Without a word he and Barda spun back to the door. The glass panel above it seemed to glow. And now the words etched there could be read easily.
A cold weight seemed to settle in the pit of Lief’s stomach. Slowly he looked down.
There was no handle on this side of the door.
Barda snatched his dagger from his belt. He tried to push the point of the dagger into the crack of the door, but the weapon stopped abruptly just short of the carved wood, as if repelled by an invisible barrier.
Barda grunted in surprise and tried again. Still he could not touch the door.
And neither could Lief. For long minutes they both struggled vainly to break through the shield. Whatever they tried, their hands, feet and weapons bounced back without making contact with the door or the glass panel above it.
‘This is useless,’ Barda panted, at last. ‘The shutting spell is as strong as the barrier that seals the mountains in the Shadowlands.’
‘Why not?’ Lief said bitterly. ‘The Enemy provided it to The Lady Luck, no doubt, in return for Laughing Jack’s useful services.’
They both looked up at the glass panel. During their vain attack on the door, the ominous message seemed to have grown larger and brighter.
Barda turned his back on it. ‘If this door is closed to us, we will find another!’ he said, and determinedly began to survey the long room.
Lief turned too, but his heart was heavy. ‘Barda, I do not think—’ he began.
‘Just look!’ Barda muttered fiercely. ‘There must be another way out. We have only to find it.’
The mirrors winked back at them, reflecting chairs and tables, game wheels and boards, coin jars and candles and their own figures.
But at the far end of the room, directly ahead of them, there was something that the confusing reflections had disguised at first glance.
It was a painting, the same size as one of the mirrors, and framed in exactly the same way. It was difficult to see clearly, because it gleamed in the light, but it seemed to be a view of land and sea.
‘There!’ Barda exclaimed. ‘That painting marks our way out, I am sure of it.’
He hurried forward. Putting his doubts aside, Lief followed, dodging through the maze of tables and chairs so as not to touch or disturb anything.
They moved on and on, their boots sinking into the thick carpet. Their reflections walked with them, multiplied over and over again in the mirrors so that it seemed that the grand room was filled with bedraggled wanderers.
‘I did not realise the room was quite so long,’ Barda called over his shoulder. ‘The mirrors are deceiving.’
He began to walk a little more quickly. Lief followed in silence, trying to shield his mind from images of the rotting corpses bending and straightening as they plied the oars. But with every step he became more aware of the relentless sounds of movement below his feet and the faint, unpleasant odour drifting in the warm air.
The minutes dragged by. But their reflections in the mirrors at the end of the room did not grow larger, and the tables ahead never became less.
At last Barda’s firm steps faltered, and he stopped. He turned to Lief, his face grim.
‘The first line of the rhyme was, “If you enter, you must play”,’ Lief said reluctantly. ‘I fear that we will not be able to leave until one of us at least plays a game.’
Barda clenched his fists. ‘We cannot play!’ he almost shouted. ‘From what I have seen, the games must be played with gold coins, and we do not have a single one between us!’
For answer, Lief glanced over his shoulder at the treasure chest gaping beside the room’s entrance.
‘No!’ Barda shook his head violently. ‘We would be mad to fall into that trap, Lief! What if we lose? We will not be able to repay the loan!’
Fail to pay and down you’ll go…
‘We will not lose,’ said Lief, ignoring the tightness in his chest. ‘And in any case, we have no choice.’
‘You have seen for yourself what happens to people who borrow from Laughing Jack, Lief!’ exclaimed Barda. ‘How can you even think of it? Ah, what fools we were not to divide the gnomes’ gold between us! It is all with Jasmine, and who knows where she—’
‘If you have a better plan than mine, Barda, pray tell me what it is and stop wasting time!’ Lief cried furiously.
He did not want to think about what might be happening to Jasmine. Jasmine, who could not swim. Jasmine, pitching dangerously over the raging sea in the pouch of the smallest and most fearful of the Kin.
He saw Barda eyeing him, and wondered if his companion guessed the reason for his anger.
With a muttered apology he turned away and began hurrying around the polished tables, searching for a game he thought he could win.
It was soon clear that most of the games depended far more on luck than skill. Despite the lapis-lazuli glowing on the Belt, Lief did not wish to trust his and Barda’s safety to chance. Yet every game of skill he saw cost two or even three gold coins to play while promising only small winnings, while the games of chance cost only one coin, and success paid well.
‘Laughing Jack encouraged his guests to trust their luck rather than their brains,’ he murmured.
‘Of course,’ Barda said sourly behind him. ‘That way, he had far more chance of stripping them of everything they had—and more.’
Trying to ignore the chill running down his spine, Lief went on looking.
At last he came to a small table at which there was only one chair. On the table, as well as the coin jar and the printed card, was a gold cloth about the size of a handkerchief. The cloth was plainly covering something, but it was impossible to tell what it was.
There were only a few words on the card.
This will do,’ Lief said. ‘We have solved puzzles like this before.’
Very aware of Barda’s eyes burning into his back, he strode to the treasure chest and took a single gold coin. As he was turning away, he found to his surprise that several more coins were sticking to his fingertips.
For a moment he was tempted to keep them, in case he needed to play more than once. Then he realised that he was being lured into borrowing more than he had intended. He turned abruptly and brushed the extra coins back into the chest.
Clutching his one gold piece, he quickly moved back to the table.
‘I do not like this,’ Barda growled. ‘There is a time limit, Lief. That is clear from the notice. And it is Jasmine who is good at this sort of game.’
‘Jasmine is not here,’ Lief snapped. ‘We are. And surely between us we can see the answer. Especially with the topaz to aid us.’
He sat down. Barda stood close behind him and watched as he slipped the gold coin into the slot at the top of the money jar.
Lief put his hand to the gold cloth. Instantly there was a tiny chiming sound, as if a crystal glass had been tapped with a fingernail. A line on the little card standing by the money jar lit up and began to flash.
Lief’s stomach seemed to turn over. He wet his lips. ‘You will have to move away, Barda,’ he said. ‘It seems I must play the game alone.’
With a muttered curse, Barda moved back. The words on the card continued to flash. Barda moved away, further, further…
And suddenly the words on the card grew still and the gold cloth vanished.
‘I can see nothing from here,’ Lief heard Barda call in a low voice. ‘I cannot help you.’
Lief did not answer. He was concentrating fiercely on the objects revealed on the table top.
Thirteen silver sticks had been arranged so as to make six rectangles. Inside each rectangle was a little jewelled beetle. Below the pattern was a small piece of parchment.
As Barda had feared, a small glass timer stood beside the puzzle. Lief glanced at it, and saw that fine sand had already begun trickling through the narrow tube that linked the timer’s two chambers.