Chapter 49.3

So saying, I pulled out the green Key and, trying my utmost to project an air of confidence, slotted it into the triangular divot.

On contact, the metal Keyhole began to warp and flow, and I jerked back.  We all watched, fascinated, as the now-liquid metal poured itself up and around the edges of the Key until finally solidifying again into the shape of a clawed hand.  With the Key in its grip, the whole of it had transformed into a central doorknob—something like a demonic, hobbit hole.

Which I thought was pretty clever.  However, we were soon distracted by yet another rumbling at our feet.  And this time, a bit of dust accompanied it to the floor.

I held up a finger.  “Okay, that’s definitely a pattern.  Any time we accomplish anything lately, the ground shakes.”

“You don’t think we broke anything serious when we escaped from that maze, do you?” Lynnria hazarded.

I gulped.  That was not a particularly pleasant thought.  However, if it was some series of aftershocks, why would the timing be so precise?

“Maybe using a Key temporarily weakens the integrity of Dungeon?  So if something big is happening elsewhere…”  I left the thought unfinished.

“I suppose it’s possible,” Arx reasoned.  “Not a lot is truly known about the inner workings of this place.”

“Not a lot we could do about it, even if we did,” Jax returned softly, sidling closer to me.  Her claws began to explore the ridges of my back.  “Now, is we going through this door?  Or is we gonna explore the ‘inner workings’ of me bum?”

The door began to swing open almost without my realizing I had my hand on it.

However, before I could see what laid beyond, Jax’s arms encircled me from behind.  Her sharp teeth nipped the valley between my shoulder blades, and the stiffened peaks at her chest pressed firmly into my skin, contrasting sharply—yet oh-so-pleasantly—with the pair of softnesses surrounding them.

“Liar,” she whispered knowingly, the heat from her breath bathing the space between us.

It would seem I had failed to prevent that particular weed from taking root in her mind.  And Jax did not have to try very hard to spread it to mine.  Not anymore.

Yeah… definitely going to have to reject that skill… I glanced down, silently admonishing my second brain.  That’s enough out of you!  How sore do you have to get before you’ve had enough?

“Woot ees zat?” a tremulous voice drifted from the portal ahead.

Jax immediately slipped in front of me with a low, threatening growl on her lips.  She held her palm out and down, ready to summon her ax at a moment’s notice.  The constant sexual firestorm she seemed to embody had been put on abrupt hold the moment a potential threat loomed.

“I see ligh-ta!” the voice called again.  “Ees zere soomeone zere?”

We exchanged glances.  That had been a rather unmistakable accent.  Can’t be…

Jax rolled her shoulders and began to cautiously make her way forward.  The voice had sounded innocuous enough—distressed even—but one never knew what tricks might be in store.

The room inside was lit quite dimly but without any obvious sources.  There were no flames nor candles.  The windows to one side showed only pitch blackness beyond.  Even the wooden slats at our feet had no trace of illumination slipping between them.

It was eerie, in a way.  You could see.  But only just.

However, even the dim lighting could not conceal the piles of horrifically—and unforgettably—garish clothing scattered about.  Of course, none of it was quite so lovingly displayed as the last time we had seen it.  The whole place looked to be as disheveled as Dorothy’s house after having smashed into the Yellow Brick Road.

“Zere eez someone!  I coon ‘ear you.”

Heads swiveled at the sound, but there was no one in evidence.  The man’s voice had come from somewhere beyond the low counter, however all we could see was something flat and gray slowly descending just to the other side of it.  It almost looked like an empty elevator platform.

“Quickly!  Ze creez-tal! Tooch ze creez-tal-uh!”

Jax relaxed slightly and cocked her hip.  We still were not certain what to make of this scenario, but it was at least clear there was no immediate threat.

She folded her arms in front of her chest.  “The what?”

“I think he said ‘crystal,’” I hazarded, very much guessing.

“Like that one?”

We turned to find Lynnria pointing toward a typical—if small—example of a Dungeon touch-stone innocently hovering over an iron lamp stand installed into the doorframe.  Below it, there was a small, wooden sign that bore the inscription, ‘Customers.’

“‘Urr-ay, you foolz-ah!  Before I am ponk-tured like ze ov-air-proofed bread!”

“Ponk-tured like bread…?” I blinked a couple of times, but there was no use in pondering foreign idioms right then.  Whatever he was on about, the man seemed in genuine distress.  “Tap that crystal, will you, Lynnria?”

She nodded, complying quickly.

However, rather than the riddles that so often came with installations like these, all that came of her touch was a cheerful little chime followed by the appearance of a small, holographic screen hovering about a finger’s width away from the crystal’s face.  The girls all crowded close at this, fascinated.  However, there was only a simple timer displayed there, dutifully counting down from one hour.

The rough scraping of stone on stone sounded behind us, and we all turned to see the elevator rising toward the ceiling.  And then the series of spikes arrayed beneath it.

“By zee Grace of Maeve…”  The man breathed a sigh of relief as he rose to his feet.

I did not know whether to be surprised or not at once more crossing paths with this particular individual.  As ever, the tailor we had hired back in Raialie looked like a pencil dressed for an anime convention.  But with more feathers.  It was… a look.

The man paused on seeing us.  Whatever fleeting gratitude he had been showing was quickly replaced by a barely concealed disdain.

“Ew… it eez you sree.”