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DM

The gloop guard sprawls on a bedroll, snoring wetly. It does not wake or act.

Ivo Trant

Asleep. QUIET — nothing clinks, nothing rings, nobody wakes it. The snore is our clock: steady, we work; one hitch and we're gone the way we came, no trade, nobody stands over anybody. [whispered to Lissa, while I hold still and learn the snore's rhythm] This is the embalming room — the room where a shrine writes down and keeps its dead. Every room before this was guards and doors. This is the first room that remembers NAMES. Pettifer went east two winters back and my whole investigation is a carter's maybe-sighting; if he passed this way and stopped, this room knows it. That's what's on the slabs and in the jars, and I won't walk past it because a guard is sleeping — but I won't pay a dart for it either, at 2 of 3. Prizes by touch, in order, all quiet: a FLASK SHAPE first — embalmers keep oil, my lantern's dry but whole, oil is light and light is the first need of everything. Then PAPER — a ledger of the dead, jar labels, anything that rustles; gnomes write their dead down and don't throw them away. Then the slabs: if there are shapes under sheets, I lift one edge of each. I have to. Eighteen months of asking whether he's dead or simply gone — if the answer exists anywhere, it's lying on one of these. Wrapped brass stays wrapped and still — never in a room with a guard. I take the wall side, hand first, off the bedroll's line, never touching the gloop or its kit. Your call after mine: stay and search, or go now — if you say go, we go, and the question keeps. It's kept eighteen months. If it wakes: my voice, Gnomish, before anything else — coin after, we paid once and it bought a whole exit — and no hand near steel. [I move along the wall at a snore's pace, fingers reading the shelf fronts before my feet commit.]

DM

There are no shelves or slabs along the wall—only tattered anatomical tapestries and four low workbenches. Ivo eases open the first drawer. Wood rasps against wood, and the snoring stops. Inside sit a heavy glass jar and a small brass heart of intricate clockwork; neither has been removed. On the nearby bedroll, the gloop guard's eyes snap open.

Lissa Fenn

My hands are empty and open before I move — palms out, wide, away from sword and sling, and my voice in Gnomish, low and level, comes before anything else in the room does. "Awake, friend. Awake and paid." A gold and a scattering of coppers from the purse, tossed gentle and SHORT of the bedroll's edge — off its line, so it must move to gather if it wants them. "Toll again, gladly. The wood rasped, the wood woke you, and the fault is ours for being quiet badly. No hand goes near steel — see them? Empty." Then the trade, named plain, because gloops set prices and prices can be struck twice in one day: "Your drawer holds a jar of oil and a small brass heart. We came to read this shrine's dead, not to rob its guardroom — coin for the jar, honest price, spoken where you can hear it. The heart keeps, the slabs keep, the papers keep; we touch nothing else and we go the way we came, west, out-walking no one." And to Ivo, not in Gnomish, under my breath, spine to the wall, three steps back from the bedroll's line like the tunnel rules taught us: "Hands flat at your sides. We pay, we trade or we don't, and we walk — and the rule from the prison stands both ways, same as it ever did. If it takes coin, we go. If it names the jar's price, we pay and go. Nothing in this room is worth your last third of blood."

DM

Lissa's purse contains no coppers, so one gold coin lands short of the bedroll; she has 27 gp left. She backs three paces with empty hands. In the open drawer, the glass jar plainly holds several pickled gnome hearts—not oil—beside the untouched clockwork heart.

DM

The gloop watches both empty hands, then crawls forward and palms the gold. In Gnomish it croaks, “Waking toll paid. No names here—only hearts. Five gold buys the jar. Brass stays. Pay, or go west.” It makes no attack.

Ivo Trant

[Hands stay empty and open, spine to the wall, voice in Gnomish, low, the way that bought the prison exit. To the gloop:] "Keep the jar, friend — I read it now for what it is: hearts, not oil. No shame to either of us; I asked for light and you keep dead. The brass stays where it sits." [The drawer eases shut at a snore's pace, one fingertip, no rasp this time.] "But you set prices, so let me name what I'd buy, and you price it: ANSWERS, not things. Three questions, spoken plain, pay what you ask or none and we still go west quiet. "First: a hedge wizard, man like me but older, went east two winters back — Pettifer his name. Did he pass this shrine? Dead or living, either answer is worth coin to me. "Second: the west way we came by — does it run out to the great door and the sun, or down deeper before it goes up? Your word outranks my map. "Third: is there oil, a flask, a striker, any light to be had or bought in this shrine at all? You saw how we fumble in the dark. [Under my breath, not in Gnomish, to Lissa:] We go either way — hearts aren't light and light was the whole errand. If it prices the answers cheap, I pay from my own five; if dear, we walk, and the questions keep like everything else keeps. Nothing in this room is worth your last blood or mine. [to gloop, before it answers, plain and final] "Coin for answers, then west, the way we came — no steel anywhere, you have my word on the toll twice paid."

DM

The drawer slides shut without another rasp. The gloop keeps the toll and listens to Ivo's three questions, but has not yet named a price or answered.

Lissa Fenn

My hands stay where they've been — open, flat, wide of sword and sling — and I let the gloop see them stay there while it thinks. No second coin moves until it names a figure. It set prices twice today and honoured both; a thing that keeps its prices keeps its patience, and I can keep mine as long as it keeps its darts down. [To the gloop, in Gnomish, low and even:] "The purse is mine, friend, and it's already lighter for you twice today — gladly both times, and gladly a third if the answers are worth it. Name what the three cost and I'll weigh them. No steel anywhere in this room while we talk; that's twice-paid word and it holds." [Then, under my breath, not in Gnomish, to Ivo, spine still to the wall, eyes never off the bedroll:] "Rank them before it answers. Two and three are NEEDS — the way west is the road home past sleeping snails whose sleep I don't trust, and light is the thing the whole crawl runs behind. Those we pay for, up to dear. One is yours, and I don't say that to make it small — Pettifer's name is a want, and I've paid gold for wants before today and I'd pay it again for a friend. But if the price comes dear, it comes out of your five, and if it comes cheap, it comes out of mine, and that's not an argument, that's arithmetic. Nothing in this room is worth your last third of blood, and I'll say it a fourth time if the fourth time is needed."

DM

Lissa holds position with empty hands and waits. No further coin changes hands.

DM

The gloop scratches its chin with one claw. “Pettifer means nothing. That answer costs nothing. You came through north, not west. One gold buys where north and west lead—and what you already carry for light.” It waits for payment and does not attack.

Ivo Trant

[One gold from my own five, tossed gentle and SHORT of the bedroll's line, off its line, the way that's now bought peace three times. Hands empty before, during, after. In Gnomish, low:] "Paid, friend. North and west — where each leads, and what we already carry for light. Speak plain and we go the way you name, quiet as we came, and the toll twice and the trade once, all kept." [Under my breath, not in Gnomish, to Lissa, eyes never leaving the bedroll:] "Your arithmetic said cheap came out of your purse and I've paid it out of mine — settle the ledger with me in sunlight, it's the only bookkeeping left I care about. And note what it said for free: NORTH, not west. My map's wrong again and your pace-count outranks it — when it names the way, you call the march, not me. Whatever it says we already carry — think on what's on our backs before it finishes the sentence."

DM

Ivo pays 1 gp and has 4 gp left. The gloop gathers it and keeps the bargain: “North returns to the prison and the road back toward the great door. West goes deeper into the shrine. Your own pack holds a lantern and one flask of oil; this room has no striker.” Pettifer's name means nothing to it. The jar and brass heart remain in the closed drawer. With the toll paid and the answers delivered, it permits the pair to withdraw north in peace.