The balcony was narrow, about twenty feet long, giving on half a dozen tall glass doors. Three showed light behind heavy drapes, three were dark. I moved close, tried to see something past the edge of the drapes. No go. I put an ear to the glass, thought maybe I heard a sound, like a distant volcano. That would be Ommodurad's brass rumble. The bear was in his cave. I went along to the dark doors and on impulse tried a handle. It turned and the door swung in soundlessly. I felt my pulse pick up a double-time beat. I stood peering past the edge of the door into the ink-black interior. It didn't look inviting. In fact it looked as repellent as hell. Even a country boy like me could see that to step into the dragon's den without even a zippo to spot the footstools with would be the act of a nitwit. I swallowed hard, got a firm grip on my pistol, and went in. A soft fold of drapery brushed my face and I had the pistol out and my back to the wall with a speed that would have made Earp faint with envy. My adrenals gave a couple of wild jumps and my nervous system followed with a variety of sensations, none pleasant. I could hear Ommodurad's voice better now, muttering beyond the partition. If I could make out what he was saying.... I edged along the wall, found a heavy door, closed and locked. No help there. I felt my way further, found another door. Delicately I tried the handle. A closet, half filled with racked garments. But I could hear more clearly now. Maybe it was a double closet with communicating doors to both the room I was in and the next one where the Great Owner was still rambling on. Apparently something had overcome his aversion to talking. There were pauses that must have been filled in by the replies of somebody else who didn't have the vocal timbre Ommodurad did. I felt my way through the hanging clothing, felt over the closet walls. I was out of luck: there was no other door. I put an ear to the wall. I could catch an occasional word: "... ring ... Okk-Hamiloth ... vaults...." * * * * * It sounded like something I'd like to hear more about. How could I get closer? On impulse I reached up, touched a low ceiling ... and felt a ridge like the trim around an access panel to a crawl-space. I crossed my fingers, stood on tip-toe to push at the panel. Nothing moved. I felt around in the dark, encountered a low shelf covered with shoes. I investigated; it was movable. I eased it aside a foot or two, piled the shoes on the floor, and stepped up. The panel was two feet long on a side, with no discernible hinges or catch. I pushed some more, then gritted my teeth and heaved. There was a startlingly loud Crack! and the panel lifted. I blinked away the dust that settled in my eyes, reached to feel around within the opening, touched nothing but rough floor boards.