Grun wouldn't let Luca back into the Labyrinth until his back had mostly stopped hurting.
Five days after his fever broke, they finally went down to the ninth floor. It was their first time there since making Rank Nine.
The ninth floor was a stone gallery.
The walls and floor were all built from squared blocks of cut stone. No one knew who had made it. Some said the Labyrinth had simply grown into this shape on its own.
And this gallery had traps.
"Don't step on any stone that's a different color from the rest of the floor. Don't go near the little holes in the walls. ...Nora told me that about ten times."
"She told me twelve."
"So she trusts you less."
Luca lit an egg-sized [Lamplight] on his fingertip. He could see much farther along the floor than before. He could even make out slight differences in color between the stones.
"That's gotten handy."
"Yes. I'm a two now."
Luca was a little proud of that.
* * *
As they made their way down the gallery, they came across things scattered over the floor. Broken arrows, a lot of them. And a leather bag with its side torn open.
There was a row of small holes in the wall. That must have been where the arrows came from. About half of what the bag had held was still inside: thin iron rods, flat strips of metal, wooden wedges. The rest had spilled out through the tear onto the floor.
"A thief's tool bag," said Celes. "And it belonged to someone who disarmed traps for a living."
Luca took hold of the bag.
◆ ◆ ◆
One of the floor stones is raised. Only just.
Step on it and it sinks. When it sinks, arrows fly from the holes in the wall.
He kneels. Slides a thin metal strip in along the edge of the stone. Feels out the mechanism underneath by touch alone.
A spring. A trigger. And a thin chain running off toward the wall.
He pushes wooden wedges into the gap in the spring. One. Two.
Now the trigger won't drop, even if someone steps on the stone.
"All right, you can come through."
He stands up and waves his comrades over.
Just then, the stone beside it gives a click.
Damn. A second one—
Arrows fly. The bag rips and drops to the floor. Half rolling, half running, he flees down the gallery with his comrades.
◆ ◆ ◆
Echo inherited: [Disarm Trap].
"...It was a double trap. He disarmed the first stone, but he didn't notice the second."
"And him?"
"He got away. The arrows only hit the bag."
Luca chewed on the jerky Celes handed him. In place of shortbread and pie, starting today, they had a bundle of jerky that Grun had sent along. Twice as much as before.
* * *
A little farther on, one stone in the floor ahead was a different color from the rest. It sat just slightly raised.
"...That's one."
"I'll try it."
Luca knelt in front of the stone. He took a thin metal strip out of the tool bag, slid it in along the edge of the stone, and felt underneath with nothing but his fingertips.
A spring. A trigger. A thin chain running off toward the wall.
He pushed wooden wedges into the gap in the spring. One. Two.
Then he looked at the stone next to it. Same color. Not raised. But the thief in the recall hadn't noticed it, either.
Luca slid the strip in along the edge of that stone, too.
There. A second spring.
"...There's a second one."
"Really?"
He pushed in two more wedges. Then Luca stood up and stepped on both stones, tap, tap, to show her.
Nothing happened.
Celes stared at the floor.
"You can come through."
Celes stepped on the stones gingerly, then let out a breath of relief.
"We have that thief to thank, for messing up the second one."
"Yes. The mistakes get left behind, too."
* * *
Partway along, the stone floor of the gallery broke off.
Beyond it lay an underground channel, a broad stream of water cutting straight across the gallery. The water was clear enough to see all the way down. About twice a grown man's height deep, maybe.
Something had sunk to the bottom of the channel. A leather bag, its mouth tied shut.
"Somebody dropped that. But at that depth..."
"I want to get it."
"I knew you'd say that."
There was another dropped thing lying at the edge of the channel. Two round pieces of glass with a leather strap attached. Goggles, for keeping your eyes open underwater.
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◆ ◆ ◆
Breathe in.
Not just in. Slowly, all the way down to the bottom of the belly. Then let a little out. Breathe in again.
Let the body go loose. The heartbeat slows.
Under the water. Through the goggles, blue light ripples.
Don't rush. Hurry, and the breath runs out. Small movements. Quiet ones.
Crystal clams cling to the rocks at the bottom of the channel. Pry them off with a little knife. One, two, three.
Up to the surface. Breathe out.
"...A master diver's a master down in the Labyrinth too, huh."
A comrade's voice. A laugh, and the goggles pushed up onto the forehead.
The strap snaps, and the goggles drop at the edge of the channel.
◆ ◆ ◆
Echo inherited: [Hold Breath].
"I think they came from a seaside village. They were gathering some kind of shellfish called crystal clams."
"A skill for holding your breath a long time. ...Don't tell me—"
"I'll try it."
Luca left his jacket and dagger on the bank. He retied the goggles' strap and pulled them down over his eyes.
Breathe in. Slowly, all the way down to the bottom of the belly. Let a little out, breathe in again.
The tension drained out of his body. His heartbeat slowed.
He slipped into the water.
Cold. But he didn't panic. Small movements. Quiet ones. Through the goggles, blue light rippled.
He dove all the way to the bottom of the channel and grabbed the leather bag.
It was heavier than he'd expected. It had caught in a gap between the rocks and wouldn't come free. Without rushing, he worked it loose, a little at a time.
When it finally came free, Luca floated back up to the surface.
"Pwah!"
"...You took too long!"
Celes was standing on the bank, white as a sheet.
"I was counting! I counted to a hundred and fifty! I thought you were dead!"
"I'm sorry. The bag was stuck."
"A hundred and fifty! A hundred and fifty!"
Celes hauled him out of the water, and Luca opened the bag.
It was packed with mana stones.
"...There are about twenty mana stones in here."
"Somebody must have dropped it here, then. Is there an owner's mark?"
A brand had been burned into the mouth of the bag. Luca had seen it before.
"...A pattern like stone hide. The party we passed at the entrance to the ninth floor this morning had the same mark on their cloaks."
"You remember that?"
"Scavenger habit."
* * *
At the very end of the gallery, in front of the stairs down to the tenth floor, the party who owned the bag happened to be taking a rest.
When Luca gave back the bag of mana stones, their leader, a bearded man, stared at him wide-eyed and bowed his head again and again.
"Can't believe you brought it up from the bottom of that channel. ...As thanks, let me tell you something."
The bearded man lowered his voice.
"There's a party taking on the Gatekeeper today. The Grafen boy and his two hangers-on."
"Viktor?"
"Yeah. Not even ten days since he made Rank Nine, and he's already at it. Who knows what he's in such a hurry for."
The man looked toward the stairs leading down to the tenth floor.
"For a swordsman, the Stone-Eater's about the worst thing you could draw. ...Hope he makes it back in one piece."
Luca and Celes looked at each other.
From deep down the stairs, far off, came a low rumble, like the earth itself groaning.
* * *
The stairs down to the tenth floor went on and on.
The farther down they went, the louder the rumbling got. The walls trembled, and fine grit sifted down from the ceiling. At the bottom, the stairs opened onto a vast, empty hall with a high ceiling. At the far end stood an enormous stone door. It was half open, and from beyond it came the sound of something heavy smashing rock to pieces.
"...The Gatekeeper's chamber," Celes said, tightening her grip on her wand.
Just then, figures came staggering out through the gap in the door.
Two of them. One had the other's arm slung over his shoulder and was half dragging him along.
"Viktor!"
Luca ran toward them.
The one being carried wasn't Viktor. It was one of his followers. Blood was running down his leg, and he was barely conscious.
Viktor came out behind them. His training clothes were caked with white powder. He still had his sword in his hand.
The blade was chipped to ruin.
"...You."
Viktor's expression didn't change when he saw Luca. But his voice was badly hoarse.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm not. ...Karl took a hit from the tail."
* * *
In a corner of the hall, Luca bound a cloth around the leg of Karl, the injured follower. What [Dismantle] had taught him about where bones and tendons sat came in handy. Nothing was broken. The flesh was torn, that was all.
Celes passed around her water flask, and Luca handed out jerky. Fritz, the other follower, practically pounced on his and tore into it. Viktor didn't take any.
"...I don't need your charity."
"It isn't charity. If you're hungry, you'll collapse on the way back."
Viktor looked at the jerky in Luca's hand for a long moment. Then, without a word, he took it.
"What happened with the Gatekeeper?" Celes asked.
Viktor held the jerky and looked down at his chipped sword.
"...I couldn't cut it," he said quietly.
"Its hide is stone. The rocks it eats turn straight into scales. Overhead cuts, thrusts, everything bounced off. Three strikes, and my blade ended up like this."
"What about fire?"
"Fritz used three fire charms. They only scorched the surface."
Viktor's fist was clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white.
"Three hundred years of forms, and they couldn't cut a single stone."
Luca didn't say anything. He couldn't find any words that would help.
"...It isn't Master Viktor's fault."
Fritz had finished his jerky. His voice was small.
"Master Viktor stayed at the front to the very end so the rest of us had time to get away. That's the only reason I was able to carry Karl out—"
"Fritz. Don't say more than you need to."
Viktor cut him off, short and sharp, and Fritz shut his mouth.
* * *
Luca stood and looked around the area by the door.
Lost things lay scattered in front of the Gatekeeper's chamber. A broken sword. Pieces of a scorched shield. A single gauntlet. They probably belonged to the three parties who had fled back out before Viktor's group.
Among them was an iron helmet with a deep dent in it. The back of it was crushed in, the mark of something very, very heavy taken full-on.
Luca picked it up.
◆ ◆ ◆
The great lizard sinks its teeth into the rock wall.
It crunches the stone to pieces and swallows it down.
"Here it comes! The breath!"
The lizard opens its mouth. White powder blasts out like a storm. He can't open his eyes. He can't breathe. His throat burns.
Somewhere beyond the dust, he can feel the tail drawing back.
His friends are behind him.
Feet apart. Knees bent. Hips low, like roots sinking into the ground. He turns his back toward where the tail will come.
Impact. The helmet crumples. His spine creaks.
But he doesn't fall. He doesn't give up a single step.
"Ngh... Fall back! Now, while you can!"
His friends run for the door.
Through the thinning dust, he sees the great lizard twist, showing its belly. Straight down the middle of it runs a single white seam with no scales.
...There. No stone there. Only there.
He rolls out through the door and rips the crumpled helmet off his head, throwing it aside.
◆ ◆ ◆
Echo inherited: [Stand Firm].
Luca stood with the helmet in his hands and didn't move for a while.
His stomach growled. But more than that, he was laying out what he had just seen, piece by piece, in his head.
It eats rock. After it eats, it breathes out white powder.
The powder blinds you and chokes you, and then it sweeps you with its tail.
And straight down the middle of its belly, a single seam with no stone.
"Luca? What did you see?"
"How the Gatekeeper fights."
Luca told them what he had seen in the recall. Celes's eyes went wide. Fritz's mouth fell open.
Only Viktor said nothing. He just watched Luca.
"...What was that just now?"
"My Gift. When I touch a lost item, I can see the last scene it remembers."
"The last scene..."
Viktor looked at the helmet in Luca's hands. Then at the broken swords and scorched shields scattered around the door.
"So that's what you meant when you said you 'picked up' your techniques."
"Yes."
* * *
On the way back, they stopped for a breather on a landing partway up the stairs. That was when the ceiling creaked.
The Gatekeeper's rampaging must have shaken it loose. A stone right over their heads slid out of place. It was bigger than a man's head.
Directly beneath it sat Karl, whom Fritz had just set down off his shoulder.
"Look out!"
Luca's body moved before he could think. He threw himself over Karl.
Feet apart. Knees bent. Hips low, like roots sinking into the ground. His back turned toward the falling stone.
Impact.
The weight ran from his back to his hips, from his hips to his legs, and from his legs out into the stone steps. His knees buckled hard.
But he didn't fall.
The stone tumbled off his back and went bouncing away down the stairs.
For a moment, nobody said anything.
"...Luca! Are you all right?!"
"I'm fine. My back hurts a little."
He still had bruises left over from his fall down the shaft, and now another stone had landed right on top of them. But this time, it didn't knock the breath out of him the way the fall had.
Karl was staring up at Luca with wide eyes. So were Fritz and Viktor.
"...Was that one of your picked-up techniques too?" Viktor asked in a low voice.
"Yes. It belonged to the man with the helmet."
"The man who took the Gatekeeper's tail."
"Yes."
Viktor didn't say anything. He only looked down at his chipped sword again.
* * *
They parted ways with Viktor's group at the entrance to the Labyrinth. They were taking Karl straight to the infirmary.
As they were leaving, Viktor turned back.
"...Are you going to challenge the Gatekeeper?"
"Yes."
"A sword won't get through."
"I know. So I'll fight it with things that aren't swords."
Viktor started to say something, then stopped. Then he tried again, and this time it came out.
"Come to the training grounds tonight. ...I have something to tell you about the Gatekeeper."