” “It’s granite, Royce. Granite doesn’t erode much in eight years "