While none of the captives were killed in the battle, it would be dishonest to say they’d been left unharmed. None had been physically wounded in the assault, but some of the deepest wounds are left in the mind. It was bad enough that the stinking cloud—albeit pivotal to the battle—caused at least one prisoner in every cage to vomit, which set off any on the brink.

  Then there was the matter of the birds. While they too had not harmed the captives—physically at least—those that had watched them terrorize the rats were left with a strange disquiet. The sight of an owl eating a rat ought not produce any unnatural feeling, but ought and should mean naught when confronted with glimpses of the void between realities.

  The rats were in a far less sound state of mind, but no one paid that any heed to them. When guards found them huddled in a quivering mass in the corner, they stomped the lot to death, only noting idly that it strange they didn’t flee.

  Syril and Ellen did what they could to clean up the prisoners with their magic, Ellen’s army of unseen eldritch horror servants cleaning the vomit and remnants off them while Syril used his faithful cleaning spell.

  “How are they cleaning them?” Grom whispered to Ellen, in reference to her servants.

  “I’m not sure,” Ellen whispered back. “It used to be when I used the spell they’d find brushes and rags to clean but now… I think they are licking them clean.”

  Grom gave her a judging look, which Ellen returned.

  “On the topic of horrible minions, what’s with the zombies?”

  Grom scratched at his beard self-consciously and looked everywhere but at Ellen or the aforementioned zombies.

  “Who are we to question the will of the gods?” Grom asked more than stated.

  “You better work on that delivery before Mr. Lie-Detector asks you the same,” Ellen said.

  “Yeah…” Grom said.

  Bill stood a distance off, looking at the zombified thugs with a contemplative look on his face. When he noticed the other’s attention on him, he walked over.

  “I thought Cland was against the undead,” Bill said.

  “That’s my understanding as well,” Grom said, completely truthfully.

  “Then why did you create undead?” Bill asked.

  Grom held his empty hands up, palms up.

  “I am but a mere dwarf,” he said. “I prayed for aid, and this was how my prayer was answered. I didn’t intend for this to be the outcome, but it was what we needed at that moment.”

  Bill nodded thoughtfully at that and contemplated the words.

  “What’s with the broom?” Syril asked, joining the others and noting that Ellen still clutched it.

  “I found it useful in the battle,” she said.

  As they spoke, Linar was busy at work collecting all the items of value, both magical and monetary, laying them out for inspection. The first thing he’d grabbed had been the hole in the wall on the stairs. While unnoticed during the battle, on closer inspection, they’d found the magical hole in the wooden wall had a thin silver ring around it. When pulled, the ring came loose and the hole disappeared, leaving Linar with a silver ring five inches in diameter.

  It was added to the pile along with the barbarian’s belt, the gong, a wand from the wizard, the pipes from the archer, and a host of other miscellaneous magical items of various martial value. Ellen perused the wizard’s spellbook but decided against choosing it for her own, finding it a rather standard collection of spells she could acquire through other means.

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  “So,” Syril asked, after an accounting had been made. “What does everyone want?”

  “I want that belt,” Bill insisted, the ease at which the other man had batted him aside clear in his memory and in his joints as he still stretched sore muscles.

  “I’m taking this ring,” Linar said, holding up the silver ring that hadn’t made it to the pile.

  “Of course you are,” Syril said.

  “Do you want the pipes?” Ellen asked Syril, receiving a scathing stare from him and a laugh from Grom.

  “You think he wants an instrument that summons vermin?” Grom asked.

  “I’ll pass,” Syril said.

  Ellen handled it, examining it closely on a level the others couldn’t comprehend.

  “I don’t think it only works on rats,” she said. “Or at least, it could be made to attract something else.”

  “Like what?” Grom asked. “Skunks?”

  “Probably,” Ellen said. “Insects, maybe cats.”

  “You’re not selling me on this,” Syril said.

  “Think about it,” Ellen said. “Isn’t there any animal that isn’t abhorrent to you?”

  Syril considered and extended a hand for the pipes.

  He brought it to his lips and blew experimentally, closing his eyes as he listened to the notes.

  “I think…” he began, blowing a few other test notes. “I might be able to copy the magic itself.”

  He tucked the pipes into his pocket, a little bit of excitement creeping into his face.

  “No rats,” he said firmly.

  “Grom?” Syril asked, moving the attention on from him.

  “I’m taking a cut of the loot,” he said.

  “Really?” Bill asked. “That anti-magic gong is pretty powerful.”

  “I was considering that,” Ellen said. “I seem to have a way to bypass it slightly, and I want to investigate it further.”

  “I have an idea,” Grom said, subtly looking at the two zombies standing idly to the side. “But it will be a little costly.”

  Once their decision’s had been made, the guards took over, sorting the illicit and legal contents of the warehouse.

  “We should take these items to a cleric to check them for curses before we use them,” Ellen said outside the warehouse.

  “Why doesn’t Grom do it?” Bill asked.

  “Good question,” Syril said. “Grom?”

  “Uhhh, sure,” he agreed.

  He held each item in turn—except for Linar’s ring, the rogue having used it to exit the warehouse on the rear side where no door stood. He prayed briefly, holding eat item in turn and his deity revealed nothing to him.

  “I don’t think they are cursed,” he said, though he lacked the certainty the others would have preferred.

  Syril began playing his new pipes, a tune with the feel of springtime coming from it.

  Ellen returned her gong to her bag of holding, and Bill took off his belt, removing the holsters from it and attaching them to the new ones.

  He placed it on, and then experimented with his strength, but didn’t notice a difference.

  “Sometime these things take a while to form a connection,” Ellen explained. “Try again tomorrow.”

  Ellen held her broom out, made a few sweeping gestures, gathering everyone’s attention, and then put her foot on the ring that secured the bristles. With a smile, she did a half courtesy with one hand and then put her full weight onto the broom. The broom stayed, balanced at an angle with Ellen’s full weight on it.

  “See you all tomorrow,” she said, and the slowly rose into the air.

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