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Glenn released the vent’s lever and raced around to the oven’s front. Kirby’s legs dangled out, unmoving. Without hesitation, the gnome grabbed hold of his friend’s ankles and hauled back. He then shifted the unmoving body’s weight sideways so he could lower Kirby to the hardwood floor.
Trails of smoke wafted up from the blackened oven mitt. Sticking through the charred end were two blackened fingers. Not wasting time to see if his friend was dead or alive, Glenn immediately began a Minor Healing Draw spell, and took the damage upon himself.
The gnome healer’s heart fluttered and skipped several beats. He fell back against the oven, clutching his chest, despite the pain in his right hand.
Kirby’s hands twitched and his left leg kicked out. After groaning for a second, he sat up and wiped the drool from his right cheek.
The half-goblin thief’s eyes shot wide. “Jax!” He scrambled over and knelt next to his friend. He leaned over and gripped the gnome’s shoulders as his croaky voice cracked, saying, “Don’t die, Jax. Come on—ya gotta pull through.”
Glenn released a pent-up breath. His heart fell into rhythm, and he began to breathe.
“Man, you scared me, dude.”
Still a little disoriented and weak, Glenn forced a half-grin. “Like you didn’t scare me?”
“Let me get your candle, close up the oven and get us out of here.”
“What happened?” Glenn asked. He propped himself up, getting to one knee.
After retrieving the candle and closing up the oven, Kirby helped the gnome to his feet. “Tell ya, later.”
Ron admonished Kirby. “Your actions were both impetuous and inadvisable. You were fortunate to have survived the Minor Lightning Spell contingently placed to eliminate individuals curious enough to explore mysteries related to...” Ron paused, then ended, saying, “The glassblower’s furnace.”
The party was crowded into their room in the Sulfur Ash Inn, huddled around Glenn’s everlast candle.
“Yeah, thief,” Derek said. “Lucky you made your Saving Throw.”
Ron nodded affirmation of Derek’s statement. “And fortunate that Jax’s Minor Healing Draw Spell re-established your heart’s stable electrochemical system.”
Glenn knew that he’d taken on Kirby’s heart damage. Luckily, healing fixed what the Minor Lightning Spell disrupted. Maybe that required a Saving Throw as well?
“I know, I know.” Kirby sounded anything but repentant. “But now we know what to expect if we wanna go in through the pottery shop’s pipe.” He shot a nasty grin at Derek. “To screw with the furnace.”
That was the new plan. Rather than a frontal entrance effort and dealing with the entry door’s magical protections, attempt something not quite as direct, but equally destructive.
“I still got the fulgurite,” Derek said, placing his hand over his chest where the magical item hung beneath his mail shirt. “So any lightning won’t bother me.”
“The intense heat generated by the fire elemental spirit is the next obstacle.” Ron rubbed a forefinger across his chin. “During my undergraduate studies, my dormitory roommate was an art major. He spent many hours engaged in artistic endeavors, which included elementary glassblowing and pottery manufacture. Relevant to our current situation is what I recall from assisting him in his studies.
“Achieving a temperature of one thousand one hundred degrees Celsius is necessary to work glass.”
“Celsius, dude?” Kirby threw up his hands. “Who uses that?”
Ron frowned. “In my former state, making the mental conversion from Celsius to Fahrenheit would prove trivial. As I am now, it requires pencil and paper to properly implement the formulaic conversion.”
Glenn bit his lip. Ron’s Intelligence Score, as Lysine, was a fourteen. In real life, as the graduate student studying mathematics, he was a genius. Probably equivalent to an eighteen. More than just about anything else, the loss of mental abilities disturbed Ron.
Stephi fluttered up from her place in the circle and rested a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Do the calculation yourself, Gurk. You used metric measurements to trick me into having ginormous boobs.”
“They ain’t exactly ginormous now,” Derek said. “Mini-Metric Marigold Barbie.”
Stephi huffed. Her wings fluttered, carrying her higher into the air. “They’re ginormous to me, Kalgore the Courageous.”
Her wings’ rapid beating caused her breasts to bounce like agitated maracas beneath her leaf and twig garments. Either she was trying to emphasize her point, or didn’t notice it happening. Either way, it wasn’t good.
Kirby flinched after realizing he’d put his foot in it then, and now. “No problem, Lysine.” He averted his gaze from Stephi and spoke louder than necessary, refocusing attention on himself. “A thousand, one hundred degrees.”
“Our present forms, they force each of us to endure deficiencies,” Ron said, “or that which hampers us.”
Glenn agreed with the warrior druid. Being short was none too fun. Stephi was suffering that doubly...plus her huge breasts. They always drew unwanted attention. Derek was illiterate, and Kirby suffered with being an unattractive half-goblin in a highly prejudicial and bigoted world.
“A more colloquial near equivalent would be standing in a blazing bonfire,” Ron said. “On the other hand, to fire clay requires a temperature of nine hundred fifty degrees, Celsius.”
“Which is why there was coal in the pottery place,” Kirby said, “but not in the baker’s. You don’t need a thousand degrees, Celsius or regular Fahrenheit to bake bread.”
Derek cleared his throat. “Don’t druids have a first rank spell that protects you from heat?”
Ron closed his eyes in thought. “That is correct, but not likely useful for our purposes. Minor Heat Resistance protects an individual from temperatures up to four-hundred fifty degrees Fahrenheit.” The warrior druid glanced and the thief and raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “The Player’s Guide utilizes the Imperial or U.S. Standard system of measurement.
“To endure the glassblower’s furnace harnessing what we believe to be a fire elemental spirit, would require a Major Heat Resistance Spell.”
“That’s like a fourth or fifth-rank spell,” Kirby said.
“What about getting a scroll?” Marigold asked.
Wrinkles appeared on Ron’s forehead. “That is a possibility.”
“There’s potions that’ll do the trick protecting ya,” Derek said. “We’ve got manticore parts to trade.”
Kirby slapped Derek on the back. “Yeah, dude. This city’s gotta have an alchemist somewhere.”
A knock on the door, followed by a gruff yet feminine voice silenced everyone. “Lysine, it’s Lilac.”
Lysine removed the chair blocking the door and opened it, allowing a stocky woman to step in. If anyone might be accused of being built like a barrel, it was this driver. But, unlike drivers the gnome had seen, this woman wore a chainmail shirt and carried a war hammer slipped through a loop on her broad belt. Her unruly, straight brown hair barely reached her shoulders and framed an unremarkable face, except for its nose. It was bent at an angle, obviously broken and not properly set to heal.
The woman quickly took in the group, except for Stephi. She’d backed against the far wall and worked her Camouflage magic while everyone else had gotten to their feet. Lilac looked up to meet Ron’s gaze after the warrior druid closed the door.
“Lysine, sir, there’s a couple of men from the local thieving guild downstairs questioning your hired mercenaries.”
The warrior druid’s hand quickly went to the grip of his short sword. “Explain.”
“They’re mostly questioning your man, Mardin. They want to know if the party is in the inn. Mardin indicated that he believes the party leader and gnome are, but isn’t sure where everyone else is.”
Derek started to say something but Ron held up a hand to forestall questions.
“Did these men go to the innkeeper first, or straight to our hirelings?”
“Straight to the hirelings. Mardin, Trumble, Kronk and Harold. I was not sitting with them, and they probably don’t know you’ve hired me.”
Glenn bit his lip. The local thieves’ guild had done most of their homework.
“The name Yonn was mentioned. Mardin’s reaction gave away he knew who that was. Said he hadn’t seen him and some other mercenary, or their captain since this morning.”
“Remain here,” Ron said to her. He clenched his teeth for a second. “Jax, you and I will go downstairs and exit, concealing that we are aware of the questioning in progress. We shall proceed to the Dusty Brick Inn and secure rooms.
“Kalgore, you shall wait in this room while Marigold determines if the men in question remain, or if they followed us. If they follow Jax and myself, you three are to surprise the questioners, and secure what information you are able. Otherwise, remain here until they depart. Then make your way to the Dusty Brick.”
Ron turned back and addressed Lilac. “When appropriate, inform Mardin, Trumble, Kronk and Harold to remain here for the remainder of the night. At noon, all of you are to pack up and seek instructions at Krogman’s Wagon Repair Shop.”
“I believe the guild men also questioned the other drivers,” Lilac said. “Blizz ain’t one to talk. To encourage Mardin, they indicated roughing Blizz up pretty good.”
“We are aware of his professional conduct,” Ron said, brewing anger showing in his hazel eyes. He turned back to the rest of the party. “Jax and I will attend to Blizz first, and then make our way to the Dusty Brick Inn. Adjust your plan of action accordingly.”