The door was interesting, but we could come back. "I want to check the scale again," I explained to the group, who drudgingly followed me back as returned to the past split, turned the wheel, and went back to the scale.
"Leetzan, summon up the Mythslayer and AWA. We might need to know how much they weigh too."
Leetzan muttered something about how she was glad I hadn't found any medical equipment, raised her hand, and called forth the Mythslayer and Accupuncturist. Both went through my weighing process, returning 152 and 121, respectively.
"Fooruman," I ordered next, "get on the scale with Uberbob." The two of them cramped onto the scale. Its needle went all the way to the maximum and stopped.
"I'm very self-conscious about my weight," Fooruman said with a hint of sorrow.
"How much DO you weigh?" Faw asked the old wizard.
"To the third power."
I had become accustomed to this kind of crap. "To the third power," I reiterated.
"Yes. Had the scale gone that high, it would have read 2,197,000."
"I don't think the scale could hold 2,197,000."
He shrugged. "Probably not. But it's okay, because my mass is much less than that."
"Alright then. Let's go back to the door." Logic never wins against a canoeist.
Some walking and wheelturning later, we were back at the door. I examined it closely; there was no handle, but a large keyhole. I tried putting my fingers in the keyhole and pulling it open, but to no avail. I turned the wheel and tried again. The door still wouldn't open, but light, warm steam sprayed from where the pipe met the cliff face.
"Maybe we need a key," Fawriel proposed.
"No, really? Who would've thought!"
"I'm not usually one to agree, but I think he's right," Uberbob added. Fooruman nodded as well.
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