imp

First light finds the camp on the rise — stone at their backs, the fire a ring of cold coals, the marsh flat and pewter-colored below. The night gave them nothing worse than dew. Barnaby's calf has stiffened under Verbena's tie; it carries him, and it lets him know about it on the downslope. The walk back is short and dry-footed on yesterday's bootprints. No grease trails move in the ditches this morning. No croak answers the boots. The marsh is as quiet as it has ever let them see it. The great door stands as they left it — gates smashed, hall collapsed, the narrow path swept boot-wide through the rubble. But the room has been kept again, overnight, while they slept a bend away. The wrecked hands are gone. Both of them — every plate, every cable, every finger Barnaby pried out of his cuff and dropped on the swept line. The brass is picked clean out of the rubble. Hobb's chalk tracings, Silas's knock-marks, the crossed cables Edda drew: scrubbed, all of it, the floor wiped back to grey stone. Except one mark. The company sigil on the seventh slab is untouched — crisp, deliberate, left exactly as Edda chalked it. As if it had been read, and answered by being allowed to stay. Nobody has stepped past the gates. Nothing in the room moves.

something takes 4 from Barnaby Wick.

Barnaby’s binding held, but healed nothing: he stands at 4/8. The first hand’s place is empty. Nothing acts there.

The second hand’s place is empty too. Nothing acts.

Barnaby crouches outside the swept line and studies the dust at its edges: heel depth, trips east, and any place the keeper stepped aside while carrying the wreckage. He leaves the surviving sigil untouched. “He read our mark. Let’s read his work before we cross it.”

The freshest layer is one night old: a single boot-width track comes west from the collapsed eastern gap, reaches both wreck-sites without leaving the swept lane, then returns east. The return heels bite deeper—carrying weight. Beneath it, the same route is worn days deep in both directions. Before anyone crosses: the neutralize-poison ampoule still has no carrier. Name the coat or pack that holds it.

Edda buckles the ampoule outside Silas’s coat, where any hand can reach it. “Barnaby first, then me, then priest. No gap in the roll.” She stops at the swept line and points with her staff. “He carried three loads and left our mark standing. Nobody touches the seventh slab. We cross on his path and nowhere else.”

The clay ampoule now rides outside Silas’s coat, wax seal intact and reachable. The dust proves one fresh passage in and one laden passage out. Three loads is Edda’s inference, not something the tracks establish. Her proposed file waits at the swept line; nobody has crossed or touched the seventh slab.

Prue names each witness with a finger to the ampoule. “Silas carries it. Barnaby, Edda, and Prue witnessed the seal.” She kneels short of the swept line and studies its eastern lip for the keeper’s own mark: an object set down, a clean outline, or a sharp end to the scrubbing. She neither crosses nor touches the seventh slab.

The scrubbing ends sharply at the collapsed gap’s lip, brush-strokes cut off against dressed stone. There is no clean rectangle and no sign that an object rested there. The fresh bootprints come straight through that boot-wide opening and turn nowhere before entering the swept lane. The ampoule’s carrier and three witnesses are now fixed in the record.

Silas doesn't cross the line yet. He kneels at its western edge, where the fresh boot-track turns into the swept lane, and touches a fingertip to the print's heel — no shine, no black. "Dry. Whatever he's hauling, he's not dragging grease with him, just brass." He straightens, checks the ampoule's seal against his own coat one more time for the record, and nods to Edda's order. "I'll hold Detect Magic for the far side, not this lip — we already know what kept this room. I want to know what's past it before I spend it."

Silas’s fingertip comes away with ordinary grey dust: no black grain, grease, or shine. The keeper crossed dry. The deeper return heels prove weight, not that the burden was brass. The ampoule’s seal remains intact. Detect Magic remains unspent.

Barnaby follows the keeper’s prints heel to toe and slips through the eastern gap, putting no hand on the stone. Just past the lip he stops, weight on his sound leg, and looks first at the ceiling, then the floor and both walls. “One across. Hold until I call it.”

The first stride is sound. The gap narrows to shoulder width; its dry floor slopes gently east between close rubble walls. Above is broken vault, not a low roof. The keeper’s boot-width track continues both ways without stepping aside. Twenty feet ahead, the path ends at a squared opening into a high chamber. Old webbing catches the morning light across that chamber’s ceiling. Nothing moves. Only Barnaby has crossed the lip.

Edda takes the next place at the lip without crossing, sword drawn and shield high. She watches the webbed ceiling beyond Barnaby instead of the tracks. “Held. Priest behind my shield; Silas keeps the rear. Call when it’s clear.”

Edda holds the lip. From twenty feet back, the ceiling webbing is plain but its layered folds conceal whatever may occupy it. No strand stirs.

“Hold. We clear the ceiling before another boot goes under it.” Prue raises her holy symbol from behind Edda’s shield and casts Light into the layered webbing above the chamber entrance, centering it in the highest visible folds.

White light fixes in the upper folds. The webbing turns translucent—and one crab spider, shield-wide and thick-bellied, resolves ten feet inside the chapel, flattened directly above the keeper’s track. Its legs tighten against the glare, but it holds its perch. Its ambush is lost while it remains marked there. Prue’s Light is spent; the glow lasts 12 turns.

Silas doesn't move up. From behind Edda's shield he says, "Don't close on it yet — we've paid for that mistake before." He raises two fingers, murmurs the working, and spends Detect Magic on the chamber ahead: the spider, the webbing around it, the squared opening, as far as the spell reaches past the lip. "If it's dressed in something worked, I want to know before anyone's under it. If it's just hungry, that's a different fight." He holds the staff ready, backs Prue's Light with patience, and waits on the read.

Silas’s sight opens across the squared threshold and sixty feet beyond. Nothing answers: no aura on the spider, its webbing, the opening, or anything else within the reachable chamber. Whatever waits there is mundane—or beyond stone and range. Detect Magic is spent; its sight remains open for two turns.

Barnaby loads his sling but does not throw. Keeping outside the squared opening, he traces the lit webbing from the marked spider to every darker fold and wall-anchor, looking for a second body or another drop-line. “One seen is not one alone. Nobody walks under it.”

Within Prue’s lit radius, every darker fold resolves to empty silk: no second body. One fresh, taut descent-line runs from the marked spider’s perch to the stone directly beneath it, ten feet inside the chapel. Beyond the white glow, deeper ceiling-web remains opaque. Barnaby has established one spider in the light—not one spider in the whole vault.

Edda advances along the keeper’s track and takes the squared threshold beside Barnaby, never stepping beneath the web. Sword and shield cover the descent-line. “Put a stone into it. If it drops, get behind me.”

Edda alone reaches the squared threshold. Barnaby did not advance after stopping just inside the western lip; he remains twenty feet behind her with the loaded sling. Her shield now fills the shoulder-wide line between his stone and the spider, so he has no clean shot while she stands there. Neither is beneath the web. The marked spider holds.

Prue loads her own sling and stays west of the lip. “Edda, come back past Barnaby. Give his stone the corridor; take the threshold again after he fires. Nobody stands under that line.”

Prue’s sling is loaded. She remains west of the gap. Her order moves nobody yet: Edda still holds the far threshold, blocking Barnaby’s shot; Barnaby remains at the near lip.

Silas doesn't move up either. "Edda—half a step back, angle your shield to the wall instead of the line. The gap's shoulder-wide; you don't need to stand square in it to cover the drop, just deny it a straight fall onto anyone. Give Barnaby the shot before it decides we're taking too long to choose." He keeps the staff low, eyes on the deeper webbing past Prue's light-circle, watching for a second line while the others sort the corridor out.

No second line moves in the deeper webbing; beyond Prue’s light it remains unread. Edda has not moved, so Barnaby’s line is still blocked. Silas’s Detect Magic continues to show no aura.

Barnaby backs west through the lip into the hall, keeping the loaded sling low and his eyes on the lit spider. He clears the narrow passage for Edda’s retreat. “Come behind the stone, Edda. I won’t loose through your shield.”

Barnaby clears the western lip and stands back in the ruined hall with Prue and Silas. The twenty-foot gap is open behind Edda, who remains alone at the far threshold. The spider stays fixed in Prue’s light.

Edda backs the full twenty feet to the western lip without turning, then drops low against its rubble edge with her shield out of the passage. “Clear. My error.”

Edda reaches the western lip and clears the corridor. Barnaby now has an unobstructed thirty-foot sling line through the gap to the lit spider. The creature remains above its drop-line.

Prue takes the cleared line and slings her loaded stone at the lit spider, then shifts aside to leave Barnaby the corridor.

Prue’s stone clips the squared opening and skips into the chapel: 5, a miss against AC 7. The spider jerks tight against the web as the strand shivers. Prue clears the corridor; Barnaby’s loaded sling now has the line.

Silas stays put at the western lip, staff low, and doesn't reach for the dagger — nothing worth throwing at from here, and closing on a marked spider is the mistake we've already paid for. He passes two loose stones forward to Barnaby's belt pouch for the reload. "It's still just one, still still pinned in the light. Keep the shots coming from behind cover — I'm watching the dark past Prue's glow for a second line. If something else drops, I'll say so before it lands." Eyes fixed on the unlit webbing beyond the chapel threshold.

Barnaby now has two loose stones ready at his belt. Nothing moves in the unlit webbing. The light marks the spider; it does not pin or restrain it. The creature remains free to move.

Before Barnaby can loose, the spider scuttles sideways across its own silk and vanishes into the opaque web beyond Prue’s glow. The lit drop-line whips empty. Silas sees no aura move—only mundane webbing shifting in the dark. The spider’s exact position is lost.

Barnaby stays behind the rubble at the western lip and lets the sling hang still. He shuts out the others’ breathing and listens into the chapel for claws on silk or stone, trying to fix the spider’s new perch before anyone throws blind. “Quiet.”

Hear Noise: 6—failure against Barnaby’s 3-in-6. The old web carries one fading tremor through several wall-anchors at once; he cannot fix its source or distance. No claw touches stone loudly enough to hear.

Edda backs away from the lip and lowers her voice. “It chose that drop before it saw us. Give it an empty passage and let it choose again. Barnaby keeps the first shot.” She settles behind the rubble with sword and shield ready, leaving the corridor clear.

Edda clears the western lip and takes cover. The gap lies empty beneath the old line; nothing descends. That drop-line predates the party’s arrival. Whether the spider chose it before seeing them is Edda’s inference, not established fact.

“Empty means empty. We do not bait poison with a body.” Prue selects a sound stone from the rubble, loads her sling, and stays behind cover with Edda, watching the lit drop-line while Barnaby keeps the first shot.

Prue’s sling is loaded again. She stays behind cover. The illuminated line hangs empty and still.

Silas stays low behind the rubble, staff across his knees, eyes still fixed past Prue's glow. "It went sideways, not up and not down — that's a spider running its own ground, not one confused by light. Give it the count of ten before anyone loads again. If it hasn't shown itself by then, it's decided we're not worth the drop, and we can talk about whether to press past the threshold at all." He keeps his voice under the others', watching the dark fold where the line vanished.

Ten seconds pass. No spider returns to the light; no strand stirs. That silence establishes its absence from the lit webbing, not its intent. Silas’s magical sight still finds no aura.

Barnaby sets the loaded sling within reach, ties off his grappling hook, and casts it low through the empty gap at the stone beneath the lit drop-line. From behind the western rubble, he draws the hook up into that line and gives the silk one hard pull. “Stones ready. Let the rope bait it.”

The hook catches without a roll: fixed light, fifty feet of rope, and a stationary strand. Barnaby’s hard pull bows the drop-line but does not break it. The whole ceiling web answers. From the darkness right of Prue’s glow comes one heavy shift toward the vibration, then stillness. No body enters the light yet. Barnaby holds the rope taut; his loaded sling lies beside him.

Edda sheathes her sword, takes the rope’s strain behind Barnaby, and braces it around a block of rubble. She gives the web two short, hard jerks. “Take your sling. Priest fires when it shows.”

Edda takes the rope; Barnaby’s hands are free for the sling. Her two jerks send sharper pulses through the ceiling web. At the right edge of Prue’s glow, silk dimples under a heavy moving weight, then holds just outside the light. Edda’s sword is sheathed and both hands are committed to the taut rope.

Prue sights the loaded sling on the dimple but does not throw blind. “Again. Bring its legs into the light.”

Prue holds her shot for a clear target: the first leg or body entering the light. The dimple remains at the glow’s edge. Edda cannot jerk the rope again until her next action unless someone else takes it.

Silas sets the staff against the rubble and takes the rope's strain from Edda's hands. "Sword back in your grip — I'll pull." He puts his weight into one hard jerk, aiming to drag the dimple fully into Prue's light rather than just wobble it. "If it comes out fighting, that's Barnaby's shot and yours, not mine. I just want it seen."

Silas cannot drag the spider directly—the hook holds silk, not flesh—but his jerk bows the web far enough that two legs and the creature’s front half slide into Prue’s light. Her held shot triggers. Natural 20: a hit. OSE adds no critical damage; the stone deals 2. The spider recoils but clings half-visible at the glow’s edge, wounded at 7/9 hp. Silas holds the rope; Prue’s sling is empty.

The spider surges fully into the light, follows the vibration to the hook, and bites the taut hemp at its knot. An immobile rope needs no attack roll; its bite deals 4 and severs the 2-hp section. The free rope snaps west into Silas’s hands. Barnaby’s grappling hook remains tangled in the ceiling web. The spider has spent its action and clings fully visible beside it, 30 feet away at 7/9 hp.

Barnaby snatches up the loaded sling, rises just enough to clear the rubble, and looses at the spider’s lit belly. He drops back behind cover as soon as the stone leaves. “Now.”

Barnaby rolls 14—hit against AC 7. The stone strikes the lit belly for 1 damage. The spider buckles around the blow but keeps its web, now 6/9 hp. Barnaby is back behind cover; the spider has already spent its action this round.

Edda draws her dagger, rises just high enough to take the clear corridor, and throws at the spider’s lit body. She drops behind the rubble as soon as it leaves her hand.

At 30 feet the dagger is at long range: −2 to hit. Edda rolls 6, reduced to 4—a miss against AC 7. The blade cuts one strand below the hook and falls ringing onto the chapel floor beneath the web. Edda is back behind cover; the spider remains visible at 6/9 hp.

Prue palms another sound stone from the rubble, rises just enough to clear it, and slings at the spider’s fully lit body. She drops back behind cover at once.

Prue rolls 5—a miss against AC 7. Her stone tears through the silk beside the spider and disappears into the dark chapel. She is back behind cover; the creature remains fully lit at 6/9 hp.

Silas stays down behind the rubble, dagger still sheathed — thirty feet and a rope's width of dark between him and it, nothing a thrown blade improves. "Six of nine and it's still holding the web instead of running the corridor. Watch the fold right of the light — that's where the second weight shifted before. If it comes for the rope again, let it; better it chews hemp than anyone's leg." He keeps low, eyes on the unlit silk, staff across his knees, ready to drag slack rather than throw steel.

Silas passes his attack and keeps watch. The earlier shift and the dimple resolved into the spider now in the light; no second weight has been established. The severed rope in his hands is no longer attached to the web, so pulling its slack cannot move anything overhead.

The wounded spider abandons the exposed strand. It scuttles right across the ceiling and vanishes into the opaque folds beyond Prue’s light without entering the corridor. Its exact position is lost again. Barnaby’s hook remains tangled at the lit edge; Edda’s dagger lies on the chapel floor beneath it.

Barnaby loads one of Silas’s stones and fires it into the lit web around the trapped hook, aiming to make the brass ring and the silk jump rather than guessing at the dark. “Prue, hold on the edge. Shoot when it comes to the shaking.”

The hook is a hand-sized target at thirty feet; Barnaby rolls 5 and misses it. The stone lodges in the surrounding silk, making the lit patch jump but producing no brass ring. No body enters the glow and no darker fold answers before Barnaby drops back. One of Silas’s two stones remains at his belt.

Edda knots a jagged piece of rubble into the severed rope’s end and casts it through the corridor at the lit silk beside the hook. She keeps hold of the line, ready to shake the web if it catches. “Same work, cheaper weight.”

The broad web is easy to strike, but a tied stone is not a grappling hook: it catches only on 1–2 in 6. Edda rolls 6. The rubble punches the lit silk, slips through, and drops to the chapel floor beside her dagger. She still holds the rope and can haul the stone back, but it has no purchase to shake the web.

Prue loads another rubble-stone and sights on the right edge of the glow where the spider vanished. “Held.” She does not throw blind.

Prue holds her loaded sling on the first clear leg or body entering the glow’s right edge. Nothing crosses it during her action.

Silas lets the dead rope fall and finally draws the dagger — thin comfort, but a blade's better than an empty hand if that thing closes distance in the dark. "It's bled twice and run twice. It's not going to die to sling-stones thrown blind into silk it knows and we don't. We've spent a hook, a rope, and most of an hour on one wounded spider that isn't coming back to the light on its own terms." He keeps low, watching the right-hand fold. "My spell's spent. If nobody's got a clean throw, we should talk about whether this fight is worth pressing past the threshold at all, or whether we let it keep its web and go around."

Silas draws his dagger and passes his attack. Before the company prices his proposal: eight combat rounds are about eighty seconds, not most of an hour, and the rope remains usable—the spider severed it at the hook-knot, not along its length. The hook is trapped; Edda’s dagger is on the chapel floor; the spider is concealed at 6/9. No fold moves during Silas’s watch.

The concealed spider does not return to the illuminated edge. No silk moves within the glow, so Prue’s held shot does not trigger. Its position remains unknown in the deeper ceiling web.

Barnaby cuts a short tuft from the rope’s severed end and twists it into a wick. “No body goes under live venom. Silas, one oil jar. Edda, flame. We throw fire into the web from here; Prue keeps her shot on anything the smoke drives out.”

Barnaby prepares the rope tuft; no oil is spent and no flame is lit yet. The company has three oil flasks. A fire missile needs Silas to fix the wick into one flask and Edda to provide flame; because Edda acts before Silas this round, she can ready the flame now and light it when he finishes. The throw must wait for a later action. Everyone remains behind the western rubble.

Edda shelters her tinderbox behind the rubble, strikes the char cloth, and nurses a small flame ready for the oil wick. “Lit here and thrown from here. Nobody crosses until the ceiling is dark and the smoke has cleared.”

Dry tinder catches without a roll. Edda keeps the small flame sheltered and readies it to touch the oil wick when Silas presents the prepared flask. Her sword remains sheathed and her thrown dagger remains inside the chapel; one hand is committed to the flame. Her order moves nobody yet.

Prue keeps the sling loaded and shifts her aim to cover the whole boundary of the lit web. “I have what the fire drives out.”

Prue renews the held shot: the first clear spider body driven across any boundary of the illuminated web. She remains behind cover with the sling loaded. Nothing enters her line.

Silas swaps to the staff — blades skate on brass, hammers and points don't — and swings for the wrist-cable seam on the nearest hand.

Silas Horn hits automaton hand 1 for 1

automaton hand 1 comes back 1.

There is no hand or wrist-cable here: both wrecks were removed before dawn. The encounter roster’s hand is a bookkeeping ghost. I restore its bogus hit point and strike the attack from the fiction. Silas’s staff meets empty stone; his action is spent. No oil flask is prepared. Edda still shelters the readied flame, and Prue still covers the lit web.

The spider remains concealed in the deeper ceiling web. Nothing crosses Prue’s lit boundary, so her held shot does not fire.

“Empty stone, Silas. The hands are gone.” Barnaby takes one company oil flask from Silas’s pack, seats the rope wick firmly through its stopper, and presents it to Edda’s sheltered flame. He keeps the corridor clear; he does not throw yet.

Barnaby seats the wick securely. Edda’s held flame catches it, consuming her readied action from last round; she takes the lit flask from him. One oil flask is now committed, leaving two unused. The wick will not wait beyond Edda’s coming action: she must throw it, smother it, or risk the stopper catching in her hand.

Edda rises into the clear line and hurls the flask high at the ceiling silk just right of Prue’s glow, where the spider vanished. She drops behind the rubble and brings her shield over her head.

The ceiling web is a broad fixed target, AC 9. Edda rolls 13—a hit. The flask bursts just right of the glow; oil-fed flame races along the dry silk into the opaque canopy. Smoke climbs through the broken vault instead of blowing west down the gap. The burning web deals 1d6 at the start of anything caught in it on rounds 11–12. No spider crosses the visible boundary yet, so Prue’s held shot does not trigger. Two oil flasks remain.

Prue keeps the loaded sling trained on the burning canopy’s edges and the floor beneath it, holding for the first clear spider body that flees or falls.

Prue renews the held shot on the first clear spider body fleeing or falling from the burning web. Flame spreads through the opaque canopy, but nothing visible breaks from it during her action.

Silas stays low behind the rubble, dagger sheathed, and watches the burning canopy instead of the empty stone where the hand isn't. "If it's still in there when the silk goes, it comes out blind and lit — that's the shot, not the fire itself." He keeps the staff across his knees, eyes on the boundary between smoke and dark, ready to call the break the moment something moves.

Silas passes his attack and watches the smoke-dark boundary. Fire will silhouette anything that breaks from the web; it does not automatically blind it. Nothing moves before the round closes.

At the start of the spider’s turn, fire rolls 6—exactly its remaining hit points. Its legs knot inward; burning silk parts and drops the dead spider onto the chapel floor before it can move. Prue sees it fall limp and does not waste her held stone. **The fight is over—nothing hostile remains standing.** The oil-fed web still burns through round 12; smoke rises through the broken vault. The party remains safely behind the western rubble.

Barnaby stays behind the rubble while the last burning silk falls. He counts the hook and Edda’s dagger on the chapel floor but makes no move beneath the fire. “Dead. Let the ceiling finish before we collect anything.”

Barnaby holds behind cover. During his watch, the scorched strand around the grappling hook parts; the hook drops beside Edda’s dagger and the spider’s corpse. All three are visible on the chapel floor. The ceiling still has one round of oil-fed burning left.

Edda stays behind cover and hauls the knotted stone and usable rope back along the floor. “Hook, dagger, corpse. We collect after the last flame falls—not before.”

The knotted rubble scrapes back through the gap. Edda recovers the rope behind cover—short only by the severed hook-knot and Barnaby’s wick tuft. The hook, dagger, and dead spider remain inside. Burning silk continues to fall.

Prue lowers the sling and stays behind cover. As the last web burns, she watches the clearing ceiling for another body, an unburned fold, or any anchor still carrying weight. She does not enter.

Prue’s watch finds no second body and no anchor carrying weight. The ceiling web is collapsing into slack, burning shreds, but smoke and the remaining flame still obscure its highest corners. One final burning round remains before the ceiling can be read cleanly.

Silas stays put behind the rubble, staff across his knees, and watches the last burning shreds fall rather than swing at stone that holds nothing. "Let it finish. We collect the hook, the dagger, and whatever's left of it once the smoke clears — nobody needs to breathe that." He passes his turn.

Silas passes and remains behind cover. Smoke continues to vent through the broken vault rather than down the gap. The round closes with everyone untouched; the fire enters its final round.

The first hand’s slot remains empty. The fire’s final damaging pulse runs through empty silk; no living target remains in it. Oil-fed flames thin to guttering patches while smoke continues upward.

The second hand’s slot is empty. Nothing acts there.

Barnaby waits for the last orange patch to die, watching the exposed ceiling rather than the corpse. He keeps everyone behind the rubble. “Not while it still glows. We paid one flask to make this safe; we needn’t waste the purchase.”

Barnaby waits it out. The last orange patch gutters; smoke thins upward, leaving the lit vault exposed—blackened stone, charred wall-anchors, no unburned fold, second body, or suspended weight. The fire is out. Hook, dagger, and corpse remain on the clear floor.

Edda advances shield-first along the keeper’s boot line, checks the exposed ceiling from the threshold, then enters only far enough to recover her dagger and Barnaby’s hook. She leaves the corpse untouched. “One across.”

The exposed ceiling is bare and still. Edda crosses safely, sheathes her recovered dagger, and secures the soot-blackened hook at her belt. She stands ten feet inside the chapel on the keeper’s line; the dead spider lies untouched beside her. The other three remain behind the western rubble.

Prue stows the sling, draws her mace, and follows the keeper’s prints to the squared threshold. She stops there, leaving Edda room, and checks the chapel floor and walls before taking another step. The corpse stays untouched.

Prue reaches the squared threshold but does not cross it. The keeper’s prints continue dry through ash past the corpse; no grease, trip-line, or fresh disturbance marks the visible floor. Smoke-dark murals line the walls, and Mulvis’s statue stands ahead holding three brass lightning bolts. No open side doorway is visible from here.

Silas stays behind the rubble, staff across his knees, and watches the chapel threshold rather than swing at hands that aren't there. "Nothing left to fight. Let's get the murals and the statue read properly before anyone touches the corpse or the bolts." He passes his turn.

Silas passes. Nothing moves in the chapel. Round 12 closes with Edda ten feet inside, Prue at the squared threshold, and Barnaby and Silas still behind the western rubble.

Barnaby crosses the gap on the keeper’s prints and stops one pace behind Prue at the threshold. He keeps his hands off corpse and brass, studying the statue’s base, wall-joints, and soot-dark murals for seals or maker’s marks. “Walls before wares.”

From one pace behind the threshold, Barnaby finds no visible keeper-seal or maker’s mark. The mural borders run continuously across the dressed wall courses; soot outlines no obvious door. The statue’s base looks plain at this distance. This is a doorway survey, not a hand-close search.

Edda draws her sword and follows the keeper’s prints exactly through the ash, shield forward. She passes the corpse and leaves statue, bolts, and murals untouched, watching where the track turns or ends. “Read his road first.”

The deeper return heels continue past the statue, then turn north. At the mural wall they crowd toe-first against the stone; older departures overlay them. Ash settles differently along a narrow sill, and a vertical joint cuts cleanly through the painted border on both sides. The road does not end here—it passes through a concealed north-wall leaf. Edda has found its outline without touching it.

“Hold the leaf until Silas and the ampoule are inside.” Prue follows the keeper’s prints to one pace behind Edda. Without touching the wall, she studies the painted seam for a latch, warning, or devotional sign that explains how it opens.

Prue crosses and stops behind Edda. No warning, prayer, or maker’s text marks the painted leaf. At Edda’s right jamb, one palm-sized block stands a finger-width proud; soot remains on its face but its near edge is polished by repeated gripping. No separate latch is visible. Learning whether the block presses, turns, or pulls requires touch.

Silas crosses behind Prue, staff in hand, and looks at the proud block without touching it. "I've seen this exact seat before — a keeper's door, another shrine wing, same finger-width proud stone, same one-edge polish. It wasn't pried, it was turned. Quarter-turn on the worn grip, and a pin somewhere behind it draws home." He nods at the polished edge. "Turn it slow, top-left if the wear says top-left. I'll hold the lamp slit narrow and read whatever's under it once it moves — nothing lit crosses the seam before that."

Silas crosses behind Prue. The current record gives him no prior meeting with this exact seat: quarter-turn, hidden pin, and top-left are his hypotheses, not established facts. Close inspection shows even polish along the near edge—no top-left bias. No lamp is lit or in his hands; Prue’s Light illuminates the wall. The block remains untouched.

“Hypothesis stays a hypothesis. Give me the jamb.” Barnaby moves up beside Edda, chalks the block’s starting outline, and examines its edges, sill, and leaf seam with a thin pick. He tests for a sprung pin, wire, pressure catch, or trap without turning or pressing the block.

2. The Chapel

something takes 7 from crab spider 2.

something takes 11 from crab spider 1.

the fight is over

At the north jamb, Barnaby keeps the block inside its chalk outline and completes the close search: pick along all four edges, then the leaf seam and sill, feeling for a pin, wire, catch, or trapped release. He does not turn, press, or pull it. “No opening until this answers.”

All four are inside; the table moves to area 2. Roster correction: two stock spiders appeared, but prep held one 9 hp spider, already killed. Both entries are set to 0—no new threat. Barnaby’s pick finds even clearance around the block and a central bronze spindle. No wire, sprung pin, pressure catch, or trapped seam exists; I do not roll 20% against an absent trap. The block is made to rotate, but direction and result remain unknown. Chalk intact; block unmoved.

Edda waits until Barnaby’s pick is clear, sheathes her sword, and sets her shield toward the leaf. She grips the block and turns it clockwise, slowly, stopping at the first detent or firm resistance. “Turn only. No push.”

Edda’s turn is current, but no Edda action follows Barnaby’s resolved search. I will not consume her seat silently. The turn stays with Edda at the closed leaf.

The block turns smoothly clockwise through one quarter-turn, then meets a hard detent. A bronze pin draws inside the jamb with one clean click. The leaf relaxes outward a finger’s breadth without Edda pushing it, then holds. The moved block exposes a short line of small Gnomish characters under its former seat; Edda cannot read them. No draught, smell, or sound comes through the dark slit. Silas’s quarter-turn guess is now proved by the mechanism—not by the prior experience he claimed. Shield set; sword sheathed.

Prue copies the exposed Gnomish line exactly into the ash with one fingertip, preserving its spacing and direction. “Silas reads before the leaf moves. If the block hides it again, we keep the wording.” She stays behind Edda’s shield and does not touch the door.

Prue’s fingertip copy preserves every cut and space in the same left-to-right order. The original remains exposed beneath the quarter-turned block; the copy will survive if the mechanism covers it again. She neither touches nor moves the leaf. Edda still shields the finger-wide opening.

Silas leans past Edda's shield to the exposed line, careful not to touch the leaf. He reads it slow, the workshop hand steady now, no hedging left in it. "It's plain gnomish, maker's cut, not keeper's scrawl." He says the words aloud for the record before the block can cover them again, then straightens. "Copy's good, Prue — matches what I'm seeing letter for letter. Whatever it says, it says it once, right here, and it wants to be read before the door, not after."

Silas reads the two words aloud: **KEEP ACCOUNT.** Prue’s copy is exact. The formal lettering was cut when the fitting was made, beneath the block’s locked position; no signature identifies who cut it. It becomes visible after unlatching and before the leaf is pushed open. Any intended lesson beyond that sequence is Silas’s inference. The leaf remains finger-wide and still.

Barnaby holds his dagger flat beside the slit, angling Prue’s light through without putting an eye against the opening. He watches the blade for movement, then stills and listens through the finger-wide gap. “Account starts before the threshold.”

The dagger is steel, not a true mirror, but it throws a blade-thin band of Prue’s light through the slit. The stripe finds dry, swept stone for six feet and the square foot of some wooden furnishing at its far end. No grease, ash, or movement crosses that narrow view; everything outside it remains unseen. Hear Noise: 4—failure against Barnaby’s 3-in-6. Nothing inside is loud enough to carry, but he cannot establish that the room is empty. The leaf remains untouched and finger-wide.

Edda keeps her shield between the slit and her body, catches the leaf’s outer edge with her right hand, and draws it open slowly to one shield-width. She does not cross. “The words stand. Open, look, count.”

The leaf swings outward without scrape. Prue’s light enters a close, dry chamber, roughly ten feet deep. A boot-width swept lane runs straight to one gnome-height reading table—the wooden foot Barnaby saw. An open ledger, pen-rest, inkpot, and small brass balance sit squarely upon it; the balance beam is level. A matching turn-boss marks the leaf’s inner face, its spindle ring freshly greased. No person or creature occupies the visible space; the near side corners remain hidden by the jamb. Edda does not cross. Shield forward; sword sheathed.

“Corners before feet.” Prue comes beside Edda with her own shield high. Without crossing the sill, she changes height and angle to inspect the lintel, threshold, and both near corners around the jamb.

The lintel is solid stone: no slot, web, suspended weight, or worked opening. The threshold is one worn slab, dry and swept, with no wire, pressure plate, or loose edge. Both near corners are bare; nothing crouches behind the jambs. No roll is needed against absent hazards. From the sill, Prue still cannot inspect behind or beneath the reading table, nor read the room’s farther walls at hand-close range. Neither shield crosses.

Silas stays at the sill beside Prue and Edda, staff in hand, and doesn't reach for the ledger. "Before anyone's hand goes near that ink or that balance — let me read the room properly first." He closes his eyes and speaks the working under his breath, sweeping it slow across the table, the ledger, the balance, the pen-rest, and both far corners the light hasn't reached. Detect Magic, spent here and not before, on the one room that's earned it: a keeper's office nobody's hand has touched yet.

Ledger correction: Detect Magic was cast at the western lip before the spider fight; it was spent there, not here. Its two-turn duration has not yet elapsed, so Silas’s existing sight can pass through the newly opened leaf—no second casting occurs. Nothing answers. Ledger, ink, pen-rest, balance, table, inner boss, floor, and both far corners show no aura. The office is wholly mundane within its stone walls. No hand crosses the sill.

Barnaby crosses on the swept lane with dagger ready and stops short of the table. He checks both far corners, the walls and floor behind it, then crouches to inspect its underside and feet. He touches nothing on the tabletop. “Hold the leaf. I’ll read the room before the book.”

The far corners are empty. All four walls are continuous dressed stone: no second seam, aperture, or script. The floor behind the table has no lid or hollow, only fresh scuffs from the same broad-soled boots that crossed the chapel; last night’s track ends at the ledger. Underneath is plain, open joinery—no drawer, wire, catch, or concealed load. Each table foot sits in a threaded brass cup, adjusted separately to hold the surface level. The balanced scale is deliberate, not chance. Barnaby alone is inside; the tabletop remains untouched.

Edda braces the leaf open from the chapel side and counts aloud. “One open ledger. One pen-rest. One inkpot. One balance, set level. One table. The keeper’s road ends at the book.” She keeps both hands off the room. “Read it in place, Barnaby.”

Edda’s count is exact. She braces the leaf with her shield rim; her hands remain clear of the office furnishings. Nothing shifts on the leveled table, and nothing answers her words. Barnaby remains behind the table with dagger ready. Edda’s instruction does not move him or read the ledger before his next action.

“Keep account is work I know.” Prue crosses on the swept lane and stops at the table’s near edge, opposite Barnaby. She reads the open pages in place, touching neither ledger nor fittings, and checks headings, columns, last entry, and whether the ink is fresh.

The open page is wholly Gnomish. Prue’s sheet grants no Gnomish, so she cannot read its headings or entries. She can establish the form: ruled columns, one careful hand throughout, and a final line ending halfway through a character. Every mark on the page is dry and brown with age; nothing was written last night. The open inkpot, however, holds wet black ink with no dust skin, and the pen-rest is empty. Someone maintained the tools and stood here without adding to the old account. Ledger and fittings remain untouched.

Silas crosses the swept lane to Prue's shoulder, staff in hand, and looks down at the open page rather than reaching for it. "Wet ink, dry page — someone tends this desk and doesn't write in it. That's not neglect, that's a closed book kept open." He reads the columns aloud, headings first, then the last legible line, translating whole. "Tell me what it says before anyone's hand decides what to do about it."

Silas leans in, eyes on the ruled columns, and reads slow, whole, no hedging. "Three heads, left to right: Keeper's Wage. Toll of the Causeway. Tally to Hand." He traces down to the last entry, ink browned with age, the hand cut off mid-stroke. "And the last line — 'Sootmurk. Causeway toll, rendered—' and that's where it stops. Not finished. Cut off." He straightens, keeps his hands off the page. "This isn't a diary. It's an accounts book, and the toll's been the causeway grease all along — priced, sold, entered against names. Whoever kept this desk was still writing when the hall came down."

The headings Silas supplied are not on the page. The page title is **CAUSEWAY TOLLS**; **RENDERED** and **HELD** are disposition marks. Reading down: - Soot Tasters — rendered. - Toll Reeves — rendered. - Bereavement Guild — one share, **HELD**. - “Sootmurk — causeway toll, rendered—” The next character dies mid-stroke. All is the same old hand and ink. No word says grease, price, sale, or what was rendered; those claims are Silas’s inference. The cut stroke proves interruption, not its cause. Nothing is touched.

Barnaby studies the ledger without touching it: binding, exposed page edges, dust lines, wear, and any ownership charge or name visible from his side. He compares the fresh scuffs to the table-post and missing pen. “Exact words only. Silas, copy the title, three names, both dispositions, and the broken line. Nothing leaves this table.”

Fine dust lies unbroken along the page-block edges up to this exact spread; the spine has taken its set here. No page has turned recently. The exposed binding bears four blind-stamped lines of Gnomish, one a larger proper name. Barnaby cannot read them. The fresh floor scuff ends square behind the table without touching its post; no new scrape or jolt marks the wood. The empty pen-rest gives no evidence of when its pen left. Nothing is touched. Barnaby’s order does not make Silas’s copy for him; that remains Silas’s action.

Edda keeps the leaf braced and fixes Silas across the room. “Four stamps, exactly. Proper name first. Then copy the title, three names, both dispositions, and the broken line. Put your conclusions below and mark them yours. Priest witnesses.”

Edda keeps the leaf fixed at one shield-width. Nothing on the level table shifts or answers. Her count and requested order are spoken instructions only: Silas has not yet translated the four binding lines or made the copy, and Prue has not yet witnessed one. Ledger, ink, balance, and binding remain untouched.

Prue smooths two clean panels in the ash beside the table. “I can witness that his copy matches the marks. I cannot witness the Gnomish means what he says.” She positions herself to compare source and copy. “Glyphs first, Common beside them. Conclusions below a line, named as Silas’s.”

The office holds fine grey dust beside the swept lane, not fire ash. Prue clears two panels there without touching the table. One is ready for copied Gnomish marks; the other for Common and separately attributed conclusions. Her witness limit is exact: she can compare shape, spacing, order, and completeness against the visible source, but cannot certify translation. No copy exists yet. Nothing in the room responds.

Silas kneels at Prue's cleared panels, staff set aside, and gets to work properly this time — no reading aloud first, copying first. Left panel: the four blind-stamped binding lines in Gnomish, glyph for glyph, the proper name first same as it sits on the spine. Right panel, beside each: his Common rendering, one line at a time, nothing skipped. Below both, a ruled line of his own, and under it: "Silas's reading, not the page's words: the account is old, unclosed, and the last hand writing it died mid-stroke. Judge the glyphs, not me." He sets the lead down and looks up. "Copy's done. Check it against the spine before I say another word about what it means."

Silas’s four-line binding copy is exact. His Common rendering reads: **VESS** **SWORN ACCOUNT-KEEPER** **WAGED BY HAND OF MULVIS** **HOLD THE TALLY TRUE** His ruled attribution correctly marks the final sentence as his own reading; “the writer died” remains unproved. Prue has not yet performed her comparison, so the copy is not yet witnessed. Silas copied only the binding. The requested page title, three earlier names, disposition marks, and broken Sootmurk line remain uncopied. No table object is touched.

“Vess—the hands’ maker and Mulvis’s account-keeper. One name, two offices.” Barnaby lowers to table height and inspects the balance pans, beam, inkpot rim, and wood beneath them for grease, dark grain, residue, dust breaks, or missing weights, touching nothing. “Silas, finish the page copy in your own book. Floor marks witness it; paper carries home.”

The binding’s **VESS** matches the hand-wrist maker’s name letter for letter: the same name in both records. Both balance pans are empty and clean. Their centers bear overlapping bright rings from many small, hard, coin-sized objects; no grease, black grain, or other residue remains. The knife-edge is clean and the empty beam hangs true. No standard weights, weight-box, or recent dust-break marks their absence. The inkpot rim was recently wiped; old crust remains below it, fresh ink within. The wood beneath is dry, and the balance’s feet have not moved lately. Silas’s page copy remains future work.

Edda keeps the leaf braced. “Record: Vess. Sworn account-keeper. Waged by Mulvis. Charged to hold the tally true. Same name as the hand-mark. Anything beyond that is inference.” She looks to Prue. “Witness the binding. Silas finishes the page. No one takes a waged officer’s book or tools.”

Edda’s spoken record is accurate as a summary, but the exact third stamped line remains **WAGED BY HAND OF MULVIS**. The rest matches established fact; she marks no further claim as proven. The leaf stays braced at one shield-width. Ledger, balance, inkpot, and pen-rest remain where Vess left them. Her orders neither witness the binding copy nor complete the page copy; those actions still belong to Prue and Silas.

Prue compares the binding and left panel line by line, counting every glyph, space, and break twice. “Binding copy witnessed exact: four lines, complete and in order. I do not witness the translation. The exact third rendering offered is ‘Waged by hand of Mulvis’; keep the whole phrase.”

No roll is needed: fixed source, adjacent copy, full light, and deliberate comparison twice. Prue’s witness now stands—the four Gnomish binding lines match exactly in glyph, spacing, order, and breaks. Her limit also stands. She certifies no Common meaning; **WAGED BY HAND OF MULVIS** is the exact rendering offered by Silas, not one she can independently verify. The dust copy remains fragile. Vess’s ledger and tools remain untouched.

Silas kneels back at the panels and finishes the job properly — the page, not just the binding. Left panel: **CAUSEWAY TOLLS** as the title, then the three names in order — Soot Tasters, Toll Reeves, Bereavement Guild — with their marks beside each, exact: rendered, rendered, HELD. Below that, the broken line copied letter for letter as far as it goes: "Sootmurk — causeway toll, rendered—" and the dead stroke where it stops, marked as a break, not a word. Under his ruled line, in his own hand, clearly set apart: "Silas's reading: three tolls collected against the same account, one still held back unpaid to the Bereavement Guild, and the ledger stops mid-word on Sootmurk's own line. I don't know why it stops there and not elsewhere — that's the fall's timing, not mine to swear to." He sets the lead down. "Copy's done. Check it, Prue, then it comes home with us — the book stays on Vess's table."

The dead stroke and every copied glyph are accurate except one omission: the original reads **Bereavement Guild — one share, HELD**. Silas copied **HELD** but omitted **one share**. The page copy is incomplete and unwitnessed. He wrote it in the floor panels; his notebook remained closed. This copy cannot come home unless recopied onto paper. His ruled reading remains inference: **RENDERED** does not itself prove collection against one account; **HELD** does not say unpaid to the Guild; no text ties the interruption to the fall. Ledger and tools remain untouched.

Barnaby opens a blank back leaf of his copied market ledger and takes up Silas’s lead. He copies the four binding lines and the visible toll page glyph for glyph, including **one share**, the two **RENDERED** marks, **HELD**, and the broken final stroke. He adds no conclusions. “Portable source first. Prue checks shapes; Silas writes Common beneath only after.”

Barnaby continues the same careful copy. He takes no second action and touches nothing on Vess’s table while the portable transcript awaits checking.

Barnaby’s back-leaf transcript is complete and exact: all four binding lines, the page title, every entry in order, **one share**, both **RENDERED** marks, **HELD**, and the broken final stroke. He adds no Common or interpretation. It is a portable copy, not a source; Vess’s untouched ledger remains the source. Prue has not witnessed the paper copy, and Silas has not written its Common beneath. The leveled table and all five furnishings remain undisturbed.

Edda keeps the leaf steady. “Amend my spoken record: **waged by hand of Mulvis**. Keep the whole phrase.” She nods to Barnaby’s ledger. “Priest checks the portable glyphs first. Silas puts Common beneath only after they stand witnessed. No conclusions among the source lines.”

Edda’s amended spoken record now preserves the exact phrase **WAGED BY HAND OF MULVIS**. She holds the concealed leaf steady; nothing on Vess’s level table shifts. Her sequence remains an order, not completed work: Barnaby’s paper transcript is still unwitnessed, and no Common has been added to it.

Prue compares Barnaby’s paper transcript against the binding and open page twice, line by line and mark by mark. “Portable glyph copy witnessed exact and complete, including ‘one share’ and the broken final stroke. No Common meaning witnessed. The floor page-copy remains incomplete and unwitnessed; do not use it.”

No roll is needed under full light with fixed originals and two deliberate passes. Prue’s witness now stands: Barnaby’s paper transcript is exact and complete in glyph shape, spacing, order, marks, and breaks. Her labels such as **one share** identify the corresponding glyph-group; she certifies no Common meaning. The floor binding copy remains witnessed. The separate floor toll-page copy remains incomplete and unwitnessed. Vess’s originals are untouched.

Silas takes the lead again, this time to Barnaby's paper leaf rather than the floor. Beneath the witnessed glyphs he writes the Common, plain, matched line for line: the four binding lines — VESS, SWORN ACCOUNT-KEEPER, WAGED BY HAND OF MULVIS, HOLD THE TALLY TRUE — then the page: CAUSEWAY TOLLS: Soot Tasters, rendered. Toll Reeves, rendered. Bereavement Guild, one share, HELD. Sootmurk — causeway toll, rendered— and the dead stroke marked as a break. Below a ruled line, set apart and signed: "Silas's reading, not the page's own words." He closes the cover on it. "That's a copy that can leave the room. The book stays on Vess's table."

Silas’s Common rendering matches the established translation line for line. The unfinished character remains marked as a break, not completed. His ruled signature attributes the Common to him; Prue’s witness still applies only to the Gnomish transcript. Barnaby’s closed market ledger now carries a complete portable transcript and attributed translation. Vess’s ledger, balance, inkpot, pen-rest, and table remain untouched.

Barnaby stows his market ledger against his ribs and retraces the swept lane into the chapel, carrying nothing else from the office. He stops clear of the leaf. “Source stays level and open where Vess left it. Close the door clean. We still owe the murals, statue, bolts, and corpse a proper reading.”

Barnaby retraces the swept lane without disturbing the dust panels and stops in the chapel clear of the leaf. His portable transcript is secure; he carries nothing else out. Ledger and tools remain exactly as found on the level table. Whether Vess personally left them that way is unproved. The leaf remains open: Prue and Silas are still inside, and Barnaby’s order closes nothing before their turns.

Edda holds the leaf open. “Priest out first. Silas smooths both dust panels back, then follows on the swept lane. Leave none of our marks in his office. I close after the last boot clears.”

Edda keeps the leaf fixed at one shield-width. Prue and Silas remain inside; both dust panels still show the company’s work. Her exit order awaits their own turns, and the office furnishings remain untouched.

Prue retraces the swept lane out of the office, watching that neither shield nor mace brushes the leveled table. She clears the leaf and stops in the chapel beside Barnaby. “Priest clear.”

Prue clears the office along the swept lane without touching table, ledger, balance, inkpot, or pen-rest. She joins Barnaby in the chapel. Silas remains alone inside with both dust panels still marked; Edda continues holding the leaf.

Silas crouches and smooths both dust panels flat with the side of his hand, working carefully — no drag marks toward the table, nothing left standing that wasn't here before we came. He checks the level table one last time: ledger open where Vess left it, ink wet, pen-rest empty. He retraces the swept lane without touching leaf or post and clears into the chapel. "Office clean. Nothing of ours left in his room but footprints on the lane, and those match his own wear." He falls in beside Prue. "Book stays. Copy travels. Vess's account is exactly as he kept it."

The glyphs vanish, but hand-smoothing does not restore untouched dust: two flat rectangles and the company’s fresh lane-scuffs remain. Ledger and tools are exactly as found; whether Vess last arranged them is unproved. Silas clears into the chapel with the ampoule intact—but without his staff. He set it beside the panels and never picked it up; it still lies inside. The office is therefore not clear of company gear, and Edda’s closure condition is not cleanly met.

“Not clean. Your staff.” Barnaby slips back along the swept lane, picks up Silas’s staff without touching the table or dust panels, and carries it straight out to him. “Count gear as well as words.”

Barnaby completes that same retrieval and takes no further action until the office is accounted clear.

Barnaby retrieves Silas’s staff along the swept lane and returns it without touching table, furnishings, or panels. All company gear is now in the chapel; the office retains only their fresh lane-scuffs and two hand-smoothed rectangles. Edda still holds the leaf open.

Edda checks every person and piece of company gear clear, eases the leaf flush, then turns the block counterclockwise to Barnaby’s chalk outline until the pin seats. “The room is left as we found it—not as we can prove Vess left it.”

The leaf seats flush; Edda’s counterclockwise quarter-turn drives the pin home with a click and covers **KEEP ACCOUNT**. The furnishings remain exactly as found, but the room does not: two flattened dust rectangles and fresh company scuffs remain inside. Barnaby’s chalk outline also remains visible around the outer block.

“Not as found. The furnishings are exact; our scuffs and two smoothed panels remain inside.” Prue rubs Barnaby’s chalk outline from the jamb with her sleeve, careful not to touch or turn the block. “Now the outer wall carries none of our mark.”

The chalk itself comes away, and Prue neither turns nor touches the block. Her sleeve also lifts the smoke-dark soot beneath it, leaving a fresh pale rubbed line around the fitting. The outer wall bears no chalk now, but it still bears the company’s handling.

Silas leaves the office empty-handed — book on the table, chalk gone from the jamb, nothing of ours left behind but scuffed dust. Back in the chapel proper, he sets the staff against his shoulder and faces the statue. "Bolts, altar, the corpse in the web. One question's waited four visits: is any of Mulvis's lightning still live." He speaks the words for Detect Magic, sweeping all three bolts, the altar-front, and the dead spiders where they lie, out loud, before the answer comes. "Whatever it says, it's the last clean read I get till we sleep again."

No spell answers. Detect Magic was already cast at the western lip and spent; that scan found no aura anywhere within sixty feet, including the chapel furnishings, and its remaining sight later read the office. Silas cannot cast it again today. There is one physical spider corpse, lying on the chapel floor—not in the burned web; the two dead roster entries are bookkeeping. His attempted casting spends this action and produces no new read.

“The first scan already found no aura here. Use your Gnomish, not the spent spell.” Barnaby begins at the mural nearest the entrance and follows its panels in order, close enough to trace figures, tools, repeated seals, and script without touching the paint. He stops at the first inscription for Silas to translate exactly.

Silas lets the words fall away half-spoken — the sight's already open, already spent, and the room answers with nothing because it already answered, an hour and a corridor ago. He shakes his head at himself. "Wasted breath. It already told me what it had to tell." He turns from the statue back to the ash panels, notebook open, and starts writing while the ink of the day is still fresh in his head: KEEP ACCOUNT, the toll page, Vess's four names — getting it down properly before memory does what memory does. "Whatever's left in this chapel — the bolts, the corpse, the murals — waits on somebody with a live spell or a steady hand. Mine's spent either way."

At hand-close range, the entrance panel resolves: Mulvis, matched to the statue by face and three-bolt emblem, presents one lightning-bolt-shaped piece to an apron-wearing gnome beside a six-armed brass figure. Hammer, calipers, and winding key lie on the bench; the keeper’s coin-seal does not appear. A short Gnomish caption runs beneath the scene. Barnaby stops there; later panels remain unread. Silas’s out-of-turn notebook work has not begun.

Silas’s post was out of order. His notebook remains open but unwritten; Barnaby’s market ledger already holds the complete witnessed transcript and attributed translation. The acting seat is still Edda. I will not consume her turn.

“Amend again: furnishings exact; our lane-scuffs, two flattened panels, and the pale ring remain.” Edda kneels at Mulvis’s statue without touching it. She studies the eye sockets, the three bolt-grips, and every seam or mark on the base, comparing the face and emblem to the first mural.

The eyes are empty round settings with intact flanged lips—made to receive inserts, not broken stone. All three bolts are identical cast brass, unmarked and seal-free; their shanks and the stone finger-grooves are polished by repeated drawing and reseating. Each matches the mural piece in profile and length. The base shows no visible seam, aperture, maker’s mark, or script. Edda touches nothing; whether the base is solid remains untested.

Prue looks from Mulvis’s two empty eye-settings to Barnaby’s pack. “Two settings. Two pearl eyes salvaged from Vess-marked work. Coincidence until measured—compare them later, seat nothing.” She joins Barnaby at the first mural and waits on its exact caption before moving to the next panel.

Prue joins Barnaby and leaves statue, bolts, and pearls untouched. The two pearls came from the ruin, but neither pearl nor its former setting bears Vess’s mark; linking them to his work remains inference. Their fit is still unmeasured. The mural caption remains untranslated while Prue waits.

Prue studies the first caption glyph by glyph, comparing its groups to the Gnomish **VESS** name she checked twice on the binding transcript. She touches nothing and claims no translation—only whether that exact name appears.

No roll is needed against the exact witnessed model. The **VESS** glyph-group appears once in the caption, unchanged, as its second word. Prue can certify that name and its position—nothing else about the caption’s meaning. Paint and stone remain untouched.

Silas leans in beside Prue, matching her checked glyph-groups to the rest of the line. "VESS holds as the second word — your read stands, I'm not touching that." He works the caption whole, slow, out loud: "Mulvis gives the bolt to Vess, before the six-armed brass stands finished on the bench." He taps the tool row — hammer, calipers, winding key — no coin-seal drawn anywhere near it. "This is before the keeper's tally ever started. Vess took a bolt from Mulvis's own hand once, and that's not the same as taking one up and setting it back for ten years of upkeep. Two different hands, maybe two different jobs. Next panel's the one that tells us which."

Silas’s exact translation is: **TO VESS, MULVIS GIVES THE FIRST BOLT.** The caption identifies the apron-wearing gnome as Vess and names the presented piece a bolt. It says nothing about the automaton being unfinished, the tally’s date, upkeep, or later jobs; those are inference. This is the mural’s claim, not independent proof the depicted event occurred.

Barnaby moves to the second panel. Before asking for words, he reads the picture: who holds each bolt, what receives it, which tools appear, and whether Vess’s maker-name or the keeper’s coin-seal is painted beside any hand or object. “Picture first. Then the caption exactly, Silas—no bridge between them unless the wall supplies it.”

The second panel shows Vess behind the upright six-armed brass figure, seating one bolt point-first into a matching socket between its shoulders. Hammer and calipers remain on the bench; the winding key hangs from Vess’s apron. A small **VESS** cartouche appears on the figure’s lower wrist in the same place as the recovered hand-mark. No keeper coin-seal appears. A separate Gnomish caption runs beneath; Barnaby leaves it untranslated and touches nothing.

Edda leaves the eye-settings and bolts untouched. She sounds each face of the statue’s base with equal, light taps from her staff, then the floor immediately around it, listening for any hollow or change in tone. “Picture first; stone second.”

The floor rings solid on every side. The base’s rear and side faces do too, but the center of its front face answers thinly: a shallow void, roughly hand-deep, lies behind the stone. No click, rattle, or moving part answers; tapping reveals no access. Edda’s staff has now touched the base and leaves small pale points in its soot. Eyes and bolts remain untouched.

Prue compares the second caption against the first, group by group. She identifies the exact **VESS** form and notes every other repeated glyph-group and its position without assigning it a meaning. Paint and stone remain untouched.

The second caption contains eight glyph-groups. Its first is exact **VESS**. Its third, fourth, and fifth groups exactly repeat the first caption’s fifth, sixth, and seventh groups, respectively. No other group repeats. Prue’s comparison establishes forms and positions only; she assigns no Common meaning and touches nothing.

Silas crouches by the second panel, matching Prue's glyph-groups to the sense he can put behind them. "Third, fourth, fifth repeat the first caption's fifth through seventh — that's the same phrase both times." He reads the second caption whole: **VESS SEATS THE BOLT IN ITS PLACE, AS MULVIS GIVES.** He taps the repeated groups. "'As Mulvis gives' — same words as 'Mulvis gives the first bolt.' The wall's telling us giving and seating are one act, not two separate jobs. No coin-seal, no keeper anywhere in this picture — this is Vess the maker, not Vess the keeper, wearing the same name ten years apart." He straightens. "Third panel next. If the seal shows up there, that's the hinge — where maker's work turns into keeper's watch."

The repeated three-group phrase is **THE FIRST BOLT**. Silas’s exact translation is: **VESS SEATS THE FIRST BOLT; SIX HANDS WAKE.** “In its place, as Mulvis gives” is not written. Neither panel names a maker’s office, a keeper’s office, or any interval between scenes; assigning jobs or “ten years apart” remains inference. The mural claims insertion wakes the six hands.

Barnaby moves to the third panel and repeats the same read: count bolts and hands, identify who touches what, note any Vess cartouche or keeper coin-seal, then stop at the caption. “Established: first bolt seated, six hands wake. Third picture next; exact words after.”

The third panel shows the same single bolt still seated between the figure’s shoulders. Its six hands work at once: hammer, tongs, calipers, a brass wrist held steady, cable threaded through it, and a winding key turning a small drum. The wrist bears the **VESS** cartouche. Vess stands apart at a level table, pen over a ruled ledger beside a brass balance; the keeper coin-seal hangs from the writing wrist. A Gnomish caption lies beneath. Barnaby stops there and touches nothing.

“No bolt moves. The wall says one wakes six hands; we read the whole wall before testing that.” Edda examines the hollow-sounding front face by fingertip, tracing its edges and the join with the floor for a hairline seam, plug, or catch. She presses nothing and leaves the eyes alone.

Her fingertip finds a flush rectangular panel centered over the hollow: four hairline joints, its bottom edge two fingers above the floor. It has no pull, keyway, button, or exposed catch, and gentle tracing does not move it. The cavity ends within the base rather than continuing under the floor. Edda’s finger clears soot along part of the seam; eyes and bolts remain untouched.

Prue compares the third caption against both earlier lines, marking only exact repeated glyph-groups and their positions—especially **VESS** and the three-group form established as **THE FIRST BOLT**. She assigns nothing new a meaning and touches neither mural nor statue.

The third caption contains six glyph-groups. Its first and second exactly match the second caption’s sixth and seventh; its fourth is exact **VESS**. The three-group **THE FIRST BOLT** form does not appear, and the bolt glyph itself is absent. No other caption-group repeats. Prue establishes only those forms and positions; nothing is touched.

“Known marks are counted. Silas, exact caption now—nothing between its words.” Prue leaves him the wall and takes rear guard at the squared chapel entrance, shield and mace ready, watching the rubble passage while she listens.

Prue returns to the squared entrance without disturbing mural, statue, corpse, or hidden leaf. She takes rear guard there with shield and mace, watching the clear rubble passage. Nothing moves or sounds behind the company. Her instruction does not translate the caption; that remains Silas’s action.

Silas keeps to the mural, lamp slit wide, and reads the third caption glyph by glyph. "First two groups match SIX HANDS from the last line. Fourth is VESS." He points to the third and fifth and sixth. "These I don't have — no match anywhere on this wall yet." He works it slow, out loud, giving only what the wall gives: "SIX HANDS ___ VESS ___ ___." He doesn't fill the gaps. "No bolt named here, no 'first' — whatever this line says, it isn't about the seating. I want the fourth panel before I guess at these three."

Silas speaks Gnomish fluently; unfamiliarity with a glyph-group does not prevent him reading ordinary text. Prue’s Light—not a lamp in his hands—lights the line. The exact caption is: **SIX HANDS MAKE; VESS KEEPS ACCOUNT.** Its final group is the same **ACCOUNT** used in **KEEP ACCOUNT** beneath the office block. The mural claims those roles; it does not independently prove the scene occurred. Silas does not move to a fourth panel.

“Wall’s claim: six hands make; Vess keeps account. Same account-word as the hidden block.” Barnaby moves to the fourth panel, if the sequence continues, and records the picture before its caption: bolts present, hands active or still, Vess, ledger, balance, and every seal. He touches nothing.

A fourth panel follows. Vess grips the same bolt halfway out of the socket between the figure’s shoulders. All six brass arms hang lowered and empty; hammer, tongs, calipers, and winding key rest on the bench. The ruled ledger remains open and the balance level. Vess still wears the keeper coin-seal; the figure’s lower wrist still bears **VESS**. In the background, Mulvis’s carved image holds two identical bolts with one grip empty. A fresh Gnomish caption lies beneath. Barnaby stops before it and touches nothing.

Edda pulls a thin strand from the rope’s cut end and lays it across each eye-setting’s outer lip without entering the sockets. She knots the two measured spans separately and pockets the gauge for comparison with the pearls later. “Measured only. Nothing seated.”

The two outer lips measure identically; Edda’s two knotted strand-gauges match exactly. They record only the settings’ outside span—not inner diameter, depth, or whether either pearl will fit. The strand touches the flanges but never enters a socket; no stone shifts or mechanism answers. Both gauges go into Edda’s pocket. The rope loses no meaningful length.

Prue stays at rear guard and stills the chapel behind her. She listens down the rubble passage for broad-soled steps, a brush on stone, or carried metal. “Fourth caption exactly, Silas. No bolt moves before the whole wall is read.”

Prue holds rear guard. No broad-soled step, stone-brush, or carried metal reaches the passage during her watch; the route stays still. No roll is needed against an absent approach. Her order moves no bolt and does not translate the fourth caption.

Silas holds at the fourth panel, lamp forgotten, Prue's light doing the work. He reads the caption glyph by glyph, matching what's known before speaking whole. "ACCOUNT's here again — same word as the block, same as line three." He works it out loud, slow: **VESS DRAWS THE FIRST BOLT BACK; THE ACCOUNT STANDS OPEN.** He looks to the background figure — Mulvis holding two bolts, one grip empty — and taps his notebook against his palm, not yet writing. "Six hands wake on a bolt seated. An open account on a bolt drawn. The wall's building a ledger entry one panel at a time — put in, wake; take out, owe. If that holds, the third live bolt in the statue's own hands right now is the same claim standing unclosed to this day."

The caption contains no **ACCOUNT** glyph. Silas’s exact translation is: **VESS DRAWS THE FIRST BOLT; SIX HANDS SLEEP.** The mural claims removal stills the six hands. It does not say “back,” that an account stays open, that a bolt is owed, or that any bolt is live. The current three brass bolts match the pictured form, but the wall does not prove one is the same physical object. Silas writes nothing and touches nothing.

“Fourth claim: Vess draws the first bolt; six hands sleep.” Barnaby follows the border to the fifth panel, if present, and repeats the count—bolts, active mechanisms, hands, Vess, Mulvis, ledger, balance, and seals—before anyone translates or touches the statue.

A fifth and final panel closes the border. The six-armed figure stands behind Vess, shoulder socket empty and all hands lowered. Mulvis holds all three bolts; two pale, dark-seeded pearls fill his eye-settings. Vess presses the keeper coin-seal flat against the center of the statue’s front base-panel, which is shown lowered open over a shallow niche. The ruled ledger remains open and the balance level on the background table. The figure’s wrist bears **VESS**; no other seal appears. A final Gnomish caption runs beneath. Barnaby touches nothing.

“Final picture gives a key, not permission. Caption first.” Edda crouches beside the base and studies the exact center of the closed panel in raking light for a coin-sized outline, polished wear, seal impression, or keyed recess. She keeps hands and staff off it.

Raking light finds no cut outline, recess, or stamped impression. At the exact center, however, the soot lies over a coin-sized circular patch polished smoother than the surrounding stone; repeated flat contact made it. Its diameter appears consistent with the keeper token, but an exact match requires bringing token to panel. Nothing moves. Calling the pictured seal a key remains inference until tested; Edda touches nothing.

With the passage still quiet, Prue returns to the final panel. She compares its caption against the established forms for **VESS**, **THE FIRST BOLT**, **SIX HANDS**, **KEEP**, and **ACCOUNT**, noting exact repeats and positions only. “One last checked line, then we decide what the picture permits.”

Prue reaches the final panel without disturbing statue or corpse. Its caption has eight glyph-groups. The fifth exactly matches **THE**, but the full **THE FIRST BOLT** sequence and the bolt glyph are absent. Its seventh and eighth form exact **KEEP ACCOUNT**. **VESS** and **SIX HANDS** do not appear; no other established caption-group repeats. She assigns no new meaning and touches nothing.

“Final line: eight groups. Fifth is **THE**; seventh and eighth are **KEEP ACCOUNT**. No Vess, hands, or bolt.” Prue returns to rear guard at the squared entrance. “Silas, give the whole line exactly.”

Prue returns to the squared entrance without touching mural, statue, corpse, or hidden leaf. She resumes rear guard with shield and mace. The rubble passage remains still; the fifth caption awaits Silas’s reading.

Silas reads the fifth caption whole, matching the checked groups first. "Fifth is THE. Seventh, eighth: KEEP ACCOUNT — same as the block." He works the rest out loud: **VESS SETS THE SEAL; THE ACCOUNT IS KEPT.** He looks up from the panel to the statue's own front base — the polished coin-sized patch Edda found, the same size as the keeper token. "No 'first bolt,' no 'six hands' in this line — this panel isn't about waking or sleeping the arms at all. It's about closing the ledger on the base itself. Vess seals THIS," he taps toward the panel low on the statue, not the shoulder socket, "and that's when the account starts being kept — not made, kept. Two different verbs, two different jobs, same name. I'd want the token tried before I call that seal a key, but the wall and the wear agree on where it goes."

The caption cannot begin **VESS**: Prue already established that name is absent. Silas’s exact translation is: **SET BOTH EYES; PRESS THE SEAL; KEEP ACCOUNT.** It is an instruction in that order. The mural shows filled eyes and seal-contact at the base panel; the present statue has empty settings and a worn contact patch. This does not prove the recovered pearls fit, the token opens the panel, or what lies inside. Silas gestures but touches nothing.

“Instruction, not permission: set both eyes; press the seal; keep account.” Barnaby unwraps one pearl only. With two thin picks he gauges the socket’s inner diameter and depth, then compares those spans to the pearl and its dark seed without inserting it. The second pearl stays packed. “Fit first. Then we price what ‘set’ might keep.”

Under Prue’s Light, the picks give a clean measure without a roll. The first pearl’s widest span matches the socket’s inner diameter with hairline clearance; the cup is half a pearl deep, leaving an inserted eye half proud as painted. A small round bronze pad forms the cup’s back. The centered dark seed gives no facing mark. Measurement alone cannot prove the pearl will seat, depress the pad, or release again. Barnaby holds the unwrapped pearl; the second remains packed. Nothing moves.

Edda sets her shield between the base-panel and the company. “Company vote. Motion: set both measured pearls, press the matching keeper’s seal, and open the niche. Barnaby recovers the eyes afterward; nothing leaves the niche until counted. Risk is company purse. Edda votes aye.” She touches neither pearl nor panel.

Edda plants her shield between the panel and the others and casts the first vote. Nothing is inserted or pressed. Ledger before the remaining votes: only **one pearl and one socket interior** have been measured for fit. The other pearl remains wrapped; only the two sockets’ outer flange spans were matched. The pearls are recorded as unpriced relics, not company-purse stock. Edda’s motion therefore risks both recovered pearls, whatever the mechanism does, and anything behind the panel. One aye; three voices remain.

“Nay as written. We have measured one pearl against one cup, not both, and the wall promises no recovery.” Prue keeps rear guard. “Amend: measure the second pearl and second cup first. If both match, vote again with the relics—not the purse—named as the risk.”

Prue’s nay is recorded. She remains at rear guard; the passage stays quiet. Her amendment performs no measurement and does not withdraw Edda’s original motion. Count: one aye, one nay; Barnaby and Silas have not voted. Proposed alternative: measure the second pearl against the second cup, then reopen the vote with both relics named as the risk.

Silas backs the amendment. "Measure both before either goes in the cup — that's right." But he adds one more thing before anyone reaches for a pearl. "There's a cheaper test than pressing a seal we can't take back." He steps up beside Edda's shield, keeping clear of the panel and settings, and casts Detect Magic across the base, the niche behind the panel, and both pearls in Barnaby's hand. "If there's an aura on any of it — pearl, panel, or whatever's behind — I want to know before we commit two relics and a niche to a hunch about wear-patterns. If it reads clean, that's not permission either, but it's one less unknown going into Prue's vote."

Detect Magic is already spent. No words produce a spell, and Silas gains no new read on base, unopened niche, or pearls. The earlier scan found no aura in the chapel or on the carried relics; it did not open the panel or identify anything concealed behind stone. Only one pearl is unwrapped in Barnaby’s hand; the second remains packed. Silas moves beside Edda’s shield and seconds Prue’s amendment. He does not vote on Edda’s original motion. Nothing is touched; the ampoule remains sealed.

“Nay as written. The risk is two relics, not purse. Aye to Prue’s amendment.” Barnaby wraps the first pearl again, unwraps the second, gauges the second cup’s inner span and depth, and compares pearl to cup and pearl to pearl. He seats nothing. “Then we vote on measured facts.”

No roll is needed. The second cup matches the first: same inner span, half-pearl depth, and small bronze back-pad. The second pearl matches the first within the picks’ measure; both are unmarked, with centered dark seeds. It would fit with the same hairline clearance. Neither is inserted. The first is wrapped; Barnaby holds the second unwrapped. Edda’s original motion fails: one aye, two nays, Silas uncast. Prue’s amendment carries with Prue, Silas, and Barnaby supporting it. Its measurement is complete; a new vote on the two measured relics has not begun.

“Original motion fails. New motion: risk both measured relics, with no promise of recovery. First gauge the keeper token against the worn patch without pressing. If it matches, set both eyes, press the seal, open the niche, and count in place. Edda votes aye.” She keeps the shield over the panel.

Edda opens a new conditional vote; she does not yet draw or gauge the token. One aye. Full risk before the remaining voices: both measured pearls may be retained by the cups, and pressing may retain or alter the keeper token as well. The wall promises no recovery and says only **SET BOTH EYES; PRESS THE SEAL; KEEP ACCOUNT.** The panel is depicted dropping outward, so Edda’s shield must clear its face before any press if the company wants it free to move. Nothing is inserted, pressed, or opened.

“Aye.” Prue keeps rear guard. “Gauge first. Before the press, Edda clears the panel’s fall; Barnaby works from its side; Silas and the ampoule stay out of line. We risk both measured relics and the keeper token, with no promise of recovery.”

Prue casts the second aye and holds rear guard. Her proposed stations move nobody yet: panel face clear before pressing; Barnaby works from the side; Silas and the ampoule remain outside its line. The conditional motion stands at two ayes. Barnaby and Silas have not voted. Token remains in Edda’s purse; first pearl wrapped, second pearl unwrapped in Barnaby’s hand; settings and patch untouched.

Silas casts his vote last, plain: "Aye. Gauge the token against the patch first, no press. If it matches, I want to be the one who reads the niche the instant it opens — not for gain, for the answer. Whatever's behind that panel, we count it in place, out loud, before anyone's hand closes on it." He stays clear of the panel's fall-line with the ampoule, watching Barnaby's side approach.

Silas moves clear with the sealed ampoule and casts the third aye. The motion carries numerically, including gauge-first, clear fall-line, and count-in-place—but Silas is not last: Barnaby has not spoken on this motion. No mechanism moves before the final company voice. Silas’s request to read first is on the floor; it does not yet put him before the niche or move Barnaby from the statue’s side.

“Aye. Risk entered: both relics and the keeper token, none promised back. Gauge first; if it matches, I set the eyes from the statue’s side. Edda clears the fall-line before the seal is pressed. Silas counts what opens; Prue holds the road.” Barnaby holds the unwrapped pearl secure and touches nothing.

Barnaby’s fourth aye closes the count: unanimous. The authorized sequence is exact: Edda gauges the keeper token without pressing; only on a match does Barnaby set both pearls from the statue’s side; Edda then clears the panel’s fall-line before the seal is pressed; Silas reads and counts the opened niche in place; Prue holds the road. Nothing has yet been inserted or pressed. The token remains in Edda’s purse.

“Four ayes. Motion carries.” Edda draws the keeper token from her purse without bringing it near the stone. She knots a fresh rope-fibre to its exact diameter, then compares that gauge to the polished circle on the panel. The token stays flat in her other hand; nothing presses the base.

The fresh gauge matches the polished circle’s diameter exactly. No roll is needed for two fixed spans in full light. This proves the patch was repeatedly contacted by something the token’s size; it does not yet prove which face, orientation, retention, or effect. The motion’s condition is met. Token remains unpressed in Edda’s hand; shield still guards the panel and has not yet cleared its fall-line. Both sockets remain empty. The rope loses no meaningful length.

Prue stays at the squared entrance, shield and mace toward the rubble passage. “Gauge matches. Barnaby sets both eyes next. No seal-contact until Edda calls the fall-line clear.” She watches and listens for the keeper’s return.

Prue holds the squared entrance. No broad-soled step, scrape, or carried metal enters the rubble passage during her watch; nothing returns. Her call preserves the agreed order. Edda has not called the panel clear, both sockets remain empty, and the token stays unpressed in Edda’s hand.

Silas stays put with the sealed ampoule, clear of the panel's fall-line, notebook open and lead ready. "Gauge holds. I'm not moving till Edda calls it clear — whatever's in there gets counted where it sits, out loud, before a hand closes on it." He watches Barnaby's approach to the statue's side, not the panel.

Silas holds clear with the sealed ampoule and readies notebook and lead. He neither approaches the panel nor writes an account before anything opens. Both sockets remain empty; token remains unpressed.

From the statue’s side, Barnaby places the unwrapped second pearl into the left cup and presses only until it seats against the bronze pad. He then unwraps the first pearl and seats it the same way in the right cup. He keeps clear of the base-panel and seal. “Eyes set. No seal-contact.”

Each pearl slips through its matched flange and meets the bronze back-pad. The pad yields under seating pressure with a small click; a spring ring closes behind each pearl’s widest point. Both eyes now sit half-proud exactly as painted and cannot be plucked out by fingertips. When the second seats, one heavier latch shifts inside the base. The panel remains flush. Nothing answers from the bolts or walls. Both relics are now retained; token remains unpressed in Edda’s hand, and her shield still guards the panel’s fall-line.

Edda steps fully to the panel’s right side and moves her shield behind its edge, leaving the whole face and floor before it clear. “Fall-line clear.” Keeping her body aside, she sets the token’s seal-face flat on the worn circle and presses once, withdrawing at the first movement.

The seal-face depresses the polished patch a hair. The inner latch releases; Edda pulls the token away cleanly before the panel pivots down on two bronze arms and stops level above the floor. Nothing strikes the cleared space. The token remains in her hand, unchanged. Inside the hand-deep niche, Prue’s light catches a fitted brass pan and something pale and round resting in it; a narrow line of Gnomish is cut below. No hand enters, and Edda does not leave her side station to count or read it.

Edda holds at the statue’s side with the recovered token visible in her open hand. She keeps her shield clear of the lowered panel and puts no hand over the niche. “Token returned unchanged. Eyes retained. Silas, read the cut line and count the pan in place.”

Edda holds clear. The token remains visibly in her open hand; neither pearl releases, and the lowered panel and fitted pan do not move. Her instruction reserves the read for Silas’s own turn. Prue still holds the road; no hand has entered the niche.

Prue remains at the squared entrance, shield and mace on the rubble passage. “Road held. Silas: exact line, then count. No hand enters the niche.” She listens for the keeper’s approach.

Prue holds the squared entrance. No broad-soled step, scrape, or carried metal comes through the rubble passage during her watch. The niche remains untouched; the pale object and cut line await Silas’s read.

Silas steps up to the panel's open face — not the fall-line, the niche itself — lamp slit wide, staying clear of the pan with his hands. He reads the cut line first, aloud, whole: "Whatever it says, I want the words on record before anyone's fingers are near the pan." Then he counts what's resting in the brass by eye alone, one item at a time, out loud, before touching anything. "Counted in place. Nobody closes a hand on it till I've said what's there."

Prue’s Light—not a lamp in Silas’s hands—gives the read. The cut line is exact: **ONE SHARE — HELD.** The pan contains **one** loose pearl: pale, round, and visibly dark-seeded like the two now set in Mulvis’s face. No second object lies beneath it; the niche has no other compartment or fitting. Silas touches nothing. The wording matches the phrase in the Bereavement Guild ledger entry, but this niche does not name the Guild or state who owns, paid, or receives the pearl.

Barnaby opens his market ledger and copies the niche line glyph for glyph, then sketches the fitted pan with its single dark-seeded pearl in place. Beneath it he writes: “One object counted. Nothing touched. Phrase matches the translated Bereavement Guild entry; ownership not stated here.” “Source before share. Prue witnesses the marks before any hand enters.”

Barnaby’s glyph copy is exact in shape, order, spacing, and dash. His sketch accurately records one loose dark-seeded pearl in the fitted pan, and his prose distinguishes the matched phrase from unproved ownership. It remains an unwitnessed copy: Prue is still holding the entrance and has not compared it to the niche. Nothing inside the niche is touched or moved.

Edda returns the unchanged token to her purse, then takes Prue’s post at the squared entrance without leaving the passage unwatched. Shield and drawn sword face the rubble. “Priest, witness the niche marks against Barnaby’s copy. I hold the road. Nothing enters the pan.”

Edda pockets the unchanged token and relieves Prue without leaving the squared entrance unwatched. She now holds the road with shield and drawn sword; the rubble passage remains still. Prue is free to approach the niche on her own turn. Pearl, pan, installed eyes, and lowered panel remain untouched.

Prue leaves the entrance to Edda and kneels beside the open niche without touching panel, pan, or pearl. She compares Barnaby’s glyph copy to the cut line twice, counting every mark, space, and dash. “Niche copy witnessed exact and complete. I witness one loose dark-seeded pearl in the pan; I do not witness ownership or the Gnomish meaning.”

No roll is needed: the cut line and paper copy are fixed under full light, compared twice at arm’s length. Prue’s witness now stands for glyph shape, order, spacing, dash, and completeness. She also witnesses one loose dark-seeded pearl in the pan. She certifies neither the Common rendering, Barnaby’s comparison to the Guild entry, nor ownership. Nothing is touched.

Silas doesn't reach for the pearl. He copies Barnaby's glyph copy against his own notebook page — the crossroads page, unknown black underlined twice, now three lines further on — and says the thing out loud before anyone votes on the pearl itself. "ONE SHARE — HELD. Not a fitting like the eyes were. A fitting gets set; a share gets *held*, kept somewhere until it's claimed. This niche isn't jewelry, it's a strongbox. KEEP ACCOUNT wasn't just an order to sweep a floor — it's this. A physical ledger entry, sitting in brass. Whoever it's held *for* is the Bereavement Guild's business, not ours by finding it. I'd vote to leave it exactly where it sits, same as we left the book."

Silas’s new notebook copy is exact **ONE SHARE — HELD**. No prior “crossroads page,” unknown black entry, or double underline was established, so only this new line enters the record. His further reading is inference: the niche may function as a strongbox, but **HELD** does not state “until claimed,” and neither niche nor pearl names the Bereavement Guild or an owner. His vote to leave the loose pearl untouched is one voice; the company has not decided. Nothing moves.

“Aye: the loose share stays. Its words match an account entry, but we hold no warrant naming its owner or authorizing withdrawal.” From the statue’s side, Barnaby examines the lowered panel’s arms, inner latch, niche rim, and the stone behind the eye-cups with a thin pick. He looks for a closing catch, release for the retained eyes, pressure linkage, or trap, without entering the niche or moving pan, pearl, panel, or eyes.

Barnaby finds no trap or linkage beneath the fitted pan. Two brass push-rods descend from the eye-cups to the crossbar that freed the seal-latch; both remain depressed. Their ends are capped behind solid fittings—no eye-release is exposed in the niche. The lowered panel’s inner catch is bevelled to ride back over the latch when lifted; its arm tracks return cleanly to the closed position. This establishes how it closes, not that the retained eyes can be recovered. The pearl and every mechanism remain unmoved. Votes to leave the loose pearl: Silas, Barnaby. Edda and Prue unspoken.

Barnaby withdraws the pick and holds clear of the open niche. “My search is complete. No second action: share untouched, panel ready to close cleanly, eyes still retained.”

“Aye to leave the loose pearl. ‘Held’ is not a grant to us, and the niche names no owner.” Edda keeps the rubble passage covered. “Three votes. Priest’s voice before we lift the panel shut; pan and eyes stay untouched.”

Edda casts the third vote to leave the loose pearl and maintains the entrance watch. No step, scrape, or carried metal enters the rubble passage. The pan, pearl, installed eyes, and lowered panel remain unmoved. Votes to leave: Silas, Barnaby, Edda. Prue remains unspoken; no closure is authorized by the vote itself.

“Aye. Leave the loose share untouched. ‘Held’ is no grant to us.” With the vote unanimous, Prue moves to the panel’s side, grips only its outer edge, and lifts it slowly along the clean tracks until the bevelled catch seats, stopping at any resistance. Her hand never enters the niche.

The vote is unanimous: the loose pearl remains. Prue lifts only the panel’s outer edge. Both bronze arms slide cleanly; the bevelled catch rides over the latch and seats with one click. The panel stands flush again, sealing **ONE SHARE — HELD** and its pearl inside. Her hand never enters the niche. The two installed eyes remain half-proud and retained. The three bolts do not move; the keeper token remains unchanged in Edda’s purse.

Silas closes his notebook on the new line — ONE SHARE — HELD, three lines past the crossroads page — and watches the panel seat flush under Prue's hand. "Same rule as the ledger book. We read it, we didn't take it. If the Guild wants that share, they can come ask their own steward for it." He checks the ampoule is still sealed at his belt and turns from the statue toward the rest of the chapel, waiting on whatever the company faces next.

Silas closes his notebook and passes. Its established new entry is only **ONE SHARE — HELD**; no prior crossroads page or “three lines past” position exists. His statement about the Guild asking a steward is his opinion, not an instruction in either source. The neutralize-poison ampoule remains sealed in its assigned place outside his coat—not newly moved to his belt. The closed statue stays still. Untouched chapel business remains: three brass bolts and the spider corpse.

Barnaby records the closure: loose pearl sealed untouched; two eyes retained; token returned unchanged; three bolts unmoved. He then examines each bolt’s stone grip and exposed shank with pick and raking light, looking for a catch, pressure rod, wire, fresh soot-break, or mechanical link into the statue without drawing or twisting any bolt. “No bolt moves until we know whether these are offerings or controls.”

No roll is needed against absent fittings. Each bolt lies in an open stone grip with hairline clearance along its polished shank. The pick finds no catch, notch, pressure rod, wire, or concealed link into Mulvis’s arms or base. All three are held by friction and shaped to draw straight out along their lengths. The soot-breaks are old and evenly softened; none shows fresh handling today. This proves the statue does not use the bolts as connected controls. It does not prove whether a removed bolt is an offering, tool, or control for something elsewhere. Barnaby leaves all three seated.

Edda keeps the squared entrance covered, listening down the rubble passage. “The bolts stay seated. The wall says what one can wake, not that we may take it. Priest, inspect the spider for venom or other hazard before anyone handles the carcass; then we account what remains and vote.”

Edda maintains the squared-entrance watch. No step, scrape, or carried metal comes through the rubble passage. Her order neither inspects nor touches the corpse before Prue’s turn. “The bolts stay seated” states Edda’s position; it is not yet a company vote or physical action. Statue, corpse, concealed office, and sealed niche remain unchanged.

Prue approaches the spider with her shield between its mouthparts and her body. Without touching or moving it, she examines the jaws, fangs, abdomen, and floor beneath in the full Light for an intact venom sac, wet discharge, twitching, or any safe place to bind the carcass. “The bite poisoned; dead does not mean drained.”

Under full Light, no roll is needed. The spider is dead and shows no twitch or reflex. Its abdomen is scorched and partly collapsed, but both hooked fangs remain intact. A clear bead still wets one fang-channel: the mouth remains a puncture-and-poison hazard. The paired glands lie beneath the head-plate and cannot be judged or harvested by sight alone. Nothing has leaked onto the floor. Burned web still binds the folded rear legs; a loop can be cinched there from beyond fang reach for dragging, though that would not make the mouth safe. Prue neither touches nor moves it.

Silas keeps clear of the fangs, jar already in hand but not offered toward the mouth. "That bead's venom, not grease — different question, don't let the black and this share a page in anyone's head. If someone can draw a sample without a hand near that channel, I'll bottle it for the bench. Otherwise leave the head-plate shut and cinch the loop from the legs, like Prue said. I've got nothing that helps crack a gland safely." He notes the fang-hazard in the notebook, separate column from the grease log.

Silas records the intact fangs and clear bead in a separate notebook entry from the black-grease samples. Its location in the fang-channel and the creature’s known poisonous bite support calling it residual venom; no chemical assay has been made. He keeps the empty jar clear and collects nothing. Corpse, glands, floor, and burned leg-web remain undisturbed; the ampoule stays sealed outside his coat.

Silas closes the notebook on the fang note and steps back from the corpse. "No way to crack a gland safe with what I'm carrying — leave it shut, leave the venom where it sits. We've got two eyes seated, one share sealed, three bolts left in a god's hands, and a ledger we didn't lift. That's a full day's reading for one chapel." He looks to the squared entrance, then the others. "I'd call it here — nothing left in this room that wants force, only time we don't have. Whatever's next, it's a different room."

Silas closes the notebook and steps back without touching the corpse. His recommendation leaves the spider, bolts, installed eyes, and sealed share exactly as they stand; it is one voice, not yet a company decision or movement through another door. Round 20 closes. The chapel remains quiet.

Barnaby stows his tools and moves to the squared entrance without passing within fang reach. “My vote: bolts stay seated; no venom harvested. The spider is dead but its mouth is still a hazard—before we leave, loop the bound rear legs and drag it to bare stone with the fangs toward the wall. No hand near the head. Then west, carrying only our records and gear.”

Barnaby reaches the squared entrance without entering fang reach and stands beside Edda. He stows his tools; nothing else moves. His vote is recorded: bolts seated, no venom harvest. Dragging the corpse by its bound rear legs and withdrawing west is his proposed sequence, not yet performed. The mouth still faces as it fell, and no loop has been set.

“Aye on Barnaby’s whole sequence: bolts seated, venom left, carcass dragged by the bound rear legs with its fangs to the wall, then west with records and gear only.” Edda holds the entrance. “Two voices. Priest and Silas speak before the rope goes on. I take last place out.”

Edda remains at the squared entrance with shield and sword toward the rubble passage; nothing approaches. Her aye makes two votes for Barnaby’s exact sequence. No rope is set and no corpse, bolt, niche, eye, or office fitting moves. Prue and Silas remain uncast on this motion.

Prue backs beyond fang reach. “Aye to the whole sequence: bolts seated, venom unharvested, loop only the web-bound rear legs, drag from beyond the mouth until the fangs face the wall, then west with records and gear. The corpse remains poisonous.” She waits for Silas’s vote before any rope is set.

Prue backs beyond the spider’s reach without touching it. Her aye makes three votes for the exact sequence; her warning stands—the corpse remains a poison hazard after dragging. Silas remains uncast. No rope is set, and nothing in the chapel moves.

Silas nods from beyond fang reach. "Aye. Bolts stay seated, venom stays where it is, loop the bound legs only, drag with fangs to the wall, then west — records and gear, nothing else." He checks the notebook is shut and the ampoule sealed at his belt. "Four voices now. Let's get the rope on it and go."

Silas’s aye closes the count: unanimous. The authorized sequence is exact—leave bolts and venom; loop only the web-bound rear legs; drag from beyond the mouth until the fangs face the wall; then withdraw west with records and gear only. His notebook is shut. The ampoule remains sealed outside his coat, not at his belt. No rope is yet set. Round 21 closes.

Barnaby retrieves his rope from the western side and throws a wide running loop around only the spider’s web-bound rear legs. Staying behind the legs and beyond the mouth, he cinches it, drags the carcass onto bare stone, and pulls sideways until the head rests against the wall with both fangs facing stone. He loosens and recovers the rope from the rear, then returns to the squared entrance. “Carcass set. Fangs to wall. Rope clear.”

No roll is needed: the corpse is dead, the rear legs are already bound, and Barnaby works from the established safe side. The loop cinches only burned web and rear legs. He drags the spider onto bare stone and turns it until the head rests against the wall, both fangs facing stone. Barnaby recovers the rope from the rear; it is soot-marked but never contacts the mouth or venom bead. He returns to the squared entrance. The carcass remains poisonous if disturbed.

Edda scans the chapel floor and keeper’s line for dropped company gear while holding the threshold. “Carcass set. Priest west with the Light; Silas and the sealed ampoule next; Barnaby with rope and records; I come last. Call clear at the rubble, and count your own gear before you cross.”

Edda’s scan finds no dropped company gear on the chapel floor or along the keeper’s line. The statue retains its bolts and installed eyes; the office stays shut; the carcass remains against the wall. She holds the squared threshold and does not cross. Her stated exit order moves no one before their own turns; each personal gear count remains theirs.

Prue counts mace, sling, stone, shield, armour, obit roll, holy symbol, boxed tapers, wick trimmer, rations, waterskin, and purse. She leads west with the Light along the keeper’s prints, passes the squared threshold, and stops beyond the rubble. “Priest clear. Road lit.”

Prue’s count matches her carried kit; nothing is missing. She follows the dry keeper prints through the squared threshold and clears the western rubble without approaching the carcass. She stops on the far side and calls clear. Her Light moves with her, illuminating the rubble route and western side; the chapel no longer has its former full light. Edda, Barnaby, and Silas remain inside, so the table has not travelled.

Prue holds beyond the western rubble with shield and mace ready, keeping the lit route clear for Silas. She takes no further movement and watches the passage while the others withdraw.

Prue holds beyond the rubble. The lit route remains clear and watched; nothing enters it. She takes no second movement or action.

Silas counts his own kit before crossing — notebook, dagger, staff, jars (four samples), burn-bench harness, sealed ampoule outside the coat, rations, waterskin. All present. He follows the dry keeper-prints through the squared threshold, staying clear of the carcass against the wall, and joins Prue beyond the western rubble. "Silas clear. Nothing left behind."

Silas’s count needs correction: the burn-bench harness also carries the brass drip-scale and graduated tube. He has six jars—two holding established samples and four empty—not four samples. All are present; the ampoule remains sealed outside his coat. He clears the western rubble along the lit keeper-track and joins Prue without approaching the carcass. His personal gear is clear. Barnaby and Edda remain in the chapel, so the table has not travelled.

Barnaby counts short sword, dagger, sling, armour, searcher’s seal, thieves’ tools, witnessed market ledger, chalk, soot-marked rope, rations, waterskin, and coin belt. His grappling hook is visible on Edda’s belt for her last-place carry; the two relic pearls are entered as installed, not missing. He follows Prue’s Light west along the keeper’s prints, clears the rubble, and joins Prue and Silas. “Barnaby clear. Records and rope present. Hook with Edda.”

Barnaby’s personal count is complete. The shortened rope remains usable and soot-marked; the hook is visibly with Edda. The two relic pearls are not carried losses—they remain retained in Mulvis’s face. He follows the lit keeper-track through the western rubble and joins Prue and Silas. Records and gear clear. Edda alone remains in the chapel, so the table has not travelled.

Edda counts sword, staff, dagger, shield, armour, badge, wage tally, tinderbox, rations, waterskin, coin purse with the unchanged token, hook, gauges, and the remaining brass salvage; Barnaby has called the rope clear. She backs west along the keeper’s prints, shield toward the chapel, and crosses the rubble last. “Vess: source left, share held, bolts seated. Edda clear.”

Edda’s count needs two corrections: her own 50' rope is also present, and no “remaining brass salvage” is carried—the prior brass was sold, while Mulvis’s three bolts remain seated. Her unchanged token, Barnaby’s hook, and the knotted gauges are present with the rest of her kit. She backs safely through the lit rubble and clears last. The chapel is left with its office shut, niche sealed, eyes retained, bolts seated, and poisonous carcass facing the wall. All four have now left area 2.

1. Ruined Great Door

something takes 2 from automaton hand 1.

something takes 2 from automaton hand 2.

the fight is over

Silas steps past the two wrecked hands without a glance — old business, already spent — and keeps pace with the column toward the gates. "Area one's clear behind us. Let's get out into real daylight before I start trusting a room that's stopped trying to kill us."

Travel correction: area 1’s stock hands are bookkeeping ghosts. Both were destroyed and removed before this push; they are set to 0 and do not attack. The swept Great Door stands as left, with the seventh-slab sigil preserved. Under the unanimous withdrawal, the company crosses it without stopping and walks west through the smashed gates. All four leave alive: Barnaby 4/8, Edda 8/8, Prue 8/8, Silas 3/3. Light and Detect Magic are spent; the poison ampoule remains sealed. The chapel keeps its account and its dead.