"What, another one?" called a voice from the crowd.
"Er," Kevichella blinked. "We don't really know that, yet, actually. Bit of a redundant plot twist if it is."
The crowd stood around the hole, not particularly impressed yet, but occassionally nudging eachother with a sharp elbow to keep them focussed. McKenkie's head bobbled and he clutched a green-blue, umbrella-shaded drink.
Kevichella squinted down into the hole, again. "There's some writing on the gravestone." Looked up. "Can anyone read Latin?"
"Oo! Oo!" Archi bounced out of the crowd, waving like an attention-starved teacher's pet. "I do! Me!" At some point she'd managed to get an Indiana Jones hat, which she donned with a flourish and leapt down the hole.
She landed on a suspiciously slick spot and slammed into the compacted dirt wall with a grunt. Now more people were gathered around the oculus, peering in. Their faces were cast in harsh shadows by the overhead lights, Mist's eyes glowed down.
"Oookay. I'm fine, by the way."
Archi huffed and brushed dust off her evening gown, the hat tilted coyly over one eye. She bent over the stone. Frowned. "Move yer heads! I can't see!"
The sound of embarassed feet shuffled over the floorboards.
"Here lies Sly O'Shea -"
Above, Sly rolled his eyes.
"Then there's a date - December 1942. Gosh," she looked up. "You're that old?"
Bella winked. "Must be a death date. There's a twist."
"OK. Then there's his epitaph: Libri quosdam ad scientiam," she muttered, carefully shaping the words. "Alios ad insaniam deduxere." Her eyes crossed. "A-hic. Hic. SNRT!"
"Is she OK?" Killer Kellan asked.
"Maybe she's got something up her nose," Bella pointed out, smirking.
"I think," Sly [the not dead one] corrected, "she's laughing."
Archi doubled over, giggling and snorting. Her hat tumbled off into the dirt. "It-HIC-It says-SNRT!"
"Get on with it," The Mist moaned.
She snorted again and wiped her nose on a grubby sleeve. "It says," Archi breathed, "The books made some wise, others insane."
She stood up again, raised her hand over her eyes. "There's a tunnel."
A little pop from the grave. A steel flashlight had sprouted by the umbrella. It blinked invitingly.