The Viper's Fangs (Book 2) by Robert P. Hansen

a
small chamber with a keyhole in the floor.” He gestured with his hands, making
a small square as he added, “The tunnel is about that big.”
    “Giorge went through it?” Ortis asked. “Is he stuck?”
    “I don’t know if he’s stuck or not,” Angus said. “It was a
tight squeeze, but he made it through.” They had reached the pile of saddlebags
and other gear, and he paused to look through them for Giorge’s saddlebag. “At
least that’s what he said he found.” He paused and reached for a saddlebag.
“This one is Giorge’s, isn’t it?” he asked. “The one with the copper clasp?”
    Ortis nodded. “You think he may have found something more
than he is telling you about?”
    Angus shrugged. “You know Giorge better than I do. I left
him with my picks, but he said they probably wouldn’t work.”
    Ortis frowned. “You don’t believe him, do you?”
    Angus shrugged and took out a brown velvet pouch from
Giorge’s saddlebag. It was heavy for its size, but made absolutely no noise as
he shook it. “These are his tools, aren’t they?”
    “Yes,” Ortis said.
    “Good,” Angus said, rising and moving quickly toward the
cliff. “I should get back down there in case he’s found something else.”
    “I’ll go with you,” Ortis said. “It will only take me a
minute to get into the harness.”
    Angus shook his head and said, “No. Giorge will need it when
we come back up. Besides, you wouldn’t fit through the tunnel any more than I
could. It’s too small. Giorge barely got through it.”
    “What if something happens to him?”
    Angus shrugged and turned back toward the edge of the cliff.
“I have no idea,” he said.
    Ortis frowned but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he picked
up Giorge’s harness and handed it to Angus. “Don’t let him talk you into
staying too long,” he said. “Dusk is approaching and so are the fletchings.”
    Angus nodded and called out to Hobart, “A little less
tension this time. I need to go faster.” When Hobart was ready, he jumped over
the edge and slid down several feet before contacting the cliff face. The rope
slackened at once, and he began hopping against the cliff face to avoid tumbling
against it. “Too loose!” he shouted, and the rope suddenly went taut.
    Ortis stuck his head out over the lip of the precipice and
called down to him. “Tell me when it’s what you want, and I’ll let him know.”
    The rope slackened in increments, and he walked down with
it. He let it increase speed to a fast walk and then signaled to Ortis. He kept
up the hurried pace and moved sideways to the right at the same time. By the
time he reached the level of the adit, he was only a few yards away. He found a
handhold to stop his descent and edged toward it.
    “Giorge?” he called as he approached the adit. But there was
no answer. When he reached it and looked inside, he saw Giorge sitting in front
of the back wall with a small, ornately carved, wooden box on his lap. It was
varnished with a deep chocolate brown and studded with silver inlays that
sparkled in the Lamplight’s glow. He rested his elbows on the lid and held an
ivory scroll tube between his fingertips, only a few inches from his face. He
turned it slowly, studying the patterns on its surface, and occasionally
running a fingertip along one of them.
    “Giorge?” Angus asked, easing around the corner of the entry
and skirting the edge of the aerie. He stepped down and dropped Giorge’s
harness. “What is it?”
    Giorge didn’t answer. He continued to study the scroll tube,
his eyes and fingertips tracing the lines etched into its surface.
    Angus moved closer and leaned over for a better look at the
scroll tube. It was small for a scroll tube, barely six inches long, but very
well made. It had been carved from a single piece of ivory, and across its
surface were several symbols he recognized and others he didn’t. Most of the
symbols were related to the spheres of magic—flame, sky, earth,