the smuggler’s bible


“You’re sure I can’t take care of the cleanup by myself?”

“That depends. Do you have a license?”

Bloodtooth considers lying—and then considers how likely he is to get away with it. He shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought,” the burly gnome says. He whistles and his apprentices bring the cart up the hill and into the crumbling tower. “Wizardin’ chemicals are just not something your layman is equipped to handle.”

“Cut me a break and leave the good stuff, all right?”

The gnome tuts. “Buddy, without a license you won’t even know what the good stuff is.”