“What problem’s that, master?” queried Shelyid.
“What problem, you say? It is obvious, lummox! In what manner—and by what means?—are we to open yon secret gate which leads to yon secret passageway which, in turn, leads to yon, not as yet seen, secret door?”
“Why don’t we—”
“Quiet, if you will! I must concentrate my full attention on the task, undisturbed by the idle ramblings of an ignorant gnome.” Abashed, Shelyid fell silent.
“Of course,” mused the mage, “the obvious approach would be the utilization of either the Tomb Robber’s Cantrip or the Grave Despoiler’s Cantation. But the first runs the risk of arousing the pharaohs from their necrotic sleep, and the second, as is well known, will summon every zombie within miles. The pharaohs, of course, can be encapsuled in a cartouche, and even a mage much less puissant than myself can thwart any number of zombies. But the use of the cartouche will release great goetic energies, which Magrit—the noxious harridan!—will be sure to detect. And, as all experience attests, thwarted zombies would raise so great a din of protestation as to awaken every deaf mute in the city. No, no, ’twill not do.” And again the wizard fell to musing.
“But, master,” whispered Shelyid timidly, “I think if we—”
“Did I not bid you to be silent?” demanded the mage. Then, seeing the hurt reproach on his apprentice’s face, the wizard sighed deeply. “My loyal but stupid apprentice, you do not begin to grasp the difficulty. It is utterly pointless for you to fumble about in your feeble mind for the solution to the problem.”
Here the wizard wagged a solemn finger at the dwarf. “Know, Shelyid, that for eons the greatest minds of mankind were united in the opinion that secret doors and passageways, buried entries and the like, were impenetrable to any not privy to their secrets. ‘Twas only the supreme genius of Schliemann Laebmauntsforscynneweëld which finally proved this universal belief incorrect, when he opened up to the world’s understanding the hidden treasures of the lost and fabled cities of antiquity. His example before them, other members of the clan have since followed in his footsteps, of whom the great Breasted Laebmauntsforcynneweëld is perhaps the most notable.”
The mage settled himself comfortably, preparing, ’twas clear as day, for the pleasure of a learned lecture. It seemed, on the other hand—judging, at least, from the furrow on his brow, the clutching of his shivering limbs to his body, the wrinkling of his nose at the noxious odors emanating from the proximate sewer—that his apprentice did not fully share the wizard’s anticipation of the didactic prospect. But the mage took no heed, being totally engrossed in the pressing subject at hand.
“Sad to say, however, the prodigious progress made by the descendants of Schliemann in advancing the lore of secret doors, buried treasures and such, were not matched by any comparable feats emanating from their rivals in the normally noble, but in this instance sadly remiss, clan of the Sfondrati-Piccolominis. This peculiar archaeologic imbalance ‘twixt the great clans—well-known to the world’s cognoscenti—has itself been the subject of much scholastic inquiry and debate. Indeed, ‘twould be the proper subject of a profound dissertation on some future occasion—remind me of this point, gnome!—to examine this problem at our leisure. But now is not the moment—for even as I exposit, time wanes! Let me simply say here that it is my tentative opinion that the reticence of the Sfondrati-Piccolominis is best explained as the result of their collective shame at the disrepute brought upon their scholarly traditions by the jackanape Houdini Sfondrati-Piccolomini, the which charlatan and rogue did so—”
The mage’s discourse was interrupted by a loud clangor. Looking up in surprise, Zulkeh was even more astonished to discover that the large iron gate, the very item the complexities of whose secret of opening had been the proximate cause of his study, was even now, at that very moment, lying flat upon the ledge. The way to the passage beyond lay open and unhindered.
“I’m sorry, master,” said Shelyid. “My hand must have slipped.”
“Several times, it would appear,” spoke the mage stonily. He eyed the many clasps and latches which were strewn about the ledge, the which had previously held shut the gate and had, or so the evidence indicated, been detached by the clumsy dwarf.