Jane's jaw dropped, she looked from the floating notification to Mr Brewster sitting at the table, "You're a quest giver?"

The man deflated, his shoulders drooping. "I'm an Innkeeper ain't I? Of course I'm a quest giver."

He slapped the table, making his confection wobble on its plate. "Damn! Quests can take a long time. By the time you are back, I probably won't have a use for the cherries. You best go armed, it's not a proper quest if there are no monsters to fight."

Jane nodded and took a firmer grip on her broom. "So you're saying there are monsters in your cellar?"

Mr Brewster set the cake aside. "Might be, they won't bother us villagers, but adventurers, well that's another story."

Jane stomped around the side of the cottage. The root cellar was dug under the cottage but had an external door built into the hillside. She dragged the short but heavy oak door open. A narrow staircase disappeared into the dark recesses of the cellar. She could go back to the cottage for a candle, or she could use her tiara. If this was a quest she'd want her hands free, she thought as she pulled the tiara out ouf her sachel.

"Jane, we need to talk."

Jane stiffened at the sound of Paul's voice, the Tiara still in her hands. She put it on her head and activated it before turning to face him. The light made Paul squint. He had a crutch under his left armpit and his foot wrapped in bandages.

She shifted her feet into a wide combat stance, holding the broom in a guard position. "I have nothing to say to you."

He hobbled towards her, not placing his bandaged foot on the ground. "Jane, I'm sorry, I need to explain."

She spun, bringing her broom round in a wide arc. The far end conected with Paul's crutch, reducing it to splinters. The boy cried out and fell to the ground at her feet.

"I don't want to hear it. We have nothing to talk about you traitor." she hissed, turned her back on him and ducked under the cellar door.

"No, I guess we don't." he said in a small voice.

The door swung closed behind her, cutting off anything else the traitor might have said. Still breathing rapidly she rushed down the stairs. The nerve of that thief, thinking she would forgive him for robbing her and leaving her for dead. It wasn't happening.

She continued past the kegs towards the back of the cellar where the actual root crops and preserves where kept. When she turned the corner towards the shelves she froze, her eyes locked on the small figure before her. He or she was the size of a rat, but looked otherwise human. A tiny little person, dressed in black, with a small straw hat and a handkerchief covering most of his or her face. The little person held the jar of cherries, in both arms.

"You had to go for the cherries didn't you? Hand them over, you little thief."

Instead of obliging her the little person, turned tail and ran behind the shelving, carrying off the cherries. Jane rushed in pursuit, at least as far as the shelves. They were made of heavy oak and wedged in place between tehr roof supports. The space behind them only four inches wide, far too narrow for her. There was a tunnel, disappearing into the darkness.

"If only I were smaller." Jane said as she crouched down, so her tiara would light up the tunnel. Was there a spell for that? Well she knew one for growing bigger, but that would not help, she thought as she paced from one end of the shelf to the other. "I don't suppose I can reverse it."

Jane stopped in her tracks? Why couldn't she reverse it? If the spell made her larger, then if she said it backwards, and focused her mind just right. She sat cross-legged on the floor, heedless of the dirt she was getting on her skirts and rested the broom on her knees.

She imagined the room looking larger as she shrank to stand no taller than the little thief. Small enough to fit under the lowest shelf and follow him into the darkness. "GIB"

It felt like being squeezed. For a moment her insides twisted until she feared something would burst. She gasped and opened her eyes. She was still sitting on the floor, but now the lowest shelf was above her head.

Jane made her way along the shelves, following the path the little thief had taken. Two inch legs made the trip much longer. When she reached the corner she peered down the tunnel tucked behind it.

At this size, the dirt itself was firm enough to not need bracing. Her staff at the ready she stepped into the tunnel.

The ground sloped down and was barely wide enough to walk in, maybe three inches across and four or five inches high. As near as Jane could tell it headed towards the heart of Lambford. The tunnel looked well travelled with footprints layered over footprints. Today was not the first time that the thief had visited Mr Brewster's cellar.

By Jane's reckoning she had to be beneath the Mill Road when the tunnel opened into a much larger underground space. it was another Tunnel only this one sized for human use. apart from the odd spot where soil had fallen inwards the walls looked white and glossy, like melted wax.

Only it wasn't wax. When Jane brought her face close she could see into the surface. It was more like cloudy glass than wax. Jane licked her finger and rubbed it against the wall and brought it back to her lips. Salt, the walls where made of hardened salt.

The salt tunnel turned here. On her left the tunnel looked clean as it head off toward the mountings, stright as an arrow as far as her light reached. On her right traces of dirt marred the floor and the tunnel turned towards the heart of Lambford.

She turned right and jogged down the broad tunnel, taking care to swivel her head to scan both walls, the salt continued unbroken on both sides until she came to a larger cavern lit by magic.

It was a circular space, at least ten yards across and five yards high. Water rose from a crack in the centre of the room, and headed upwards, to pass through a large leather funnel. Salt fell from the edges of the funnel, to pile on the floor while the water continued towards a hole in the ceiling.

Magic swirled about the room, in now familiar patterns. It was the fountain. Jane was under the fountain. she circled the column of water and the funnel. The leather was tatooed with magic glyphs just like the pieces she had found under the well. She stuck a finger into the stream of water then brought it to her lips. It was salty.

She squinted at the funnel. if she could reach above it she suspected that the water would be fresh, but there was no chance of testing that idea at the moment.

Movement on the far side of the room made her jump back, she wasn't alone. The thief from the cellar was watching her, the jar of preserved cherries sitting behind him on a tiny doorstep carved from the salt wall.

Jane broke into a run heading straight towards him. "Hay give that back you thief."

The man produced a staff, six inches long. He held it out in front of him then blurred into movement, swinging the staff in a complicated pattern of strikes and blocks.

Jane smiled. she dropped her satchel against the wall and stepped out of her clogs. The salt was slick under her bare feet. She coppied his stance and struck out with the staff repeating the routine strike for strike and block for block. That extra point she'd put into staff fighting was sure paying off. "Bring it pipsqueak!"

He launched himself towards her. Staff met staff with a crack that sounded loud despite their small size. Jane's world narrowed until there was nothing but her opponent, and they danced. The little man was good, at her current size she suspected he was stronger than she was. But Jane was faster.

Minute by minute she gained the upper hand. her adversary was slowing, the ends of his staff wobbling as he parried and thrust. Finally her staff found a gap in his defences striking his hand hard enough to make him drop his weapon. jane rushed him, knocking his staff clean out of his off hand, She pressed the end of hers against his throat, pinning him against the wall.

He had lost his straw hat, revealing ordinary looking brown hair that was tied back in a low ponytail. His brown eyes looked sad, begging her to release him.

"Don't hurt him! We'll give them back," a girl cried out.

Jane glanced towards the little door. There was a child there. she was barefoot and in a ragged dress, her hair an unruly mess about her face. She struggled with the jar of Cherries, which was almost as tall as she was. "Please don't hurt my brother."

The tiny child dragged the jar towards Jane's satchel and left it there before retreating to the door.

Jane gulped, they're thieves she reminded herself, just like Paul, they stole from Mr Brewster. She backed away from the brother, her staff still in position to strike if he tried to move, but he didn't. His right hand hanging limp at his side, the flesh about his wrist swelling. She reached the spot where she had left her clogs and stepped back into them and slung the satchel back over her shoulder.

At her current size that Cherry jar would be a pain to drag back to Mr Brewster's Cellar. She regarded it, biting her lower lip.

The little girl broke from the door and ran to her still silent brother. There were tears streaming down her tiny face as she hugged him. The boy winced when she brushed against his injured hand.

Jane's hand drifted to her satchel. Fortunately it had shrunk with her. She fished one vial of healing lotion out and approached the pair. "here, rub this on his wrist and it will heal faster." she said.

The girl accepted the vial with a trembling hand. "Thankyou."

"What is this place? did you build it?"

"No Miss," the girl said, "The monster did it. It destroyed everything."

"What do you mean?"

"We are gnomes." The boy said, his voice was deeper than Jane expected. "We are the last of our village, our ancestors have lived beneath yours for generations. Once this was our grotto. We grew our own crops and did not need to steal from big jobs."

"Then the monster came." The girl said picking up the story. It drew salt water from a shell and filled our grotto. It destroyed everything our people had built."

The gnome boy closed his eyes, grunting as the girl rubbed the lotion into his swollen hand, already the swelling was reducing.

"It destroyed everything, they are all gone. when the elders decided it was time to leave mother was sick, and we had to stay behind." he said, "I know stealing is wrong, but we have no food."

"And your mother?"

"She died."

"So why stay here? Shouldn't you follow your people?"

"We don't know if they made it, or where their new home is." The girl said, looking down at her brother, her voice sounded hollow.

Jane stepped away from the pair. "I'm sorry, Keep the cherries, I'll try to help you, but you can't steal from Mr Brewster anymore."

As Jane trudged back up the long corridor, a notification appeared in her vision:

"YOU HAVE FAILED A QUEST."

She dismissed it and kept walking. Moments later her skin tingled. Her guts twisted making her collapse to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut as vertigo washed over her. When she opened her eyes again, the tunnel had shrunk. Or rather she had resumed her normal size.

When Jane stood up her head almost brushed the salt ceiling. At least the spell failed before she reached the mouse hole. The thought made Jane wince. Expanding to her full size in there would have been fatal. "Well now I'm here I guess I should explore. There must be another way out of this tunnel."

She retraced her steps to the central chamber. There was no sign of the two gnomes, and from her new height the door to their home was invisible. She returned to the leather funnel. The water streaming upwards from its narrow end was indeed fresh and warm.

The domed room had four openings, how much of Lambford had this monster undermined with no one noticing? She chose the passage left of where she had entered and followed it. It twisted this way and that heading widdershins and hubwards by turns. She estimated she'd followed it for a mile and was ready to turn back when the salt gave way to bare stone. The path narrowed until Jane had to edged forward sideways to fit. it ended in a doorway that glowed with magic. Beyond it the water of the creek flowed. The barrier between air and water was smooth like a mirror. It didn't even ripple when jane passed her hand through it.

There was another sheet of leather mounted to the wall. It was the same as the one Jane had seen in the catacomb, erasing any doubt that it was a spell for keeping water out. That sealed it. There was another magic user in Lambford. The question was who?

Druid Starskie was the obvious choice, but was he the only choice? Jane thought about everything she knew of her neighbours and came up blank. If one of them had magic powers he or she had hid them well.

She crept towards the doorway and looked up, there was at most a yard of water between her and the surface. Getting soaked wouldn't be fun, but she had to tell someone about this.

Jane backed up to where the Tunnel was wider and undressed down to her shift, ignoring the dark stains that where spreading along the fabric. At least a quick dip would wash off the blood that was still oozing down her thighs.

She stuffed everything into the satchel, first her clogs, then the dress, rolled up tightly, and finally the Kirtle. With the flap down, and the straps done up the satchel would be water tight, at least for a while.

Back at the magic doorway she took three deep breaths and plunged into the water and kicked up towards the surface. It was deeper than she expected but several hard kicks got her to the surface. She paddled towards the far shore where reeds would screen her from the village.

Several yards into the frest, when there was no chance of some one seeing her, Jane pulled the shift off and wrung out as much water as she could. She stretched it out over a bush where it would catch the sun.

As she'd hoped the contents of her satchel had remained mostly dry, only the Kirtle was damp where water had seeped past the top flap. she wrung it out and hung it over a bush to air. The dress beneath it was dry and only required a shake to smooth out the wrinkles.

Jane spun about in her spot, listening for any hint of movement. This part of the forest wasn't used much but still getting found naked in the woods would be embarrassing. She held out for half a glass while her clothes dried in the afternoon sun.

She considered putting the dress on without a shift. It would be drier, and more comfortable but than she'd get blood all over it. With a sigh she replaced the damp shift and pulled the dress and kirtle on over the top. Decently dressed again Jane turned for home.

She heard raised voices before she could see the wood drying sheds through the trees. Without hesitation she picked up speed, almost running towards the cottage. and straight into a bolt of magical energy.

She landed spreadeagled on her back, the breath knocked out of her lungs and the broom out of her hand. Before Jane could move someone rushed her.
It was the adventurer who came to see the Lambford well, only she wasn't smiling now, her mouth was set, and her eyes narrowed as she held a spear at Jane's throat. "Do not move."

The druid stood behind her, his staff still raised and his eyes glowing. Other men from the village, armed with pitchforks and long knives formed a crescent behind the pair.

The druid cleared his throat, "Jane Greenway, you are hereby charged with sorcery most foul. surrender and you will receive justice, resist and you will be killed."