“I wanna know what’s in that shack,” said Ivy as they sat down to the last of the evening stew. “Something about it has me gut gnawing.”

“Mine too,” said Ashja, “but it’s not a feeling I can identify.”

The group had arrived back at the Ink Pot just as the eighth bell rang.

“Caw’s watching,” said Zantu. “He’ll let me know what he sees. I’ll check with him after supper.”

“I’m gonna go catch some winks, then do me some scouting,” said Ivy, stretching. “If I’m lucky. I’ll have us a way in before breakfast rolls around.” The young elf bolted down her meal, then headed up to their rooms.

“I can’t disagree with resting now,” said Rayus. “I don’t think she should go alone. Let’s all get rest and then see what we find.”

The rest of the party agreed. When they reached their rooms, Zantu settled on the floor and contacted Caw.

“For a boarded up shack, that place sees a lot of coming and going,” said the wizard when his attention returned.

“I wonder why,” said Ashja.

“Not sure, but Caw said ‘many’ people came and went since we were there.”

“Odd,” said Rayus. “The place looked deserted.”

“How many is a ‘lot’?” asked Ivy.

“I’d say more than four, less than ten. Caw can’t count, but he’s been reliable enough with ‘lot’, ‘many’, and ‘crowd’. ‘Lot’ means at least as many as I travel with. ‘Many’ is more than just us. And ‘crowd’ is, well, a crowd. It’s all I’ve been able to teach him.”

“Helpful,” said Rayus.

When Rayus shook Ashja awake several bells later, the moon had set. They left the inn, following Ivy as she led the way through the shadows back to the boarded-up shack.

“The door’s over here,” said the young elf as she turned into an alleyway. Kneeling near the lock as the rest of the group watched, she pulled a small leather case from a belt pouch and chose a pair of thin metal rods. She inserted one, then moved the other around in the keyhole. After a couple of attempts, they all heard a soft click, and the door opened.

“Let me check for traps before we rush in,” said Ivy.

The room was fifteen paces by twelve paces. Piles of rotted wood, the masonry from a toppled hearth, and trash littered the floor. They couldn’t tell how many rooms this cottage might once have had. They searched around, finally discovering a trapdoor hidden in a corner behind a pile of rubble.

“No!” said Ivy, as Ashja reached for the ring. “Let me make sure it ain’t gonna poison you or nothing.” A moment later, she said, “no trap.”

Ashja pulled up on the ring, and the door swung to rest against the wall. Below, a stairway led down to an old wine cellar, walls lined with large casks made of oak. The barrels, each about one man-length tall and nearly two man-lengths long, appear to have been here for a long time. Again, the group noticed that the room remarkably had little dust.

“This place looks well-used for a derelict house,” said Rayus.

“It does, doesn’t it,” replied Zantu.

Ivy checked around for more traps, again finding none. She tapped on the barrels with her dagger’s hilt. Most of them echoed back at her, though a handful sounded full. As she searched, she saw a trail leading from the stairs toward one cask. Curiosity piqued, she examined the barrel using all her senses. When she couldn’t see a catch, she closed her eyes and let her fingers feel for any sign of a secret mechanism. On her second search, she found the irregular piece of wood and pushed on it. The entire front half of the cask swung away from her, revealing a narrow cut-stone passage with steps leading down.

The dark hallway led into a dimly lit corridor, turning to the left. Ivy led the way, watching for more irregularities along the walls and floor.

(to be continued)

Begin the story here: Welcome to Port Freehaven