Josef knew Lancel was still awaiting his reply. The harpist had asked in only slightly uncertain terms whereabouts Josef had ripped himself free from his goo-sac. But Josef couldn't take his eyes off the palm of his own hand. A sliver of fear had lodged itself right there, in his palm, nettling his mind.

Had it been there when he woke up? He hadn't noticed it, but then he remembered her grip. The old woman on the stairs, the seaweed earrings. He look past the chandelier, to the ceiling above him.

Josef closed his fist and looked at Lancel."I'm not so certain," Josef explained, settling on vagueness. "I've only been awake again for such a short amount of time. I was told to head to The Crow Meadow to receive ratification and then one thing lead to the another."

He spoke without really hearing what he was saying. One part of his mind was given over to his threadbare lie, while another was taken over by a surging sense of panic. He'd been marked, and with a seaweed tattoo of all things. But why? And how? It appeared Mal had spoken truly. He knew nothing about the Lush Heap. Where was the damned Sea Gwell when he needed him.

Just then Josef felt a heavy finger tap, tap, tap against the tip of his shoulder blade. He consciously relaxed; the short sword on the table upstairs surged into his mind; Lancel's face blanched.

"What is it?" Josef asked, turning slowly.

Behind him were three sewerfolk wearing pristine brown cloaks, two men and a woman, all three well into their later years. The men's hair was hewed to a grey stubble while the woman's draped down her back in a long, thick braid. She broke ranks with them and extended her hand out to Josef. She carried a scroll.

The room was silent. Everyone watched as Josef slowly accepted the scroll from her. Her eyes revealed nothing, except for a distant stare. None of brown-cloaked visitors said a word, but each let their gaze linger on Josef before departing. There'd been laughter, the patter of talk, just moments before. Now an ominous and pointed silence reigned. It was so quiet Josef could count each of their footsteps as they left, the door swinging open, the noise of the street, the door slamming to a thudding close.

Mutterings followed, as well as stares. Josef occupied himself by feeling the scroll's rough texture in his hand. He had to admit, he was curious, but he also knew he most likely wouldn't enjoy reading what was written inside.

"Can we read it together?" Lancel asked while learning forward and plucking a few dainty strings on his harp.

But Josef was already unspooling it, pretending he hadn't heard Lancel's request. His eyes flitted over the words. It'd been so long since he'd read anything. The entire message was done in blue ink and composed with an elegant and flowing hand:

Josef the Goo-drinker,

You are hereby summoned to the Gangdrup Council Chamber. Our session commences tomorrow evening with the first horn blast of night. If you wish to obtain an escort, please file a request with the Gangdrup City Office. Only three threats have been made against your life.

Your presence is expected and counted upon.

Officially yours,

Tanyel Yarl

Eldest Elder of the Gangdrup Council

Josef read the letter twice. It wasn't an invitation; it was an order. Apparently he'd also displeased a few sewerfolk, which wasn't particularly surprising considering role in the near-destruction of the Maven of Ferngloom. She'd made it clear to him the city of Gangdrup and its citizens would suffer because of the effort she'd taken to ensure his ratification.

Josef saw Lancel craning his neck. He was still trying get a peek at the document's contents. Abruptly Josef rolled the scroll up and set it down away from the harpist, next to his second bowl of sewerbreeze soup. It was no longer steaming, but Josef didn't care. He dug in.

Lancel coughed. "I highly recommend the second chunk of bread, goo-drinker."

Josef put down the spoon and sighed. Luckily, he caught Rayala's eye immediately. He had the perception she'd been watching him, but so had most of the room. Upon hearing his request, she left and returned with a full loaf, letting him know its cost would be added to his keep for the night.

"You'll thank me later, goo-drinker," Lancel said. "You actually inspired me last night with your…what should we call it…intrusion? I started work on a new ballad. Provisional title: The Sewer Prince. First lines go something like:

Between the sewerbreeze towers

The noble goo-drinker strode

Cursing Moonsneeze, seeking power

He'd left his woeful goo-sac abode—

"Thoughts?" asked Lancel.

"Not bad. The next stanza should incorporate the paralyzing fear I experienced every single second as I worried my brain matter would festoon Gangdrup's cavern ceiling."

"I can see how that would be distressing, but I don't know if it's really audience-pleasing material." Lancel then plucked a few more harp strings, resuming his composition.

Josef took a few more spoonfuls of the soup and began to feel sated. He was full, his neocortex had blossomed, he was ratified, and now he was summoned, but not until tomorrow night. He felt the distinct desire to go explore the streets of Gangdrup and test out his newfound lease on life, but he knew Claudius would blow twelve gaskets if he saw him strolling around willy-nilly.

But what did he care?

Josef bid goodbye to Lancel, taking the scroll with him, and bounced back up the stairs to his room. As he ascended, he glanced down at the seaweed tattoo on his palm. He reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway. The old woman who'd marked him was in one of those rooms. Unless, of course, it had all been a ruse of some sort. She might not even be a guest of The Backwards Flow. He would make sure to tell Claudius as soon as he saw him next.

Josef opened the door to his room and retrieved the short sword. He tested its weight, letting it flow through the air in front of himself. He had to admit: he had no idea what he was doing. He felt like he was swinging a dandelion in the wind. Claudius would be no help at all in that regard. He could barely operate a slingshot.

Josef made to leave the room but then the Sea Gwell himself crashed through the doorway and cannon-balled onto his bed. "Yahoo!" Claudius shouted. "Damn does it feel great to be out of that Ba'ha Company crap bucket. The entire time I worked there I felt my brain gradually reducing itself to mush. Glad to see your awake and kicking, my dear Josef."

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"You're in good spirits," Josef replied, grinning at his friend.

"And you're well fed, according to Rayala," Claudius said, throwing his rucksack beside him on his bed. "Unfortunately my stomach feels a bit off. I feel like I should've had a piece of bread or something with that sewerbreeze soup."

Josef looked at Claudius with pity but kept Lancel's comment to himself. The poor Sea Gwell would learn of its effects firsthand soon enough. Then Josef remembered the seaweed tattoo. He opened his hand and revealed his palm to Claudius.

"I leave you alone for an hour and you go off and get a tattoo?" Claudius said in disbelief. He walked over to Josef and grabbed his hand. "This is good work though. There's obvious skill here. How did you pay for it? I have all the chunks."

"I didn't pay for it…" Josef said slowly.

"Didn't pay for it?"

"It appeared there," Josef began, his eyes tilting towards the hallway. "I didn't notice it until I sat at a table downstairs. Just before I'd helped a woman up the stairs. I distinctly remember her gripping my hand and thanking me. I had no idea what she'd done in the moment…"

Claudius strode over to his bed and fell, face-planting into the mattress. "Oh the void take you and me and this whole damned city. Well you've obviously been cursed, Josef." Claudius's voice was muffled; he was speaking, with great dejection, into the mattress. "Why did you go and let that happen? We just managed to get your ratified and now you've cursed yourself!"

"No no," said Josef, standing, "I did not curse myself. I was cursed. A vile act was perpetrated upon my being. Anyways, how do you know its a curse, Claudius? I don't feel cursed."

"Curses take a while sometimes," Claudius replied assuredly while raising his face from the bed, but then his eyes narrowed on the scroll. "What's that," he said, pointing.

"I've also been summoned."

"Summoned! Cursed? Summoned and cursed! I'm never letting you out of my sight again." Josef chucked the scroll at Claudius, who caught it in his webbed hand and read it as if digesting a piece of juicy gossip. "Three threats. That seems a bit low."

"Low? Three seems low to you?"

"You almost killed the Maven of Ferngloom Lake. Mal the Magnificent. Mal the Lover of Mellifluous Sounds. You heard them jeering. I'm not surprised in the least."

Josef shook his head. "What do you think they want from me? A public apology?"

"Perhaps," Claudius said, rubbing his chin. "But then they would've mentioned that request in the letter. There are strong vibes of officialdom pouring off this well-squiggled quillmanship. They mean business, redoubtable Gangdrup business, or I sense so at least."

"Well I have until tomorrow night. I received a few stares when I went down for food, but no one accosted me. Save for the harpist with his twenty questions."

"What did he want to know?"

"Everything and nothing. He was prodding for information. He also let me know I shouldn't eat the sewerbreeze soup on an empty stomach…"

"What?" Claudius said weakly. "No one told me..." His gills flapped down. "What's in store for me? Tell it to me straight."

"Ask Lancel. It was quite graphic. He might put his explanation to a bit of harper playing."

Claudius sighed and threw the scroll back at Josef. He put his hands on his hips and sat down. Then stood again. "I think I have to poop."

Josef laughed and raised his hands in confusion. But Claudius reached under the bed and pulled out a chamber pot. "You might want to leave, Josef." Claudius then made a face. "No, wait. I think we might…yep, we're good."

"Should I leave?"

"No, things are settling. I heard a gurgle. Also, I have information to share with you as well. It's regarding your ratification. First off, I don't know if Mal can actually revoke a ratification. I've never heard of it. I looked all throughout Izzblum's Guide and there isn't even a footnote mentioning ratification revocation."

"You think she's just looking for some free labour?"

"I have no idea. There's a chance she's just confused. I don't think she's really in contact with other felds. She could just be out of the loop."

"So what does this mean for us then?"

"It depends, I guess. They have a half-decent library here. It has nothing on Kaway Mahay's Blovemole Hall, but it has a certain charm. I might see if I can do a bit of research. If I can't find anything out regarding this renunciation clause, then I think we could just…well, skip that part."

"Skip? You mean ignore Mal's request?"

"Goo-drinker, my dearest Josef, you can't go around trying to please everyone who asks something of you. You'll be decomposing in some side alley before snack time. You need to look out for yourself. Also, I didn't want to bring this up already, but since we've breached the topics, Mal has assigned you a vicious task. I would go so far as to say malicious."

"Acquiring the Rose Cloak?"

"Stealing the Rose Cloak," clarified Claudius. "As you may have surmised, the Rose Cloak belongs to the Rosecloak, the current ruler of Kaway Mahay. Word is his father, former possessor of the Rose Cloak, slipped and fell on fifteen arrows."

"Dastardly."

"Unfortunately for most of the general population, he's decided to continue to wage his father's continual war against Brunbath to the north. Most importantly, for our current situation, the Rose Cloak never leaves the Rosecloak, one Darius Gahan. He sleeps with it; he dreams with it. Do you want to know why?"

"Because it has a high thread count?"

"Most likely, but also because its a curio. One of only two currently known to be active within the Southern Plate. It's said the Rose Cloak possesses a multitude of secrets for living an eternal life and whisper them to whomever wears it"

Josef shook his head. "You're saying I have to steal a living cloak for Mal that whisper the secrets to an eternal life?"

"Curios are strange objects. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say living, but you're on to something. They came with the 8th conjoining of Kof to the Gentle Void. The inhabitants of Kof were extraordinarily adept at crafting spectacular objects of great power and mystery. Many were destroyed with the conjoining, but many survived. The Rose Cloak is one of them."

"Why would Mal send me to steal this? It sounds like a suicide mission. If this Rose Cloak is as sought after as you make it seem, then it's going to be impossible to steal."

"We have four decadons until the Festival of the Blue Light concludes. That's 40 days. I think it might worthwhile waiting until the next Moonsneeze to see if we can convince Mal to change her mind, because I agree with you, young Josef. It is indeed a suicide mission."

Josef brought his fingers up to his head, massaging his temples. Just when things were getting easier. Now he had to steal some damned cloak. It had piqued his interest though. He could now see why Mal wanted him to retrieve it for her.

He looked at Claudius. "I'm starting to see the appeal of avoiding the job entirely. If this truly is a suicide mission, then Mal be damned. Let's take my ratification and run."

"Let's wait and see what Gangdrup's library has in store for us first."

Josef stared at the Sea Gwell with admiration. "Why again are you still helping me, Claudius?" Josef suddenly asked. He remained still, watching how the Sea Gwell would react. He'd raised the question before, but the answer he'd received wasn't even close to being satisfactory.

"You're persistent," Claudius said carefully, recalibrating himself to the shift in Josef's tone. "As I told you, I have contacts. They supplied me with Izzblum's Guide. They've answered my questions." Claudius was about to say more, but then he appeared to think better of it.

"You have contacts…do you have debts?" Josef asked, still watching Claudius carefully.

"No, no, nothing like that," replied Claudius. He then turned his back and looked at the wall. A short pause followed before he spoke again. "You see, Josef…I want in. Ever since I heard of them, I've wanted in. I've thought of it constantly, dreamt of it constantly. And now I'm close. Closer than I ever imagined I could ever get."

"Close to what?"

"Close to saving a goo-drinker."

"Saving me?"

Claudius nodded, turning back to face Josef. "Now you see?"

"I do." Josef took a moment to let what Claudius had just said sink in. "So I'm your ticket into some club?"

"The golden ticket. If I get you to Kaway Mahay, we can make contact. And if we make contact, I can receive my own kind of ratification." Josef listened as Claudius's voice rose with every word he spoke. He was now off in the clouds, his gills fluttering joyously at the side of his throat.

"I see," Josef said. "And what exactly do these contacts want to do with me?"

"They want to train you."