A soft violet came flooding in through the tavern’s murky panes. Outside, the days had been shortening and the chill had chased in some unfamiliar faces among the regular folk, innkeeper Brunwin Breakwater observed. Letting his eyes glide across his cosy inn called the Red Herring, he saw the trestle tables seated a motley bunch of customers tonight.

A handful of Rashari deckhands sat gambling their wages away by the light of the hearth fire in the back. Next to them, a jester of uncertain origin entertained a small crowd with tales and jokes. Brunwin could not tell whether his audience, mainly elderly retired seamen, sat listening intently or merely absently staring at the masked man who had begun making shadow figures on the wall to accentuate his words. Near a window to the left of him, the innkeeper spotted Asha and Ylna counting their profits on the table. The general goods store owners gleamed as brightly as their stacks of scuta by the candle light. The Herring’s host was ever so glad when the merchant women did good business, for they were known to celebrate any profitable deals at his establishment.

However, there was another customer he would rather not welcome in. At the far end of the counter, far removed from the rest, a black clad patron sat sipping his spirit. The worn rags wrapped around his slender, serpentine figure seemed shrouds around a corpse. His long tail swished slowly across the floor, leaving traces in the fine layer of dust and dried mud. The Red Herring’s regulars kept well away from the eccentric, street dwelling Nagura and Brunwin could not disagree with them.

Many a man had offered him aid of various natures throughout the years but the tramp had refused any and all of it, claiming that life covered his requirements well enough. Besides the sympathy of some, the statement had earned him the suspicion of most. The innkeeper had rather kept the wretch out if it had not been for the decent purse he had brought with him this time. The town’s pariah did not often have the —honest— resources to have himself poured a healthy drink in the island’s only inn, but when he did, he certainly would not be moved from his barstool at the counter. The innkeeper watched him smack his thin lips comprehensively, set down the glass and flick a bony hand in his direction. Brunwin sighed and muttered under his breath before shuffling down towards his curious customer. Silver eyes came glaring from underneath a black hood.

“Another, if you please,” he hissed in a voice dark as his draping. Brunwin knitted his scaly brow into a contemptuous frown.

“Already served ye a good deal more than ye own dear mother would,” he sneered. “Yer pocket’s empty besides. Off with ye, layabout. Ye scarin’ off me custom.”

The Nagura remained quiet for a moment. He stared down his empty glass as if pondering his options. “I see my coin did not buy me your hospitability along with a drink,” he sizzled slyly. “Perhaps some valuable information will improve your disposition?” Brunwin’s frown faded, momentarily gaping before settling back into a scowl.

“Don’t ye try an’ swindle me, ye freeloadin’ floater,” he warned. “What’s in the purse gets ye yer drink and I ain’t sellin’ ye the water from me rain barrel for any of yer tall tales.”

“Not even when one of those tales can fill your own purse to bursting?”

“An’ why would ye tell me about any such treasure an’ not keep it yerself, hm?” Brunwin scorned and briskly applied his towel to the dripping dishes in the sink.

“I am content with a good glass, sir host. The thrill of living without the dulling certainties of having a roof over your head and a proper meal at the end of the day, is worth as much to me as money seems to be to you.”

The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “What would a slob of the street like yerself know?”

“Words on the street travel fast, sir. I hear a great deal, while fishing at the docks.” The Nagura’s forked tongue briefly darted out from between his teeth as his lips cracked into a wily grin. Brunwin stood towelling the same tankard to a shine while he weighed the man’s words.

“What’s them tales ye hear then?” the barman succumbed. The patron’s eyes glistened as he shot a meaningful glance toward his empty glass. With grinding teeth, Brunwin uncorked the bottle and poured him a peg of Seafoam Spirit.

“Yesterday morning, a Rashari freighter moored at the docks,” the guest began. “The same I had seen leave for Taran-Ceroth only eight days earlier.” Brunwin croaked a complaint.

“Aye, Roughsea an’ his crew drank like fish. But what’s that te me? There’s ships leaving north all the time.”

“Not to return laden with riches within a few days,” the lizard pointed out. Brunwin shrugged.

“Good business over in the land ’o fire, I reckon.”

“My sources informed me she never reached that land. The wealth they had picked up must have been obtained somewhere between here and the shores of Taran-Ceroth.”

Brunwin made a face as he drew a mental map of the eastern coast of Valènor. “There’s nothin’ but the Gorge there,” he figured. The patron smiled again.

“I came to the same conclusion, sir host. I believe somewhere down the passage is a hidden cove, perhaps an ancient harbour but most likely a pirates’ den. All you have to do is get yourself a vessel and find it.” Here, Brunwin’s face clouded and he smacked the tankard to the wood. Some of the customers looked up distractedly at the clamour.

“Now the cat’s out o’ the bag,” he kicked. “The Gorge’s miles an’ miles long, ye can search fer the rest of yer days with nothin’ to point ye there. Ye’d be blessed te get out at all, if ye don’t get lost in them limestone forest at the mouth first. That gets me nowhere, you lousy layabout. I knew ye’d try and swindle me out of me liquor, you and yer yarn. That was yer last sip, you -” But before he could find him a name, the Nagura interposed.

“Anyone who does not know where to look might lose one’s way, yes. However, I have additional information that will practically put the mark on your map.” Brunwin rolled his eyes.

“I hear many a drunken tale in me line o’ work,” he warned, “and I don’t see how yers is any more honest than the one on there bein’ a "gate to the land o’ the dead" down there, as some rambling shipmate’s tried to cozen me with the day foregone.”

“Anybody can promise you there is a portal that opens to wealth beyond your wildest dreams, but only I can point you there.”

This made Brunwin hesitate for a moment. He had not forgotten the heavy money pouches his patron had worn around his neck the night before. A Rashari seaman named Fareye had burbled something about being shipwrecked in the King’s Gorge and ending up in the afterlife where he had been surrounded by great riches. Although the innkeeper had believed not a word of it, he certainly believed in the scuta the sailor had brought back and generously paid him with. If he could find it back, he could hire a hand to pour him a good glass, for a change. His face had cleared considerably when he plucked the bottle from the shelf and decanted his patron another meaningful shot.

“Let me hear where that mark goes then, hm?” he spoke softly, allowing the lute the jester at the hearth had begun to play, to drown out his words. The black-hooded Nagura took a long draft from his drink before answering.

“The seamen I overheard at the docks spoke of that very limestone forest you mentioned,” he started. “It is a maze indeed and anyone who can, avoids it all together. Thus, the words I caught them rehearsing as if to commit them to memory, must lead to a place within where it is well worth going.” The Nagura drained his glass and bend over the counter, waving Brunwin to come closer.

“This is what they said,” he whispered, his reeking breath lingering between them. “From big to small, from thick to tall. Derive this from five, the least to the east, the rest to the west.” The lizard sat back up and spread his hands, as if to indicate a great treasure he had just laid out before them. Brunwin blinked a couple of times, his expression blank as a Kurandar beach. Then, an angry snarl shifted his face.

“A riddle? A riddle? Is that all, you swindler? What I am supposed te do with a bloody brain-teaser?”

“It’s clear as day, sir host,” the guest argued. “You go to the limestone forest, find the biggest pillar and go from there. Hints will not come any more obvious than this.” But Brunwin was not pleased. He did not bother to hush his voice when he continued his tirade in growing discontent.

“Ye said ye would get me a pin, not a vague there’s-about-it! Yer nobblin’ me out of me drinks, ye lawless lowlife! And what’s with that derive from five? Ye want me to count the bloody things? There’s dozens o’ stones there! Get out, you slyboots you! And ye better believe the drink’s on yer tab!” The innkeeper snatched the empty glass from the counter and pointed a firm finger toward the door. The Nagura hid a crooked smile underneath his hood as he slithered down from his bar stool.

“Fair winds, sir host,” he bowed and turned to slowly snake out the creaking door into the quiet night.