the smuggler’s bible


Snake-in-the-Grass gets the grapnel stuck good and tight between a pair of stalagmites and spools off a few dozen feet of rope. He knots the end around his waist, gets a running start and vaults himself out of the rock chimney. For a moment, he can see it all. Bloodtooth is below him tussling with the goblins, and the spell is spinning wildly on the stone plinth.

Then there’s a shout and a flash, and a sudden gust of wind lifts Snake-in-the-Grass up and up until something sturdy is pressed against the top of his head. After that, it’s darkness.