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."Come with me, and I'm sure Tharzon can answer your questions.""The dwarf tunneler? Are you cutting him in, too?""The very same.And yes, I intend to take him on as an equal partner.Can you think of anyone more knowledgeable in the ways of Sarbreen's passages and vaults?"The Northman shook his head."No, Tharzon would probably know more than anyone.Very well, I admit that I’m interested.""Follow me, then," Jack said and set off at once.The two rogues hurried up Cove Street and took a left on Nightlamp, following the road to DeVillars Ride and turning right again.Two blocks brought them to Rhabie Promenade, and then they turned left again onto Many-coins Way and followed that road the length of the Temple District, through the Market District, and on intothe neighborhood of Torchtown.Hidden in the back alley off of Vesper Way they found the Smoke Wyrm, a small taphouse in the solid stone cellars under a merchant's office.The place was favored by many of the dwarf craftsmen who lived and worked in Torchtown, and featured some of the best beer in the city.In the middle of the day, the place was virtually empty; no self-respecting dwarf would consider drinking when there was work to be done.The only occupants were a couple of Sembians engaged in hard drinking despite the hour, and a sturdy dwarf barkeep—Tharzon."Jack Ravenwild," the dwarf rumbled."I hold you responsible for a lack of sleep of late.That puzzle you gave me has me tied in knots.Anders Aricssen, good to see you again.""I had hoped that you might have solved my riddle by now," Jack said."Draw us two mugs of Old Smokey, friend Tharzon; we've much to discuss."Tharzon eyed him balefully but complied, filling a pair of clay mugs from one of the numerous casks behind the bar.He set it on the worn wooden bar but didn't slide it toward Jack until the rogue rolled his eyes and set a silver talon on the table.Jack blew the foam off the draft and took a cautious sip; Old Smokey was good dwarf-work, and it would fuddle a man's wits in two mugs, if not one."Did you have any luck at all with it?" Jack asked."Some," Tharzon admitted.He nodded at Anders with a look at Jack, but Jack waved him on.With a shrug, the dwarf reached into his leather apron and pulled out a folded piece of paper, carefully unfurling it with his thick fingers."I won't know whether I've solved it or not until I stand in the Guilder's Tomb.Here it is again:"Other hands must take up my work Other eyes my works beholdAt the center of all the thirty-seventh Girdled by the leaves of autumn Mark carefully the summer staircaseand climb it clockwise thrice Order emerges from chaos; the answer made clear.""A rather obtuse riddle," Anders remarked."Hmmph.Well, whoever translated this from Dwarven missed a couple of words.Instead of 'girdled,' it means 'encircled,' and instead of the leaves of autumn,' it could be read, these leaves of autumn."" The dwarf shook his head."And where it says 'mark,' you should probably think of it as 'measure.' Hasty work, poorly done.""Interesting," Jack said."I don't see that it changes the meaning much.""No, but you never know what might be significant.Clearly this is a set of instructions for finding the entrance of the vault.Missing even one word might mean that you never find it.""It seems to me, friend Tharzon, that understanding this puzzle depends on understanding three things: the thirty-seventh, these leaves of autumn, and the summer staircase.I suppose you could add climbing the staircase to that list." Jack took another sip and offered a foamy leer."Fortunately, I have already divined the meaning of the thirty-seventh."Tharzon leaned forward, his thick arms planted on the bar.He actually stood on a short runner behind the counter, raising him to Jack's height."I hate guessing games, Jack.Just tell us.""The thirty-seventh refers to a superior brandy, the Maidenfire Gold of the year 637 (Dale Reckoning) distilled by Cedrizarun.He was, of course, the master distiller of old Sarbreen.It is supposed to be the most noble spirit ever crafted east of the sea.""That would be more than seven centuries old " Anders rumbled."I am sure it was very fine in its day, but none can possibly survive any longer.""Don't be so sure," Tharzon said."A human lifetime burns brightly and gutters out in less than a hundred years, but my folk sometimes live to see their fourth century.We contemplate works requiring decades, even centuries, that humans would call impossible.I have seen dwarven spirits two or three centuries old; the Master Distiller might easily have crafted a spirit that might pass decades like a human-wrought brandy would pass years." His eyes grew dark and thoughtful as the dwarf contemplated the notion."But where would you find such a thing? And how much would it cost? A single bottle might bring a thousand gold crowns—two thousand gold crowns—in the heart of a dwarven kingdom.I cannot imagine where else you would find it.""I know someone who has a bottle," Jack said."For the moment, let us assume that we can borrow it when we need it.Why would a seven hundred year old bottle of brandy be at the center of all? What can it mean to this riddle?""Where was the inscription found?" Tharzon asked."My acquaintance with the expensive taste in liquor took the whole design on this parchment as a rubbing from Cedrizarun's tomb
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