Of course, the crew took more than nine minutes to get ready; they delayed their leaving by hemming and hawing, unsure which Attributes to align and how many points to spend.

  Fritz was patient with them, giving out his valuable advice in succinct lectures, even when unsought. It was received more gratefully once they were reminded he was vastly more educated than they were on the subject of Climbing.

  Now that they were each at least level six, Fritz also assigned them tentative Roles. Reed was made a Defender, as was Trudge. The rest could only fulfil the duties of a Striker, their powers unsuited to anything but attacking. All save Clover, whose Treasure rod gave her the ability to aid the crew with barriers.

  Fritz allowed her to take the Role of an Enhancer, telling her to keep an eye out for the safety of the others and himself, of course.

  Eventually, they were ready and had set themselves in their new formation. Fritz at the front, Trudge behind him, Toby, Mel and Clover in the centre and Reed protecting the rear.

  The crew moved to the middle Door, then they Climbed.

  The tunnel's floor sloped gently, and a floral scent lacing the air grew from vague to vigorous.

  "What is that?" Mel asked, sniffing. "Is that roses?"

  "Not roses," Fritz said. "You'll see soon enough."

  When they entered the Floor, they were bathed in soft light. Warm, white shafts poured from holes in the cave's roof, illuminating circular swaths of pale blue flowers that covered the floor like a sea. Above the floral expanse, hung rocky islands held high on columns of natural stone. Between them were thin bridges, joining each in a great web of walkways.

  "Wow... this is... pretty," Mel said, standing there enchanted.

  "Wonderful," Clover breathed.

  "It's quite the sight," Fritz agreed.

  They took in the Floor for a few moments, interrupted only when Reed sneezed, then rubbed at his eyes. "Damn flowers," he complained, his voice scratchy. "Stupid things."

  He sneezed again, eliciting more than a few frowns.

  "Could you not?" Toby groused. "There might be beasts out there. Don't need you giving us away cause you caught a cold."

  "Not a cold," Reed protested. "It's the flowers." He gestured at the blue fields only a few yards away.

  Fritz set down his pack and found the man a remedy to clear the nose and throat of phlegm.

  "What's this?" Reed asked, looking at the vial in his hand doubtfully.

  "Tonic," Fritz said. "Should help you for now."

  Reed shrugged and drank it down, then coughed and spluttered as the medicine took effect. His eyes watered, and he wheezed. He spat a thick glob onto the ground, then breathed deeply.

  "Ahh! That feels much better," he said, wiping his eyes. "Really good stuff. Just where did you get all these tonics?"

  "I have a few alchemist friends," Fritz boasted blandly.

  "More than friends, the way I hear it," Mel grumbled.

  "Baseless rumour," Fritz replied.

  "Right," Mel said, clearly disbelieving him. "That's why they're always so excited to be visited by the Shade."

  "Only because I fund them," Fritz scoffed.

  "Uh-huh," she said.

  Fritz ignored her, striding forward and approaching the flowers.

  They were blue, their six petals spread out like a starfish's arms, reaching to about the size of his palm. In their centre were needle-thin stalks of white, tipped with small, silver crescents. A fine, pale powder dusted the heart of the flowers, softly drifting when disturbed by the slight breeze, and forming a delicate mist which circled the vibrantly green, thorned stems below.

  It was this soft mist that he realised was causing his Trap Sense to trill.

  Fritz frowned, dropping to a knee. He brushed one finger over a sparsely powdered petal, then brought it close to his face. Staring intently, he focused on the bone-white dust, sniffing it once before rubbing it between his thumb and finger. The scent was more akin to a lily than a rose, though it held a bitter note reminiscent of potent pain tonics.

  His feeling in his fingers faded slightly, dulling at the edges, tingling, then sinking deeper, numbing his skin. The sensation was warm, rather than cool, like being swaddled in thick, soft cotton. It only took a few moments for his moonsilver-laced bones to burn coldly. It wasn't a powerful reaction, but it told him all he needed to know.

  Clover walked forward, kneeling beside him and reaching out to touch a petal, just as he did.

  His hand darted out and grasped her wrist firmly. She gasped quietly, then stared at him with worry.

  "Don't touch. The flowers are poison," Fritz warned.

  Clover nodded, and he let her go. She rubbed at where he had gripped her.

  "Are they?" Toby asked eagerly, joining them kneeling. "Which part? The thorns?"

  "The dust," Fritz said.

  "Dust? You mean pollen," Toby corrected.

  "I do, do I?" Fritz asked mildly.

  "You do," Toby said.

  "And why do you know so much about flowers all of a sudden? Training to be a gardener? Studying with the alchemists?" Fritz interrogated mockingly. "If it's the latter, then I may have to report your activities to Jane. I suspect she won't be too pleased."

  "Don't even joke about that," Toby growled. "I'd never betray her."

  "Ah, right. Of course," Fritz said. "My apologies."

  "If you must know, Jane's been learning about healing herbs," Toby continued. "She's been teaching me something of what she knows. Mostly antidotes and poisons."

  "Ah, yes, poisons. That sounds more like you," Fritz said. "There's no way a Mr. Blades would be interested in flowers or further natural wonders for their own sakes."

  Toby simply scowled. "What kind of poison is it?"

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  "Numbing," Fritz replied.

  "Numbing?" Toby repeated. "Is that all?"

  "I only tested a small amount of pollen," Fritz said. "In larger doses, it could be far more potent."

  "So we shouldn't walk through the flower fields then?" Reed asked seemingly relieved they wouldn't be plodding through them.

  "Agreed," Fritz affirmed. "We'll take the stone platforms above us."

  "How do we get up there?" Mel asked, looking up.

  "Rope and grapple," Fritz said, standing swiftly, returning to his pack and pulling out the required tool and coil.

  "We should take some of the flowers first," Toby suggested firmly. "They could be worth a bit to an alchemist or a healer."

  "Or a poisoner," Mel added.

  "True as the rain," Toby agreed.

  "I suppose it can't hurt too much," Fritz allowed. "Before you do, cover your hands, mouths and noses. And store the flowers in only your most airproof sacks."

  "I'll wait over here," Reed said, "Don't want to get much closer to that stuff."

  "Scaredy cat," Mel teased, wrapping her face with a yellow, linen handkerchief.

  "Just don't want to start sneezing again," Reed protested.

  With only a little more bickering, they got to work harvesting the flowers.

  Gloves and handwrappings were soon found to be necesarry to keep pulling the thorny stalks free from the loamy, moist dirt. Fritz only bothered to do so with two such specimens; the rest he simply cut with Mortal Edge, slicing off the bulbs and blooms to be deposited into a bag at his waist.

  After about an hour, they had gathered all they wished, or rather, dared, to take, tying off the flower-filled sacks with twine and securing them as safely as they could into packs or onto belts.

  While the harvesting had been mostly harmless, Trudge had accidentally torn a hole in the leg of his trousers, and a thorn had cut into his calf. He hadn't even noticed until Reed called out to him, warning him of the danger.

  The wound was rather deep. Painful, though clearly superficial. Or rather, it would have been painful if not for the numbing pollen.

  That, Fritz supposed, was one of the traps the plants held; torn to shreds without feeling a thing, a ghastly way to go. The other trap was the steadily growing cloud of white they kicked up while trampling the field. Only their caution and breaks to wait out the pollen fog kept them from breathing in a potentially perilous amount.

  Even then, Clover wobbled on her feet a few times, and Toby had to retreat and lie down after pulling out too many of the soporific plants at once. Still, there were no true injuries, and the sudden drowsiness and dizziness the two found themselves afflicted with disappeared quickly.

  The grapple hook soared, catching on a sturdy outcropping. The rope dangled limply, and Fritz was the first to climb it. He reached the top with some effort, the weight of his pack being the main draw on his strength, otherwise he would have barely broken a sweat.

  As it was, he reached the island, around eighteen feet above the cavern floor, breathing heavily. He slid the first couple of feet on his belly before standing slowly. The rock beneath his feet didn't tilt or sway as he feared it might.

  Sighing in relief, he stared into the distance and pulsed his Awareness.

  There was a dim, definite response to his left, and he turned to face the far away Door.

  By his estimation, it would take around three hours to reach the stairway, though that was if the path was straightforward. Unfortunately, due to the impassable fields of flowers below, they would need to take the meandering muddle of bridges above. Not all of which looked entirely stable, or indeed strong enough to carry those of great weight.

  At least Trudge's Treasure will see some use, Fritz thought uncharitably. Shaking away the unkind notion, he searched for any other perils.

  There were none, save a sudden, yet gentle, gust that rustled the ocean of pale blue petals and carried a swirling cloud of pollen up toward the roof before descending and dissipating like the spray from the sea.

  Fritz nodded to himself. He'd expected it wouldn't simply be a matter of balance and choosing the right walkways, and was glad to be proven correct so soon. They'd have to evade the ephemeral mists, too.

  He called for the crew to climb up, then explained the dangers he had spotted.

  "Looks like my boots will come in handy," Trudge said, smiling.

  "Indeed," Fritz agreed. "But be sure not to use them without need. Gold is as precious within a Spire as it is without."

  Trudge nodded seriously.

  Fritz led the way, and they slowly crossed to the next stone island, then the next. One stone bridge after another. Some of the naturally formed walkways were as comfortably wide as to allow three men to stand abreast, and some were worryingly narrow at less than a foot across.

  They took each step cautiously.

  Sporadically, the wind would blow, and they would have to retreat or advance quickly. Though with Fritz's highly tuned Awareness and the occasional warning from Reed, they were never caught fully by a spray of pollen.

  Of course, there were some deadly moments, such as when feet slipped, and a fall was only just avoided, or when someone got dusted with white from a sudden surge and had to brush themselves off and sit down to recover from any drowsiness or persistent hazes. Yet none were lethal, and they made steady progress toward the stairway.

  While they travelled, Fritz thought on their ghost trouble. The necromancer floated above them ominously, though most felt it was more a nuisance than a looming doom right now. He knew they were wrong. The spectre was a deadly creature, biding its time and just waiting to enact its revenge, but he didn't want to alarm the crew. To keep them on edge would only be a detriment.

  He considered his options, but came up with nothing. There was no power he held, save his Eldritch Flame, that would harm it. And he was loath to use that ruinous fire. Not unless he had no choice and had a Well nearby to heal him. That would be the last resort, then. For now, he decided that perhaps he could try to guide one of the crew to gain a Death-Aligned Ability.

  Fritz would have to hand them the staff for such an endeavour and have them enslave the ghost themselves. Which meant he would have to trust them. And he found trust hard to extend.

  He furrowed his brow, then signalled a stop on one of the large platforms. A powerful breeze blew past, and a cloud billowed in its wake. He motioned for a short rest, then ate a little of the charred fish they had left.

  Chewing, he looked over each of the crew, attempting to divine who was the most able to receive the ghost-slaying Ability he sought and who he could allow to wield the staff in his stead. He stared at them in turn, then stood and walked over to Clover.

  She swallowed the mouthful of food she had been eating and stared up at him worriedly, as if he'd come to chastise her for some grievance or berate her for poor discipline.

  Fritz offered her the staff. "Here, I want you to hold this for me."

  "Me? Why?"

  "I'm carrying far too much," Fritz stated. "And I want you to carry the staff and keep an eye on the ghost."

  "Are you sure?" Clover asked, standing up uneasily.

  "I can do it, if you don't want to," Trudge offered kindly.

  Clover hesitated.

  "I would like for you to bear it for me, I'm entrusting this task to you," Fritz urged sternly, though smiling gently. "Take it."

  She did, warily at first, but then her hands filled with a survivor's strength and she held it solidly.

  "Could you also Activate it again?" Fritz suggested. "I don't like how dimly that seal is shining."

  Clover nodded, pointed the staff at the necromancer, and the red glyph brightened, searing spectral skin with a near-silent hiss.

  "Oh, and don't be afraid to order the ghost around," Fritz added, waving a hand absently. "Indeed, you should spend some time getting accustomed to it."

  "Alright. How loud do I need to speak?" she asked.

  "Normal speech should suffice," Fritz said. While he knew that a whisper was all that was needed, it also wouldn't do any harm to ensure he'd hear any order issued by the woman.

  Soon, the spectre was gliding this way and that, diving and rising at Clover's command. The crew watched on, mildly amused at the sight. Fritz himself was less humoured and felt naked without the capability to control the ghost.

  Although he'd chosen the woman as the staff's new owner due to the deep debt and adoration he sensed from her, he couldn't help but be uncomfortable that his safety was squarely in her hands. If she turned the undead on him, he'd have little recourse in resisting, save slaying her and taking back the Treasure. Or burning both himself and the spectre in an act of mutual suicide.

  It was an odd feeling, one he supposed the others must feel when they had to trust him and his Scout Abilities. They couldn't know what lay ahead as he did, and they had no choice but to believe his words or potentially perish from unseen danger. The consideration led him to wonder: if he were walking in their boots, would he trust an admittedly duplicitous figure such as himself?

  "What's got you scowling? We almost out of gold or something?" Toby asked.

  "I was simply musing," Fritz said, smoothing his features into a sure smile. "Though, yes, now that you mention it, we are running out of gold. We'll need to find some chests."

  "Well, you've always been good at that," Toby said. "Never met a man so lucky. You could trip and fall and find your foot had caught on a nugget of gold."

  "Alas, if only I had that luck in the gutters," Fritz lamented.

  "You did," Toby said seriously. "You found Bert."

  Fritz grinned. "You're right. And I wish to get back to him, and others besides. Let's not dally much longer."

  Soon, the crew was moving again, island to island. Fritz kept an eye out for any sign of Treasure, but none appeared.

  It was unfortunate, but they had a few more Floors to explore, and the higher one Climbed the better the reward. That was one of the reasons he'd been so easy to part with the ores, quartz and scales. Those base materials would simply weigh them down and were likely to be worth less than anything they found further up.

  That and the most precious stones he had found in the necromancer's chamber were safely in his Pouch of Many Stones. Even if they discovered nothing further, he'd make a tidy sum of triads from selling what he currently had.

  Hours passed, and they passed easily. Once they had become used to the heights and traversing the bridges, there was very little to fear. Even Reed, still suffering from sniffles and the occasional sneeze, had no further trouble.

  They found the Stairway, a tall finger of stone ringed by flowers. It wasn't hard to reach; they simply made their way to the island closest to it and slid down a secured rope, right inside the ring.

  Then they were Climbing up the stairs and into the Well room.

  Fritz pulsed his Awareness. He wasn't about to be surprised by another timed Well room.

  Thankfully, the small, stony chamber wasn't trapped in such a way, though nor was it particularly comfortable. He could forgive that, but he was annoyed that the Well itself, a bed of glowing, crystalline thorn bushes, took up most of the room's centre.

  Fritz shrugged off his pack and touched a cold vine. He felt the restorative power flow through him, easing many of his aches, then he took a moment to rest.

  After a minute, he was up and striding to the Doors, investigating them without delay.

  The first Door was an elegant arch of green glass flecked with gold. It was of a colour and substance he'd never forget. It was the very same as the glass bull with the golden heart he, Bert and Sylvia had fought on their first Climb. He applied his Senses and found the impressions to be similar to his previous encounter on such a Floor. A great, terrible beast, not a bull this time, but something else that was too hazy to picture properly.

  Having gleaned what he could from that Door he moved to the next. This one was unfamiliar, a simple frame of wooden planks, stairs and the scent of mildew and rust. He sensed a fort, stood in the centre of a sprawling forest. It was laid under siege by man-alikes born of bark and branch. Twig-men, he absently named them. A Castle Floor then.

  Obviously, they would have to hold out for some time against the creatures before being allowed to Climb. Though there was also the chance, as there always was on such Floors, that the twig-men had a commander that could be brought down to open the Stairway instead.

  The last Door had the appearance of ruins, an ancient city long abandoned. His Door Sense allowed him to see images of empty streets and broken buildings, struck or shattered by some calamity, or simply falling from decay. It was hard to say which. The danger he felt from this floor was subtle, but just as present as that from the other two. Though the foes remained unseen, hidden to his Trait.

  Fritz paced, thinking, plotting, weighing the risks and the rewards.

  It was a difficult choice, but he had some time to ponder.