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The only other occupant of the cell is a sick old man who lies, barely moving, upon a wooden pallet. Your Wizard’s Staff and Backpack have been taken from you, but you still possess any items not carried in the Backpack (for example, your Herb Pouch).
Shan turns towards you. ‘Innocent. I am innocent of any crime, save the possession of a loud voice and the consumption of too much ale. It is said that those who enter the Hall of Correction are never seen again. Surely, they will not leave us to rot in this hell-hole. What ever am I to do?’
You talk with the merchant for some time, discovering many stories about the Lost Tribe of Lara: of their flight into the Shuri Mountains, and the legend of their pilgrimage beyond the Kashima Mountains into the Unknown Valley and the Forest of Fernmost. You find yourself growing to like this little man with his dry humour and ironic quips.
‘I’ll guide you anywhere you want to go, if you can get us out of here,’ he says, half joking; but he can see by the look in your eyes that you take his offer seriously, and that to you escape is not an impossible dream.
