"A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its
old dimensions."                               - Oliver Wendell Holmes

                 **  ---   <<<<  ----  >>>   ---  **

Up the Down Staircase
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Raine dug his claws in, deeper, into the sod as he snarled and
struggled to keep his 220 pounds forward.  The rope tasted of lamp oil
and dust and was rough against the tender tissue of his lips and
tongue.  The line was cutting into his shoulder.  This was going to
hurt tomorrow.

He didn't look backwards, knowing that he was the anchor to this
insane tug o' war, his four feet providing better traction and a lower
center of gravity.  Cat was panting and pulling with all she had.
Both could feel the vibrations as Tuek dropped further back into the
well.

"Fyrk, would you _settle down_?" the Rameshander growled, as Carroll's
familiar dove down the shaft, leathery wings raising clouds of dust.
Then, in the same breath, he shouted downwards, "How you doing,
Carroll?"

The reply was barely audible--he was still a ways down.  "The air down
here is a bit thick."  There was a loud burst of coughing.

"All right, don't strain yourself," Tuek replied.  He considered for a
moment, then muttered a short spell.  When he was done, he yelled
upwards, "I'm gonna drop for a bit."  Without waiting for a response,
he loosened his grip on the rope, then let go of it altogether.

Raine and Cat barely had time to brace themselves before the pull on
the rope slackened.  Tuek dropped quickly at first, but gradually
slowed as the spell took effect.  The light from above started to dim
as he descended, so he kept one hand in contact with the rope in case
he needed it when he deactivated the spell.  He knew that he was just
postponing the force of the fall...

Carroll yelled up, "Gods, be *careful*, Tuek," his voice strained.
There was a clink of spike on rock startlingly close below, and Tuek
grabbed the rope, swinging suddenly to a stop a yard above where
Carroll was braced across the well.  The movement of the rope caused a
short, ear-piercing shriek as the grappling hook holding open the
trapdoor gave a little more, letting the delvers' only known way back
out close another handspan.

Carroll began speaking urgently, "Tuek, can you brace well enough to
support me?  I can see through Fyrk's eyes, but I can't reach to wedge
this spike from here.  We can't put more load on that rope."


                 **  ---   <<<<  ----  >>>   ---  **


"HAI!  YAH YAH YAH!"  Lunge, stab, "Gotcha!  Damn!  Atterkop!"

(thud splat)

"Wings, what's happening?"  A dark-haired woman looked down the mouth
of the tunnel at the approaching light.  Wings stalked angrily to the
opening, and sat down, pulling up his sweatshirt.  An angry red blotch
showed on his stomach.

"Sorry Danu.  Damn thing bit me.  You got the poultice jar?"

"Here."  She held out a small pot with a vile-smelling gunk in it.

"Thanks."  Wings took a handful and spread it across his muscular
midsection.  The angry red faded as the healing goop took effect,
and after a moment the healthy pale blue glow returned.

"Shit.  I hate spiders," Wings complained.  He wiped his sword on
the leg of his sweatpants and returned it to its sheath.

"OK," Siaran said, "So does it go all the way through?"

Wings pulled his sweatshirt back down and flew up the five and a half
feet to hover in front of the red-haired apprentice.  The blue glow
got brighter as he warmed up.

"Nah.  Dead-ends just past the spider nest."

"Ahbugger.  OK, Danu, you wanna lead?"

"Hey, I take point," Wings protested.

Danu suppressed a smile.  "G'head."

With a brilliantly white grin, Wings fluttered left, following the
edge of the wall.  Danu stowed her poultice in the small pack she
carried and followed.  After taking a moment to grimace and scrape
some soft-rock from his boots, Siaran brought up the rear of their
short line.

Keeping half an eye on Wings and the rest of her attention on the
smooth marble to their right, Danu dropped into scouting stride, long
otherwise gangly legs smoothly becoming graceful.

Siaran found himself staring transfixed at Danu's legs and, when she
stopped abruptly, nearly slammed into her.  Hiding his blush, he said
gruffly, "Wot?"

Danu was looking at an oddly angled part of the wall.  She gestured at
it saying, "Can't you see it?  It's a door.  With a Healer's symbol on
it.  Wings?!  C'mere."

Siaran concentrated on the wall and saw nothing.  He swapped sights
and saw a faint outline of something... Danu reached out and he was
suddenly blinded by the outpouring of magic.  Abruptly switching to
normal sight, he found his surprised expression mirrored in Wings'
face.  Danu was gone.

"Damndamndamn!" Wings muttered, "Sator rotas div 3 to the pi i
squared."  A sparkling blue rune failed to appear on the rock face.
Wings frowned in concentration and began to whisper fraction tables.

"What you goin' on about, mate?" Siaran whispered.  "Why're we
whisprin?"

"Shh.  Hah.  Damn.  Door's gone byebye.  I was trying to trace
Danyaski."

Wings glared at the door.  "Only one way left ..."

He pointed down the hallway ... and Siaran began to swear with the
thoroughness of long and devoted practise.  The whole floor before
them was a solid, er, liquid, expanse of soft-rock.


                 **  ---   <<<<  ----  >>>>   ---  **


ADMIN: soft rock is rock in a semi-solidified state that can be found
in the unstable areas.  It feels like mud, and can change it's state
according to the whims of luck.

The Witts' End Gang is:
  Archibald "Archi" Halidon (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com)
  Carroll Jarvek  (colin@callisto.pas.rochester.edu)
  Chrainein "Raine" Hydor (li@inigo.data-io.com)
  Danu (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) 
  Kyle "Wings" Dorshan (hutch@hutch.intel.com)
  Siaran (Andrea.Evans@orb.nashua.nh.us)
  Theodora "Cat" Rediche (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com)
  Tuek Esmar (aaron@amisk.cs.ualberta.ca)