Far beneath Death's domain, down on the world Below, Nanoc woke into darkness. His body felt warm and numb, as if lying in a bath. That was good. He felt a sharp pain in his side. That was not good, not good at all. Yet he didn't open his eyes or even try to push the pain away. He was too tired.

  "He's dead," said an unfamiliar voice right by his ear. "Look at him; there's barely a drop of blood left in his body. Trust me, I've seen this before. He can't be any more dead."

  "Do you know, I can't believe that," Dren protested. "He wouldn't die like this."

  "You don't think he can die?" the unfamiliar voice asked. "Everyone dies."

  "Maybe…. But I always assumed he'd get eaten while arguing with a dragon, or while fishing for a kraken, or from eating too many pies in one go," said Rotcel. She sounded worried. "Nanoc was due for a big death. Not this."

  "He's definitely dead."

  Nanoc frowned slightly. Who was that unfamiliar voice speaking with such fraudulent authority? He wasn't dead… although he didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. He felt a light pressure on his mouth. Air filled his lungs. That was good. Someone punched in in the chest. That was not good, either. Pain, punches. Somebody should do something about that. Someone else. Not him. He was still sleeping.

  "I told you to stop that," the unfamiliar voice said, sounding more tired than angry. "Your friend is dead. You two should get out of here before you're dead, too. The vampire—"

  "Vampire!" Nanoc shouted, sitting up. "I want to have a word with that worm-filled walking corpse!"

  He opened his eyes and flailed his arms wildly, catching the edge of a lamp and sending it crashing to the ground. He was in a crowded room with a ceiling so low that Dren's head was bumping against it. Shelves of potions covered the walls and strange medical instruments hung from the roof.

  Then Nanoc's vision began to blur, his head felt heavy, and he lay back down.

  "Do you know," Dren said with the quiet satisfaction of a follower of Knowledge who has just been proven right, "I don't think he's quite as dead as you thought."

  "He could be undead," Rotcel warned. "He’s so pale and cold. Shouldn’t his face have more… color? And warmth? Are his scales going to fall off now? I don’t know how it works for mammals.”

  Nanoc groaned. His friends, Dren and Rotcel ‘Loc, were standing right above him. Dren looked pleased, but Rotcel had a knife out.

  “Say something to prove you aren’t undead,” Rotcel demanded.

  “You think I'm a zombie? Go farm radish, Rotcel!”

  “How dare you! I—”

  A third head, small and covered in white hair, shoved Rotcel aside. Gnomish hands forced a spoonful of hot liquid into Nanoc’s mouth. It burned, but in a good way, and he gasped. Then he was rolled over, poked, prodded, and bandaged.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “This is my mum’s place,” Lrac said from somewhere beyond the table. “She’s the village veterinary surgeon. “After your friends found you, we came here.”

  There were no doctors or nurses in the village. The vampire’s approach to gnome healthcare was that anyone who fell sick or dropped dead would be fed to the ghouls. This had been a good incentive for the gnomes to never, ever, admit to any illness. The same was not true of the animals, though. The vampire’s friends liked chops from time to time, and that meant sheep. Healthy sheep. The ghouls liked milkshakes – although you don’t want to wonder about the flavors – and that meant cows. Somebody needed to look after them, to keep them healthy until they were eaten, which meant a gnomish veterinarian.

  The veterinarian stared down at Nanoc and shook her head. She was no stranger to blood and broken bones, and she knew Nanoc was in a bad way.

  “You should be dead… and you might still get there. I’ll do what I can,” she said, “but I don’t know much about humanoids. I mostly work with dogs, you see.”

  “Rotcel,” Nonac gasped, grabbing the lizardling’s arm. “Rotcel, listen to me!”

  “What?” the lizardling said, looking at the gnome in panic. “What?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “She’s… she’s… a Dog-tor!” Nanoc gasped. A Dog-tor. Ha ha!”

  The lizardling let go of the gnome, dropping him onto the table with a thump. The veterinarian smiled with the strained patience of someone who had heard that joke many, many times before and hadn’t even considered it funny the first time around.

  “That’s right, it’s true. If you were a dog, I’d be able to help you a lot more, but as it is…” she gave an apologetic shrug, “My abilities only work on animals, you see. I can stop the bleeding, but that’s about all.”

  “What if Nanoc was an animal?” Dren asked, looking up from his book of spells. “What if he were a cat?”

  “A cat? Well, yes, then—”

  “Or a fish? A lizard? An eel—”

  “Any animal, yes,” the vet said patiently. “But I don’t think—"

  “How interesting,” Dren muttered. “I really must make a note of it. Oh, and also, Tac Gib’s pet-rify!”

  There was a flash of blinding orange light as Nanoc’s body shrunk to a large poodle, which barked indignantly.

  “Did you just—” the veterinarian asked.

  “He did,” Rotcel’ Loc said, shaking her head.

  The veterinarian shrugged. “Well, good. I can work with that.”

  It was sometime later that Nanoc woke. He was a gnome once again, and he felt much better. His flame elemental was sitting on the toes of his left foot, filling the room with a warm, dancing light. It gave him a cheerful wave. His friends had left, but the veterinarian was still by his side, sleeping in a chair.

  Congratulations!

  You have annoyed DEATH, sixth born of the gods! You have been banned from his presence!

  You have defied ORDER, second born of the gods, by refusing to go to the court of Life and Death as mortals are expected to. Chaos would be proud of you! Or she wouldn’t notice! Who knows!

  You are now a level 9 barbarian!

  New ability unlocked: Hello, old fiend.

  You may summon a monster you have previously defeated to your fight… but whose side will they join?

  They might help you. They might eat you. They might ignore you. There is only one way to find out.

  This ability can be used once per week.

  “Right,” Nanoc said.

  Hello, old fiend sounded risky, with a high chance of backfiring. Any reasonable person would hesitate before using it. Nanoc wanted to do it immediately… but knew he had to save it for later.

  He yawned so loudly that he woke the veterinarian up. She grumbled as she checked his bandages and his head. Nanoc said nothing, letting her complain as she worked. At last, when she was satisfied that her patient was in no danger from his injuries, she slapped him across the back of his head and then sat down in the chair again.

  “Ouch?” Nanoc said. “Do you do that to all your patients, or—"

  “You’re a troublemaker and a danger to everyone you come across,” the veterinarian told Nanoc sternly.

  This was not meant to be a compliment, but Nanoc took it as one. He nodded eagerly. The vet glared at Nanoc, expecting him to apologize, then realized he never would. She sighed.

  “I should thank you, I suppose,” the veterinarian said. “My daughter tells me that you rescued her from the vampire. You must be very brave.”

  She looked at Nanoc as if she couldn’t quite believe it. A brave gnome? That was rare, almost unique. A brave gnome who could fight? Impossible. The flame elemental made a rude gesture at her, which she pretended not to see.

  “The vampire thinks she’s dead,” Nanoc said. “She might want to keep it that way.”

  “This is what she gets for making trouble,” the veterinarian complained. “I warned her to do as she was told; I really did. She just called me an obedient slave and a traitor to the race of gnomes.”

  Nanoc laughed. The vet leaned over and tightened a bandage on his left until he winced.

  “I will concede I may have been too passive in my political views,” she said. “Perhaps I should have spoken up when the vampire’s friends starting hunting my neighbors for sport, but I didn’t want to make a fuss, you know.”

  This was in line with the typical gnomish philosophy: the hope that staying silent about problems would keep them safe from them. It never did, but they only learned that when it was too late.

  “This is why gnomes make great servants,” Nanoc muttered. “A whole race of scaredy cats.”

  “What? I’m not scared!” the veterinarian protested. “I’m just—”

  This might have started a huge argument about the role of the individual in society – they had such different views – but luckily they were interrupted by Dren and Rotcel entering the room before things got too philosophical.

  “How’s the patient?” Rotcel asked.

  “Incredibly – and annoyingly – healthy,” the vet said. “I’d say it’s a miracle, but miracles are meant to be good things. You can take off the bandages now. Then you can get the hell out of here. Take my daughter, too. That might be best for you.”

  She left.

  “Do you know, she seemed annoyed,” Dren said thoughtfully. “I wonder why?”

  “She did just meet Nanoc,” Rotcel suggested.

  “True.”

  The elf and the lizardling looked at their gnomish friend. He was a little battered, but there was a flicker of adventure in his eyes that they had learned to dread.

  “We should get out of here,” Rotcel warned.

  “Do you know, that does seem like the best idea,” Dren agreed.

  “Oh, but I’m going back to see the vampire,” Nanoc said cheerfully.

  “But he’ll kill you this time!”

  “So? He killed me last time, and it wasn’t so bad. And this time I know what I’m doing. This time I’m going to kill him!”

  “How?”

  “With this!” Nanoc said, holding the single strand of Death’s hair like a magical sword.

  The others didn’t look impressed.

  “It’s a hair,” Rotcel said.

  “A hair from Death’s own head,” Nanoc corrected him.

  Dren rushed forward, casting a spell of inspection and gasping at what he learned.

  “Do you know, I’d actually like to see how that works,” Dren said thoughtfully. “Yes, I can’t leave without knowing what happens.”

  “I’m out,” Rotcel ‘Loc said firmly. “I don’t see any possible reason to stay—"

  “The vampire is rich, and after we kill him you can steal everything he has,” Nanoc said.

  “—other than loyalty to my friends,” Rotcel said. “My wonderful, wonderful friends who would want me, Rotcel, to have most of the treasure… right?”

  Nanoc shrugged. “You can have it all.”

  “Except the books,” Dren said.

  Rotcel squealed with glee.