The staff clattered and lost its phosphorescence as it fell. Samlor snatched it before it came to rest on the stone. He handed it back to his male companion. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” he said, nodding to the ladder. “Guess I’ll go first.”
“No, I think I should lead,” said Khamwas. “I-“
He met the caravan master’s eyes. “Master Samlor, I apologize. It’ll be safer for me to go first, and I’ll spend my efforts on making it safe.”
The multicolored jellyfish made the reception room look as if it were illuminated through stained glass. The sea urchin trundled its way for- ward to the opening in the middle of the floor, then continued downward at the same staccato pace as if the plane on which its spines rested lay in a universe in which sideways was up.
That might be the case.
The two men walked to the opening and looked down while Star hugged herself in silence.
The room beneath the floor was a cube or something near it, ten feet in each dimension. Mauve light filled the volume surprisingly well, though the simulated urchin did not itself seem bright enough to do so. The floor shone with a sullen lambency.
The furnishings were simple. A metal reading stand, high enough for use by a standing man and empty now, waited near the center of the room.
To its right stood an elaborate bronze firebox on four clawed legs, a censer rather than a heating device. The flat sides of the box were covered by columns of incised swirls, more likely a script unknown to the caravan master than mere decoration. The top was smooth except for a trio of depressions-an inch, three inches, and six inches in diameter. Aromatics could be placed there to be released by the heat of charcoal burning in the firebox beneath.