Chapter 9: The Fountain

When I step around the half open door and into the chamber beyond, I pause and observe where I now found myself, sense of danger low enough it feels like I can take the time to do so. Odd, this room, less hacked from stone like the rest of the places we've been and more polished, it seems, with a large and elaborate fountain in the center, water bubbling up from the pool surrounding a plain statue. In fact, it's more than plain, it's blank, faceless, sexless, without attire or any kind of distinguishing features. As though the sculptor lost interest after forming the initial shape. So unusual considering the carefully carved blocks that fit together to make the fountain's curving containment, the dark blue stone far more decorative than the utter nothing standing in its center.

Blossom perches on the edge of the pool of water, sniffing it a moment before cupping some in her hand and slurping it down. She spins and beams at us, waving us forward, while Damaris, circling past a flickering torch and moving slowly toward a closed, wooden doorway on the left, rolls her eyes at me.

"It's delicious!" The halfling lies on her belly on the stone lip and drinks deeply of the water, little feet swinging as she does. Far too innocent seeming for a thief, and much more an act I'm starting to see through than perhaps she's aware of. I can understand how she more than likely gets away with far more than she would if she were of some other

race. A healthy advantage for the halfling and fair enough when size is an impediment to other callings.

Fleur joins her, one fingertip touching the bubbling water. She smiles then, nods. "It's clear," she says. "It must feed up from some deep spring far under the rock." Her long, slim hand forms a cup and she sips from it. "Refreshing."

I have to admit I'm really thirsty now, the liquor I've drunk leaving a terrible burned taste in my mouth. It was fine at the time of imbibing, but a long, deep drink of something cold and fresh would certainly hit the spot. The little bit of water I'd had in my cell feels like forever ago and though the stew has settled in my stomach and is doing its part to keep me going, the call of the water is undeniable.

I wait, though, stubborn perhaps? I'm not too big to admit it, nor that it's not until Damaris leaves her examination of the doorway without opening it and joins the others and takes a drink, her eyes locked on me, that I sample it at the same time she does.

Yes, stubborn. And other things I really need to set aside but can't seem to when it comes to the paladin. Though why I would need to prove myself to anyone, especially the special envoy of the crown princess, is beyond me.

Maybe it's more than that. The fact she has a tattoo like mine? I need to find time to ask her about it. She appears to have memories I don't. She might know what it means and why it seems to track everything I do with careful attention.

I hesitate after my first drink as the PH in my embed shivers but doesn't change or glow. I suppose simply drinking at this stage isn't going to be enough to help me level up. That phrase makes me pause. Level up to where? It means something, and it's important. It's a core principle to everything I'm doing here. But what does it mean? And why is it so vital I keep moving forward in more ways than one?

Blossom finishes first, booping Vosh on the nose with one finger as he kneels next to the fountain to drink, evading Damaris-choosing her side on purpose to circle, I'm positive of that-and past the paladin toward the other side of the fountain. At first I think she's going to examine the second closed door directly across from the first, fountain directly between them. Instead, though, she skirts the edge and heads for the far end of the room and the third and final door we've yet to explore.

And squeaks in surprise as she seems to impact something before falling backward with the most startled look on her face, landing hard on her posterior.

Graldor laughs, a guffaw of harsh humor, while Blossom's cheeks redden and she's scrambles to her feet, rubbing her bottom with one hand as if injured.

"Trip and fall over those feet at last, halfling?" He wipes water from his beard with one hand.

She shakes her head, frowning, easing forward, hands raised. I join her and am next to her when she stops, her fingers running sideways, up and down, but moving no further ahead.

I touch the place above her fingers and feel the invisible barrier she impacted, Damaris appearing on my other side, doing the same thing.

"Some kind of shielding?" She meets my gaze, her own troubled.

"Well, obviously," Blossom says, one hand on her cocked hip. "I guess you never claimed to be brilliant."

Damaris's clenched fists, I believe, are the only thing keeping her from screaming at the halfling and her attitude. "Any idea where it comes from or are you going to just be rude to everyone because you're embarrassed you fell down?"

I shouldn't laugh because it's not funny, but it's so true I can barely contain myself.

Blossom splutters a moment, arms crossing sullenly over her chest while she tips her chin toward the barrier.

"Ask the wizard," she snarls, turning her back on the paladin and stomping away. Not back toward the fountain and the others, but sideways, to the door that's in line with the barrier, on this side of it at least.

I go with her if only to keep her from hurting herself again and when she notices I'm at her back when she reaches for the door handle she scowls at me before she pinks again and looks away. Has she learned a lesson from her impetuousness? Not likely, though she does open this door more slowly than I've observed her take on any task in the past and peeks around the corner of it before stepping inside.

I'm right behind her, hand on my sword. There's no need for a weapon here, however. Bunks line the walls, these places of rest nothing like the horrible huddle the hobgoblins used below. The wooden frames are piled with blankets and pillows, and a

large cushion filled pit in one corner looks coincidentally troll sized. Blossom runs off to investigate with the renewed interest of an eager child, all forgiven and forgotten in her mercurial way of being.

I don't protest her innocent fun, wondering when the next time will come she can romp with such abandon. We explore a few minutes, Blossom's part played out in a bouncing, squealing playtime in the middle of the cushions while I search under a few mattresses and inside blankets. But aside from a place to sleep, the place is empty.

"Guard's quarters?" That doesn't feel right to me. There's no stench of hobgoblin here, no reek of their fetid flesh on the bedclothes. And there's the exact number we require, including the pit for our troll friend. Odd and makes me uncomfortable, though when Graldor joins us he seems pleased by the setup.

Even Damaris isn't suspicious enough for my liking, Fleur and Vosh taking their turn to look around. I leave them, the paladin trailing after me, and cross in front of the fountain, glancing up at it as we pass. Wait, wasn't it blank the last time I looked? How strange, there seems to be the vague form of a nose, fingers on the hands, even the faint outline of clothing. I must have missed those details when I first entered.

I pause with my hand near the handle of the door, raise an eyebrow to Damaris who waves off my silent question with a twist to her lips.

"Just open it," she says.

I do, carefully, not as eager as Blossom to lurch from one place to another as she always appears to be. And gape in shock at the sight of a banquet table overflowing with food, the smell assaulting my senses so abruptly I find I'm drooling while the paladin next to me does the same.

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