Spike ignored her, instead looking desperately for any way out. His eyes were drawn up, as they were so often as he ran for his life down here, to the mirrors rising from the mounds of treasure like the teeth of some forgotten cyclopean monster. He also noticed the long tapestries that hung beside them, most of them faded to the point where making out what they depicted was difficult to do. Each of them were hung from wrought iron frames that in turn were hung down from the cavern roof above them. If he could only get up there, they might have a chance. Then he saw it: there was a winding path through the treasure that led up a pile of chests and stacks of gems layered in such a way that they formed a kind of stairs leading up to one of the larger mirrors, large enough that, if he was careful, he could make his way up them unseen by any of the other mirrors.