image [https://i.imgur.com/vsyEWZ2.jpg]

We backtracked out of the sewers after eliminating the swine threat from the Underworks. When we passed the sewer blockage, I told the group I would open the dam with my Dig spell. If the hallway flooded, I could Slipstream away through the sewer breach.

Everyone else returned to the maze room where we’d fought the minoboars and tuskers. My progress bar nearly filled when the water burbled through. Chunks of solidified waste eroded as I backed away, and liquid sprayed through cracks. I ran before the entire wall collapsed and caught up with the rest of my party.

Lloyd pulled up the chart. “That takes care of the pigs. Enough exploring for one day, wouldn’t you say? We must reach the control house to prevent our escape route from flooding.”

I turned to Lloyd. “And you know the way there? No more detours?”

Lloyd kept his distance throughout our walk back to the water channel room. “Not unless there’s another sewer breach or uncharted stench you want to roll around in.”

We headed for the troughs to take us back to the Underworks. The current flowed in our desired direction, and dunking ourselves gave us a break from the stink.

We backtracked through the giant, swiveling valve-door. We passed the T-junction in the spillway toward the bilge rooms, where the water got deeper and deeper. From this point, we were in Lloyd’s care.

Lloyd backed away from us. “Thars the spillway for the Dark Harbor’s overflow drains. The wood rot smell brings back memories. Fun times. Who knows? With these piggies gone, a new generation of delinquents might call it home.”

“You mentioned a rat king down here. Is that right?”

“Aye—when I was a lad, but the Tuskers probably chased them off. We’ve seen not a whisker, so maybe they moved on.”

The water became knee-high as we moved. For the dwarves, it almost reached their waist, but neither complained nor slowed us down. I suspected they felt comfortable underground.

Slime made the floor beneath the water slippery, so I moved carefully to avoid slipping. I closed my eyes and used Creeper’s vision to scan underwater hazards. It amazed me to learn how useful this spear had become. I alternated between using Creeper’s vision and my own as we walked.

Lloyd directed us through a short side pipe before the water got deeper. “It’s only going to get deeper ahead. Unless ye want to carry dwarves on your shoulders, let’s take a detour.”

The opening yawned above the waterline, but we would have to crawl to move through the pipe.

Blane surprised me by volunteering to go first. “I have me Flying Wall to block anything ahead of us. Besides, it’s easier for me to maneuver in this tight spot.”

Lloyd waved to Blane in protest. “I’m afraid not, my friend. Even after a wash in the channel, I’d prefer you on my stern. Besides, you don’t know your way through the pipes.

We followed Lloyd through the pipes, passing intersections and branches.

Lloyd’s voice echoed in the space. “Apologies about the cramped crawlspace. I remember the shortcut to the control house being bigger. We won’t need to take the debtors through this maze.”

We crawled through the pipes. After zigzagging through a labyrinth, we emptied ourselves into a basin the size of a small underground swimming pool. The crawl had been claustrophobic, and I breathed easier after we exited. The dwarves seemed to be the only ones unperturbed.

Lloyd announced the group. “Ayup! We’re in the pressure reservoir. This here is the old gauge room, where the engies measure the water pressure. There’s another topside, so this one’s redundant in case of emergencies. This is where we kids hid the hatch key. And look, it’s hanging yonder.”

We followed his upward gaze toward a shiny ring with a single, wrench-like device the size of a pencil. The keys hung two stories above us. Hanging pipes partially shielded them from missile fire.

My shoulders sank. I’d wasted my daily blessing of Hot Air when I fought alone against the shaman minoboar. Fabulosa used hers to avoid a sow at the beginning of the skate park battle. We had over 2,000 favor points, but giving Hot Air to another citizen increased the cost of future blessings by 1000. We needed to spend favor on Glowing Coals to defend ourselves from the vargs. I didn’t see another way to reach the keys.

Lloyd gestured to a set of brass circles on the floor. “Steer clear of the circles.”

I looked around the chamber for signs of danger but saw none.

Lloyd wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “The older boys rigged this up so only we could get the keys.” Lloyd gestured toward a small brass circle set in the floor. “See?”

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The disk measured a tenth of the size of the one next to it. Lloyd stepped on a large one, and the small brass cylinder lifted a few yards. The thinner cylinder lay directly beneath the keys hanging from the ceiling.

Lloyd pointed to the small disk. “Blane, you’re the lightest. Stow your gear and stand on the small circle. Everyone else, to me, if ye please.” He stamped his foot on the wide disk for emphasis.

Fletcher backed up his father’s plan. “These hydraulic pistons work like the lift-locks.”

Fabulosa turned to him. “Lift locks?”

Fletcher explained. “The Guv and I passed them on our way from the magic shop by White Edge Falls. These pistons are hydraulically linked. When one goes up, the other goes down.”

Everyone stood on the big piston. Nothing happened—or rather, the wrong thing happened. Instead of the five of us pushing Blane into the air, his weight sunk him into the floor, and our cylinder pushed up a few inches.

Blane looked at his feet. “Whah? That’s not right!” He climbed off the cylinder before it sunk past floor level.

The wide disk beneath us stopped rising and reversed back to floor level. Although our piston moved slower, it sank below floor level.

“Hold fast.” We jumped off the cylinder while Lloyd pondered the situation.

With Blane off the tiny piston, it rose to the room’s ceiling. The pistons worked like a hydraulic elevator. People standing on the big piston pushed anyone on the thin one up to the keys.

When everyone stepped off the cylinders, the pistons reset flush with the floor.

Lloyd’s hands rested on his hips as he regarded Blane. “We were skinny kids back then, and more of us to move the big piston.”

Blane self-consciously crossed his arms as Lloyd mentally tallied the dwarf’s weight.

We tried the hydraulics again after removing Blane’s armor.

Bernard poked fun at his brother’s diet, but I stopped the argument before it gathered momentum.

We emptied our inventory on the big disk and tried again, hoping the weight difference would be enough. I’d stacked the heaviest contents of my void bag onto the piston, but their weight wasn’t enough. Blane, the smallest member of our party, weighed too much.

I ran my filthy fingers through my filthy hair. “I hate to say this, but I have a ton of stinking dirt from the sewer that I can unload from my Dig spell.”

Bernard threw up his hands in a stopping gesture. “Oi! Please, none of that draggle drite. Me nose cannot take another dose of that honkin’ stench.”

Lloyd shook his head. “Belay that, Cap’n. The earth will gum up the pistons.”

Bernard adopted a reasonable tone as if solving a math problem. “What if we chopped off Blane’s legs? If he’s light enough, we can send him up to the key. And we can heal afterwards, when draps back down.”

Blane, who stood in his underwear, had had enough of everyone talking about his weight. He shook fists at Bernard. “Shut yer puss, ye blethering beetroot! I’m a perfect specimen for a dwarf—not too girthie, not too wabblie! And no one is paring me legs down to the rind.”

I moved between them. “No one is chopping anything off anyone.” I couldn’t believe I needed to make this point clear. I looked at my spells. Magnetize wouldn’t work at this range, and my inventory had nothing for object manipulation.

Fletcher threw rocks at the key, but they came back down on our heads when he missed. His stones ricocheted off overhanging pipes, protruding from the ceiling like tree roots. The rocks fell back down on us. When one hit Fabulosa on the head, she glared at him, and he stopped.

Overhanging pipes prevented clear shots at them, but Fabulosa tried anyway. Her arrows rained down on us when they missed, so she stopped. The description for the Hummingbird Darts wasn’t promising either—they applied to only living targets.

This entire situation irritated me, and I lost my patience. This made for a perfect use for Move Object, but I had no power points to spend.

Fabulosa gasped and turned to me. “What about Beaker? He’s light, and he loves shiny objects.”

“You think he’s light? You haven’t carried him around all day on your head.” I joked, but the suggestions made sense. He’d be a suitable substitute for a skinny kid and loved heights. “Someone, step on the platform and raise it a bit.”

Lloyd put one foot on the large cylinder to raise the narrow one to chest height.

I summoned Beaker onto the pillar and mentally sent my pet messages. “Beaker! Do you want to see something shiny?”

Beaker telepathically replied. “Shiny! Yes! Fabulosa is here!”

“I know, Beaker. Fabulosa wants to see something shiny, too! Can you see something shiny?”

Beaker cocked his head. Dogs did this when they heard or saw something strange, but Charitybelle once told me Chloe did it to measure her surroundings—something to do with avian depth perception.

“Beaker, we’re sending you to the ceiling for something shiny! You stay there!” I knew we gave him too many instructions. Beaker got confused when I used too many words.

I made a “stay” gesture with my palms. Teaching my griffon to stay off the town hall dining tables might finally pay off—Beaker understood the command to stay.

Unfortunately, I usually made the gesture when he acted ornery, and he associated it with a reprimand.

He squawked in protest when I tried it on him.

“No, Beaker. You’re a good boy! Stay there, and be a good boy. You’ll get something shiny!”

I motioned to add more weight on the big cylinder, and Beaker rose higher.

Beaker stretched his wings for balance and screeched. Inside the chamber, the noise echoed, and it became so loud it made me wince. I hoped he wasn’t alerting monsters or guards to our position.

Yet the griffon stayed put. Beaker weighed so little it took only Lloyd, Fletcher, and Bernard’s weight to lift him.

Beaker sent me telepathic exclamations. “High! I’m high!” The prospect of looking down on us thrilled him.

“You’re okay! Good griffon! Stay there!”

As the others weighed down the piston, Beaker flapped his wings. “Higher! Higher!” he yelled in my brain.

When the piston reached its full height, Beaker flapped his wings. I held up my hand. “No-no, Beaker! Don’t fly! That’s not what we’re doing here. Behind you, something shiny!”

Fabulosa pointed to the griffon. “Behind you, Chickers! Turn around and get the shiny key! Bring it to me.”

Beaker grew too excited to care about shiny objects. The thrill of being so high made him want to fly, and all my pleading couldn’t divert his attention from us to the key above his head. How could I explain we weren’t teaching him how to fly?

“Check behind you, Beaker. Look behind you!” I mentally repeated the command, but he was having none of it. Too much strange activity below him captured his interest.

Minutes passed as everyone encouraged him to look behind him, but Beaker became too distracted by being so high. When the novelty of altitude high wore off, my Familiar folded his wings, settled down, and contentedly watched us from his perch. As far as he cared, all looked right with the world. Fabulosa stood nearby, and my pet enjoyed the catbird’s seat.

What more could a griffon want?