Cassandra

VI. Unsettling Hints

I had now been living at Castle Whitestone for five months. I had explored every single nook and cranny, peered into every corner, poked through Anna's room, the abandoned servant's rooms, Professor Ander's bedchamber, the kitchens, and every other empty room in the castle. I was itching for a new place to poke around.
    Five months I had been here, and yet in all that time I hadn't seen much of Silas, or Anna Ripley. Delilah and Ripley both appeared at the breakfast table every morning, but Silas never ate in the morning. In fact I never saw him in the morning at all, and only rarely saw him about the castle during the day. He seemed to spend most of the day sleeping. A strange habit considering the rituals of his wife, who was always awake during the day, yet never seemed the slightest bit surprised that Silas's sleeping pattern was so different from hers. She spent most of her day in one of the best drawing rooms, reading, doing needle work, or occasionally doing nothing at all. But most of her time by far was occupied in playing the grand piano. She seemed to have an endless enjoyment of its sound, and spent several hours a day playing. Sometimes songs, sometimes an endless stream of short ditties, sometimes a single note played over and over again. Any time she played she seemed completely lost in the sound, an abstracted smile hanging about the corners of her mouth. But when ever she lost herself in that one monotonous note, endlessly pressed, I thought her eyes seemed sad. This was the only time I could ever see any trace of unhappiness in her.
    Ripley always spent most of the morning locked up in her room here at the castle, working on some private project of her own that seemed to interest her a good deal. More than once I saw her revisit Percy's room again, searching for something important to her, though she never seemed to find it. What ever her secret project was, it was explosive, for more than once I heard combustion sounds in her room, or she would set off mini detonations in the garden. In the early afternoon she would head down towards the cellar, passing the racks of dusty wine bottles, and descend down the long stairs into the de Rolo Mausoleum. What on earth she could possibly be doing there I didn't know, for I was never stupid enough to follow her down there.
    All the Briarwood's attention seemed to be wrapped up in this vault however, for every evening when Lord Briarwood woke up, the two of them would go down there and not come back for several hours. There was nothing down there I knew, only the grand stillness and the whitestone tombs of my ancestors. But what ever they were doing, it involved tunneling, for the workers (many of whom were long dead, like the shambling creatures in the garden) brought up giant sacks of earth that they piled out on the dead grass. I also suspected that it had something to do with the vents in the garden that constantly belched green smoke.
    All this was very intriguing, and I was itching for more loopholes to take advantage of. It had never been explicitly stated that I was not to go down there, just like they had never said that I couldn't explore the castle, though it was heavily implied. This unstated rule was just begging to be stretched, and finally, after resisting as long as I could, I gave in.
After several days of careful planning I determined that the best time to go explore would be in the early evening, during the short window immediately after Silas and Delilah went down, but before the workmen started bringing up their sacks of earth. This was the only time when I could be reasonably confident of the tunnels being unoccupied. All during the afternoon there was a constant stream of workmen carrying down large blocks of whitestone for some unknown purpose, and it was at this time that the vents poured green vapor into the garden. Something certainly was active down there at that time, which meant it was too dangerous for me. But once I had chosen a propitious moment, all I had to do was pick a day, and wait for that propitious moment to come.
It was a difficult wait. I was torn by anticipation all morning, every second seemed to drag by with agonizing slowness, and every time my eyes met Delilah's across the breakfast table I felt a twinge of guilty knowledge. But she seemed occupied, and never noticed.
    "Anders." Delilah called across the table just as Anders was finishing his meal and preparing to rise. "I would like to speak to you."
    The Professor frowned and looked at Ripley and I hesitantly.
    "I'll take that as my cue to quit the table..." Anna said deliberately, rising from her seat, wiping her lips on her napkin, and setting it next to her plate. "I'll just find myself some pressing business to attend to, and make myself scarce, shall I?"
    "If you would be so kind." Delilah said, smiling acidly, and Ripley left the room. The chilling smile slid from Lady Briarwood's face as soon as Anna was gone, and she turned her eyes on me, looking pointedly at the door. It was not difficult to catch her meaning and I hastily stood up, also setting my napkin on the table, leaving the room. Anders silently followed me to the door, and shut it behind me, leaving me alone in the foyer with Ripley. For a moment I hesitated, knowing that the Professor would want me to go to my room, but nagging curiosity picked at me. What are they talking about that's so important?
    "Thinking of listening in?" Anna said arching one eyebrow disdainfully.
    "No." I said, though my lie fell flat, and we both knew it.
    "Well I don't give a damn." She said carelessly, turning on her heel and pacing away towards the stairs, speaking over her shoulder to me. "By all means listen if you like, I couldn't care less."
    Completely caught off guard by her flippancy, I watched her go, whistling as she walked away. I kept waiting for her to turn around. But she never turned, and after watching her for a moment it suddenly dawned on me that she really, truly, didn't give a damn what I did. Turning my back on her, I crept back to the door of the dining room, snugging my ear up against the keyhole.
    "-citing news my friend." Lady Briarwood's voice said, blooming into focus as I put my ear to the door. She sounded excited, more than that, enthusiastic. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, I was glad that she was so happy, but even as I smiled I felt a twinge of dread that I couldn't understand. She was happy, and by extension I should be too, so why wasn't I?
    "We have made wonderful progress! Ripley has finally perfected the acidic formula, the mass production of Residuum is now underway, and not a moment too soon."
    "I know all this." The Professor said. "I might as well have comfortably finished my meal if this was all you have to say."
    "We found it Anders."
    "What?"
    "Yes, early this morning. The Ziggurat itself. If my calculations are correct than it's more or less where He said it would be: right under the Suntree, made of whitestone like He predicted. All that is left now is to completely dig it out and begin creating Residuum for the rebuilding process."
    "This is excellent news. The Whispered One will certainly be pleased."
    "I'm just about to wake Silas and then we'll all-"
    At that point I pulled away, knowing that I had to get out of here, it wasn't difficult to guess what it was they were going to do. And I couldn't be caught with my ear to the door. My mind was reeling with the new information. In a few minutes I had learned more about the Briarwoods and their goals than I had in five months. They were looking for something, something they were trying to rebuild, and they weren't doing it on their own...They were being guided. By the Whispered One...
Everything I had just overheard was important, and they would never give me another chance to listen like this if they found out that I had. Abandoning the keyhole I had been listening at, I hastily crossed the hall and began to ascend the stairs. It was a risk, if they came out of the dinning room before I was expecting them to, I would be completely exposed. But if Anders went to check that I was in my room (which, knowing him, was quite possible) I wouldn't be there unless I could get upstairs before he did.
Still, despite the necessity it was a harrowing experience: being so out in the open and obviously out of place. My heart was in my throat the whole time, my nerves tensed to the breaking point, with the sensation of unfriendly eyes sending chills down my back, even if I knew they weren't there. I kept expecting Delilah and the Professor to come into the hall and catch me, and once, about half way up the stairs, I was absolutely certain that I could hear them opening the door behind me. But they never did. My gamble paid off, and I made it safely upstairs.
As soon as I was out of eyesight of the foyer I broke into a dead sprint, pelting down the long hallway as fast as I could go, and skidded to a stop in front of my door. I was out of breath physically, but felt strangely refreshed emotionally. It had been ages since I dared to run. I had always felt deep inside that (like the exploring) running was against the rules, or at least not looked upon kindly by the Briarwoods, and I hadn't dared to do it. I felt liberated by it somehow, more like myself, more lively, more like the old me. Back when my family had been alive I had run constantly, because I liked it, but also because I was late. For everything.
Taking a moment to collect myself and get my breath back, I pushed into my room and closed the door behind me, still breathing hard. I didn't have much time to get myself under control, Anders would be here soon to check on me and activate the alarm spell on my door. I had to look as if I had been sitting here for a few minutes, not as if I had only just come in. Hastily I smoothed my hair, composing myself and sitting down in front of my dressing table, pulling out a book. Doing my best to look as if I had been here all along I leaned my head on my arm, instantly smothering it in thick waves of hair, and did my best to keep my eyes on the book. Try as I might however, I could not give my full attention to the words on the page before me, and I found my attention kept straying to the hallway outside my door, trying to make out the least sound. In my excitement, and the racing of my thoughts, the time seemed greatly lengthened, each second encompassing the space of long minutes. But in spite of this, it was less than a minute before Professor Anders appeared at my door.
Tone of voice gave no idea of facial expression, and through the keyhole I had been unable to tell how Anders reacted to Lady Briarwood's news, beyond what I could hear. Seeing his face I could tell that he was excited, more flushed and hurried than I had ever seen him in fact. Which, seeing as I had known him my entire life, was strange.
"Good," He said absently. "I thought I'd find you here."
"All present and correct sir." I said, trying to keep all guilty knowledge from my face and speak quite naturally. "What was it you and Lady Briarwood were talking about?"
    Something about me seemed to catch him the wrong way, perhaps in my face, or the sound of my voice, or perhaps I was still slightly out of breath. What ever the reason his face became suddenly suspicious. In two strides he crossed the room, seizing me roughly by the chin, his fingers digging savagely into the soft flesh of my cheek, hand partly muzzling my mouth. I felt my heart beat kick up a notch, and for a moment the animalistic desire to bite his hand surged in my chest. The Professor suddenly released my chin and sent a stinging slap across my cheek. Not a weak, hesitant, afraid-of-hitting-a-woman kind of slap. But a real, forceful slap, with the back of his hand across my face. I recoiled instinctively, crumpling into a little ball and bringing my hand up to my face. I tasted blood in my mouth.
"Don't you ever ask me something like that again." Anders said, seizing a thick handful of my hair and dragging my head up so that I had to look into his face. The stinging pain across my cheek brought hot involuntary tears into my face and I hated the fact that they were there, but try as I might, I couldn't stop them from coming. At that moment I loathed him, and crying in front of him was more humiliating than I'd ever thought anything could be.
    "Well?" He said harshly, giving my head an impatient shake. "Do you understand?"
    "Yes sir..."
    Apparently satisfied, the Professor released me, and without deigning to look at me again, went to the door. Trying to keep up some shred of dignity, I straitened my back, holding up my chin and hastily brushing the tears from my face.
    "I'll come to let you out for supper." He said pulling the door behind him. Listening carefully I could hear him whispering outside my door, activating the enchantment that kept me locked in. After waiting a moment in careful silence I went to the door, putting my ear up to the lock, trying to make out any sound I could. For a few moments I could hear his softly rustling footsteps as he walked off down the hallway, then they faded out of the range of my hearing. Blowing out a sigh I pulled my ear away from the door and turned around, sliding down into a sitting position with its sturdy surface against my back.
Ruefully I brushed my fingers over the tender area of freshly slapped face. It couldn't be helped, but I felt too shaken to leave the room immediately. I sat still against the door, gently massaging my cheek, trying to get my emotions back under control. I couldn't understand why I felt so angry, after all, I'd brought it on myself. I deserved it.
    At last I pulled myself to my feet and went back to my dressing table. Searching through the drawers was a messy process as they were full of everything, from used paper, to sealing wax, to a stray handkerchief. With a torn portrait of my family, scraps of my brother's and sister's handwriting, and some of Percy's sketches rolled up in a bundle at the very back. But amazingly, among all the crumpled balls of used paper, there was not one blank piece to be found.
Finally I came back to the surface, with a wrinkled scrap of paper clutched in one hand, and my last unbroken quill pen in the other. Bending over the paper, I began to write painstakingly, poking my tongue out the corner of my mouth. At first I had been rather proud of this charm, (the only magic I could do) and had been almost artistic in my rendition of the words, but the production of these scraps of paper had long ago become routine. Writing as quickly as I could, without ruining the spell, I copied the words that I had long ago memorized. At last with a final swirl I completed the last spell sigil, and began waving the paper around, waiting for the ink to completely dry.
As usual my fate of never having anything I needed in its proper place, when I needed it, attended me, and it was only after another lengthy search of the table top that I came up with the final implements I wanted. When ever the Briarwoods went down into the family crypt they always carried torches with them, and I guessed that I would need to bring my own light source with me. Hidden under a pile of papers at the back of the table I found what I was looking for: a fist sized chunk of red glow stone, bound with copper.
    My mother had given it to me ages ago for me to read in bed with. At first I had used a candle, but after nearly lighting my bed on fire she had decided to give me something a little less flammable, and now I couldn't be more grateful. The glow stone was perfect for exploring dark places when you didn't want others to see you. It had a soft red glow to it that would give you enough light without being too conspicuous, but unlike fire it could be hidden beneath a skirt if you needed to. Tucking the glow stone into my pocket (I had pockets hidden underneath all my skirts) I grabbed a long hat pin from the mess of papers.
    Spearing the scrap of paper I had made on the end of the pin, I went to my bedroom door, and drove the point of the pin into the wood. Having done this, I stepped back from the door, and began to repeat the enchantment under my breath for probably the thousandth time. I hardly had to glance at the words on the paper as I repeated them, I had memorized them and perfected the phrasing long ago.
At last I spoke the final words and the sigils on the paper flashed. For a moment they glowed dull red, that brightened to a vivid orange, and at last to a white hot flame that consumed the paper, and left the sigils still glowing white hot in the empty air. Hastily I opened the door, tugging out the hat pin as I did, and stepped out into the passage, closing the door behind me. I was free and in the wind. Nobody, not Anders, not Ripley, not even the Briarwoods, knew where I was now.
    The passage outside was completely empty, and after glancing up and down the long hallway I set off, moving as quietly as I could manage. Which was actually pretty quiet, I had become much more stealthy in the five months of snooping and spying that I had spent here. Nobody molested me as I made my silent way downstairs. I knew better than to use the grand staircase at the front of the castle. The small narrow servant's stairs that I had used in my escape years ago would serve my purpose much better. The passages surrounding my bedroom were completely empty, and even though I kept my ears and eyes alert nothing caught my attention. At last I turned into the long hallway that ran along the back of the castle and began moving stealthily along it, keeping low to the ground.
    The first door I came to opened into Professor Anders' study, and I stopped at the door, listening carefully. I heard nothing however, and I screwed up my courage enough to push the double doors open slightly, peering inside. The room was completely empty and the fire was out, something I took as a good sign. Even so, my skin prickled uncomfortably as I crept past the door.
    Finally I reached the servants stairs, and I padded down them, moving as softly as I could manage. Coming to the bottom I glanced through the door, just as I had all those years ago, evaluating my surroundings. Much had changed since that dreadful night. The smeared blood had all been wiped away long ago, the aching emptiness and silence was now filled with hurried activity, the few servants all hard at work. Down the passage to the left I could see one of the Briarwood's undead abominations, not doing anything in particular, just standing with its back to me obviously guarding the hallway, swaying back and forth with its head lolling side to side in a very creepy way.
Cursing my luck I drew my head back into the darkness of the stairwell, trying to think of a way out of this. I knew from experience that you couldn't let those things see you. What shred of human intelligence was left within those poor creatures could pick out an imposter, and even though they were dead they still moved with frightening speed, there was no way I could escape it if it did see me. Searching my pockets for anything useful I came up with nothing but a couple of rusted copper pennies, not much, but they might do for a distraction. And after all, distraction was something I was good at...
Spitting on one of the pennies for good luck, I snaked my hand around the edge of the door and flicked the penny off down the hallway to the right. Either I was an even better shot than I used to be, or else something had guided my hand. What ever the reason, my toss could not have been more perfect, and as I listened I could hear the penny strike the flagged stone floor with a sharp ping, then go skipping down the steps to the subterranean dungeon at the very end of the passage. I didn't dare peek out to see what effect my distraction had taken, but I heard the zombie thing let out a snarl, then begin shuffling in the direction of the penny, a tortured moan gargling in the back of its throat.
Keeping very still, I watched it stagger past the door to the stairs, headed for the dungeon in the distance. Holding my breath I slipped out behind it, moving with infinite care as I backed away from it. The creature didn't hear me, and I watched as it continued its stupid pursuit of the strange noise that had disturbed it. I headed in the opposite direction, moving towards the end of the hallway. The long passage ended in a door, and reaching it I glanced over my shoulder as I eased it open. The dead thing had gotten to the stairs that lead down to the dungeon, and was standing at the top step looking down, seeming to have finally lost interest and now be standing stupidly, just as it had been before I disturbed it. Then I slipped through the door and closed it behind me.
Beyond the door was another hallway, running at right angles to the one I had just left, but it was much wider and grander. Ancient tapestries, covered in a layer of dust centuries in the making, hung on the wall, displaying scenes from popular legend in faded colors: Pelor planting the Suntree's seed, the platinum dragon Bahamut locked in combat with his sister Tiamat, the moment of the world's creation when all the elemental planes collided and the material plane was born. The torch sconces on the walls were much more ornamental too, their twisted iron columns covered in aged scrolling. A long faded blue carpet, bordered with gold embroidered stripes that twisted into complicated knots at the corners, ran down the center of the hallway.
Stepping carefully I turned left, moving like a silent shadow along the edge of the wall, avoiding the faint and flickering torchlight as best as I could. Nobody halted my progress, and when I stopped and listened I could hear no sound anywhere nearby. As far as I could tell, this wing of the castle was completely empty. At last I came to the end of the corridor, coming to a pair of thick iron bound oaken doors that I knew opened into the garden. I halted and listened to the silence one last time, but I still could catch no sound, and I gently tugged the doors open. White sunlight spilled through the gap, illuminating the shadowed hallway, and temporarily blinding me. Then I recovered my eyesight, slipping through the gap into the open air, and tugging the heavy door closed behind me.
Broad stone steps, flanked by weathered stone balustrades, descended down into the garden. Finely crumbled white gravel sprang away into the grass, cutting the once smooth green lawns into neat islands, bordered by wandering paths. Gaunt trees and hedges stood in the pale sunlight, surrounded by gray withered grass, blackened in places by the various explosions that Ripley had set off. Directly in front of the castle, dominating the center of the garden, was a wide marble fountain, now dry as an old bone. Horribly exposed in the sunlight I could pick out the shapes of long dead servants and castle guards, endlessly patrolling the garden paths, and castle ramparts.
Unwilling to let those ruined creatures see me, I didn't follow the garden path, instead vaulting over the stone balustrade and dropping down into the withered garden bed that bordered the castle wall. A thick dark green hedge used to grow luxuriantly against the castle wall, and in my younger days I used to hide behind it, crawling up and down in the green leafy tunnel between the hedge and the wall, heedless of the soft rich dirt that stained my skirts and hands. Though it was now dead and shriveled, the brittle gray branches still afforded good cover, and I dropped down behind it, creeping along the edge of the castle wall. Making my way back left, along the cramped grubby path, I slowly worked my way back towards my true goal. In about a hundred feet I came to a place in the hedge where the thick branches were cut and interrupted by a pair of thick wooden doors set into the ground. These were the outer doors into the cellar, where the workmen used to haul down giant blocks of clear ice to keep the cellars cold during the summer months.
As I had expected the cellar doors were locked as usual, but the lock was old, and I had long ago learned how to manipulate the simple mechanism. Like most of the aged locks that guarded this castle's secure places, this lock was hardly what you could call 'secure' anymore, and it only took a little fiddling to open it. The catch on the lock hardly worked anymore, and after tugging for a moment I found that if you pulled on it just right it would open, without needing a key. I grinned as the lock sprang free, and the rusted chain around the handles of the cellar doors fell away useless. There were some things that only a lifetime's experience could teach you about this castle.
Working my fingers under the edge of the door, I stealthily lifted it until I had just enough of a gap to squeeze down underneath, letting the wooden door drop back closed behind me. Chinks of pale sunlight filtered down through gaps in the wooden doors, revealing wide deep stone steps that dropped down into the darkness and chill of the cellar. Giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the near darkness, I crept down the stairs, keeping snugged up against one wall. The pungent smell of thick dust, aged wood, and slightly mildewed air filled my nose. In the gray semi light from the doors above me, I could just make out dusty cobweb covered wine racks, giant barrels set up on huge wooden racks against the further wall, and in the darkest corner of the cellar I could just barely see a shadowed stairwell where more steps dropped down into the de Rolo Mausoleum.
    Pausing again to listen cautiously, I was met with only silence, and I tugged out my chunk of glow stone. Up in my room it had only looked like a red stone with a brighter core burning deep under the surface, in the same way that you couldn't see fire in sunlight. But now, in the near perfect darkness, I could see that the stone was giving off a faint radius of light that stained nearby objects a deep red. Holding the stone out in front of me I advanced down the stairs, pausing briefly to glance over the racks of old wine bottles, and running a finger over one bottle that left a clear imprint in the dust.
    Slinking among the dusty racks, my body tingling and feeling painfully alert, I crossed the cellar and began creeping down the stairs to the family crypt. It was a long way down. The stairs spiraled round and round dizzyingly, boring straight down into the hard earth and stone that the castle was built on. As I continued down, leaving the gray half light that filtered through the cellar's outer doors, the chunk of glowing rock in my hand seemed to glow brighter, my eyes adjusting to it more and more as I was forced to rely on it completely.
    Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the red light of my glowing rock cascaded outward, revealing the ancient and long untouched chambers of my ancestors tombs. It was an imposing place, built entirely out of whitestone like the castle far above, with smooth walls of expert masonry. Several wide doorways flanked by fluted columns opened into the individual tombs: small burial chambers, each with a stone casket dominating the center of the room, and shelves carved into the walls on which trinkets and burial offerings rested. Over the whole place a pall of heavy silence rested, and dignity seemed to ooze from the walls, sinking into my very bones and completely extinguishing my soul's usual fervor. The tangible majesty of the room affected me strongly.
    I felt as out of place as a rabbit in a wolf's den as I hesitantly moved into the room, trying to breathe without breathing. As far as I could see the crypt was completely unchanged. Admittedly, the last time I had been down here was when we were burying my grandfather and I had only been six at the time, but still, everything was just the same. I could see no reason why the Briarwoods would spend all their time down here.
    But when I reached the back of the crypt the mystery suddenly became much clearer: the reason I could find no source of activity was because I still had deeper to go. The path didn't end here. At the back of the crypt part of the smooth chiseled stone had been removed, and the packed earth behind it hauled away, leaving in it's wake a tunnel that dropped still further into the earth's roots. Small rocks and earth, ground into powder by the constant passing of booted feet, dusted the ground in front of this dark opening, and I could see that this tunnel was heavily trafficked. It seemed that what ever had called the Briarwood's attention at such an early hour of the day had also temporarily stopped the constant influx of workers carrying down blocks of whitestone. I could not have chosen a better moment to investigate.
    It wouldn't be long before the stream of workers would resume, that I knew. I had to hurry. Gathering myself I plunged down into the tunnel, holding the glow stone out in front of me and trying to step as quietly as possible, alert to the slightest sound. The tunnel plunged gently downward, sinking farther down into the ground and heading (as best as I could tell) due north. But before I had gone very far I came to a new dilemma: a fork in the path. To the right the path seemed to head more or less in the same direction that it had been going, curving slightly to the east, and it no longer descended. The tunnel on the left also appeared to level off, but turned back on itself heading south, back towards the castle and city which were far above by this time. I could see no indication as to which was the best path to take...
    As I stood, wracked by indecision, I slowly became aware of a strange smell that filled the tunnel around me. A strong acidic scent that burned the inside of my nose slightly. At first there seemed to be no source, but as I became more aware of it the scent seemed to get stronger down the passage to the right, and after a few more moments I was sure that the smell's origin lay in that direction. Burning with curiosity I set off down the tunnel, moving along close to the wall, and keeping my glow stone close to my skirt, ready to blanket the light at a moment's notice.
    This path was much shorter than any I had followed so far, and I had gone no more than thirty feet before the passage widened out before me, vanishing into blackness at the edge of my glow stone's radius. The acidic smell grew noticeably stronger as I moved forward, biting sharply at the inside of my nose, the uncomfortable tingling giving me the urge to sneeze. Hugging the wall I hesitantly moved up to the doorway, thrusting my chunk of glow stone out before me into the blackness. Red light filtered into the room, revealing walls of packed earth, several tables pushed off in the shadows, and just beyond the edge of my glow stone's strong light, what looked like several pools set down into the floor. I could hear no breath but my own, and even though my light didn't reach all the way to the far end of the room I was almost certain that there was no one hiding in the shadows, some strange sixth sense told me that I was alone. I felt the tension drain out of my shoulders, and I advanced into the room, no longer afraid of discovery.
    Getting a better look at the nearest pool in the room I could see that it wasn't water, or even a liquid exactly. It had properties of a liquid, but it was thicker, more like a fine silky mud in its texture. Because of my glow stone's red hue it was difficult to tell what color the sludge was, but it seemed to be a dull greenish gray. As soon as I came near it the toxic smell grew much more intense, and kneeling down at the edge of the pool made my eyes water. Crouching at the edge I could see that the pool was not, as I had first thought, sunk down into the bare earth. It was lined with some strange metal that reminded me of copper, or bronze, but didn't seemed to be clearly made of either one or the other...
    Something told me not to touch the stuff with my bare hands, and instead I took a small white pebble, lying nearby on the ground, and hesitantly dipped it into the strange substance. Instantly there was a loud hissing sound, and a gout of white steam. Such a violent reaction startled me, and I immediately dropped the rock, recoiling from the pool instinctively. The pebble disappeared beneath the surface, and large sickly bubbles rose up, each one bursting the surface with a poisonous smell. Only a few moments later the bubbling stopped and something else broke the surface: a shard of dark polished stone.
    I could find nothing on the ground around me with which to retrieve the stone, and I was loath to touch the liquid with my bare hands. Rising I went to the nearby tables, searching for something to use as a tool. They were heavily laden with what appeared to be alchemical apparatus, as well as other strange devices who's uses were completely unknown to me. Hundreds of bottles, some empty, others full, littered the table's surface, and I could see that most of the full bottles contained what looked like more of that strange greenish gray ooze. Set conspicuously on a tray I found a set of strange tools that all appeared to be made of the mysterious bronzy copper material. Among them was a pair of tongs and I took them hoping that, since the pool seemed to be made of the same material, it would be resistant to the sludge's violent properties. Going back to the edge of the pit I fished out the dark rock.
    Now that I could see it up close I realized that it wasn't a rock, it was glass. Dark green lumpy glass. I turned it over in my hand, looking for some kind of significance, trying to understand its use, but I could see nothing to indicate its purpose. It looked like nothing more than a shard of twisted glass.
Searching the ground for another pebble like the one I had used before, I found another slightly larger rock. Gripping it with the tongs instead of my hands, I held the rock down into the strange substance. Now that I knew what would happen when I touched the stuff I was no longer startled by the reaction, and resolutely held the rock steady, listening to the furious hissing indifferently. Finally I pulled back, lifting the rock and looking at it. Part of the rock had melted off, leaving only a small chunk intact, still steaming angrily. Looking closely I could see that minuscule beads of soupy liquid still clung to the pebble's surface, relentlessly eating away at it, and beads of dark green residue dripped on the ground as the process continued.
    Another shard of dark green glass had bobbed to the surface of the pool, and I realized that the dark green sludge that dripped off the rock (apparently some kind of material left over from the melting process) was also hardening into beads of glass. What kind of noxious acid would be strong enough to melt the whitestone that this castle was made of? And not only that, but also take the melted substance and turn it into a different structure of material. I would have thought such a thing was impossible.
Danger. My body went stiff, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Cassandra get out of here. Throwing the tongs, pebble, and shard of glass in a corner, I hastily smothered the red light of my glow stone, plunging the room into darkness. Careful to keep my light hidden, I crawled across the floor towards the wall, crouching next to the door. I had taken too long experimenting with the acid. Rolling down the tunnels, getting closer by the moment, I could make out the sound of distant voices. Suddenly a clear musical laugh rang out above the muffled conversation, and I recognized it as the laugh of Delilah Briarwood. By this time light was beginning to filter into the room, not red light like my glow stone, but warm yellow light that flickered and danced. Torchlight.
I knew there was nowhere for me to go, the room I was in had no other exit, and retracing my steps meant walking right into the arms of Lord and Lady Briarwood. Here I had to stay, caught as neatly as a rabbit in a trap. All I could do was pray that they would pass me by, and take the passage on the left, the one that I hadn't explored. The light grew stronger, the voices closer, until at last I hardly dared to breathe. Another few moments, and they would catch me red handed. 
"Well, altogether things seem to be going rather pleasantly at the moment." Silas's voice said, finally coming in range of my hearing, and I felt my heart give a leap at the sound. A strong desire to run to him, run to him and confess my disobedience, possessed me. Then I gave myself a shake, sternly bringing my emotions back under control, and I listened without moving.
"Indeed." Delilah's voice answered, sounding happier than I'd ever yet heard. "We could hardly be progressing faster if we tried. Everything is going exactly as it should."
"It is most gratifying..." Silas said, almost seeming to answer her as an after thought. "But are you sure you are ready for this my darling? He will require a great deal more from you in the coming days, are you sure you feel strong enough?"
"Does it matter?" Delilah said, and a hint of impatience crept into her voice for a moment. "Whether I feel strong enough or not, if He asks me to give my all, I must give it."
"I'm just concerned for you, my darling..." Silas said, his voice fading out of my hearing, and the yellow light that had accompanied them began to fade. After a few moments of tense waiting I was left in complete darkness, and though I listened closely I couldn't hear any other movements. Slowly I uncovered my light, the dull red glow filling the room, and crept back down the passage toward the intersection.
    Every grain of common sense was urging me to go back, save the left passage for another day, but my unruly desires told me to follow after Silas. I was sure that something important, something vital, lay down the passage to the left. The violent attack on the castle, Anna torturing my brother, the Suntree's death, this tunnel, the pits of sludgy acid, the Briarwood's very presence here in this castle; everything was connected to what ever was down there. I didn't know when I'd get another chance to come down here, the tunnel's lack of workmen streaming in and out seemed to be a fairly rare thing. This might be the only opening I'd get for a long time.
    Don't be foolhardy Cassandra. My common sense told me as I stood hesitating in the intersection, torn between the unexplored passage, and the tunnel back to the surface. I've made it this far. I told myself encouragingly, looking down the tunnel to the left as it curved out of sight, beckoning me with promises of waiting mysteries. Throw your caution to the wind, it's now or never. Gathering new courage, clutching my glow stone resolutely, I turned to go on. Plunging into the unknown, and hardly giving the way back a second glance.