Amal looked at the Priestess, and then at the door. It's bejeweled finery was enchanting, and had he been anywhere else, he would have pried the rubies and opals off with his knife without so much as a second thought on what lay behind the door itself until he required more money after much food and women. But as it were, the prize within was worth far more. Or so Sythemis said. He remembered Antiachus's words and was still uncertain of the woman. But, she had saved his life and promised him great wealth. He wouldn't throw such a promising future away, and so he crept forward. 

His movements were controlled and yet feral, stepping like a stalking wolf in the brush. Every lower of his foot, a new spring to jump, every lifting of the leg, a new weight to throw forward or back. Luck was on his side, for there were no pressured traps, and so he stood before the lock and retrieved his sharpened bone from the folds of his sash. He crouched and began to slide it into the hole, twiddling with it, almost being able to see the bars that had to be lifted at the precise place and time to open the door. Seconds passed as he carefully operated on it, and a smile spread across his face once he heard a 'click.' 

VWHCRKRKRKRKRK 

Amal sprang backwards as the floor he stood upon shot up with the speed of a diving hawk. He threw his legs into a clockwise kick, turning his body sideways and parallel to the ground, his form spinning thrice in mid-air as sixteen square meters of stone slammed into the ceiling with the surety of an anvil's fall. It slowly lowered after he landed in a crouch, watching the mechanism reset. Amal had moved quickly, a testament to his superb reflexes. Once the slab was back and even with the rest of the floor, he saw his fallen bone key now turned to naught but pale dust. Amal breathed deeply, trying to slow his quickened heart. 

"Bel, save me." He said, and let his mind linger on what he might have done wrong. The second bar had been stubborn, and the fifth one had been slow moving with the order of his pattern. But the bone hadn't served as a great tool, the mechanism of this door far more complicated than the manacles in his cell. He looked at the Priestess, who watched him like a raised cobra. Amal's eyes fell upon the armlet of the serpent she bore, and he reached toward her, the woman flinching. 

"I will not hurt you," Amal said, and she relaxed as he gingerly took the armlet from her slender limb and examined it. Amal tapped the bronze three times, and a small sharpened point erupted from the end of the serpent's tale. He gave her a wink, having already seen such an item be used before during his time in Stygia. He went back to work, stepping tentatively on the slab, who looked wholly unified with the rest of the stone floor to the untrained eye, before crouching at the lock once more, reapplying his approach to the lock. Up, up, down, up, down, down, he wiggled when he needed to, yes, yes he had it... 

Click. 

There was another rumbling, but not of some dreadful trap. The heavy doors began to slide across the floor, sending old dust and stale air from the chamber within. Amal stepped back, set the blade back within the serpent, and carefully placed the armlet back on Sythemis' limb. 

"You see how profitable it is when we work together?" He asked her, strong arms crossed as they stood before the opening portal to the prize they both eagerly awaited.