Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7393 Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!csulb.edu!nic-nac.CSU.net!usc!math.ohio-state.edu!cs.utexas.edu!newsfeed.rice.edu!rice!cml.rice.edu!andsol From: andsol@cml.rice.edu (Andrew Solberg) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Under Foot 3 Date: 12 Jun 1994 06:03:46 GMT Organization: Rice University Lines: 118 Message-ID: <2te8g2$d55@larry.rice.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: cml.rice.edu A smell rose up from the hole in the floor -- the stagnant smell of water that has stood for a long time. Shadows played across the walls of the cellar as Iolus held his lantern higher to see. We edged up to the very rim of the hidden adit and carefully peered down. We saw a shaft, only four feet or so across, dropping down further than the light would reach. The sides of the tunnel appeared to be of dressed stone, butressed by ancient and blackened beams. Every surface was damp and coated with a slick, grainy smear of some kind of fungus or slime. Iolus exhaled audibly. "Well." The beginnings of a smile twitched the corners of his dour mouth. "It would seem that our erstwhile treasure trove has turned out to be a concealed well. Rather in character with this building, I suppose; our abbey was built for defense from many kinds of attack, including a protracted siege. A reliable, secret water supply would be useful." Iolus motioned to the two young Fellows to recap the opening to the dank shaft. I frowned as the flagstone lowered down over the opening. The junior Fellows grunted with exertion as they scraped the prybars out from under the edge of the slate slab. There was something odd about the well that gnawed at the corner of my mind, but would not bring itself out into the light of reason. Iolus noticed my discomfort. "A noble try, I warrant. However, it would seem that there are to be no quick fixes to our monetary dilemma. Well, no matter. Come, I think there might be some roast pig yet left, to assuage our pains." I did not see fit to balk further, lest the Warder's generosity wane before we reached the kitchen. I ate well, but I did not fully push the riddle of the sunken shaft from my mind. It was only late in the day, sitting by the fire with Aeloth the great hound after bailing yet more water from yet another chamber floor, that the nature of the incongruence made itself clear. I sat myself bolt upright, disturbing the dog from the pillow of my lap. I put on my boots and heavy coat and buckled on my sword, and made for the stairs. Curious, or perhaps simply restless, Aeloth followed. I made my way down into the cellar, counting the stairs as I went. There were twenty-one of them, plus a small landing. I guessed there were a round twenty feet between the two floors. After doing this figuring, I returned upstairs. Aeloth whined slightly under his breath, perhaps wondering what I was up to, or perhaps simply irritated at all this running around. Nevertheless, he came along. The Gatekeeper for the Fellows of Light had a habit of resting lightly in the hours before the sunset rituals. As the storm was still raging heavily, there was little chance of visitors to the Abbey (which was unpopular with the citizenry anyway) so the Gatekeeper took it upon himself to rest heavier than usual when I happened to come visiting. He was still snoring lightly when I unbarred the ironwood portals, heaved open the gates by a foot or so, and slipped out into the storming afternoon. The sky was dark enough to be called night already, but I found my way easily enough across the square and down a side-street to the end of the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. There I found a small public well, covered with a clapboard lid. A small barrel was attached to the underside of the wooden cover with a slender chain; here was evidence that things not nailed down in Generica can disappear as if by magic! The rain sprayed in my face but the greatcoat kept out the worst of the water. I worked quickly, playing out the chain and lowering the bucket into the well's water below. When I felt the tension go out of the chain, I judged the bucket had reached the water's surface. I hauled the bucket back up, counting the chain links as I went. Measuring a link with the palm of my hand, I figured the water level to be about thirty feet below street level. I quickly recovered the well and hurried back to the Abbey, as the rain was starting to soak through my coat. Aeloth greeted me anxiously as I squeezed back through the portals and rebarred the gate. The Gatekeeper was snoring less deeply, but seemed to not have moved from his place of vigilant observation. I deemed the puddle I was leaving a mystery too taxing to be solved by that worthy, and I returned to the fire to warm myself. As I did, I turned over the water level question in my mind. The street level might have been as much as five feet below the level of the ground floor. If this were true, then the level of the water table would be 20-5-30 = 15 feet below the surface of the cellar floor. We would have been able to see the water level from where we stood. I was certain that we could not. I cursed myself for not having the presence of mind to drop a scrap of wood into the shaft and listen for the plop! when it landed. Once dry, I made my way once more to the cellar. I could hear the chanting of the Fellows as they observed their sunset rituals; how they knew the sun was setting behind all those clouds was a mystery to me. I leaned against a wall and stared at the trap door (now looking very obvious and poorly hidden to me) in the corner of the room. Hidden well, my eye. The kitchen was empty. I shouldered the A-frame of the scaffolding that was used to cook animals on the spit and hauled it down into the cellar. I returned for a lamp, two pokers that would serve well as prybars, some flint and steel, and a snack for the dog. I also borrowed some forty feet of rope attached to a bell that was due to be repaired; I felt the Fellows would not soon miss it. I closed the door to the cellar softly. Aeloth panted as I stared at the trap door. Oh, perhaps I was a fool to tackle the shaft by myself. But I felt like a fool for having been proven wrong, and I suppose my pride had gotten the better of me. I've always had a flair for the dramatic, I suppose, and the notion of surprising the Warder with armfuls of loot was too appealling to pass up. I dusted off my hands and hefted a poker. As the Abbey echoed with the sound of mournful prayers, I set to work. TBC -- HWRNMNBSOL (andsol@cml.rice.edu) H:(713)794-0021 Rice University, Department of Mathematics: Long Division Specialist "FORD, REAGAN NECK IN PRESIDENTIAL PRIMARY" -- Ethiopian Herald, 2/24/76 Disclaimer: Rice University will deny this conversation ever happened.