Death's inner sanctum was set beside a vast lake. The lake was filled with water so dark and flat that it perfectly reflected the white clouds above. A scattering of dead trees ran along the shore, their branches white and scarred. Between two of these trees hung a hammock. Several fishing rods were set up beside the hammock, the lines of each disappearing into the dark water. What kind of fish was Death hoping to catch up here in the heavens? Perhaps it was better not to find out.

  "Hello?" Nanoc called out cheerfully, approaching the hammock.

  A thin arm stretched out of the hammock and waved slightly. The hammock rocked. One of the fishing rods stood upright, reeling itself in, then cast its line again.

  "I can smell you, mortal," said a slow, deep voice from the hammock.

  "Yeah?" Nanoc said, nodding, "Dren and Rotcel keep telling me to bath more, but—"

  "You smell like burnt cinnamon, gnome. Like ash and smoke, like dancing flames. You smell of Chaos. I didn't think my big sister still had followers on the world Below, but she was always full of surprises. I hate surprises, gnome. They scare the fish away."

  The figure in the hammock swung himself into a sitting position and glared at Nanoc. The gnome recognized him immediately: Death, sixth born of the first generation of gods, god of closing eyes, god of silence, god of the fading light. He often claimed to be the god of naps, too, although that was entirely unofficial. He swung himself into a sitting position. He was tall and thin, dressed in a loose black robe. His features flicked – one moment he was an elf, the next he was an orc, then a treeling. Death was universal; he wore every face eventually.

  He swung backward and forwards on the hammock a few times before coming to a sudden stop, the hammock hanging perfectly still.

  "What do you want?" he said with a sigh.

  "To not be dead?" Nanoc suggested.

  Death gave a little shrug, which suggested that Nanoc's death wasn't a problem, and even if it was a problem it wasn't his problem, so he didn't care. Death was pretty eloquent with his shrugs.

  "Denied. Go away," he said. Death did not need to be fair, only final.

  "But—" Nanoc said.

  Death sighed, staring upward to the stars above him.

  "Fine! It won't change anything, though, but I'd rather not argue. I remember how persistent my sister’s followers could be. Step forward, gnome, and let me see what you have done with your life."

  He only had to glance at Nanoc to know everything about the gnome, both good and bad.

  "A magical servant of Chaos gave you a quest," Death said.

  "It was a banana," Nanoc explained. Death ignored him.

  "You were to find the fragments of the goddess Chaos, releasing them so that she could rise again. Gutsy, gnome. Order would smite you down for just thinking such things."

  "Will you tell him?"

  Death shrugged again, indicating that what Order did or didn't know was not his business and in any case, the god of silence did not gossip.

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  "You died while headbutting a vampire who holds a shard of Chaos in his vaults," Death said. The god only seemed mildly impressed by this; he'd heard of every death there ever was.

  "The vampire has a shard of Chaos?" Nanoc asked, amazed.

  "You didn't know? Then why – you know, I don't care. You DIED TRYING, which means you fulfilled the terms of the quest. Well done."

  "But I failed," Nanoc said, confused.

  "The quest said to succeed or DIE TRYING, and you did die trying." Death said. "Didn't you get that?"

  "I… did not," Nanoc admitted. "I didn’t think it was an either/or situation. It really makes no sense for it to be like that.”

  "Yes, well, Chaos always cared more about effort than success," Death muttered. "Well, you get a reward, it seems."

  "Send me back," Nanoc said at once. "Send me back down to finish what I started?"

  "Are you really so dedicated to that quest? You really want to free Chaos?" Death asked, his eyes narrowing just a little. "You would defy Order himself, defy his empire Below and and the defy the gods and goddesses that serve him Above? You'd really do that, gnome?"

  There was no point lying to Death. He was the final arbiter of mortal souls, and he could see right into Nanoc's very essence.

  "I would," Nanoc said simply.

  Death chuckled, laying back on his hammock.

  "So, will you send me back?" Nanoc asked.

  "Oh, I have a simple rule for situations like this," Death explained casually. "I’ve developed it over the last few thousand years, and it never fails. The rule is: no take backsies. You’re dead, gnome. You can collect your reward in the Court of Life. Goodbye.”

  But Nanoc didn’t leave.

  “That won’t do,” he told the god of Death.

  “I’m growing tired of this conversation,” Death growled. He did not enjoy small talk.One of his fishing lines was bouncing up and down. He stared at it eagerly.

  “You said I get a reward.”

  “You do.”

  “But I can’t return to life.”

  “No.”

  “But I can pick something else?”

  Death gave another tiny shrug. This one suggested that his growing frustration was going to end badly for the gnome. Yet Nanoc still did not leave.

  “I want to become your personal assistant, then,” Nanoc said.

  Death groaned. “No, go to the court of Life—”

  “That’s what I want, for my boon,” Nanoc continued. “To stay here, with you. Forever. I’d spend my time singing to you.”

  “Singing?” Death winced as something splashed in the water.

  “Yes. Well, singing badly. It’s a skill.”

  This was true: the singing badly skill was generally considered to be one of the most annoying skills Above or Below. Death knew this.

  “I could smite you, gnome.”

  “Then smite me. I don’t think I can die here – where would I go? I’ll just stick around forever. Besides, you owe me a reward. I want to spend eternity singing for Death.”

  “I’d hate that, gnome.”

  “Yes.”

  “It sounds horrible.”

  “Then send me back to my friends! I can’t just leave them with an angry vampire about.”

  Death signed.

  “Such loyalty to you friends, and such such heresy to the gods… the followers of Chaos were all the same. Well, who am I, a mere god, to stand in the way of a gnome’s dedication to an impossible quest. Go back, if you like. You’re just going to die stupidly again.”

  He waved a hand. Thick lines of black mana collected around Nanoc, wrapping around him with such force that his soul began to shrink.

  “Wait! I need a way to kill a vampire,” Nanoc shouted out. “I know it’s meant to be impossible to do but—”

  Death held up a finger to silence the gnome. He reached up and plucked a single black hair from his head, then passed it to the gnome.

  “That will kill anything weaker than a god,” he said, “including vampires.”

  Nanoc reached for it, but Death drew it back.

  “I will give you this thing, gnome, if you make me a promise, an oath on the fate of your very soul.”

  “What is it?” Nanoc asked.

  “This is a binding contract, gnome, with the god of Death myself. This is not to be entered into lightly—"

  “I already said yes,” Nanoc said.

  Death nodded. “Promise to never visit me again? Ever.”

  “Sure.”

  Death passed the hair over. Nanoc held it carefully between two fingers as if it might explode.

  “So do I stab the vampire with it, or make him eat it, or—”

  But Death was not inclined to explain himself. The black mana squeezed Nanoc’s soul so hard that it disappeared from heavens Above and was sent back to his body Below, flowing back into his old skin and bones. There was no pain, only a sense of falling from a great height in a dream, jerking awake before hitting the ground.

  Nanoc vanished from the heavens Above and found himself back down on the world Below.

  Where Dren was about to give him the kiss of life.