Henrietta The Half-dead

"How very dark of you," I said. "What if I put a rock in one of the gears or levers? That would keep the machine from functioning."

"That may cause it to fail catastrophically," Sen replied. "The resulting noise would still kill me. There must be a way to disable it properly. A method the knights would use to ensure anyone running maintenance wouldn't accidentally be caught in the moving parts. A key or something similar may be required."

"Then I suppose I'm off," I said. "I'll do some looking at the machine and then explore more of this place. I imagine keys might all be held somewhere together in a box."

I carefully got down from the chair, trying to protect the old wooden thing as much as myself. Sen didn't say another word and only watched me walk away. Once I was beyond the reach of the paper charms I very nearly walked into the machine as it suddenly appeared from thin air. The more I stared at it the more it seemed to confuse me. There was just too much to the design for me to understand.

Crawling through the space I had come in from, I kept my eyes watchful for anything obvious. Jumbled metal was all that I could see. It seemed obvious that the way to halt the machine would be at the beginning of the tunnel, but I hadn't noticed anything when I first came.

Up from my crawl, I noticed the machine possessed what I assumed was the power that gave it life. There was a large metal box on the right side, with a single arm coming out of it and into the mess. There were no levers or holes I could see. No way to open it.

Just at that moment I had a thought that made me greatly irritated. If I figured out how to stop this machine, wouldn't the presence of the metal keep Sen from leaving? She hadn't mentioned that problem when we spoke. Did she forget? I wouldn't imagine a powerful creature would be so careless with their own safety, but I didn't really know anything anyhow. I didn't even know if that creature really was a "she."

Unsure of what else I could do, I walked back to the big hall and looked around. A different prisoner might have an easier situation to solve. They might also be dead or unfriendly. So far I had my good luck to thank, but there was no telling what I would find if I kept poking my head into cells.

Instead of investigating more prisoner tunnels I walked to the other end of the hall. There was a large door at the top of an elevated area. After traversing some dusty steps I grabbed hold of the iron handle and it immediately tore loose from the old wood. So much for good luck.