Lisette (end)

Lisette had never been the ‘outdoorsy’ type. She had read books on herbology, botany, agriculture, horticulture, mycology, and a thousand others that referenced how to tell one growing thing from another. In general, however, on those rare occasions when she herself needed a plant for cooking or alchemy, she bought them from a grocer or herbalist.

As she wandered through the small forest within her Dungeon, however, she discovered that knowing the difference between Queen Anwyn’s Lace and Poison Hellock was hairy stems and purple spots didn’t automatically mean she could tell them apart at a glance. Or even with a brief examination. Her [Identify] Skill had to be at least eighty by now, but she couldn’t touch every single one of the hundreds of trees surrounding them.

Wishing she had taken a class in dendrology when she was in school, she dropped yet another leaf back on the ground. She knew the Caulobact tree was a dwarf variety, so she could dismiss the tallest trees, but when you were talking about trees growing inside a cave, that was surprisingly unhelpful.

Closing her eyes, she tried again to recall if she had ever seen a picture of the tree, or if she had only read about it. It was rare, but its sap was one of the stickiest substances in the world, so it was sometimes used in alchemy. Of course, it was so sticky that it was difficult to work with, and most people preferred to use something less effective but simpler and easier to get hold of. And let go of, when you were done with it.

Lisette looked up as something dropped onto her from above. She had told the snake what little she remembered about their target - short, rough bark, green fruit, white flowers, smooth, oblong leaves - and the creature had immediately vanished into the branches, returning with a leaf in her mouth a moment later. That one had been an oak, which had rough bark, but didn’t meet any of the other criteria. None of the dozens of other samples the serpent had bright back had been right, either, and each time Lisette felt something new slide down the slope of her hat she had to grit her teeth to keep from snapping at the winged nuisance.

Still, she had to check, so she lifted her hand and pulled the object from where it had caught in her hair. She winced as several strands pulled from her head, and the golden filaments caught the light of the artificial sun as she examined the… was it a seedpod? A berry? A nut?

Whatever it was, it was, in fact, green, and sticky. She pulled her fingers apart, having to exert far more force than expected in order to do so. The thing was soft, slightly squishy, and almost slimy. The stem was strangely flexible, allowing the larger part to sway almost as freely as the strands of hair still clinging to it.

Caulobact Fruit  - A sticky fruit found only on the Caulobact Tree. Ripe fruit secretes a small amount of sticky sap, which allows it to cling to passing creatures, thus dispersing the seeds contained therein. Useful in both crafting and alchemy. Requires mana-rich soil to grow. While it is edible, it must be properly prepared or the sap will seal shut some portion of the ingester’s digestive tract, leading to death. Weight - 7 grams. Rarity - Very Rare. Value - 1 Gold. (Lack of value proportional to lack of demand.) Native region - Elfhame.

Focusing on the words ‘properly prepared’, Lisette read through a brief treatise on wrapping the fruit in edible paper, boiling it three times in one of a few types of mild acids, and rinsing in water containing a base to counteract the acids. It seemed like an excessive amount of effort to put in to eat something the size of a grape. Still, it might help them figure out how to gather the sap when they found the tree.

Looking up, Lisette raised the fruit and assayed a smile. “This is it! Where did you get it?”

The serpent performed a flying spin and vanished into the canopy above.

“I can’t go up there!” Lisette called after it, fighting down another surge of frustration. Why had the Head Librarian sent her on this wild goose chase? Surely one of the gnomes who regularly delved into the Dungeon would have been a better choice!

The snake’s head popped back out of the leaves above, and it hissed, sounding as discontented as she was. It swooped back down and began leading her through the forest in a more sedate fashion. Looking down at her pretty purple slippers, she saw that they were covered in mud and grass stains, along with a few more ominous brown spots that were probably blood. She could use [Book Restoration] to repair a great deal of damage to a book, but had no skill at all in fixing or cleaning clothing, so this was going to require a trip to the Tailor. A trip which would require her to leave her desk and eat into valuable reading time.

She was so focused on her shoes that she nearly walked into the orc. He was sitting on the ground in the middle of a field of flowers, weaving a delicate garland with his thick, calloused fingers. Another garland already sat atop his knobby, bald head, and more decorated his neck and wrists.

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, equally shocked, and then the orc exploded to his feet, roaring furiously and waving a club the size of a tree trunk.

Lisette backed up until her heel caught on a tussock. She fell, letting out an explosive oof! as her rear impacted the ground. Holding up her hands, she wished she hadn’t left her knife at the desk, or, better yet, that she had decided to take one of those vacation days the Head Librarian kept pushing on her.

Then the snake was there. It hissed, the shining corona of light bursting into being all around it, and the orc stumbled back. His small, piggish eyes flicked from the serpent to Lisette, and locked on Lisette’s conical hat.

Lifting his hands, the club vanished from his hands. A surprisingly boyish voice issued from his thick lips, though his words were slurred by the tusks that protruded well forward of his flat nose.

“You’re the… receptionist,” he grunted. “Rule number two.”

Lisette blinked. He was right. Rule number two of the Atheneum Dungeon was, “Do not injure or kill the receptionist on pain of torment and death.” A surprising number of Travelers either didn’t read the rules, or thought that ‘torment and death’ was a euphemism for a slap on the wrist, because they started trying to loot and kill absolutely anything they saw the moment they entered. Fortunately, Lisette was harder to kill than one would think just looking at her, especially when she was at her desk, and the Head Librarian took the rules very, very seriously.

Still, she was surprised that someone so brutish-looking had not only remembered, but recognized her even when she wasn’t in her expected place. That surprise then reminded her of the first time this orc had surprised her. He had come to the Dungeon yesterday, asking for a way to change his race. She didn’t know what tasks the Head Librarian had given him, but she had no doubt they were on the far end of the difficulty scale, because only the Gods could do what he had asked.

And yet, here he was, not only still alive, but making flower chains in the midst of a forest filled with things that undoubtedly tried to kill him on a regular basis.

She cleared her throat. “Mr… Bad, is it?” She lifted a hand, which barely trembled at all. “Help me up.”

Gingerly, the plate-sized fist touched her fingers, and she grasped it. The orc’s fingers gave a tiny twitch, and Lisette’s whole body left the ground, and it was only due to a dexterity developed through years of balancing on top of library ladders and stacks of books that she managed to get her feet under her. Trying to act as though this sort of thing was perfectly normal, Lisette brushed down her skirts, gathering herself before she looked up again.

“Thank you,” she said, and her gaze caught on a chain of pink and yellow flowers dangling from one of his tusks. “Ah, you do know that those are quite poisonous, correct?”

He plucked the strand from his tusk and looked at it, turning his head one way and then the other so his widely-spaced eyes could focus on it. “That exshplains why my HP keeps dropping.” He shrugged. “Regen good.”

She nodded. Orcs did, indeed, have one of the highest regeneration rates outside of trolls and gnomes. No doubt he barely noticed what probably seemed like a very minor bobble in his health.

Looking around, she spotted the snake, who was weaving through the air uncertainly, flickers of light flashing around her. Lisette held up the Caulobact fruit, which was still clinging tenaciously to her fingers. “Let us proceed, then,” she said, and gave the orc a small smile. “Good day, Mr. Bad.”

The snake darted away, and Lisette followed, carefully avoiding the more dangerous among the flowers the orc had been playing with. It didn’t take her long, however, to realize that the orc Traveler hadn’t taken the hint and remained behind. His crashing footsteps were only somewhat drowned out by the cracking noises as he brushed branches the size of her leg out of his way.

Lisette headed deeper into the undergrowth, hoping the unwanted guest would take the hint or be discouraged by the increased difficulty, but he continued to forge ahead. Finally, she spun around.

“Whay,” she demanded, “are you following us? Surely you have your own quest to complete.”

The broad lips tightened around the yellowed tusks, nearly concealing the sharp, scraggly teeth within his mouth. “Got quest,” he muttered. “Gotta help.”

“Help?” She turned a finger toward her own chest. “Me?”

He nodded, then shrugged. “Someone.”

Oh, Dungeon, she thought, but just sighed and turned back to face the hovering white snake. “All right then, let’s go.”

It took another fifteen minutes of winding through the forest, leaving a trail of broken branches, snapped trees, and dissolving monsters behind them. While the dungeon monsters didn’t seem inclined to go after the serpent, and wouldn’t attack a gnome, they were attracted to the orc like flies to honey. It seemed like something would spring out at him every few feet, and then there was growling, and chopping, and drifting motes of Essence as the Dungeon reabsorbed its creatures. Still, when she tried to slip away after the first attack, the orc only chased after her, destroying more foliage and attracting even more monsters, so she gave up on leaving him behind.

But then a small tree appeared before them, with the snake flying around its crown in triumphant circles. It was so laden with fruit that its overladen branches seemed to be dripping slime, and Lisette wondered how the snake had managed to pluck just one without becoming hopefully entangled.

“What’sh that?” the orc asked, and Lisette sighed.

“A Caulobact tree. We need an acorn filled with its sap,” she told him.

He nodded vigorously. “I can help! I’ll break a branch-”

“No!” The sharp snap of her voice was barely enough to keep him from plunging his hand into the tree’s sticky foliage, and she almost thought the branches drooped in disappointment.

“No?” he asked, still holding out his hand. The leaves rustled in an unfelt breeze, and a fruit swung perilously close to the knobby fingers.

“Back away, if you please, Mr. Bad,” Lisette said, setting closer so she could examine the plant. The glossy, oblong leaves moved easily among the sticky fruits, and she leaned closer still, seeing that they were covered in tiny hairs whose tips held the fruit away from the actual surface of the leaves.

A broad palm closed on her shoulder, hauling her back, and Lisette gasped as a good chunk of one of her braids was ripped free of her head. Looking at the tree, she realized that she had been so caught up in studying the thing that it had nearly gotten hold of her, and with as much fruit as was on those branches, she wasn’t certain she would have been able to get free again.

Straightening her hat, she looked up at the towering figure of the orc. “Yes, well… Thank you.”

He smiled, and it was a terrible sight to see. “I helped?”

She nodded, and his eyes flickered and went blank. When they focused again, he frowned. “Not enough. What else?”

She shrugged. “Unless you happen to have an acorn in your bag, then-”

His eyes went blank momentarily, and he held out a horny paw. In the palm, a pile of the largest, roundest, most perfectly golden acorns she’d ever seen appeared. She stared, and the orc shrugged.

“Wanna be a crafter,” he muttered. He held out his other hand, and a tiny dolly with an adorable acorn head appeared there. The cupule looked like a little hat on the nut-head, and a piquant face was painted on the glossy surface. She wondered how long it had taken him to create the delicate thing, given how large and graceless his hands seemed to be.

Reaching out, she gently touched the pointed tip of the ‘hat’. “It’s lovely,” she said, gently.

The orc’s gray-green cheeks flushed the color of rotting leaves, and he tried to smile. “Thanksh,” he said.

Turning back to the other hand, Lisette took one of the golden acorns from his palm. She tried twisting off the top, but it was stuck fast until Mr. Bad plucked it from her hand and popped the cupule off with a single turn. He then picked out the nut using a needle-fine dagger, and handed the empty shell back to her.

“Now,” she muttered, “how to get to the sap, and get it into the acorn without getting stuck ourselves?”

The snake flew forward, and Lisette’s eyes widened as she saw the tree pull away from the glimmering white scales and rainbow-hued feathers. The divine creature hovered in an open space among the hanging branches, and Lisette could see that the gap was barely large enough for a gnome. There was no way the friendly orc could possibly reach in. Even his arm was too wide.

Holding out her hand for the fine dagger Mr. Bad still held, she said, “May I?”

He held it out to her, and she accepted it, weighing it in her hand. The balance was terrible, which was only to be expected when the weight of the hilt was so much greater than that of the blade. Still…

She tossed it in the air a few times, the pommel slapping into her palm each time. After the third toss, Lisette hurled it toward the snake. Between one wingbeat and the next, the weapon flew true, sticking deep in the rough brown bark of the tree. The whole plant shuddered, and before it could recover, Lisette handed Mr. Bad her hat.

Slipping into the tiny gap, Lisette tugged at the hilt of the knife. She had been worried that it might be impossible to remove once it had sunk so deep, but the fragile-seeming blade slid out easily, and she tossed it behind her with casual expertise. Lifting the acorn, she caught the first drip of the sap that oozed from the hole, then another.

All around her, the branches shook in indignation, and the flying snake had to beat its wings ever faster in order to hold off the encroaching branches. When the third drop filled the acorn, she capped the shell and dropped, rolling back out of the way of a lashing, vine-like twig. The serpent flew out immediately after her, and the tree became a thrashing, angry mass behind them.

Lisette rolled easily to her feet, not bothering with the pretense that she needed assistance this time, she held up the acorn triumphantly. As she did, a shimmering portal appeared before them. Through the gossamer gleam she heard the Head Librarian’s peevish tone. “It’s about time, all of you. Come back.”

The snake immediately passed through the portal, but Lisette and Mr. Bad exchanged glances. The orc hesitated, and Lisette nodded to him, accepting the hat he extended to her. “He said all of us.”

With a fortifying breath, the orc hunched his broad shoulders and edged through the portal, which stretched to accommodate his size before returning to its original shape. Lisette passed through after him, and the opening burst like a soap bubble behind her.

They all stood in the Head Librarian’s office. In spite of Mr. Bad’s bulk, the space seemed exactly as large as it had been when it was just Lisette and the divine serpent, and somehow none of the piles of books fell, though the orc was shifting nervously from foot to foot.

The head Librarian sighed, looking at him, and Mr. Bad grimaced.

“I need to, um, log out,” he mumbled. “But I can’t, in a dungeon. Or I’ll be shent back to my reshpawn point, and-”

The Head Librarian raised his hand in a staying gesture. “You have completed your tasks. Are you certain you wish to proceed?”

The misshapen, grayish head nodded. “Yesh,” he said.

The Head Librarian tapped his fingers on the desk. “This is going to cause problems. I can feel it in my hat,” he muttered. “Still, it is as the Dungeon wills.”

Lifting a scroll from the desk, he handed it to the orc, who unrolled it with shaking fingers. His yellow eyes scanned the page, and then his body began to dissolve. Flesh became smoke, clothes shrank, and a heartbeat later a small gnome stood in his place. The boy was a good decade or more younger than Lisette herself, and the hat perched on top of his head was short and red.

The Head Librarian clapped his hands once, satisfied. “As a Resident of the Dungeon, this will be your form whenever your spirit is in this world. When your spirit returns to your own plane, however, the body is the Dungeon’s to do with as it will. As a Traveler, you retain the ability to return from death, unlike other Dungeon Residents, but you will respawn only within the Dungeon. The moment you choose to leave the Dungeon, your contract will end, and you will forever be an orc, unless you choose to return and request the knowledge of how to achieve a more permanent change.”

The boy looked up from a thorough examination of his small, nimble fingers. His face glowed with happiness, and he nodded his understanding. “I can learn to be a crafter as long as I’m here, though, right? And I can log out whenever I want without getting kicked out?”

The Head Librarian nodded. “It will all be exactly as we discussed. Remember, though,” he lifted a finger to cross his lips, “you must not speak of this to others.”

Nodding vigorously, the now poorly-named Mr. Bad mimed locking his own lips, then grimaced and shifted from foot to foot again. “I really do need to go now,” he said, words spilling over each other. “I’ve been here too long, and I-” His cheeks burned red as his ankles crossed. He looked uncomfortable. Perhaps it hurt the Travelers to stay in their world too long?

Waving a dismissive hand, the Head Librarian nodded. “We are done. Someone will explain more when you return.”

A flood of relief filled the gnomeling’s face, and then it went blank. A moment later, the hulking orc version of Mr. Bad reappeared. A diaphanous portal appeared in front of the orc, and he shambled through, still with that blank expression on his face. The portal closed behind him.

“Now,” the Head Librarian said, turning to the snake, who had dropped down and lay coiled on his desk, her wings tucked neatly against her sides. It was the first time Lisette had seen the creature relax, and she was surprised how much it looked like a normal snake, if you discounted the pearly scales, the gem-like eyes, and the intelligence that shone behind them.

Glancing at Lisette, the Head Librarian held out his hand. The single green feather already lay there, so Lisette added the Greater Buttercup petals and the acorn containing the Caulobact sap. When all three things touched, they shimmered, much like Mr. Bad had right before he transformed into a gnome.

In an instant, a tiny hat lay in their place. The hat was shaped something like a fedora, rather than the more elegant conical hats used by the gnomes, and it was clearly made from the glossy golden Buttercup petals. The green feather swooped roguishly up and around the brim, looking like it might just tickle the ear of the wearer. If, that is, the wearer had proper ears.

Leaning over, the Head Librarian sat the tiny hat on the serpent’s head. It perched there, clinging to the smooth scales, though by all rights it should have slid right off. The feather danced jauntily in the air as the snake tossed its diamond-shaped head, and the Head Librarian held up a small mirror so the creature could see her reflection.

“There,” he said, gently. “That should cheer her up, don’t you think?”

The snake’s head bobbed in agreement, and the Head Librarian smiled. With a waggle of his fingers, he opened a portal that would lead out of the dungeon, and the soft hum of rapidly beating wings heralded the serpent’s departure.

Lisette sighed, feeling her shoulders slump. She was tired, itchy, dirty, and probably had Caulobact juice in her hair. Would she have to rinse it with mild acid to remove the stuff? Still, she had a feeling the Head Librarian wasn’t done with her yet, so she turned and faced him, trying to marshal up her usual composed expression.

“Lisette,” he said, “take a vacation. Our people have been seeking a new home for centuries. Every moment in the life of every gnome was taken up with that goal, and you were no exception. But now,” He waved around, indicating his office, and the Dungeon in general. “We are home. Home. And you haven’t taken a single moment to appreciate it.”

“I-”

He held up a hand. “I am the Head Librarian, and, to my chagrin, the Master of the Dungeon, at least until I can find someone trustworthy enough to take over.” His eyes lingered on the place Mr. Bad had stood before returning to her face. “I know everything that happens here. Which is quite often far too much. You, on the other hand, have only a theoretical knowledge of how our home functions, what the other gnomes are doing, and how those two things come together. So, take some time off. Wander around. Meet people, especially the new gnomes who are trickling in from all over the world. They have wonderful stories to tell. Explore.”

“Then, a few days-”

He cut her off again. “Two weeks. At least. And days spent either in your home or reading don’t count.” He waved his hand, and a bubble appeared beside her. Through it, she could just make out the simple bed and desk that were the only furnishings in her spacious new home.

She bit her lip. Arguing was pointless, and she had to admit… After today, she had realized just how much of her skills and knowledge were, in fact, theoretical. She doubted she would ever be interested in the nitty gritty of running a dungeon, but it might help her do her job better if she better understood what happened to the supplicants after they left her desk.  It would also be interesting to bring theory to life, and see more of the creatures and plants within the dungeon.

“All right,” she said, imbuing the words with more reluctance than she actually felt. “I’ll be back in two weeks, then.”

The Head Librarian nodded, satisfied, and Lisette stepped through the portal. As her feet touched the hard, bare floor of her house, her fingers touched a lumpy mass stuck in her hair, and she wondered just what a Caulobact fruit could possibly taste like that would make it worth all the effort to prepare it.

Well, there was no time like the present to find out.