Fool in the Field

The fungal song had faded to a low thrum at our backs as we left the myconid hollow behind.

We followed a narrow rock pathway until it spilled us into the open chamber. The field opened ahead of us like a wound in the cavern floor, phosphorescent caps glowing in sullen clusters of orange and sickly yellow. The sweet-chemical reek of the spores thickened the air, cloying and artificial.

Karlach stopped dead a good twenty paces back without being told. Her engine gave a low, wary thump, heat rippling off her in visible waves that made the nearest caps flare brighter. “Yeah, nope,” she muttered, folding her arms under the swell of her chest. “Not getting anywhere near those piss-yellow bastards. One spark from me and the whole place goes up like a firework show. I'll just stand here. Being decorative.”

The rest of the girls nodded in quiet agreement, no argument offered. Nobody was eager to test how the field handled fire, lightning, or anything else most of us carried as a matter of course.

In the heart of the Bibberbang field, framed by the toxic green glow of the puffing spores, stood Baelen. The dwarf hadn't moved in what looked like hours. His torch and pack lay abandoned several paces behind him. His eyes were open, but he was clearly not all there.

“Baelen,” I called, pitching my voice just loud enough to carry without stirring the caps.

His head turned with dreamlike slowness. A loose, cheerful smile spread across his weathered face. “Hello there, stranger. Lovely evening for a wander, isn't it? Or is it evening? Hard to tell down here.” He paused. “Actually, wait. Can you grab something from my pack? There's something in there. I can't quite remember what it is, but it should help me out of this mess.”

Kagha shifted. “I will retrieve his belongings. The path looks narrow enough if I move with care, and the poison won't affect me as much.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. I softened it with a tilt of my head toward the torch still flickering on the ground some distance from Baelen. “One misstep in there and the whole field will light up in a chain reaction. Stay back. We need something smaller.”

She inclined her head, accepting without question. “As you say.”

Around her throat, Teela lifted her head and gave one long, deliberate flick of her tongue, the kind that seemed less about tasting the air and more about making sure she had everyone's attention.

I glanced down at the viper, bronze scales catching the fungal light, then looked to Kagha. “Can Teela carry items?”

“She prefers not to,” Kagha said, entirely serious. “But she can be convinced. She's very fond of being asked nicely.”

“Right. Can you ask her to check his bag, please?”

Kagha's lips curved in a small smile. She made a soft, sibilant sound, a whispered hiss that flowed like silk. “Sss'hal neth vash, Teela.”

The viper's amber eyes fixed on me for a heartbeat, tongue flicking once in what looked almost like approval, before she uncoiled from Kagha's throat and slithered toward the dwarf's pack with liquid grace.

Teela moved with serpentine precision, her bronze form weaving between the bulbous fungi. Each movement was deliberate, a pause to test the air, a slight adjustment of her path to avoid the most volatile specimens. The Bibberbang mushrooms remained dormant as she passed, their pale caps swaying gently in the cavern's faint breeze but showing no sign of the explosive reaction that would have greeted humanoid footsteps.

Baelen remained frozen in his awkward crouch, sweat beading his forehead as he watched the serpent approach.

Teela reached his dropped pack and began investigating with predatory patience. Her coils wrapped around the leather satchel, constricting until it opened. She disappeared inside for a moment, rustling sounds echoing faintly across the field.

When she emerged, a scroll case was clamped carefully in her jaws.

She moved with purpose across the dangerous field, navigating between the deadly fungi. She reached Baelen and dropped the scroll at his feet, then quickly slithered back in our direction, her mission complete.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Baelen! There's your ticket out! Open it and read it!”

The dwarf's head jerked up. He fumbled for the scroll, fingers shaking as he unrolled the parchment. His lips moved silently as he read the incantation.

A shimmer of magic, and Baelen vanished from his precarious perch, reappearing an instant later beside us, gasping but very much alive.

“Thank the stones,” he wheezed, clutching the spent scroll. “I thought I was gonna be mushroom food.”

“What were you gathering out there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Baelen's smile faltered, just slightly, and he glanced down at his hands. “Ah. Can't say... Derryth was very clear about that. Very valuable, she said. Says I'm not to tell anyone where they grow, or what they look like, or, well, anything really.” He looked faintly troubled by his own inability to remember the specifics of the secret he was keeping.

“Fair enough,” I said. “Tell you what, then. Just describe what they look like, so the rest of us know what not to pick. Wouldn't want to grab one by accident and ruin your mission.”

Baelen brightened immediately, the trouble gone as quickly as it came. “Oh! Yes, good thinking.” He gestured vaguely toward the far side of the field. “Violet petals, glowing slightly. Little spores drift around them as well. Saw some just past that big orange cap, last I was over that way.”

“Great,” I said. “Now we know exactly where not to look.”

His smile widened, relief flashed over his face.

I nodded once. “Head back to the stall. Tell her we're coming. And stay on the path.”

“On the path,” he echoed, already turning with that same drifting gait. “Yes. Good advice.”

Beside me, Shadowheart let out a small, disbelieving chuckle. “I can't believe that worked.”

Kagha murmured a soft command. Teela slipped back into the field, this time angling toward the far cluster, just past the big orange cap. We waited in silence while the viper worked, her body a sinuous line of bronze against the phosphorescent glow. When she returned she carried a single fat mushroom between her jaws, its cap a deep velvety crimson shot through with pale veins. Noblestalk. I took it from her carefully, the sweet-herbal scent clinging to my fingers, and tucked it into my pack beside the headband.

“Useful,” I said, mostly to myself. Then, louder: “Back to the merchant. We've kept her waiting long enough.”

Derryth Bonecloak was waiting exactly where we'd left her, arms crossed, sharp eyes flicking over Baelen as the dwarf shuffled back into the stall's lantern light. The moment he came within reach she rounded on him, voice low and blistering.

“Fool man. Out there playing and lollygagging while I sit here worried sick. Look at you, returning empty-handed?”

Baelen simply smiled an empty smile. “Brought back surface-folk, dear. They found me. Very helpful.”

Derryth's jaw worked. She exhaled through her nose, visibly reining herself in, and turned to us. “Thank you for bringing back Baelen. His hands are as empty as his head. I'll have to send him back out soon enough.”

"Sending him out for anything in particular?" I asked.

She studied us for a moment, then seemed to decide something. "You've been good to me, so I'll share a little information. Noblestalk. There's nearly nothing it can't cure, supposedly. We've a shop in Baldur's Gate. The locals go mad for it, pay good coin. If we run dry, well.." She shrugged, the gesture carrying more weight than the words did.

I reached into my pack and pulled out the mushroom, holding it up. “You mean this?”

Derryth’s eyes widened for just a moment before settling into something more guarded. “Ah. To no surprise of mine, you’re more capable than my husband. Go on then. Hand it over.”

I didn’t move to give it to her yet. “What about the ring?”

Her expression flattened. “The ring for the Noblestalk AND the headband. This is not a charity.”

It wasn’t fair, but it didn’t have to be. I reached up, lifted the Warped Headband of Intellect from my brow, and set it on the counter together with the Noblestalk.

“We have a deal.”

Derryth’s hand moved with practiced speed. She swept the headband and Noblestalk into a chest beneath the counter, then slid the Caustic Band across the table toward me. The briefest flicker crossed her face — a satisfied smirk, there and gone so fast I might have imagined it.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

Karlach shifted beside me. “You know… that 'shroom could probably cure Baelen too, right? Get his head right again.”

Derryth’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes went cold. She reached up and traced a jagged scar that ran from her cheekbone down toward her jaw.

“He gave me this,” she said flatly. “Years ago. Before the mushrooms got to him. He’s always been scum. Violent. Cruel. The only difference now is that he’s too dumb remember what he is.” She lowered her hand. “Keeping him like this? It’s best for everyone. So no, I won’t be using any Noblestalk on him.”

I gave a solemn nod, already familiar with the reveal.

We moved out. Behind us, Derryth’s voice rose again, sharp as a duergar axe. “Baelen. Make yourself useful and come carry these. We got what we came for!”

I turned the new ring between my fingers as we walked. Dull copper, weeping with a faint corrosive sheen. One more reliable edge in fights to come. The headband was gone. No more risk of Karlach trying it on out of boredom, no more chance of Shadowheart noticing the inconsistencies in Shar's blessings, no more fear of what a highly intelligent Lae'zel would do if she ever saw through my deception.

In this case, peace of mind came at a price: a modest markup on a ring. A bargain, all things considered. Ahead, the path into Grymforge stretched wider and darker, promising hotter dangers and weightier consequences. I flexed my hand, feeling the Boots of Speed stir in response, and allowed myself one small, private exhale.

Detour justified. Board cleared. One less variable threatening to unravel everything I'd so carefully built.

Karlach fell in beside me. “So. Who gets the new ring?”

Shadowheart's lips curved into a knowing smirk. “I can think of a place to put it.”

“It only triggers on each weapon attack,” I said, “so it favors someone who hits often, not necessarily hard, and in melee. That counts you out, Shadow.”

Shadowheart gave a small coo of mock disappointment.

“So between Karlach, Lae'zel, and Kagha, who lands the most hits?” I pondered for a moment. “Has to be Kagha.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” Karlach said. “Doesn't matter how many swings I get if the first one caves someone in.”

Lae'zel made a single low sound, half contempt, half acknowledgment, and offered nothing further.

I held the modest ring out. Kagha took it with both hands, like something precious had just been placed in her care, and her eyes went soft and a little too bright. “For me,” she almost whispered. “I'll wear it always,” she said, sliding it onto her finger and admiring it with quiet, devoted satisfaction.

I happened to glance at Shadowheart and caught the briefest hint of a pout before she composed herself.

With that settled, we left the myconid colony behind, the fungal song again fading into silence as we made way for the Duergar outpost.

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