Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [39]
From the conversation drifting toward her, it sounded as if Jarial and Durwyn were having difficulty releasing Nottle from the strongbox in which the cultists had secured him. She sighed and limped toward them, her fingers already reaching for her lockpicking tools. Could any of these people survive without her?
“I’ll smash it open with my axe,” Durwyn said as she approached.
Nottle squawked. “An’ smash my head, too?”
“That won’t be necessary.” Kestrel pulled the appropriate pick from her pouch. She tried to squat in front of the chest, but her injured leg screamed in protest. She wound up simply plunking her bottom down onto the floor. Before touching the lock, she looked up at Jarial. “I assume you’ve checked this for magical traps?”
“I didn’t find any.” The mage eyed her askance. “Are you injured?”
“I’m fine.” Kestrel examined the lock for signs of mundane surprises. It appeared to be a simple padlock. The only unusual feature was a glyph engraved into the body of the lock. “Damn,” she muttered. She’d seen a padlock like this once before-Quinn had nearly lost a finger to the blade that had sprung out of it. Different icon, but she’d bet it worked on the same principle.
Jarial leaned over her shoulder. “What?” Durwyn also bent down to get a closer look.
“I’m guessing this symbol’s here for a reason. Use anything but the proper key to open it and something very bad happens.” She glanced to Durwyn. “You did check the dead cultists for keys, didn’t you?”
A sheepish expression crossed his face. “Uh…”
She rubbed her temples. “Why don’t you do that before we go any further?” Durwyn immediately started rifling the corpses. Not much of a thinker, the warrior was great at following orders.
Nottle rapped on the lid of the strongbox. “What’s takin’ so long?”
“We’re trying to make sure no one else gets killed saving your foolish hide,” she said. The halfling sure had an irritating little voice. “You getting enough air through those airholes?”
“Yeah.”
“Shut up or that will change.”
Nottle fell silent. As Durwyn and Jarial searched the cultist’s bodies, Kestrel studied the engraving on the padlock. She’d seen that circle and arch image before. It matched the glyph on the treasury door-and on the key she’d taken from the cult sorcerer upstairs.
“Never mind, boys. I think I’ve found it.” She withdrew the key from her sleeve, and discovered that it slipped easily into the lock. The clasp sprung open. A moment later, the peddler was free.
“Finally! I thought I’d never git outta there.” The halfling stretched his short limbs to their fullest extent.
“We told you this place was dangerous, Nottle,” Corran said as he and Ghleanna rejoined the group.
“Yeah, I know. I couldn’t resist. Scavenging’s in my blood.” He leaned toward Kestrel. “Surely you, m’dear, understand the lure of an old dwarven treasury? I suspect we’re kindred spirits.”
She didn’t deny the allure but preferred to think she had more sense. She nodded toward the dead cultists. “I see this is a great place for making new friends.”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Nah, they weren’t friendly at all. ‘Specially when I wouldn’t join their club.”
Corran’s brow rose. “They invited you to join their organization?”
“Well, not exactly-said I could make a ‘great contribution,’ but I kinda got the feelin’ they were all in on some joke I didn’t understan’. Not that I’d want t’belong to somethin’ called the Cult of the Dragon. I don’t like dragons. Though they have got nice treasure. Dragons, that is-I dunno about these folks.”
Kestrel and the others exchanged glances, but no one seemed familiar with the cult’s name.
“Did they tell you anything about their activities?” Corran asked.
“Nah. But I did overhear a thing or two. Once they shut me up in the box, they sometimes forgot about me and talked a little too freely. Since ye rescued me and all, I’ll tell ye what they said without chargin’ my usual price for information.”
Kestrel smiled