Obvious Trap is Obvious (2/2)

“Not bad,” Graves nodded. “And we can head back to the trapped cavern and pick our way around to it. Get them, head back to the other workers, and then go hunting an exit. No need for a boss fight.”

“Except that something tells me it won't be that easy,” Threadbare took a long look around the room. “This feels like a very... bossy... place. So I think at the very least I should be on the platform when it descends.”

“Can you fly now? Is that a thing you can do, in addition to all the rest of your stuff and nonsense?” Tane said, his voice raw.

“No, I can't,” Threadbare admitted. Not for the first time, he regretted that he'd swapped out his Shaman job to get his Scout job back. While it had been useful for sleeping, and helping Celia to sleep, eventually she'd gotten over the need and asked for it less and less. And it hadn't felt right, after that. He was much more comfortable being a Scout.

But the ability to turn into birds and other flying creatures would have been handy, here. Going without it meant that more drastic measures were called for.

“I want you to throw me,” he told Tane.

The man just stared at him, reddened and bloodshot eyes peering out the visor of the helm. “What?”

“It has to be you,” Threadbare explained, patiently. “Graves, you don't have much throwing skill, right?”

“Not only that, but all my jobs are related to magic or research now,” Graves folded his arms. “I can throw bombs decently, but that's part of that particular skill. And I'm assuming you don't want the children blown into little bits.”

The Mousewife shrieked and clapped her hands to her muzzle, and Graves immediately knelt by her, apologizing until she calmed down.

Threadbare continued his assessment. “I don't expect the Mousewife can throw much better than Graves, the Mannequins have poor dexterity, and with all due respect Mister Copperfield—”

“Please, call me Daffodil.”

“—Daffodil, I don't think your arm is better than Proctor Tane's.”

Tane took a breath, let it out, nostrils flaring. His pupils were a bit dilated, Threadbare noticed.

“If I miss, then what?” he asked.

“There are many ledges below us,” Threadbare said. “And I'm pretty nimble. I should be able to save myself.”

“I... no, I can't,” Tane said, and his sword rattled in its sheath, as he clenched his fist around the pommel, shaking. “We've... if I miss, she'll think... no, I can't. I'm...” the veins stood out on the man's forehead. “I'm sorry.”

There was a moment of silence on the ledge. Graves looked up, and cleared his throat. “Or I could lift you across,” he offered. “It occurred to me that I have a skill for that. Magic Fingers,” he said, and the Mousewife squeaked as she lifted into the air, and then back down again, as Graves mimed picking her up and putting her down. “It's got a five pound weight limit, but I'm assuming you're not that heavy.”

“I'm not,” Threadbare said, looking Tane in the eyes, before slowly turning away. He felt bad for putting the man on the spot, now, but there was nothing to be done for it. “Let me wring myself out first, the steam tunnel might have added some water weight. Clean and Press.”

The Tailor skill did its job, and moisture blasted outward from him, in all directions.

Graves nodded. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Threadbare said, and held perfectly still as Graves mimed grabbing and holding air. Unseen hands closed around him, and sent him wobbling across the lava.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, but fortunately for him he didn't have nerves. Golems were a bit harder to rattle than people, mostly.

But still, as he went, his mind kept going back to the twin Reason duplicates, and their hands poking out of the lava, thumbs up as they melted.

That part went smoothly.

But the second he dropped down to the platform, everything wobbled, and there was a CLICK above him. With a jolt, the platform started to descend...

...until Threadbare pointed at the device above him, and said “No. Stop.”

It did, with a grinding noise. The platform shuddered, but ceased its slow, ominous descent.

And for a second, he dared to hope that would be it. Fantasized that the plan would go smoothly, with no complications or trouble.

It was a nice dream. It was a happy hope.

And it was dashed, as flashing words appeared in front of his face, and the groans and curses from the others let him know that they saw it too.

WARNING! BOSS APPROACHING!