Through Stone and Sea - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,117
the remains of other dried growths spread halfway up its curved sides.
Soon, he could stand upright, though his head brushed the tunnel’s top. It widened as well, until he could only just touch either side with outstretched hands. As he sloshed up its center, the incline was so gradual that he never noticed it, until the water undulated only to his ankles. Then he spotted the grate ahead—or rather a gate.
Vertical bars filled the tunnel from top to bottom. Its outer frame was mounted in the circumference by massive rivets. But the gate’s condition surprised him more.
The iron bars were not new, but neither were they wholly rusted or worn. Continual exposure to salt water and air should have eaten at them more. The gate was either newer than the tunnel excavation, or it had been replaced repeatedly over the years. Then Chane noticed the lock plate level with the one horizontal slat of iron through which all vertical bars passed.
The plate was larger than a flattened hand. There was no handle or keyhole. Only a palm-size oval, slightly domed, appeared on the plate’s surface. Even obscured by grime and salt crust, its tone was lighter than the surrounding iron.
Chane held the crystal close, and light sparked a vague sheen from the oval. He rubbed it, scraping with his fingernails, until the reflection brightened.
Nearly white metal, pale but bright as silver, bounced the crystal’s light about the tunnel. That one clean patch was smooth and perfect, unmarred by salt. It was the same metal he had seen in the floor portal to the Stonewalkers’ underworld.
Chane quickly headed back, emerging in the inlet to find Wynn and Shade crouched at the water’s edge on the backbone’s steep side.
“Did you find it?” Wynn called.
“Yes. Hand me my packs and the pry bar. Make sure your pack is secure. The footing is rough until we get inside the tunnel’s mouth.”
“What about the grate?” she asked, handing him the pry bar first. “Can you break it open?”
“Perhaps. It is actually a gate, but . . .” He hesitated. “Better you see for yourself.”
They paused to tie up their cloaks above their waists, so the bottoms would not take on water and weigh them down. It was only then that Chane noticed a long sheathed dagger tucked in the back of Wynn’s belt cinching in her tunic.
When she turned about and found him looking at it, she frowned but handed over his packs. He hooked one over each shoulder by its outer strap, so they hung together behind him, and then grasped his sword, holding it along with the pry bar.
“I will hold the crystal, so you can keep your staff above the water,” he instructed. “Grip one of my packs if you need to steady yourself.”
Chane turned to Shade and pointed beneath the overhang. The dog hopped into the water and waded inward. Wynn climbed down to join them and sucked a sharp breath as a cold roll of the ocean surged to her thighs.
“Stay close,” Chane whispered, heading after Shade.
By the time they gained the tunnel, Wynn’s teeth were chattering with shivers, and their splashing footfalls echoed off the curved walls. When they approached the gate, Shade was already waiting there. The dog appeared better than Wynn at withstanding the cold.
Chane was not certain, but it appeared the water in the tunnel had already risen slightly.
“Look here,” he said, holding the crystal above the gate’s plate.
Wynn crept closer, wide-eyed as she studied it.
“Have you seen this metal used like this before?” he asked. “Do you know how it is operated?”
“Chein’âs metal again?” Wynn shook her head. “I’ve only seen it used for portals and some weapons, such the Anmaglâhk’s, Leesil’s new blades, and Magiere’s dagger.”
Chane had seen these weapons for himself in the castle of the white undead.
“Oh, and the head of my elven quill,” she added.
“A lock of some kind,” he returned. “But we do not have time to guess its function without a place to insert a key . . . if we had one.”
“Magic?” she asked. “You know conjury. Can you see or sense anything?”
“It does not work that way, by my experience. Magic cannot be sensed, even if I were a full mage. That is wishful folklore and nothing more. And in artificing, not all mages mark an object. In alchemically created items, component materials are sometimes imbued before or during preparation and assembly.”
Wynn scoffed. “I’ve felt something whenever I’ve called up my mantic sight.”