Chapter 64 - An Unconventional Access

As he requested, we returned to Brokier’s shop at the appointed time to find the wildmarked man himself cloaked and hooded, with a hooked bar in his hand and a battle wand strapped to his belt, which he patted.

“Just in case our passage does not go unnoticed, no-no,” he said. “Never too careful.”

Considering his keen sense of self-preservation had led to his continued existence in and underneath a city as dangerous as Dragonmaw thus far, I was disinclined to complain—though I hoped he would not have occasion to use it. Annalisa, of course, actively hoped to test herself against a monster—the more fangs and claws, the better, I’m sure.

“Before I take thee beneath, Brokier has offers of his own to make, ah-ah.”

Brokier spread a selection of leather-wrapped scrolls on his desk. “Shaldar collects. The best dungeons aids, guaranteed. They could make the difference between success and certain defeat. Five cunnings each for discerning masters, ah-ah.”

Annalisa and I shared a look. I tapped the four of dragons, and much to my lack of surprise, every scroll was either completely expended or outright fake. That’s Dragonmaw, for you.

“Thank you, Brokier, but I think we’re good. Let’s get moving.”

The rat sniffed, disappointed, but not surprised. He was keen enough to know we’d spot fakes, but shrewd enough to not let the opportunity to sell us one anyway slip by untested. He swept the scrolls back into a drawer and pulled out a pair of amulets with dull stones in the middle.

“These Brokier is wanting back. They will warn you, should you draw too close to the glow-steel sickness. Heed them.”

These we took without complaint. Our route should keep us clear of the undercity beneath the unsheathings, but better safe. Legend had it, a few of the mythical orc swords were still down there somewhere, having melted down to the caverns, layer by layer.

That done, we headed out the back of Brokier’s hovel. The wildmarked took us west and north, skirting Kindledown and into the sump district of Cradledown. Sitting slightly below sea level, stagnant water tended to collect here after heavy rains or especially high tides. Most of the buildings sat on stilts, and since we’d had little rain this summer, the streets were only ankle-deep.

Brokier sniffed the air, his sharp nose poking out of the hood of his cloak, and I came to realize the man wasn’t navigating by sight. He could smell the undercity. He took us to an abandoned workshop with half-rotted walls, using his bar to pry back a side panel that let Annalisa and I squeeze through. I held the panel open for Brokier as well, and he scrambled in. He reset the wall to make it look as though it had been untouched.

Toward the middle of the floor, a drain had been set into the stonework. Brokier used his bar to pry it up, revealing an old ladder set into a stone chimney. I clipped one of the small, hooded lanterns to my trousers, and Annalisa did the same. She went down first, I followed, and Brokier came last, using the bar to replace the cover on the drain.

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Water ran freely along the sides of the chimney, making the rocks slick and dripping somewhere below where the Cradledown district slowly drained into the undercity. Fetid, humid air wafted up from a draft below, and it already seemed like light retreated from the shadows beneath Annalisa.

The chimney terminated in the flooded remains of a kiln from a previous age. I ducked under the lip of the furnace and shined my lamp around at the remains of what must have once been a pottery workshop. Not from the golden elves, this looked more dwarven in design if the low height of the ceiling offered any indication.

Brokier sniffed at the low door leading out to half-collapsed tunnels beyond before ushering us to follow. “Come, the way is clear. No monsters.”

He sniffed at each corner we passed, and I began to realize that he had some system that he followed based on scent-markers. I slipped my hand into my pocket and touched the four of knaves. Faint splotches of light illuminated the corners just above head height. I couldn’t interpret what the cipher card was trying to tell me in terms of the scent signals, though it did seem to present different markings as different colors, and Brokier seemed to be leading us based on ones that glowed a soft peach-color to my second sight.

We sloshed through the ankle-deep water for what felt like hours, ducking under dribles from the surface draining down and climbing over partial blockages into old, ruined buildings. This wasn’t the Dragonmaw I knew, but a Dragonmaw that had swallowed itself years ago.

Eventually, the deluge dropped off, and brokier let us to another chute down to the next level of the undercity. He got down on all fours and sniffed the opening, even circling the perimeter of the access to get different angles, before unclipping his battle wand.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Salt brine, oh-ho,” said Brokier. He spat down the opening, and it was several seconds before I heard it splash against rock. “Newcomers to the undercity, dangerous. What is their purpose? No one knows, even Brokier.”

“Newcomers?” I asked. “Where are they coming from?”

“From the sea. Tunnels connect, lead to the brine. Things go. Things come. Clash. Win. Brokier goes no further.”

Something coming in from outside the city and clashing with the multitude of monsters already present? I hadn’t heard that from the adventurers and sellswords who passed through the Mop. Though, maybe the Adventurers Guild wasn’t fully aware of every incursion under the city.

Annalisa shuffled. “You’re not scared to go down there, are you?” she asked.

The wildkin narrowed her eyes at her. “Brokier is scared when scared is smart. This is how a rat survives, yes?”

“As much as I admire your survival instinct, we still have to go down there, Brokier.” My fingers brushed the delving chart Alondalis had marked for us. I contented myself knowing that these newcomers likely weren’t interested in piles of monster shit.

“Yeah, we already took the constitution boosters,” added Annalisa.

There was that, too.

I shrugged off my bag and pulled a rope, securing it to a stand of old masonry before playing the other end out down the chute. Annalisa shined her light down, revealing a largely featureless, uneven floor that was so covered in lichen and slime that it was difficult to even determine if it was artificial or natural cave. The undercity didn’t always makea clear distinction between the two.

“Good luck, young masters, oh-ho,” said Brokier.

“Any other advice?” I asked.

“Not all monsters have fangs and claws in the undercity, no-no.” said Brokier.

He bowed to us under his cloak, and then set off—in a different direction than the one from which we’d come. I heard his stick tapping and nose sniffing into the distance.

Annalisa and I shared a look. She wrapped the rope around herself and

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I’m ready for anything.”