In front of Evin, blocking the way down the stairs, lay the sprung trap. He saw it clearly now: The thick, heavy stone slab that had fallen was perfectly square, obviously not naturally formed. Peering beneath it, Evin realized that the stalactites weren’t stalactites at all—they were metal spikes painted white. Through the forest of spikes, he could make out Jorick’s boots and the white hem of Bet’s robes.

“Climb over,” Bet said.

“I was going to,” Evin whispered back.

The slab was slanted on the stairs, and he scooted down it carefully. He landed on a step next to Jorick and brushed his hands to remove the dust. He glanced back at the trap and a hollowness filled him. Jorick had been so close to dying. If it hadn’t been for Bet, Jorick would have been impaled by the trap—a trap Evin would have seen if he hadn’t been so busy worrying about Bet’s strange behavior.

“Thanks,” Jorick whispered to Bet. He smiled.

“Not a problem,” Bet said, smiling back. “Want to lead the way?”

“I will,” Evin interjected. “I’m going first in case there are any more traps.”

“Why?” Bet asked. “So you can spring them?”

“No, so I can disarm them.”

Jorick and Bet gave each other a look, but didn’t argue. Evin stormed ahead down the stairs. He scanned the walls, straining to see any signs of traps so he could prove that he, too, knew how to handle them.

After an achingly long time, Evin finally saw the glow of torchlight.

Ahead was an open square doorway beyond which lay a large, empty room.

Evin started to move forward, then stopped, grinning.

“Hold on.” He raised a hand to halt his companions. “There’s another trap here.”

Jorick and Bet stayed back as Evin followed the wire with his eyes. Midway up the wall on his right, the wire was attached to a hook that jutted from the stone. It ran across the center of the doorway, at a height that would make it hard for anyone over five feet to walk over or under unless they had exceptionally long legs. The wire was threaded through an eye hook in the left wall. From there the wire ran up to the ceiling and was connected to …

“There,” Evin whispered.

Above them was another false ceiling equipped with several dozen razor-sharp spikes painted white.

“Can you disarm it?” Jorick whispered.

“I may have a spell—” Bet began.

Evin shushed her and leaned forward, studying the trap’s system. With his left hand, he clutched the wire tight, holding it taut. With his right, he unhooked the wire from the wall.