the smuggler’s bible

Marcy

There’s a chain attached to the door (inside, impossible to detect and, Marcy swears, a cheap shot). Anyway, it gets yanked taut and trips a mechanism behind the wall. The room begins slowly to fill with water.

“Oh, good.” Marcy says, choosing to ignore the snickering of her goblin henchmen. She makes the appropriate signs and the water sloshes uncertainly, then recedes. “Not like I needed that fourth level spell for anything else. Thanks for asking.”

The dry pipes creak and begin to spew centipedes. Across the table, Declan smirks and says, “Roll initi—”

Marcy hucks her dice at him.