Preparation

"Excellent. Now," Splitgrave spread an expanse of parchment over the table in front of him. Fred stood beside him, and looked down on what turned out to be a blueprint of sorts. The floor plan detailed the necromancer's extensive vaults, with notes in tiny, precise runes, in a language Fred had never seen. Some symbols on the chart were clearly doors and walls. Others were not so obvious, such as the glyph of the three-headed canine.

Splitgrave gave him no chance to voice his questions, however. One calcified finger traced the walls on the paper, landing in a room with thick walls, opened into by a corridor punctuated by doors, marked by various runes. "You must wish to be within the inner sanctum, here. There my Life will be found. In this manner you should bypass all my traps, wards and sentries." He let out a raspy breath, apparently meant to be a sigh. "What a senseless waste. In any case, after the deed is done, you may take what you wish from the vaults. They will be of no use to me where I'm going. I suspect you will also be able to find something to rid the land of the Dragon. These rooms-" he pointed at several marked with a large red sigil, "-should be left alone. They are locked, and for a reason."

"What reason is that?"

"I prefer not to recall, and you, I think, would be better off not knowing. Know that only another mage could open those rooms, and that is in your best interest. I would not seek to view their contents to sate some idle curiosity, Frederigo D'Honaire."

"Very well, Belboz Splitgrave," said Fred. He was impatient to end this particular lecture, which he found to be rather condescending. Viewing himself as a practical man, if the other vaults contained such wealth as the lich had described, surely he could live without knowing what the red-sigil rooms contained. "You will soon die. I hope you are prepared."

Belboz gave a wheezing chuckle and handed the chart to Fred. "I've had lifetimes to ready myself. My affairs are all in order, my legacy and that of so many others safely sealed in these biographies. Get on with it."

Fred made no reply. He held the chart and placed his finger down onto his destination. "I wish to be..."

1. "...here." In a flash, Fred was whisked away, rematerializing in the central vault, as planned.
2. "...here." But Fred's finger accidentally slipped down the page on top one of the red sigils.
3. "..here." But in his haste, Fred's index finger stabbed right through the old parchment, and he was only teleported a matter of feet away.
4. "...here." In a flash, Fred was whisked away, rematerializing in the central vault, as planned. [Alternative version.]

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