The gray-cloaked intruder stalks up this passage, keeping a careful eye on the walls, floor, and ceiling for any surprises like the ones he encountered on the way in. Though the Wooden Shekel moves cautiously, there's an urgency to his step, one that carries him steadily onward.

So far, no traps present themselves. This passageway seems to be free of any sort of security, other than the dubious manner in which it was hidden. (But then, perhaps the builders were not expecting anyone to actually make it past the traps unless they were supposed to.)

However, a faint hiss can be heard as the lizard makes yet another turn on the corkscrew series of turns the passage seems to be taking for the moment. Voices!

Bambridge's movement forward slows, and his scales slowly flush a stone color to match the passageway, even as his eyes narrow. Craning his neck out a bit, he strains to pick out what the voices are saying, silently creeping up to get within range.

The lizard's candle flickers, its feeble light making every bump and jagged edge in the roughly-cut rock make wicked-looking shadows that dance across the walls.

As he makes his way forward, the Shiga licks his fingers, and pinches the wick of his light source. Probably make the place look more pleasant, he thinks to himself.

As the light dies, leaving ghost images on the lizard's eyes for a brief instant, darkness conquers the tunnel … except for two glowing eyes that stare out from the left wall, further up the clockwise-twisting upward-spiraling tunnel.

The eyes appear as two glowing almond-shaped yellow-white lights, looking as if the sun were peering through a couple of holes in the wall.

Oh. Or some other light source. They are a couple of holes in the wall.

Momentarily taken aback, common sense reasserts what limited control it has over Bambridge, and he edges his way up to the holes to listen first, then have a quick peek through.

"Ball says a bunch of vermites set off the golems. How did they get in that far?" hisses a voice in the Imperial tongue, from somewhere beyond the "eyes". One of them winks, and then the other, as something moves past to temporarily block the light. The holes are set into a curious alcove off to one side of the tunnel, and they're all the more curious as the lizard tries to peer through them. They're a bit too widely spaced for him to look through both at once – lining up more appropriately for a reptile a bit larger than himself, actually.

Through the holes can be seen a stone chamber (as every chamber is in the palace, truth be told) lined with tiles, each one adorned with scribbly-looking sigils, or vaguely-more-familiar-looking magical runes. It's some sort of laboratory, and currently occupied by at least two Nagai in mage robes.

The Shiga satisfies himself with squinting through the right eyehole, the colors on his left paw shifting to match his eyes. He places his paw over the left eyehole so whatever he's looking out of matches.

The view is oddly distorted. It takes only a moment to realize that these aren't open holes, but that the lizard is looking through some sort of lenses of glass or some other transparent material. The room he is seeing could either be right on the other side of the wall, or some distance away. Perhaps some clever mechanism is being used to carry the sound here from the room, though it doesn't immediately present itself. It could just as easily be that the room is indeed right on the other side of this wall.

"Get the others and start a ritual," the larger of the two snakes orders. "Send in an earth golem to look about. There might be more of them, and we don't need the vermites wearing out the enchantment. It's been a long time since the Guardian and the Watcher had to be recharged, and I have better things to do than to worry about that now."

Trying to shake off the disorientation, Bambridge peers at whatever details of the room he can make out. "It's the mages that control those … things," he muses. "There might be a way to disable them from that chamber." In particular, he attempts to get a good look at the figures moving about.

The shorter of the two snakes bows. He has some runes adorning his robes. If Bambridge were a mage, he might be able to discern something meaningful about those runes, and the dirty orange color of his vestments. The larger snake wears robes of white, and far more runes and baubles – In fact, many of his scales are painted with runic designs as well.

Knowing card tricks doesn't cut it where real magic is concerned, and it shows in Bambridge's furrowing forehead. For now, it remains enough for him to assign the qualifier "bigger mage" to the more ornately adorned one. His attention turns to looking for entrances and exits to the chamber with what limited viewing range he has.

The smaller mage demonstrates the location of one of the exits by slithering over to a section of the wall. He wiggles his claw-fingers, and ripples spread out across the runic tiles. He casually slithers on into and through the wall, his long tail flipping behind him until it, too, vanishes through the liquid stone. With his passage, the ripples roll back in, and the tiles calm themselves, soon resuming their original, solid appearance. No doors of the conventional sense are visible from this vantage-point.

"Great," fumes the lizard.

Time passes. The larger lizard appears to be performing some sort of ritual. Or maybe he's just cleaning the laboratory. Or maybe … well, magic isn't the lizard's strong point, honestly. The floor underneath the lizard vibrates almost imperceptibly.

Growing less and less interested by the minute, the Wooden Shekel becomes slightly disconcerted at the vibrating after having seen the other mage melt through the wall with seeming ease. Choosing to feel his way some distance up the corridor again, he continues along until he feels sure he's found a safe enough spot to re-light his candle.

The vibrations weaken and cease altogether, as the lizard continues his trek upward. The long journey continues.

Bambridge keeps up his monotonous plod, every so often pausing to wipe melted wax off his snout.

At last, the tunnel comes to a stop, in a chamber that widens out into a rounded wedge shape … sort of like the head of an extremely large Naga. Or, rather, the space that it might uncomfortably fit into, with the tunnel forming its winding body. A stone panel, door-sized, is located where the "mouth" might be, following this analogy.

The Shiga finishes making his way up the 'gullet', and looks the door over with a practiced eye.

There are grooves cut into the floor, which the panel might slide back on, though it has been disused for so long that it couldn't hurt to brush out some of the grit and dust that has settled in there. It looks as if no mechanism is involved in opening the door – A rough handle is cut into the stone, and it looks like the method to open it is just to pull. No holes in the room hint at hidden booby-traps … and a closer inspection verifies that there aren't more clever things, such as break-away plaster to hide automated devices of death.

With one corner of his already abused cape, Bambridge begins degunking the grooves somewhat, a look of distaste on his face. When enough is gone to where he's satisfied, he grabs hold of the handle, then presses his head to the door to listen as best he can for a moment…

The door seems quite solid. Either it isn't allowing much sound through … or it is genuinely quiet on the other side. After some time spent making sure, there is a sound which might be trickling water to be made out through the stone.

"Well, not much else to be done… I hope there isn't anything ready to jump me behind this thing." Taking a deep breath, the Shiga takes the handle in both hands, and begins tugging.

The stone is quite heavy, and the handle quite large. The door appears to have been intended for someone a bit stronger than the lizard to open.

Bambridge grunts and strains at the slab for a while, until he's forced to sit down and ache. "This far to be stopped by a stupid hunk of rock? Tssshh… " He eyes the grooves in the floor. "Maybe if I had a little grease, or something… " Not finding much reason to stay here just yet, he makes his way down the corridor again, rummaging through his pack as he does so.

As the lizard makes his way down through the passage, he can feel those strange vibrations again. Somewhere down the tunnel – far, far down – he can hear a voice. "Hoy? Golem, I command you, STOP! May the Great Serpent forgive me … Oh! What's this? Hey … eyeholes in the wall?" Some people just can't help but to think out loud, it seems. And maybe the voice wasn't so far away after all. And if it was yelling after the golem…

"Stop?" the burglar murmurs to himself. He waits by the eye holes, not peering through them just yet to listen to the ruckus going on in the chamber now. "What in blazes?"

The stone wall ripples right across from the eyeholes.

Startled, the Shiga darts attempts to dart past the liquid stone, the candle on his nose guttering out, his thiefly instincts telling him not to be trapped on the side with the door that can't be opened.

As the Shiga darts down the now-darkened corridor, the twin "eyes" providing a dim light far behind him that silhouettes a stony, serpentine form, he runs into something more or less solid that goes "OOF!" when he smashes into it.

In his surprise, the reptile grabs at whatever it is blocking the corridor, trying to get a firm grip on it before it can fight back. One hand fumbles clumsily at his harness for his utility knife. "Don't move," he hisses with what he hopes is ferocity.

"Gllk!" says the robed Naga. By the lizard's best estimate, it would probably be the "Small Mage". He doesn't move … except for his tail-tip, which waves back and forth nervously, making a rattling noise.

"Be very quiet, and you'll remain unventilated, my friend," the Wooden Shekel hisses with a velvety whisper. He secures the crook of his right elbow around the Naga's neck, and pokes his captive in the ribs with the tip of his little knife to herd him forward. "You and I are going for a little walk. We have some things to discuss. Move forward, now … and don't try any funny finger-wiggling."

"Grrk," replies the mage, and he slithers along down the slope, as ordered. A gentle vibration keeps going through the floor now and then.

The pair move in silence for a stretch, until Bambridge decides he's far enough away from the sealed chamber that he can speak again. "We should be relatively safe, now. So… who have I the honor of coercing?"

The vibrations calm again, though the mage's tail still twitches. (Obviously no connection there.) "S-S-s-Serpiko. Imperial Mage of the Coil of Earth."

"Very nice to meet you, Serpiko," hisses the Shiga. "Remain cooperative, and I'm sure we'll get along just fine. Your fellow geomancer mentioned an 'earth golem' looking around… is that what's causing those tremors? What is it?"

"He's an earth elemental," answers the snake. "He moves through the stone. He's not supposed to come this way, though. I … I guess it wasn't just vermites setting off the traps, was it?"

The Shiga's grin can't be seen in the dark, but it can be heard in his voice. "No… no, it wasn't. I must say, I was mightily impressed… it took a marginal amount of effort on my part to bypass them. I like a challenge. For my convenience, however, I will be enlisting your aid. Where is the elemental now?"

"He's standing right behind you," says the mage.

There's an acidic-sounding and slightly shocked hiss from the Wooden Shekel, who reflexively presses his utility knife a little harder against Serpiko's ribs. He tries to turn around with the mage still in his grip, hissing, "You better make him go away."

The mage urks. "He's being a bit temperamental today. Really, if he were following orders literally, he would have squashed you by – urk! Oh yes … you're holding me, aren't you? Well, that … ah … hmm. Would you mind if I lit a few candles and just made up a nice little magic circle to do the job? It wouldn't take too long, really. Especially since you've got him standing nice and still and all."

"I don't think so… not just yet." The Shiga moves backward now, toward the treasure chamber with his prisoner in tow. "He can come along, if that's what's necessary. And I think I'll get a little insurance." His knife-hand moves suddenly.

"GAK!" shrieks the snake-mage as the knife pierces his scales. His tail thrashes about wildly.

"You've just been poisoned," hisses the Wooden Shekel, continuing to drag his captive. "It's a slow-acting brew… ultimately lethal, of course. You'll feel tired, after a while, once your fear wears off. Maybe a little sick. Maybe there's enough adrenaline in you, you won't feel anything, but you will want to sleep, eventually. You won't wake up if you do. I'm not sure you'll make it past sun-up if I don't give you the antidote. If anything happens to me, the antidote doesn't get finished… understand?"

The mage hisses, "Ack! I've been poisoned! I've been … "

The lizard feels two sharp pricks in his hide. Ouch.

Bambridge winces. The first thought that runs through his head is, Me too? He tries to struggle into the light of the treasure chamber.

At last, the two reptiles make it into the treasure chamber. Three, if you count the big stone elemental right behind them, blocking the secret passageway.

A couple of candles flicker in the hideaway, apparently set there by the mage, illuminating it.

The Wooden Shekel's priorities dictate that he checks where he was jabbed, immediately.

Serpiko hisses, "Oh … okay … but you're poisoned too! Hah! So … so I have insurance, too! And, funny, but you just described the symptoms you'll be going through!" The snake looks like he's trying to appear to be the one in charge now, but he's not doing all that convincing of a job.

The puncture wounds – real enough – are on the lizard's shoulder.

"Rrgh… you're a brave little lackey, considering I could finish you off right here." Instead of doing so, however, he makes to deposit Serpiko in one of the chairs, drawing his ropes in an attempt to bind the mage to it as thoroughly as possible to give himself some elbow room to fuss over the punctures.

"B-but," stammers the mage. "If you DID … then you'd die of poisoning! ACK! Do those ropes have to be so – gck! – tight? I can't even move my hands!"

The stone golem starts to move toward the Wooden Shekel. It looks like a Naga – or the torso of one – though its coils extend to and fuse with the stone of the floor, as if the bulk of its length were just underneath the surface.

"Stop!" shrieks the mage. "He's not a vermite, see? You don't need to clap him! If you do, I'll die of poisoning!"

"That's the *rmph* idea," mutters Bambridge, who then looks up at the golem, somewhat alarmed. He draws his featureless mask down over his face. "That's right, call off your beastie if you want to stay breathing. How do we get rid of him?"

"Well, first of all, I'd have to ward him away, and … " The snake mage struggles in his bindings, then relaxes. "Uh … I guess you should hold onto me again. He won't risk squishing me, though he's not smart enough to realize that I'm in as much danger if I die of poisoning, I guess."

Bambridge grimaces, but nods. "Then that's just what we'll do. But first, let's get a look at those pearly whites of yours." The Shiga reaches over the top and around Serpiko's head to grip either jaw. "Don't resist. I'm not going to hurt you,"

The snake makes a gurgling noise, but he's not large enough – or inclined enough at this point – to put up a serious fight. Two large fangs stand out, as the likely culprits for the two punctures on Bambridge's shoulder.

The stone golem stops just short of smacking Bambridge, as the lizard checks out the snake's fangs. The elemental becomes statue-like in its frozen position.

"Hmph. Maybe you weren't as much an amateur as I thought," concedes Bambridge grimly. "I might have to have this poison dealt with… though I can't imagine poison worms the likes of you can produce standing up to anything a professional can brew. We'll do our first order of business then: getting rid of your ugly friend there." The inspection out of the way, he releases Serpiko, only to put his grip on the mage again. "Get rid of him. Thoroughly. It's not in your best interests for me to meet him again."

"Ah … yes … of course not. Ah … " The mage looks about, then extends his own long tail into a crude circle around his own body. He digs through his belongings, and produces several candles, lighting them off of one of those already in the room (and in reach), and balances them on his coil. He claps his hands twice, then begins babbling incoherent gibberish.

The Wooden Shekel keeps a wary eye on his charge, occasionally casting his glance at the golem, all the while trying to keep from interfering with the spell itself.

Time passes. More time passes. Boy, this is taking a long time! Finally, after several tense minutes, the golem moves. Downward. It wriggles and dives right into the floor, its long serpentine tail arching up out of the floor, then down again, right after it, until only its tail-tip is visible – and then it is gone, a ripple in the floor lasting for only a second until there is no trace of the golem's presence anymore.

"Well done, my friend," murmurs Bambridge approvingly. "Now, since we're both poisoned, you and I… let's make a deal, hmm? I'm here at the behest of a Nagai extremist faction… no, no, who it is doesn't matter. I've been hired to bring someone out of the dungeons. The faster I do it, the faster you get your antidote, and are allowed to return to your cozy little lab, hmm? If it takes too long, and I die of your spittle… well, then we all have a problem, don't we? The things I need from you are threefold… give me passage through the stone block at the top of the corridor, to the dungeons. Then rest in one of these chairs until I return, so the venom doesn't travel through your system as fast. Then I'll need you to disable the Watcher and the Guardian, for a while, so I can get my charge through. If all goes well, I'll give you the antidote just before I leave. If something happens, I'll never be able to fix it for you, will I? Understand?"

The snake nods vigorously … then not so vigorously. Maybe he figures that rapid nodding may spread the poison through his system faster as well. "Ah … okay … I … ah … well … actually, the golem would work best for that."

Bambridge releases the Naga, and steps away from him so he can finally get a good look at him. (Instead of just over his shoulder.) He adjusts his wooden mask a little. "That golem is more trouble than it's worth. I've seen you ripple through stone, so that shouldn't be a problem. Will you need him to quiet the Watcher and Guardian?"

"Well … I don't just waltz through stone. That takes special preparation. Only certain walls here are magically prepared for that sort of long-lasting dweomer … and the prison doesn't have any. It wouldn't do to have earth mage prisoners slipping through the walls, after all. Ah … but the golem could … probably make a portal for you. He can carry you through the earth. At least the stone around here. And, yes, he could get you by the other golems." The snake mage nods his head.

The cloaked lizard nods in kind, pondering. "Very well… reprogram, or re-hypnotize, or re-whatever-you-do him to aid me, and we can dismiss him just before I have to leave. Despite the fact that we may both die… I'm feeling cheerful enough to give you some of the Emperor's forgotten treasure once I leave! He's forgotten all about this chamber. I'll have my charge back, you'll have a little extra money, we'll both live, and no-one will be the wiser. Hee, hee." The reptile rubs his hands together, looking only slightly unhinged. "Let's get to work."

"Ah … well … actually, if you take any of the treasure from here, you're a goner for sure," says the mage. "It's all cursed, see. And there's really not much of it anyway. Unless you count the furniture."

"Or the books," the snake throws in. "Well, I don't think those are cursed. But it's not like you expect someone to pilfer those."

"Really? That's pretty disappointing, considering that it's not going to do even the Emperor any good just moldering here." The Shiga sighs, and puts his hand near a shelf. Nothing up his sleeve … but now there's a small stack of coins on the shelf. Presto! "Doesn't it seem like an awful waste to you?"

"Not really," says the snake. "I'm an earth mage." He says this as if that statement should explain it all perfectly.

Real eyes roll behind the laughing ones on the Shiga's mask. "I forgot. I suppose you can conjure gold right out of the ground. Well, that's neither here nor there; let's shake a coil. Neither of us are getting any healthier. C'mon, chop-chop."

The snake mage clears his throat, and reassembles his unusual "magic circle". He claps his hands twice, then starts babbling again.

Bambridge stands aside to watch impassively, occasionally rubbing at the bite marks on his shoulder. If I make it back, the guys'll think this is hilarious. "What happened to you, Wooden Shekel?" "A mage bit me."

There's a ripple in the stone floor … and a great serpentine head rises up from it, followed by the torso of the stone snake. It watches Bambridge with lifeless eyes. The mage claps his hands together twice again. "Ahem. Oh. I feel … woozy … *koff* Ugh. You'll never get away with this!" He pauses, trying to glare at Bambridge menacingly, but it doesn't carry. "Very well, then. Let's get going."

Bambridge wags an index finger at Serpiko. "That's the mark of a professional. I brewed up some good stuff, heh, heh. All right." He beckons to the elemental, then heads back for the passage again.

For a moment, the elemental seems to be two … but Bambridge's vision rights itself.

The stone servant slides through the rock, following Bambridge as he makes his way back into the pitch black confines of the tunnel.

The lizard blinks at the brief double of the elemental, shaking his head to try to keep a grip. Can't let him see me being affected by the venom… mph… He leads the way up the corridor, to return to the stone blockade.

The way seems longer and more tiring this time … but at last the lizard makes it to the stone door, with the golem standing behind him and to one side, halfway sticking out of one wall.

Bambridge's movements are measured, now… always conservative, to save some strength. He points at the stone block. "Take me through."

A stone hand grabs the lizard by his middle, lifting him off of his feet.

"Hnnk!" Bambridge can't help but wave his arms a bit.

The lizard is thrust forward, right up to the stone door … and still going toward it!

The Wooden Shekel throws his arms over his face. "Dugh!"

The stone ripples … and the Shekel suddenly feels extremely cold … but thankfully that sensation passes, as he then finds himself in a stone corridor, lit by torch sconces set in alcoves at regular intervals on either side. A sound of trickling water can be heard, but the source of the noise is indeterminate. The lizard is suspended midway up the wall (about a foot or two off the floor), by a hand protruding from the wall, still holding him about his midsection.

Bambridge peeks through his fingers.

Yes, the lizard is still in one piece.

There's a movement in the hand. The stone fingers uncurl.

Bambridge drops to his knees on the floor as the fingers release him, panting a bit. He wobbles to his feet. "O-okay… wait here, and I'll be back with my target."

The stone hand retracts back into the wall, which ripples briefly before returning to its usual state.

The corridor extends in two directions. If the Shekel could get his bearings and figure which way is compass north, it'd be pretty simple to figure out which way the cells should be at … but that corkscrew tunnel complicates the matter.

"By the Serpent's fangs… dugh, no time to puzzle it out. I'll scout… left!" His mind made up, he makes his way in that direction, color-blending as he goes, and keeping an eye out for guards.

The lizard makes it quite some distance before he hears the first footsteps of a guard – obviously not a Naga – approaching. The corridor seems to offer little in the way of hiding places, unless one counts the small alcoves holding the flickering torches, or the stone supports bracing the shallow curve of the ceiling.

No time to really think about it. The reptile darkens, and compresses himself into the alcove, in the sharp shadows cast directly beneath the sconce. He prepares himself to slip past and around a support once the guard ambles by.

The guard, a big bulky (and stereotypically not so bright) four-armed Rokuga, ambles down the hallway. Normally, it would be large enough for someone Bambridge's size or a little larger to head down in done direction, and another back the other comfortably. This Rokuga's shoulders fill the hall nearly from beam to beam. He looks incredibly bored … and although he randomly scans this way and that into the shadows … fate smiles upon the Wooden Shekel at least this one time, and he manages to slip by, undetected.

Bambridge scrambles on his way around the alcove and support, and past. "I'm going to have to deal with that again, probably… well, first I see how Long-Lope is doing."

At last, the lizard makes his way – not much further, actually – to a long row of cells. Solid wooden doors enclose them, with chitin-barred windows providing a peek into the dingy confines within.

"Oh, thank goodness… close enough." The fatigued lizard begins making his way down the cells, peeking in each one for the subject of his search. "Zorah… " he calls, in a low whisper. "Long-Lope… "

A long forked tongue pokes out of one of the cells. Probably not that one. A loud thump can be heard as someone – or someone – big and strong smashes against his door. Nope. Not a Savanite, probably. Some hiss-whimpering can be heard here … nobody alive in that cell over there … nope, curse words are probably not from the cheetah … hmm … quiet in there … spots? Not too many Savanites are likely to be held in a prison, least of all one this deep into the palace. This might be it.

Bambridge pauses at this last, somewhat promising cell. His hiss becomes a little more insistent. "Zorah. Zorah!"

The fur moves a bit. It's hard to see in there, though.

The Wooden Shekel shifts from foot to foot nervously. "Long-Lope! Get up!"

Click click … footsteps … no, no, wait, that's just the sound of one of the prisoners tapping something in his cell.

From across the hallway, a female voice purrs, "Hey, you look kind of short for a guard."

The spots shift, and disappear from the square of dim light filtering into the cell. Shuffling noises can be heard, and the clicking of chitin chains.

Bambridge's heart nearly hops out of his mouth. "Hhk!" He whirls around, his eyes narrowing.

The voice comes from inside a cell across the corridor. "You going to get that spotty free? How about two for one, hon?"

"Who … who're you?" The masked reptile makes his way to the other cell, taking his picks from his kit. (Time is short, after all.)

"Very quiet, if you take me with you," purrs the voice from behind the door.

The Shiga begins working at the lock on the cell door. "I suppose you'd start screaming your head off if I didn't, wouldn't you?"

The door is held shut by a simple bar that can be moved aside from the hallway with little trouble … but on top of that, there's also a fairly straightforward keyhole to get past to open the door as well.

"That's the basic idea, hon," purrs the unseen feline.

The lock should be simple – for the Wooden Shekel, at least – but his hands are trembling uncharacteristically. It's hard to focus.

A little longer yet, and he should have it…

"Fine… I don't know that anyone deserves to be locked up in this slime pit anyway. I hope you're willing to help out a bit, too… I'm cough … I'm not quite at the top of my game right now." The Wooden Shekel works at the keyhole, trying as best he can to concentrate.

"All right," says the feline. "But you come over here and pop this lock first. Then I can help you. Nice and quiet-like."

It's a moot point, though. *click* The lizard's focus returns just long enough to bully the tumblers into place. All the world's an open door to the Wooden Shekel.

There's a smug tone to Bambridge's voice as he slides the crossbar out of the way. "What were you in for, if I may?" he asks, opening the cell.

The cell opens, letting considerably more light in. Inside is a tall cheetah, hunched up against one wall, wearing tattered and stained garments of rough cloth. The cell smells wretched.

"Trespassing … piracy … robbery … conspiracy … that sort of thing," sighs the unseen feline across the hall.

The door to the cheetah's cell is open, but the lizard's objective is still bound in shackles. A lock on them suggests that the same method can be applied as for the door, though.

The reptile steps forward, stumbling slightly, then stabilizing himself as he makes his way toward the cheetah, his picks still out. "Hold… hold still, please… so I can get these shackles off you."

The cheetah barely manages to sign, "Who?" before the lizard manages to pop the lock on the shackles. At least for the moment, he's still got the touch.

"Don't forget little ol' me, hon," murrs the cat across the hall.

The lizard signs back, though his fingers are growing stiffer, clumsier. "You may call me the Wooden Shekel. Your sisters are waiting for you. You're coming with me." Out loud, he says, "I'm coming, I'm coming… you have a name, over there?" He heads toward the other cell, motioning for Zorah to stay put for the second.

The shabby-looking cheetah, in a bit of a daze, heads just out to the doorway of the cell, and waits there.

Click, click … ah, it's just those chains again from one of the cells. Not footsteps. Not yet.

The Wooden Shekel stops in front of the cell, and takes a few deep breaths to try to steady his hands again. When he's as ready as he can get, the lizard begins shifting tumblers once more, using the same techniques as on the previous door.

The tumblers pop … but so does the Shekel's tool. His pick is broken and jammed into the lock. Locks. Lock. Just one lock, as the Shekel's vision clears again. The door opens. It looks like the cat lady already took care of the shackles somehow. "Garrotte," she purrs, a white feline with curly black head-hair, and a black patch of fur around one eye. "Madame Garrotte. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She holds out her hand as if to be kissed.

"Garrotte… right… well, Madame, you'll forgive me if I'm lax on social graces right now." The Wooden Shekel taps his smooth mask, then jerks his head over his shoulder. "We're pressed for time. I have an ace concealed, but we have to get down the corridor to use it. There may be a guard, so we've got to act fast."

Garrotte nods. "Well … lead the way, my knight in shining scales!" She makes a lopsided smile.

"Heh… knight… " The reptile heads back the way he came, trotting this time and motioning Long-Lope to follow. I hope I'm not making a mistake by not scouting.

"Wait – watch out for the – " *shunk* Garrotte's warning is just a wee bit too late, as the Shekel steps on a stone tile that he must not have chanced upon on his way in. The poison must have been blurring his thinking. A barred barrier slides down from the ceiling, smacking against the floor right in front of the lizard. From the weight of that thing, it's a good thing it didn't land on top of him. Beyond the suddenly-appearing portcullis, the lizard catches the movement of one of the mounted torches, as it pops just a few degrees clockwise from its original position.

"What the?!" Bambridge stumbles backward, aghast. (I can't believe I didn't think to check for a trap here?) He glances at Garrotte. "Quick! Have you seen how it's opened?"

Garrotte grumbles and points at the torch. "It's a lever. Sorry, but my arm isn't that long – or that thin." She turns to look at the lizard. "Ah well. Guess they'll make room for you, too."

The torch indicated is a good ten feet away, at the closest point afforded by the portcullis.

"Nothing doing." The Shiga raises his cloak's hood over his head, and slides his mask back, pressing his snout to the wooden portcullis. There's a brief pause, then a moist noise as a pink band shoots from the cowl, toward the torch's base, from the cowl. 'Schluck!'

The Savanite and the Khatta just stand there in dumbfounded surprise, doing nothing but blinking at the spectacle.

The glistening streamer wraps around the base of the torch, and with a little tug…

*click* The torch pulls into its upright position.

The reptile swiftly jerks his tongue back into his hood. Shlip!

And just in time! The portcullis shoots back up into the ceiling! Ouch, that could have hurt.

The mask slides back into place, and the reptile waves a paw, beckoning. "Let's go! The guard might have heard that!"

Garrotte needs no more urging, and the Savanite seems eager to be out of here as well. They fall in behind the lizard.

Click click … uh oh. Those are footsteps ahead…

A silhouette appears further down the hallway, just a few paces beyond the secret door. "Hey!" bellows the Rokuga. "You … " He pauses a moment, as if deep in thought. Perhaps he's not had to deal with an escape before. "Back to your cells!"

Instead of stopping, or even slowing down, the lizard charges ahead toward the secret door, reaching up to untangle the cloak around his neck. "Stay as close as you can to me, you two!"

"Hey!" exclaims the Rokuga again. He starts striding purposefully toward the lizard, but doesn't seem to see any purpose in running.

The Shiga dashes forward, his yellowish eyes narrowing behind his laughing mask … and then he stops abruptly in front of a section of wall, throwing his cape around his shoulders and in front of him in a fluttering gray screen. The smooth white of his mask remains in the cowl just as the two felines catch up to his back. "You can tell the bureaucrats that no law, stone, steel, or magic can keep the Wooden Shekel away from where he wishes to be." With that, the mask retreats into the cowl… and the cloak falls to the floor, empty.

The stone golem melts its way through the stone corridor, depositing its cargo of two felines and one lizard before the waiting snake mage. The rattlesnake's tail jitters in agitation. "You … you're taking so … long! I'm … *gak* … near death's door! I'm … I'm seeing things! My life is flashing before my eyes!"

Garrotte looks hungrily around at the trappings in the secret reading room. She notices the bookcase side of the secret door. "How … cliche."

The now capeless Wooden Shekel, with only his mask and his harness, doesn't look so good himself. "So much the *cough, koff-koff* better reason to get us out of here the sooner, Serpiko. Have the golem take us past the Guardian and Watcher, and to the other side of the Path of Nails, and I'll prepare your precious antidote. We have only minutes."

Garrotte scoops up the stack of coins the Shekel left on the shelf earlier, out of the sight of the mage. "My, my. Quite a library you have here. This would have helped me pass the time nicely up in my cell. Helped me get to sleep sooner, anyway."

The masked reptile tilts his head at Garrotte. "I don't think you really want those."

"Whyever not?" Garrotte bats her eyelashes at the lizard.

"Some bad mojo associated with the Emperor's treasure," hisses the Wooden Shekel. "The Potentate is very possessive … if you catch my meaning."

Garrotte glowers at the lizard. *clink clink clink* The coins reappear on the shelf. "All right. I'll settle for freedom right now. Though fare for a ride out of this place would have been a nice bonus."

Serpiko babbles something unintelligible, and the golem moves toward the lizard and the felines, systematically scooping each one of them up … and slings the mage over his shoulder. "Gah!"

"I'm feeling generous, Madame… I'll see to it you're transported awa-whoof!" The Shiga's sentence ends in a grunt as he's hoisted back up, tail flailing.

The golem starts moving … and everything becomes very, very cold and dark.

It feels to the Wooden Shekel as if all the warmth is being sucked out of him…

Slowly, the reptile grows more and more torpid, even as he's swimming through solid stone. His eyelids droop. Nothing to see in the dark anyway… maybe just a few seconds…

The world slowly comes back into focus, with dreamed memory of a feline kissing him on the nose and saying, "Thanks for the help. See you around… " When he comes to, he's got his mask over his face, so that nose-kissing bit must have just been a dream … He's sprawled out, looking at the sky, with a cheetah and a snake mage looking down at him. "Okay, okay, wake up already!" hisses the snake. "I gave you the antidote. Now don't die on me! Oh! I'm at death's door! I … I see the golden serpent … "

Bambridge looks around blearily. "Are we… are we on the other side of the acid pit?"

"Outside," signs the cheetah, the light of the Procession limning her hands.

The ground doesn't feel like it's swarming with snakes, so they must have gotten past the moat somehow.

Bambridge sits bolt upright, then wobbles a bit as his head swims. "Ugh… right… good… I'll prepare it for you, Serpiko." He unhooks a waterskin from his harness, and begins digging in his thief's toolkit. "Did you dismiss that golem? I don't want any doublecrossing."

The lizard can vaguely sense a pile of … stuff … right next to his head. A pack, a wooden sled … there's also a spike sticking in the ground, and a few bones. Perhaps the golem was asked to pick up anything along the way, and went a bit overboard. Oh yes, a few dead snakes, too.

As the lizard checks through his toolkit, he finds that his best picks are missing … and a few other select tools as well.

A big tauroid Rokuga blots out some of the stars with his form, while a crossbow-bearing Naga keeps low to the ground. "We have to go now!" hisses the female Naga.

Bambridge eyes the snakes with a little disgust, and his tool kit with a bit of concern… but he's satisfied when he comes up with a few wispy things from his pouch. "These are rare hoobalagh root hairs… they'll counteract the venom, with some viper's blood."

The root hairs look rather more like lint, but they go into the waterskin anyway, and the Wooden Shekel hands it over to Serpiko.

The mage – obviously not familiar with the arts of medicine as part of his sphere – gulps down the placebo antidote. "Uh! Uh … just in … time!" He gasps, reveling in his cure a bit longer.

Numb, the Shiga then nods at the Naga. "Celine, Aunwin … get us out of here. That mage bit me, and I'll need to *cough* … I'll need some help."

There's no sign of the golem, and the line across the moat is already taken down, not surprisingly.

Wobbling to his feet, the masked reptile leans on one of Aunwin's flanks for support. He directs Celine to assist Long-Lope into the rickshaw before he himself clambers aboard. "We'll need to get to an alchemist who can counter rattler venom. Ugh… Where's Garrotte? … Hsssha, never mind. If she wanted to be here, she'd be here." A thought occurs to him, and he rubs his nose under his mask, feeling at the tip. "So… it wasn't a dre – " He doesn't get to finish the sentence, as slowly, he slips into unconsciousness again.

"Boss? … Boss!"