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 rana, Gladstone and M’Ladyhawke kept watch over the two specialists as they tested every possible trick on all five levers. Peacefrog and Mobius spoke in hushed tones, sometimes agreeing, and sometimes debating a fine point here and there. Peacefrog was kneeling on the tile floor, pointing out various loose bricks in the wall. It was a precise and painstaking process, but Mobius finally stood back, wiped his hands on his pants and announced their findings.
“I think you probably guessed, the levers themselves are trapped,” he said as Arana and M’Ladyhawke nodded. “But the implications, now… these are very grave.”
Peacefrog rubbed his palms against one another briskly, and stood up with a sigh. “I don’t know about this, Arana,” he confided. “I can remove some of the traps, and Mobius some others, but as for the rest…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Fayrhaugh sure knew his traps. I don’t think he wanted anyone to get at whatever is behind this wall.”
Gladstone queried further. “What type of traps are they? Poison? Darts?”
Mobius nodded. “Aye, and Froggy thinks, but I am inclined to disagree, that there is a trap door somewhere.”
“I don’t ‘think’, I know it,” Peacefrog said, indignant. “If you’d like to test the theory, be my guest.”
“Well, why don’t ye two playmates go ahead and disarm the traps ye can, and let Kedra take care of the rest with her magic?” Gladstone suggested curtly. “We’ll pick up yer hides if ye set one off and make sure ye have a decent burial.”
Shogun snorted a laugh. Mobius frowned. “Yeah, just remember our agreement, wiseass,” he said to Gladstone. “I’ll disarm your traps.”
The warrior laughed heartily and took M’Ladyhawke by the arm to lead her across the room. “Come, M’Lady,” he proposed. “Let’s see if the crowd is getting restless.”
She linked her arm through his and agreed. “Aye, M’Lord, looks as if we will be here yet awhile.”
Arana slipped over to Shahrressa and Keith, who were still chatting while they waited for news. “It seems Froggy has things well under control,” he informed them. “They are disarming several traps attached to the levers.”
Keith shrugged. “So what now, then, Stormcrow?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “We just sit here and watch M’Ladyhawke and her boyfriend make off with our loot?”
The Paladin reddened. “Look, Keith, I don’t like it any more than you. But for now, I’d rather not cause conflict. We’ve worked with her and Mobius before, and I don’t think they or their group will be trouble – besides, I’m not sure I trust that device.”
“Yeah, right,” Keith snorted. “Maybe Ladyhawke wouldn’t cause trouble, but I don’t trust Mobius farther than I can see him, and as for that kilt-wearing barbarian she’s with, I don’t like him at all. I have an awfully bad feeling about this, Arana.”
M’Ladyhawke and her group were engaged in a similar low-voiced conversation. “You told us no one else knew of our quest, M’Ladyhawke,” Freestander accused. “Is it more than coincidence that brings your friend Arana here, just at this time?”
“Nay, Freestander,” she said, “I had no idea he was coming. I haven’t spoken to Arana in months. I have seen neither hide nor hair of any of them. Believe me, I’m about as happy about it as you are.”
Gladstone chuckled. “I dinnae see Freestander passing out any kisses, ‘Lady,” he joked. “So I doubt ‘ee is as happy about it.”
M’Ladyhawke did not take the bait. “At any rate, they are here, and Peacefrog, while annoying, is good at what he does. I don’t mind trading gold for risk.” She looked at the two thieves working diligently on the contraption. “Markee hinted that there would be more treasure than we could carry, at any rate. All he wants is the Ankh. It’s up to us to make sure he gets it. Anything else you can carry, I don’t care.”
“I don’t know,” Freestander commented. “I can carry an awful lot of gold.”
“And I know that,” she said, referring to the lust for gold and jewels he and his dragon shared. “Believe me, Freestander, there will be enough, and more than enough.”
Just then, a small explosion of sickly-looking green gas burst forth from a small tube that mechanically projected itself from the wall. The odorous substance began to fill the room, dusting its way slowly across the floor with an audible hiss. Everyone who had been sitting on the floor stood up, and for a moment no one spoke.
“Oops,” Peacefrog said, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief. “Heads up, everyone, we seem to have set off one of the traps…”
“Idiots!” Freestander shouted as the group raced for the oaken doors and the relative safety of the passage beyond them. “Worthless misfits! I can’t believe you-“
“Wait!” shouted Gladstone in a booming voice. Everyone stopped in their tracks and whirled around. “What are ye, children? The mages ken handle this.” He looked to Keith and Kedra, who were already gesturing and chanting.
Kedra and Keith spoke simultaneously, thinking quickly to cast a magic counter-spell to the fumes. “An Nox!” they shouted, and blue swirls billowed forth from their hands, a soothing wet mist that diluted the noxious fumes threatening everyone in the room.
Within seconds, there was no trace of either poison or mist. Cautiously, the adventurers moved back into the chamber center.
“That was the last one,” Peacefrog reported. “Mobius and I detect no more surprises. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any, though, so be prepared.”
M’Ladyhawke beamed. “Brilliant! Kedra, the book, if you please.”
Once again, Freestander produced the ancient tome and Kedra prepared to read.
“Who will pull the levers?” Keith asked.
“I will,” said Gladstone, stepping forth with authority. “Kedra will tell me which levers t’ pull, and the rest of ye can watch the riches fall.”
“There are three possible sequences indicated in the book,” Kedra said. “Which should we choose?”
M’Ladyhawke thought for a moment. “May as well take the first one,” she said.
The scholar nodded. “The levers are labeled one through five, from left to right,” she told Gladstone. “The sequence is: One, Four, Three, Five, Two.”
Gladstone cautiously reached out and pulled the first lever down. It was difficult to muster but clicked in place with an aching ca-thunk. Everyone held their breath as one by one, the levers creaked on their ancient hinges.
When the job was finished, the warrior stood back to admire his handiwork.
“Nothing’s happening,” he said. “Now what?”
But he was wrong. Something was happening. Nine white tiles on the floor had begun to quake. They made a clinking sound as the ceramic chipped and broke away, revealing a square hole in the exact center of the room. From beneath the floor, a pedestal rose with a hydraulic sound. When the dust cleared, they saw that the top of the pedestal held a small, roundish chest, the shape and size of a loaf of bread.
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