Chapter 16:

Gnomish jour­ney

*

When they brought back the cart­load of arti­facts and books to load aboard the ship, Calto picked out one to trade for. Some sort of crys­tal cylinder that she had no idea what it was even used for. It did not even appear magical in any way.

“What even is this?” Keolah won­dered as she handed it over.

“I have no idea,” Calto admitted. “But I think it’s a focusing device.”

“You think,” Keolah repeated.

Calto shrugged. “It will be ­in­ter­esting to study.”

Sarom counted out a hand­ful of scraps of paper with markings on them and passed them over to Keolah. “There you go.”

“What’s this?” Keolah won­dered, peering at them. They were written in gnomish. “I can’t read this. What does it mean?”

“That’s money,” Sarom said.

“Money?” Keolah raised an eye­brow. “It’s paper.”

“Would you prefer elven currency?” Sarom asked. “I figured since you were going to Mithim, you’d want to skip having to exchange your money once you got there.”

Keolah worked up her face. “Why do gnomes use paper as money? Doesn’t it just fall apart? Especially if it gets wet?”

“What?” Sarom said. “No, it’s good cloth paper, not news leaf. Very sturdy. Much more con­venient for carrying around than coins.”

“So how much is this worth?” Keolah won­dered.

“One hun­dred dollars,” Sarom said. “That’s approx­imately fifteen gold and some change. I’ve already deducted the cost of your passage and meals aboard ship. I’d prefer not to haggle. I gave you a fair price up front. I didn’t figure you wanted to argue about it.”

“No, no, I’m not arguing,” Keolah said. “Just confused. Your price is more than generous. I’ve just never seen paper money before.”

“Ah, I see,” Sarom said. “Well, be assured that it’s good across all of Mithim, Tregas Valley, and the end­less Plains. The pur­ple ones are twenty dollars, the blue ones ten, green five, yellow are one dollar bills, and the red ones are a quarter dollar.”

“I’ll try to rem­em­ber that,” Keolah said. “I can’t read gnomish. Or speak it, for that matter. Actually, I don’t think any of us can.”

“Might want to invest in trans­lator amulets once we arrive in Habag, then,” Sarom said. “There’ll be people who speak elvish there, but it would make it a lot easier.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Keolah said.

The gnomish steam­ship wasn’t nearly as bad as Keolah had feared. Then again, since they’d sailed from Fehn­darlai to Scalyr and from Scalyr to Dorgada, by this point she was fairly cer­tain that it wasn’t going to spon­tan­eously decide to sink just because she’d gotten aboard. She knew nothing about steam engines or prop­ellers or gears and gizmos, and frankly it was not the sort of thing she was ­in­ter­ested in, but it seemed to get the job done well enough even with­out magic.

*

Sedder still didn’t like sea travel. Kithere offered up a prayer to Valissa for safe passage before they left, but he didn’t really see the point. The sea goddess hated him any­way. Haw­thorne had decided that she liked traveling by steam­ship, and wouldn’t shut up about it. It admittedly beat asshole humans who took their money and their stuff and turned them over to trolls.

Everyone but the cap­tain wore goggles, al­though most of those kept them on their heads a lot of the time. Haw­thorne got her hands on a pair of them and tried them on.

“The goggles do nothing!” Haw­thorne declared. “Why do you even wear them?”

“So we don’t go blind,” a pink-haired gnome rep­lied, snatching them back.

“Is that really a danger?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Sometimes,” the gnome said.

Much of the crew habitually used hand­talk to communicate, and Sedder soon realized that at least three of the gnomes who worked below decks with the machinery were al­most com­pletely deaf. Others wore protec­tive ear­muffs when working with the engines, so they might as well be deaf a lot of the time down there. How that worked when they needed to have their hands on an im­por­tant piece of equip­ment was beyond him, but they seemed to manage well enough.

“I need to learn gnomish ob­scene gestures,” Haw­thorne declared.

Keolah sighed and chuckled. “Of course you do.”

Haw­thorne’s first attempts to learn a bit of gnomish hand­talk were hampered by the fact that she kept asking the hearing-impaired gnomes about it, and then by that most of the rest of the gnomes didn’t speak elvish very well. Their conversation op­tions were, sadly, primarily restricted to Calto and Sarom Zenk. That didn’t stop Haw­thorne from con­tinually bugging them into teaching her how to say a few things in hand­talk, and not even just ob­scene things, either.

“Think about how con­venient this could be!” Haw­thorne said.

<Learning Mind Magic would be more con­venient,> Sedder tepped in exasperation.

Haw­thorne jumped in startlement. “Oh, come on, stay out of my head.”

“I’m not ‘in’ your head,” Sedder said. “Telepathic communication is com­pletely non-invasive. I’m not reading your mind. I’m just doing the men­tal equiv­alent of making noise at you.”

Haw­thorne grunted. “It’s still weird.”

“And gnomes making gestures isn’t?” Sedder raised an eye­brow. “I have to won­der why they even bother and don’t just all learn Mind Magic. It would leave their hands free to work.”

“Learning Mind Magic isn’t nearly as sim­ple or easy as just learning gestures,” Calto said. “Some do, though.”

Sedder grunted. He was prob­ably biased. Teppers could all in­stinctively use Mind Magic to some degree, not as an in­born but as a racial ability, much like zephyli and floka could prob­ably all use Wind Magic just so they could fly at all. But teppers didn’t talk about them­selves out­side of tepper-only areas, so he kept quiet about that. People could just think he was a typical half-elf who knew Illusion and Mind Magic, not an un­usual combination, and not a half-tepper who had gained the Mind Magic part solely by virtue of his blood and not any sort of training what­so­ever.

“So, you’re an… elf/human cross?” Sarom asked him.

Sedder nodded. Close enough. Teppers could prob­ably be con­sidered a sub-race of humans, after all.

“Met a few of your sort in Hanna­derres,” Sarom said. “Most half-elves I’ve seen were half-gnome or half-dwarf though. Guess that’s to be ex­pected. Spent most of my life in Zar­hanna, after all, and there’s not exactly many humans up this way.”

“Are there a lot of half-gnomes and half-dwarves?” Sedder asked.

“Oh, plenty,” Sarom said. “Especially around the Valley of Gal, where you lot are heading. Most of the elves that live in Mithim can be found there.”

“You’ve been there?” Sedder asked.

“Who hasn’t?” Sarom said. “You’re prac­tically not a gnome if you haven’t been to Gal at some point in your life.”

“What’s it like?” Sedder won­dered.

“You should really see it for your­self,” Sarom said. “I don’t think I can do it justice. It’s magnificent.”

“More so than Dorgada?” Sedder asked.

Sarom scoffed. “Dorgada doesn’t hold a candle to it. You’ll see. You’ll see.”

Along the jour­ney, they spent some time cataloguing the Astanic books, sorting out all thirty-seven of them and making notes as to which one contained what sub­ject matter. Even if they couldn’t trans­late the meat of them, they could at least figure out what they were. They’d converted one cabin of the ship into a make­shift lib­rary. The gnomish crew stopped by now and then as a curiosity, but as none of them could actually read even a little bit of the trollish lan­guage, they couldn’t really do much more than look and peruse the hap­hazard, incom­plete trans­lations that Yennik had managed. Judging by what could be trans­lated, the books boasted a dazzling array of magical topics, some of which were on sub­jects long since lost or for­gotten.

“And you can’t do any­thing about the magical ter­minology,” Keolah said.

Yennik shook his head. “Not a thing. I don’t recog­nize a single one of those words.”

“And you’re not lying again,” Sedder said dryly. “For the sake of keeping ancient arcane know­ledge to your­self.”

Yennik snickered. “Not this time. Believe me, I wish I could trans­late this stuff.”

Silver, for his part, seemed miserable, despite the large quantities of gnomish ale aboard their ship. Sedder wasn’t sure if it was because he’d been forced to talk about Sardill, or if he was still uncom­fortable about Sedder’s presence. Either way, he avoided the man. Best to give him space, he figured reluc­tantly. Not that he thought it was even helping. Silver seemed to have a number of un­resolved issues, and Sedder had to won­der why he was even along on this jour­ney, even if his presence had been use­ful. No, Nar­cella’s presence had been use­ful. Silver just drank up all their money. He didn’t think Nar­cella would have come along with­out Silver, though.

Pity they’d been driven out of Dorgada so quickly. He would have liked to stick around and break into a few places to see what sort of treasures he could acquire. Maybe even find some of those books Keolah wanted so badly. Hope­fully people wouldn’t be quite so prejudiced in gnomish lands. For all he knew, though, they could be worse. There prob­ably wasn’t a Seeker aboard the Care­ful. The gnomes here didn’t know what color his aura was. Nor did they seem to notice that a horse had app­roached the ship, but there was a boy with straw-colored hair aboard in­stead. The gnomes didn’t seem to realize that sort of color­ation was un­usual for humans, at any rate. Then again, no one seemed nearly as concerned about shape­shifters in Zar­hanna as they did in Kalor. And no one seemed es­pec­ially concerned about necro­mancers in Kalor. All in all, Zar­hanna was not a place he would choose to vacation again if he could help it.

Meanwhile, Sedder took an oppor­tunity to glean as much infor­mation as he could about the pocket-world. Keolah was attemp­ting to re­con­struct her notes about it from mem­ory, but with­out being able to recall the spec­ific runes, all this amounted to was general diagrams of the layout of the arcane struc­ture.

“I was able to bring up a good rep­lica of it in the dream with the Tin’dari I spoke with,” Keolah grumbled. “But I haven’t been able to rep­licate that. I don’t know how to create that sort of dream on my own.”

Calto came up to Sedder along with a pink-haired gnome. “There you are, Sedder. Betig here wanted to meet you when he heard you were a Mind Mage.”

Betig tepped a word to him that Sedder didn’t under­stand, but got the general impression was a greeting.

“Sedder, meet Betig Cant­hear­myself­think­with­all­this­noise,” Calto said. “Betig, meet Sedder. Do you have a last name?”

“Yes, but I don’t use it,” Sedder said.

“Ah, okay,” Calto said.

A flood of words and images rushed through Sedder’s mind. He gripped his head. “Stop. I can’t keep up.”

Calto spoke a few words in gnomish to Betig, who let up on the tele­pathic con­tact. Sedder wasn’t even sure how well tele­pathy could work between two beings who didn’t speak a common lan­guage, but he supposed they might be able to manage, if the gnome didn’t flood him so much. He already had a bit of a head­ache.

Sedder ten­tatively made his own tele­pathic con­tact with the gnome, sending over images, emotions, impressions, not even bothering with words. Betig started off rep­lying overly eagerly, but Sedder gestured frantically at him and he backed off again and slowed down. Sedder had never attempted to communicate with some­one whose lan­guage he didn’t speak before. He was won­dering if this dis­com­fort was more from that, or from that Betig was kind of bad at this and had very little restraint. How did he not give his fellow crewmates ­head­aches? Maybe they were used to it, or it was easier because they were the same race or could speak the same lan­guage. Communicating by pic­tures and feelings was hard. People some­times romanticized tele­pathy as being this deep, meaning­ful communication beyond need for words, but that sim­ply wasn’t true in prac­tice.

The two of them sat down across from one an­other and spent a while attemp­ting to communicate. It wasn’t too bad when they stuck to purely images. Emotions were difficult to parse between strangers, and Sedder didn’t have enough internal con­trol over his emotions to send Betig any­thing but what he was actually feeling at the moment any­way. Which was primarily frus­tration and annoyance.

“Well,” Sedder finally said aloud, rubbing his head and standing up. “This has been a fascinating exercise, but I think that’s enough for now.” He sent Betig a series of images indicating stopping and parting ways.

Betig got the hint, and tepped a single word in gnomish accom­panied by an image of a closing door, and went off.

Sighing, Sedder went off him­self to locate Kithere. “Hey, Kit,” he said. “I don’t suppose you can cure tele­pathy-in­duced head­aches?”

*

“Sailing is pretty sweet,” Haw­thorne said, then paused thought­fully. “Is it really still sailing if the ship doesn’t have any sails?”

Calto chuckled. “You can still say that, yeah. In gnomish, we say ‘plin’. Which is also the same word as ‘to swim’.”

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Not really, no,” Calto said.

“But then how would you diff­erentiate between saying ‘I like swimming’ and ‘I like sailing’?”

“There’s a diff­erent word for that,” Calto said. “A ship ‘swims’, but the ac­tivity of sailing is called ‘zheglarto’.”

“I see,” Haw­thorne said. “Though I ­imag­ine saying that a ship that paddles is ‘swimming’ might be acc­urate enough, too.”

“Kind of, I guess,” Calto said. “It’s a screw prop­eller, though, not a paddle wheel.”

“Whatever,” Haw­thorne said.

“It’s brand new technology,” Calto said. “The first of her kind. Paddle steamers tend to stick to the coasts and rivers, but with this innovation, I think we can finally rep­lace sails for ocean-going travel.”

An ex­plosion split the air.

“Probably,” Calto said, setting off at a dead run in the dir­ec­tion of the sound.

Haw­thorne ran off on his heels, putting up a shield around her­self. Smoke choked the room Calto ran into, and some­thing was on fire. Haw­thorne quickly erected airtight wards around the fire and looked around at the damage.

Kithere stormed into the room in a panic right behind Haw­thorne. “What’s going on?” Without even stopping for an answer, she rushed over to the in­jured crew members with hands glowing white and started healing them.

“Did the engine blow up?” Haw­thorne asked.

“No, no,” Calto assured her. “That was a com­pletely un­im­por­tant piece of equip­ment.” He launched into a string of babble in gnomish.

“I don’t speak gnomish!” Haw­thorne snapped.

“Never mind!” Calto yelled. “Let me clear this smoke out of here…”

Calto started using Wind Magic to force the smoke out­side and clear up the cabin. Starved of air between Haw­thorne’s wards, the fire quickly burned it­self out.

“This man needs healing over here,” Calto called over to Kithere, indicating a pur­ple-haired gnome.

“I know,” Kithere said, not looking up from the blue-haired one she was working on. “I ran a diagnostic spell the minute I came into the room. This woman is more badly in­jured and will die if I don’t heal her first. The others will sur­vive a bit longer.”

“I’ll defer to your ex­pertise, then,” Calto said.

That didn’t stop the pur­ple-haired man from screaming at the top of his lungs until Kithere finished stab­ilizing the woman she was working on, plus two other gnomes, before finally getting to him.

“Oh, stop crying,” Kithere muttered. “Your in­juries are super­ficial.”

Calto didn’t bother to trans­late for her. “Will every­one be al­right?”

Kithere nodded. “They’ll be fine. I’ve got them all stable and I’ll work on finishing patching them up as I regen­erate mana.”

“We’re not dead in the water with what­ever that was blown up, are we?” Haw­thorne asked.

“Don’t worry,” Calto said. “Like I said, it’s com­pletely un­im­por­tant to the func­tion of the ship. I tried to ex­plain to you what it did.”

“Never mind,” Haw­thorne said. “I’ll take your word on that. So long as we can get into port still, I don’t have to care about the details of your doohickies.”

“We can get to the port,” Calto said. “We just wouldn’t really want to go out into the open ocean.”

“I thought you said it was com­pletely un­im­por­tant?” Haw­thorne glared at him.

“To the func­tion of the ship!” Calto said.

“Navigation isn’t a func­tion of the ship?” Haw­thorne narrowed her eyes.

“The ship can still sail just fine,” Calto said. “Provided we stay close to the coast. Which is what we’re doing.”

“And here you were saying that this brand new scoopeller—”

“—screw prop­eller,” Calto corrected her.

“—would rep­lace sails for ocean travel,” Haw­thorne said.

Calto groused, “It may have a few kinks to work out first.”

“A few kinks?” Haw­thorne raised an eye­brow. “It has kinks to work out like an dwarven domin­atrix!”

“I’m not sure what that word means…” Calto said.

“Never mind!” Haw­thorne exclaimed.

*

The steam­ship had to sail around an artificial reef of sorts that was app­ar­ently the remains of Dherdem. When they arrived in Habag, Keolah could readily see why the previous city had fallen into the sea. Half of the city was floating out in the water, and every last part of it seemed to be moving. Giant gears and wheels turned and spun. Tubes and chimneys spewed smoke and steam into the sky. Constant sounds of whirring and rattling echoed out over the water as they came in to dock.

“Does the name Habag mean some­thing in gnomish?” Keolah won­dered.

“It means ‘Dont­drown’,” Calto cheer­fully ex­plained.

If Keolah had thought Dorgada was overwhelming, it had not at all prepared her for Habag. While the city might not be as large, nor containing nearly as many excessively tall buildings, in a way it seemed more alive despite the fact that more of it was made of metal rather than wood. The gnomes were bright, cheer­ful, and wel­coming, even if she didn’t under­stand a word they were saying at first. And then when they realized she didn’t under­stand a word they were saying, they helpfully dir­ected her to a shop selling trans­lation amulets. They were cheap enough here and Sarom had given them plenty of money, so Keolah just bought one for each of them.

“Huzzah, I can speak gnomish now!” Haw­thorne exclaimed. “Wait, this doesn’t cover hand­talk, does it.”

“Only verbal communication, sorry,” the gnomish shop­keeper rep­lied.

“Man, you sneaky gnomes,” Haw­thorne said with a smirk. “Alright then, I’ll just have to learn it any­way.”

“Good luck, miss,” the shop­keeper said flatly.

“I’m going to be heading with you up to the Valley of Gal,” Calto told them.

“What about your ship?” Keolah asked.

“We’ll be staying in port for the time being to do some crew changes and make some repairs,” Sarom said.

“Repairs?” Keolah repeated.

“Yes, we had a slight ex­plosion on the way over,” Sarom said. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

“A slight ex­plosion,” Keolah said dubiously. “I didn’t hear any­thing. Oh… wait, we’d sound-warded our cabins. Um.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Sarom insisted.

“And shouldn’t the ship’s chief engineer be with it to do repairs?” Keolah asked.

“They’ll be fine,” Calto said.

“He’s blowing off his duties in order to find out about what you’re studying,” Sarom said.

Calto snorted softly. “You said it would be fine. Besides, there’s nothing I’m really needed for here. If every­one manages to screw it up while I’m gone some­how, I’ll just fix it when I get back. Maybe you should come with us, too. It might have a lower chance of ex­ploding again if you weren’t around.”

Sarom glared at him. “I wasn’t the one who mis­cal­ib­rated the—”

The two of them launched into a high-speed bout of gnomish tech­nical ter­minology. Despite the new trans­lator amulet supposedly being capable of inter­preting what they were saying for her, none of it made any sense regard­less. Keolah sighed and turned away.

After a few minutes of that, Sarom turned back to her, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. At any rate, we’ll be going through a number of crew changes, repairs, and refitting. By and large, our test run was a success. Mostly.”

“Right. Mostly,” Keolah said. “Maybe it’s just as well that I spent most of the trip inside studying…”

“Your sis­ter was in­valuable, by the way,” Sarom said. “Thanks to her, we didn’t lose any­one. A Healer should really be stan­dard crew at all times. We ought to see if we can find one that’s avail­able so long as we’re in port.”

“So, how are we going to get to the Valley of Gal?” Keolah asked. “Purchase an­other cart, walk, or what?”

“Oh, no no no,” Calto said. “We’re going to take a train!”

Keolah winced. “Okay, sure.”

“You don’t like trains?” Calto asked.

“Well, the last time I rode one, I had a slave collar on my neck and I had no idea where I was going,” Keolah said.

“Oh,” Calto said. “Well, that’s un­for­tunate. Rest assured, slavery is illegal in Mithim.”

“Good to know,” Keolah said. “I wish I’d been able to get straight to Mithim in the first place like I’d originally planned on.”

“You should have come with us,” Calto said brightly.

“Yeah, seems like,” Keolah said. “Haw­thorne got impatient and insisted on getting a ship in Starton in­stead of going all the way back to Scalyr. Big mis­take.”

“Was Starton that bad?” Calto asked. “Beyond the whole ‘selling you into slavery’ thing.”

Keolah shrugged. “Delven had nothing good to say about the place. I don’t know, myself. I didn’t speak their lan­guage.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s in Fly­land, right?” Calto said. “Why didn’t you just buy a trans­lation amulet?”

“I didn’t really think of it,” Keolah said. “I’d ­imag­ine they’re a lot rarer and more ex­pensive in Kalor. I didn’t realize they even existed at the time, though.”

At least up until Sedder ‘acquired’ one from ques­tionable sources. She’d hoped to put him to use back in Dorgada, but things hadn’t worked out to where that plan was feasible. Now that they were in Habag, that might be an­other matter. Keolah bid good day to the gnomes and went off to find Sedder.

Sedder addressed her in common. “Think any­one might accuse me of being a necro­mancer and drive me out of town here?”

“I don’t know,” Keolah said. “Let me see if I can spot any Seekers.”

She scanned the crowds. Most of the auras were small, gnome-sized, al­though there were still a fair number of elf-sized auras, as well as some stocky ones slightly taller than a gnome that she realized belonged to dwarves after spotting one with her bare eyes. Shades of blue, red, green, pur­ple, scattered about the city, a rainbow of mana amidst the occasional enchanted ob­ject. There were fewer enchanted things here than there were in Dorgada, making it easier to see and pick out auras. Blue was by far the most common color of aura in the area.

“I’m not seeing any,” Keolah said. “There’s a dis­prop­or­tionately large number of Water Mages here. And quite a few with Security, too.” She chuckled.

“How many auras can you make out at any given moment, though?” Sedder asked. “I’m sure there’s got to be at least one some­where in the city who can read auras.”

“Maybe,” Keolah said. “I don’t really know how it works for most people, though. Zarine spotted you from a mile away, to be sure. But can most Seekers just see auras with­out even thinking about it?”

“That’s a good point,” Sedder said. “Usually, some­one who isn’t an in­born mage isn’t using their magic all the time, I’d think. A non-in­born Seeker prob­ably has to con­centrate on what they’re try­ing to read, and most people just aren’t going to bother scanning the auras of every single per­son who walks past. Haw­thorne’s the only in­born Warder I’ve known. Most Warders actually have to con­sciously turn their wards on. Haw­thorne’s seem to be on all the time whether she’s thinking about it or not.”

“True,” Keolah said. “I guess Dorgada was a big enough city that out of every­one, there was a good chance of there being at least one in­born Seeker around.”

“So, are we staying in Habag long, or just hopping on the first train to Gal?” Sedder asked.

“Let’s book a room at an inn and stick around a few days, at least,” Keolah said. “So long as we’re here…”

“You want me to look around,” Sedder inferred.

Keolah nodded. “Let’s see what we can find out, shall we?”

“Can do,” Sedder said.

*

Habag was so noisy that Sedder thought he might as well not have bothered with the sound muffling spells to sneak around with. Nobody would have heard him any­way. Still, he cloaked him­self in shadow as he always did, and no one was going to see, hear, or smell him un­less they were a Seeker. And if an in­born Seeker were around here some­where, he was prob­ably screwed any­way.

Sedder’s attempts at sneaking around Habag quickly ran afoul of the fact that it was built for people half his size. While the docks, shops, and inns were ­con­structed with the intention of elf-sized people having access, most of the homes and apart­ments were much smaller. He stood invis­ible out­side a gnomish apart­ment building, feeling quite silly at the fact that he was unable to even fit in the front door. Did the gnomes who lived here never have elven guests? Or did they just meet them some­where out­side their home?

He hated the water. Habag’s creaky metal cat­walks weren’t nearly enough security between him and a sudden dip in the ocean, es­pec­ially when they were meshes he could see right through.

A sign shaped like an open book hung out­side a building on an upper floor. A creaky set of stairs led up past a drink shop and to the front. The doors to the book­store whooshed open on their own when he app­roached. He was never going to get used to that. He had no idea how the gnomes were used to that. Whatever sensors the damned thing used even saw past his invisibility, making the whole sneaking effort utterly point­less. Here he’d been concerned about Seekers, and hadn’t con­sidered enchant­ments. Idiot.

A pur­ple-haired gnome came up to the door and peered about out­side. “Stupid door is malfunc­tioning again. Gonna need to get Tigo to take a look at the enchant­ments.”

So long as the door was open, Sedder slipped inside, care­ful not to bump into the shop­keeper. If the gnome was going to attribute the door’s opening when no­body was out­side to a malfunc­tion, then getting out of here again shouldn’t raise any sus­picion.

The store boasted a dis­appointing selection of books. At first, all he could see was fiction, primarily steamy romance novels with half-naked gnomes draped on the covers. Making a face, Sedder moved further back into the aisles. The place was cramped, with­out much room between the aisles, but at least it was tall enough for him to walk com­fortably. In fact, the book­shelves had been built so tall that ladders had been provided for gnomes to reach the upper shelves.

Sedder really didn’t think he was going to find any rare books in a public book­store. At least, up until he spotted a locked door leading into a back room. With a grin, he crouched down to take a closer look. Not magically locked. That might be dis­appointing, but there ought to be at least some­thing back there. Like, more stock of romance novels that hadn’t been put on the shelves yet, most likely.

After a minute of tele­kinetically man­ip­ulating the lock, the door opened silently under a care­ful illusion. Most of the books in the back room were stuffed in boxes, some of which were still sealed. He didn’t want to dis­turb the ones that were sealed, but he did start sifting through the boxes that were open. While some of them were indeed more trashy fiction, one box caught his atten­tion. his­tory books. He pulled out one titled The Wizards Who Were: How the Trolls Lost Their Magic. Keolah might be ­in­ter­ested in this. Well. She might be ­in­ter­ested in buying it, but he wasn’t going to do that. If she didn’t want him stealing things, she shouldn’t have told him to go steal things. Right. It was kind of weird working with some­one who didn’t disapprove of his methods, who he hadn’t ex­plicitly met through criminal con­tacts in the first place.

Once the troll book was secure in his pack, Sedder con­tinued to look around. He didn’t think he really had time to thoroughly peruse this place, and still didn’t think it likely to run into any­thing really valuable in a store like this, so he decided not to waste too much more time on it. Perhaps he could find a book­store catering more toward old or rare books in­stead of the latest tale of torrid love affairs between a gnome and a dwarf.

The store had a back door tucked behind a pile of crates, prob­ably for deliveries, but he wasn’t quite sure how any­one would manage to get in and out of here. It might have been more use­ful to try to find a back door in the first place than to just walk in the front, but then, he hadn’t ex­pected the front door to just slide open when he got near it, either. After popping open an­other lock, he slipped out the back. The shop­keeper would figure out that he was robbed after finding the doors un­lockeded, but it would take too long to try to reset them. By the time he noticed, if he noticed at all, Sedder would be long gone. Habag was a big enough city and saw enough traffic by land and by sea that one could get lost in the crowd and not be immediately sus­pected as the culprit behind any crimes that happened to be committed shortly after arriving in town.

The walkways behind the book­store were older and even more rickety than the ones out front. The metal creaked ominously as he climbed down into the alleys. Oh, Abyss, no. With a bang, the cat­walk gave way. Sedder frantically scrambled for purchase as the floor fell out from under him.

After slipping and tumbling down what must have been three storeys worth of scaffolding, Sedder found him­self laying flat on his back, slightly stunned, in some­place dark and cold. And damp. Mustn’t forget damp.

Groaning, Sedder wiped his face and tried to orient him­self and figure out where he was. Some­where in the city’s underworks, he could only assume. No sense in bothering with stealth at the moment. He dropped his illusions and conjured up several small lights to see by. They floated out around his body and illu­minated his immediate surroundings. He stood on a metal mesh plat­form but a scant few inches above the level of the churning, dark seawater. Barnacles clung to a massive metal post, prob­ably one of the supports that kept the city from sinking. Strands of plant matter hung from the struts around him, as well as a number of traps that appeared to be intended to catch some sort of an­imals around the size of his head. None of them were filled at the moment.

Waves lapped at his feet through the walkway. Just what he needed today, boots full of seawater. Shaking him­self out, he looked around for a way up. Some­one logically must come down here to check the traps reg­ularly. But if they were meant to catch some sort of sea creature, this level was likely com­pletely sub­merged during high tide. The twisted and broken pieces of a stair­case hung askew part­way in the water. Sedder wasn’t sure if he wanted to trust it to get up even as far as it went. What was left of it seemed likely to collapse with­out warning.

And the water was slowly rising. He might just have to risk it. Damn it. care­fully, try­ing to avoid jostling it suddenly too much, he made his way up the crooked stairs. He made it up most of one flight before it tilted suddenly. He grabbed at a ledge as the stair­case shifted at an angle, and managed to pull him­self up onto a support beam. How had this city not sunk into the sea en­tirely by this point? Then he rem­em­bered the ruins of Dherdem across the bay, and paled a bit, revising the thought.

Straining at the effort, Sedder began to climb, channeling a bit of Wind Magic to assist him­self with it. He wasn’t nearly strong enough to actually support him­self or really lift much weight, but he could use it to help him grip surfaces and climb things that would other­wise be physically difficult to manage. He’d always wanted to be able to climb straight up sheer walls and hang from ceilings like a spider, but he’d never been nearly good enough with it for that.

Thankfully, nothing else broke loose and fell down while Sedder was climbing back up again, but he didn’t relax and breathe easily until he was up top and safely en­sconced at the inn.

“You’re all wet!” Haw­thorne exclaimed.

“A bit,” Sedder grumbled as an inn employee word­lessly ran after him and made the water he was dripping on the floor vanish. Sedder nodded grate­fully to the young man.

“What happened?” Keolah asked.

Sedder growled, “What happened is that this in­sane, tangled mess of gnomish con­trap­tions is in danger of falling into the sea with­out warning at any given moment.”

None of the gnomes within ear­shot even batted an eye at his rant.

“Is it that bad?” Keolah raised an eye­brow.

Yes,” Sedder grated out.

“I suppose we could head out first thing in the morning, then,” Keolah said. “I looked at the train schedules, and they seem to run every day.”

“I’m not sure that I would trust their trains, either, but what­ever,” Sedder said. “Let’s go.”

He gestured to her to follow him to speak in private, and once they were out of ear­shot of any­one and he’d made sure to put up a quick sound ward, he pulled out the book he’d stolen for her. It was undamaged, thanks primarily to the fact that his pack had water­proofing enchant­ments on it. One didn’t live in a city down by the water for long with­out con­sidering such precautions.

“That’s the best I can do,” Sedder said in common.

“Oh, now this looks ­in­ter­esting,” Keolah said, opening it up to flip through it briefly.

“I didn’t have a chance to go look more thoroughly or for any­thing more rare,” Sedder said. “Though I will try if you insist.” He sighed.

“I didn’t realize this place was that dan­gerous,” Keolah said.

“I al­most drowned!” Sedder cried.

“I can see how the city got its name, then…”

“Damned gnomes…” Sedder muttered.

Ugh. His fingers hurt. He would like nothing better than to put them all to bed, each of them laying out on a tiny, fluffy pillow of its own.