“So,” said Lund, “where now? Left or right?”

“What did the map show?” Isa asked Dulrak. He pulled the paper from his pouch. “Just an X on the one side. Here.” He put his finger at the end of the left leg. “And the funny circle at the right.”

“‘X marks the spot.’ Isn’t that what they say?” said Alice.

“Who says that?” asked Lund.

“It’s a saying on my - our - plane. But, babe, that only applies to treasure maps in bad movies.” She gave Alice a brittle smile. The ferocity of the skeleton attack had shaken Isa more than she wanted to admit. In fact, part of her wanted to march back to the entrance shaft and climb back up, and maybe keep going.

“I agree with Princess Alice,” said Mery. “The left way. An X, well that’s going to mark the important bit, innit? That circle, that’s just another way to say ‘Watch out!’”

“Unless that’s exactly the opposite. Can I…?” Lund took the paper from Dulrak.

“They’re just--” But whatever Mery was going to say, she kept to herself.

Lund handed the map back to Dulrak. “I think we’ll end up in both places so it doesn’t really matter where we go first.”

“But really, do we have to go anywhere?” Isa looked at the group. “We’re supposed to destroy the tomb. Can’t we do that from here?” She waved a hand at Dulrak. “You’re pretty powerful, right? Maybe you can just make an earthquake or something.”

“Destroy it? Not before we find the crown.” said Mery. “And the gems and the gold. There are gems and gold; I feel it.”

Isa had just blurted out the question, but now it really did seem like the right course of action. Destroy the place and be done. She gave the cavern a surreptitious glance. The sooner, the better. Aloud she said, “It says ‘Destroy the heart of the tomb.’ Pretty clear instructions.”

Mery gave Isa a long look and walked over. In a low voice she said, “You’ve not been under the ground before; makes you nervy, and that’s alright. It’s not natural, being down here.” She rubbed a silver ring that she wore on her left thumb. “I think we have time, maybe, for a little story, a little pick you up, as they say. A little inspiration.” She waved to Lund and Dulrak to come closer and pulled Alice nearer. “The darkness can weigh on you like a wet cloak, aye? And the feeling seeps into your bones. Makes you tired, worrisome, a wee bit afraid. Good thing you have a bard along, yeah?”

“I don’t think we have time--” Dulrak started to turn away, but Mery grabbed his arm. “You’re an old campaigner; I can see that. And you don’t have to listen, but I want to lighten the load for these two.” She gestured at Isa and Alice and said, “Do you have tales of Preston the Tinker in your world?”

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When they shook their heads Mery said, “For shame! You have mad King Lear but no Preston? A clever lad, was Preston. In the stories, he travels from town to town mending and selling and telling stories. There’s nothing he can’t mend - or that’s what the stories say about him. And his fame grew with each town until the children of a new town or village, mad with excitement at Preston’s arrival, would parade him into town. They’d dance and sing and generally run like drink-mad sprites. This level of fame, it suited Preston. He could set up in the village square and the customers came to him, not the other way around, and his belly grew plump on the dinners his audiences bought for him.

“But….. one day, he was finishing up sharpening a cook’s knife when he felt a tap on his shoulder. I say ‘a tap’ but it was more a peck and a hard one at that. And Preston looked up to see a raven perched on his shoulder.”

“Like Peck,” said Alice.

“Very much like Peck,” Mery agreed. “And that bird, it had a note tied to its leg. And what a note! Do you know what that note said?” Here Mery paused as if expecting an answer.

“It was a summons! A request if you will. A wealthy lady (so the note said) had broken her favorite kettle, and no one had been able to repair it, and, the note said, more than one man had given his all only to fail in the task. Fix the kettle, and he could name his price. Preston had only to say ‘Yes’ and the raven would lead him where he needed to go.

“As Preston looked up from the note he realized that the whole square was empty. The village itself lay quiet as the proverbial grave, where it had - just moments ago - been bustling with townfolk. Our man looked at the note, looked at the noonday sun just at its zenith, looked to the raven sitting quietly on his shoulder, and he said, ‘Yes.’

“Well that was all the bird needed. It cawed twice and flew from Preston’s shoulder like a rock from a sling. Preston scrambled to gather his things and follow along in the bird’s wake. And Preston, he had a time keeping his feet and keeping his head, as they say. One eye on the path and one in the sky, trying to keep that raven in sight, when suddenly, the raven dropped like a stone. With a cry Preston ran to find where it had fallen.”

Mery paused again. “Have you heard this one before, Lund Subash? Have I told it?”

“No,” he said. “Don’t think so.”

“Well good then that I can surprise you still after all the years we’ve known one another. So there’s Preston, running like a gnoll is on his tail, and he pulls up short, and it’s a good thing because at his feet is a wide, black hole. He looks up; he looks down; he looks around, and before Preston can decide what to do, a jet black toad hops up from the hole.

“Up until now, the day’s been just grand for Preston, eh? But bright blue sky to deep, dark hole? That’s just not quite what our man had in mind. And he’s not alone, yeah? You know how Preston feels. Not many would trade the wide sky for a black hole, but Preston? Well, he reputation was on the line, wasn’t it? He’d been tasked with fixing the unfixable - or so it seemed. With one glance at the bright yellow sun, Preston waved his hand at the toad, jumped down the hole, and said, ‘Lead on.’ And that,” Mery dusted her hands, “is a fine place to stop. When we’ve cleared our own deep, dark hole, well, then ye shall hear the rest.”

Isa realized that her hands were now glowing faintly in the dim light of Mery’s dancing lights. “Was that a spell? Did you just weave a spell with a story?”

“Mayhap. It may just be that you’ve a little of Preston’s own luck about you. It’s not permanent, not even all that powerful, but maybe my story might buoy your spirit that little bit and that will be the difference in the adventures to come.”

Dulrak turned toward the group - he’d had his back to Mery as she told her tale. He turned toward them and said, “If we’re going, we should go.”

They lined up much as before: Mery and Lund in the front, then Alice and Isa, and Dulrak at the rear. In silence they ventured down the left hallway, and Isa had to wonder what the mapmaker had meant when she made the X. Creature or treasure? Tomb or trap? What waited in the cool dark silence?