It should have been midnight by then. Renato put away his pocket watch. With no cycle of day and night, the concept of time felt so vague in the Underdark.
A damp, musty smell filled the stone house. Balin had found a Magic Lamp somewhere, but its dim glow barely illuminated the cramped space.
Renato sat on a stone stool in the corner, took a bottle of liquor from his Bag of Holding, and gently set it on the floor between them.
It was a bottle of Dwarf Spirits, part of his haul from the Gilded Dice.
He preferred converting his loot into coins. Fortunately, the Assassins' Guild did not buy liquor, so Renato, who disliked drinking, had been forced to keep carrying it.
Balin's gaze was immediately drawn to it, and his Adam's apple bobbed visibly.
No dwarf could stay silent in the presence of a bottle of his favorite drink.
"How much are you selling it for?"
"Balin, there's no need to be so formal." Renato pushed the bottle toward him. "You saved my life. This bottle is the least I can do."
The dwarf accepted the bottle, and the ring on his right hand gave off a soft white glow.
The light flowed over the bottle like water, lingering for several seconds before slowly fading.
"What spell was that?"
"Detect Poison." Balin finally pulled out the stopper and took a deep sniff. "One whiff tells you a novice made this for practice. Mediocre work. They didn't even distill it properly."
"A word of advice, human lad." Balin tipped his head back and took a long swig. "In the Underdark, never eat anything someone else gives you."
"Most underground races are full of malice, especially toward people from the surface like us."
The pungent smell of alcohol spread