The gnome continued, "There is a miniature hand print under the word 'Strife' and the same under the word 'Wit'."
The dwarf, beginning to feel herded in a direction he did not care for, said, "Choice? What are you going on about? I choose to get out of this pit, not engage in some ancient guessing game!"
Hennet noted, "It is unfortunate we left the rope in the crevice of the flute player."
His timing was bad. The dwarf shot Hennet a lethal look while he formulated a heated retort.
Ember stepped between them and said, "I'd like the rope, and a dry suit of clothes, and some decent boots, but we have none of those things. The only way we will get out of here is by working together, and by 'here' I don't mean just this pit. Now is not the time to fall on one another with bared teeth."
"Tell that to the sorcerer," mumbled Brek Gorunn.
"That's enough, Brek," Ember shot back. "We need your help and your strength, here more than anywhere."
She was right, Brek knew. Underground, the others were in an alien environment, but it felt like home to him. Not his home, exactly, with slime and fluting monstrosities, but it was a delving just the same.
"I'm fine, Ember," Brek replied. "It's just that he did fall on me, when we tumbled down that chute."
Nebin giggled. "You mean Hennet landed on you? I wish 1 had," he added, rubbing his shoulder.
"I guess I did," Hennet admitted. "Sorry about that. It was unintentional. I grabbed for anything to hang onto as we slid down the chute and got hold of you."
He looked intently at his feet smothered in the mud. Brek Gorunn coughed, feeling warm under his armor. Apologies, coming from anyone, made him uncomfortable.
"Forget it."
"That's better," said Ember. "Now, I am going to try climbing out of the shaft. I'd rather not activate some ancient test about which we know nothing, and trust it to provide our exit."
Nebin looked defiant but offered no counterargument.
Ember approached the wall, and Brek sorted through his pack, hoping to find a useful piece of equipment.
"Too bad I don't have a lifting spell," lamented Nebin. "Once, I had a scroll that granted spiderlike climbing ability, but no more."
Ember nodded, then shot a glance at Hennet. The sorcerer just shook his head.
Brek watched Ember trying to find a finger-or toe-hold on the slick wall, but she had little success. The masonry was too well fitted, despite its age. He had been afraid of that-the chamber was well made with strength and solidity. She tried a few running leaps, attempting to reach a higher point along the wall.
After a few fruitless attempts, she paused, breathing hard, and said, "All right, if we're forced to activate a test, which one?"
Brek said, "The test by strife," just as Nebin said, "Test by wit, of course."
Brek paused and glared at the gnome, who had a similar look on his face.
"I feel we could pass either test," said Ember. "Hennet, your vote decides the issue. What will it be?"
Hennet mused, "Strife would be the most straightforward."
Brek smiled, and he reached for the shaft of his warhammer. The sorcerer had a keen head on his shoulders.
"But," continued Hennet, "we can expect strife and then some when we finally break into the temple. Perhaps we should preserve our strength for that encounter. For that reason, I choose 'wit'."
Brek Gorunn reevaluated his opinion of the sorcerer's instincts, but stayed silent.
"Fine," said Ember. "Be ready, everyone. Nebin, please activate the test. Let's hope it still works."
"And let's hope it is not part of some more elaborate trap," worried Brek.
Nebin studied the small hand prints, shrugged, and touched one of them, presumably the one below the rune for 'wit,' though of course Brek couldn't read it.
The skull, the very one Brek Gorunn earlier kicked, spoke. It lay on its side, fetched up in a corner of the shaft. Its voice was harsh, grating, if a bit muffled from its new position.
"Answer me; be free," spoke the skull. "Fail; remain with me.
"A novitiate of dread Lo-Riao seeks to enter the Door of Midnight ahead of his time and without knowledge of the secret password. The novitiate observes a master of Lo-Riao pass the door freely. When he knocked, a dread voice behind the Door of Midnight thundered, 'Twelve. 'The master answered, 'Six,' and was allowed to pass. When another master approached and knocked, the voice screamed, 'Six.' The second master answered, 'Three,' and was allowed to pass. The novitiate, emboldened by the pattern he thought he saw, approached the Door of Midnight and knocked. The voice behind the door intoned, Ten!' The novitiate answered, 'Five.' For his failure, the novitiate's essence was absorbed by the flautist who guards the Door of Midnight.
"How should the novitiate have answered?" concluded the skull.
After it finished speaking, it lay inert in the corner, empty sockets staring blindly ahead.
Nebin coughed and said, "I hope all this business about Lo-Riao and the Door of Midnight is secondary to the real answer, otherwise we're in trouble, my friends. I've never heard of either."
Hennet said, "It is some sort of mathematical trick."
The sorcerer furrowed his brow as he looked at the inert skull.
Brek Gorunn mentally ran through the skull's speech. He'd have made the same choice as the novitiate-it seemed clear that the first two masters had simply responded with a countersign equal to half of the number given out by the door. But, when the novitiate did responded with half of ten, the pattern was broken.
He said aloud, "The pattern isn't half the first number, that's clear."
Hennet nodded. "Yes, too simple. All this talk of midnight and dread voices makes me wonder whether magic isn't involved?"
Nebin said, "Maybe Lo-Riao is a god of the ancient city. What if the formula is part of a ritual lost to time? We won't hit upon it by chance."
"This is a test of wit, not memory," said Ember. "If that's true, we should not look to old rituals and secret numbers, arbitrarily applied, for our answer. There must be a pattern we can puzzle out."
Brek silently agreed. They sat silent for a while, each trying to work the puzzle according to their own predispositions. Brek wondered if it was simpler than he was trying to make it.
How many letters are there in six? he wondered. Three, of course…
"Wait, I see another pattern!" he burst out. "It is mathematical, as Hennet said first, but it's even simpler than we first supposed. See? How many letters are in the word twelve? Six! And in the word six there are three letters. Those were the countersigns given by the masters."
"So, if the Door of Midnight gives the sign 'ten'," said Hennet, "the counter-sign must be three; there are three letters in the word ten."
Ember grinned at the dwarf.
"Is your answer 'three'?" broke in the skull, suddenly attentive.
Ember looked around, then said, "Three is our answer."
The skull said nothing, and the silence stretched.
The floor below them lurched, then began rising. A haze of dust, loosened from the walls and ceiling, filled the air. The pools of liquid on the floor drained away. The floor lifted thirty feet or more than stopped, just as they all began to worry about the approaching ceiling. At that height, they could see an exit that was hidden from below. It was situated on the side of the shaft opposite from where they had entered.
"Brek Gorunn, old dog, who would have guessed you're a first rate riddle master?" exclaimed Nebin. "We're out!"
13
The methodical exploration of the ancient labyrinth agreed with Hennet. He relished it, unlike his friend Nebin. The gnome declared on more than one occasion his wish to be free of the dark ways. The slow revelation of hidden paths forgotten below the earth, leading to further mysterious chambers, tunnels, tombs, and deeper passages, thrilled his sense of adventure. Danger threatened every step, but of course that was the spice. What was the lost purpose of these ancient halls? Were the delvers humanoid, or did they belong to some older, pre-humanoid species? It was fun to speculate.