“Are you sure this is the right way?” Wynant asked, though as the skinniest member of the party, he had the least to worry about.

Xandria ignored the slight doubt that quickened her heart. “I’m sure,” she said.

The tunnel continued its course, steadily declining and sometimes curving to such a degree that everyone agreed they were spiraling like a corkscrew farther and farther underground. Every once in a while, a tiny trickle of water would appear, its faint ripple soothing the claustrophobia that gnawed at the back of Xandria’s mind.

After about thirty minutes, Xandria noticed a dark spot in the tunnel floor ahead. “I think I see something,” she called from the front of the pack.

“I hope it’s a McDonald’s,” Jorgenson said.

Xandria’s hand went down on the dirt, then began to slide straight down. “Stop!” she yelled.

“What is it?”

“Hand me a rope.”

Barber passed one forward. “Secure this,” she instructed, handing back one end. He took out a small drill and drove an anchor into the floor, tying the rope to it.

One by one the draconists exited the tunnel high in the wall of a cavernous room. They slowly descended to the floor, unsure of their surroundings in the darkness.

“Set the flares,” Cornelius said.

The three agents removed the objects from their pockets and ignited them, pitching them around the room until the space was aglow in warm reds and oranges. Xandria walked slowly across the room, listening as the ancient floorboards creaked beneath her feet. “Stay alert,” she said. “I don’t think this is firm ground beneath our feet.”

Jorgenson bounced on his toes. A loud crack broke out from under him. He instantly stopped. “Holy—”

“Don’t move!” Xandria said.

The floorboards continued to groan, like a giant dead tree about to give way to gravity.

“Walk forward, slowly,” Cornelius said.

Jorgenson scooted his right foot forward. He began shifting his weight to it, dragging his other foot up behind him. The floor held. “It worked!” he said, smiling. And then the ground opened, and he was swallowed by the darkness.

“No!” Wynant screamed, running toward the hole.

Cornelius grabbed him. “What are you doing? This entire place could fall to pieces! Stay focused. We have a job to do.”

Xandria took a quick survey of the room. The space was circular. If there was a ceiling, it was too high above her head to see. The walls were made of stone, ornately carved with a variety of designs, some recognizable, some strange and unfamiliar. She took the illuminated map out of her bag and unfolded it. “It’s here,” she said. “The treasure is right here.”

“What do you mean?” Cornelius asked. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

Xandria cautiously crossed the floor toward him. “Have you ever heard of a Sierpinski carpet?”

“No. But I’m sure you will enlighten me,” Cornelius said.