Jake and
The Scales of Fortune

The stone scales moved before Jake touched them. Somewhere inside the cliff, a chain snapped tight. Jake stood on the beach of Isla Balancia, following a scrap of sail marked with seven islands. Beside the cave, Captain Crooke lowered her lantern. Now a slit of blue light opened between its stones. Above the entrance, three words appeared: Balance is Truth. A small control plate slid from the wall. The great door began to sink.

Jake: Tell me that was you. No? Then help me read this. We need equal values to hold the door.

Captain Crooke: I was hoping for a handle. There is still room to stand back, Jake. Check before you touch it.

Inside, Jake brushed dust from a second scale. Its chain disappeared into the ceiling. Crooke lifted her lantern and pointed at a tide mark high on the wall. This passage had been underwater before. A brass arrow turned towards a picture of the sun. Then it stopped. Jake felt the temptation to hurry, but the little plate had taught him something: the machinery responded to correct values, not quick guesses. Beside the scale were two damaged records. Each held part of the setting that would keep the inner passage open.

Jake: I almost copied the first number I saw. Let us check both records. A confident guess is still a guess.

Captain Crooke: That arrow is a tide warning. I have seen one before. Where? Somewhere I would rather not revisit.

Crates filled the storeroom, but there were no jewels inside. Jake found dry cloth, empty spice jars and a brass counting tray. Crooke checked the doorway while he knelt beside a cargo record. Somebody had scratched out several quantities. Under the tray lay a carved symbol: a closed book, balanced against a wave. Jake copied it into his notebook. Crooke went unusually quiet. Two cargo catches held a screen across the exit. Their records would have to agree before the screen could rise.

Jake: These numbers tell us what is missing. And that book symbol matters. Why would treasure hunters leave books on their signs?

Captain Crooke: Perhaps the treasure has instructions. Keep your copy. Sea air has a habit of taking things people mean to remember.

Golden scales lined the bridge rail. Below them the water was shallow, but its surface was no longer still. Little ripples arrived in regular pulses. Jake tested the first broad stone with his boot; it held firm. Across the pool, a chest caught the lantern light. Crooke stepped forward, then stopped when a railing clicked. Three separate controls held the bridge in place. Solving only the first would not release the others. Jake opened his notebook flat on the dry railing.

Jake: One control at a time. We can check from here. Matching values will hold the route while we cross.

Captain Crooke: I will watch the water. You watch the numbers. If that chest contains socks, I shall be extremely disappointed.

A curled map fragment glimmered inside the chest. Through its glass lid, Jake could see a coastline and part of a circular seal. Crooke crouched beside him, suddenly patient. Two catches remained. Behind the chest was another book-and-wave carving, with a strip of stone worn smooth beneath it. Jake raised his lantern to inspect the marks. For a moment the letters looked like scratches. Then he saw a word: preserve. Crooke was watching the fragment rather than the wall.

Jake: Nearly there. Help me check the catches, then we can read the whole warning. It might explain what this place protects.

Captain Crooke: First open the chest. Warnings have waited centuries. Surely this one can wait another minute.