“Fortuna!” Cormac called from the shadows at the far end of the huge wall. “Light, come look at this.”
Shiara followed the sound of Cormac’s voice and gasped at what she saw. This was no mere treasure house or cenotaph. It was indeed the tomb of a mighty wizard!
The body lay beneath a clear crystal bell on a dais of milk-white crystal. Beneath the white silk shroud broidered round with blood red runes, the wizard’s husk was as incorrupt and composed as if he were only sleeping. Amon-Set had been a man of no more than average height, Shiara saw, with pale skin given only a semblance of color by the stark whiteness of the sheet. The tracery of blue veins patterned his flesh in a manner disturbingly like the scales of a venomous reptile. The hands crossed on his chest were as long and slender as the hands of an artist. His hair was dark and shiny as polished jet and his brows were thin and dark, elegant against his skin. His lashes were long and dark as well. Shiara did not care to contemplate what the eyes beneath them must have been like.
“Back away from it!” she called to Cormac. “Do not get closer.”
As Cormac edged off, Shiara approached. With shaking hands she passed her wand over the bier. Then she sighed and her shoulders slumped. Magic aplenty she found there, but not the smallest spark of life. Amon-Set was truly dead.
“The scroll did not lie,” Cormac said awestruck. “There is treasure indeed here.”
“The life’s work of one of the most powerful wizards that ever lived,” Shiara agreed grimly. “My Sun, can you imagine the havoc all this could wreak if it were loosed upon the World?”
“Well,” said Cormac briskly, “that is what we are here to prevent, is it not?”
Shiara nodded and passed her wand over the closest pedestal. Then she frowned and drew back. She moved to the next pedestal and repeated the pass. The expression on her face showed that what she found was no more to her liking.
“Magic?” asked Cormac.
“Aye. What is on these stands is protected by the spells around them and cannot be touched. I will have to unravel this maze before we dare move any of it.”
Again and again, Shiara tested the pedestals, until at last she had tried each of them.
“I see how it is now,” she said at last. “The spells protecting these things are all interlocked like jackstraws. If you move them at random than the whole mass comes down upon you.”
“Jackstraws have a key,” Cormac pointed out.
“And so does this riddle. One of these objects is the key. It can be moved first and then the next and then the next.”
“How long will it take you to sort out the pile then?”
“Hours. Perhaps days. This is no simple puzzle and I dare not make a mistake.” Her eyes went to the bodies on the floor.
“Should you summon more of the Mighty to help?”
Shiara considered and then shook her head. “There is nothing others could do here that I could not. Involving others only means risking them as well.”
Cormac shrugged acceptance and Shiara set to work on unravelling the puzzle. Three times she passed round the great gloomy chamber, testing each object.
“It is no good,” she said at last. “All of the spells are interlinked and apparently none of them are the key.”
“I thought you said there had to be a key.”
“I thought so, but I can find no sign of one.”
“Well, Light. Where does that leave us?”
Shiara frowned and tapped the wand against her jaw. “I do not know. It seems beyond reason that all this exists merely as a death trap for the unwary. There must be a key. Else why not destroy everything in the beginning and be done with it?”
“Malice?” Cormac suggested.
“A poor motive for all this work. Those of Amon-Set’s skill seldom did things for such simple reasons.”
“Well then?”
“There is one alternative. Rather than remove all these objects we could destroy them here.”
“Wouldn’t that scar the land?”