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This droplet was the knowledge of one successful soul merchant, turgid with wealth in souls and pearls and coin; a treasure coveted by multitudes, K’tala amongst them. However, K’tala was not so foolish as to believe that a waif of such modest size could succeed where no other could. ‘A fool and one’s money are soon parted’, as they say, and the soul merchant was neither, being in possession of a respectable girth. Almost all that one’s commerce was conducted through proxies, corpse-ambassadors controlled like puppets, except on those rare occasions of high provirtual customers that it behoved that one to meet in the flesh, and in such cases, that one left that one’s hidden abode by airship and met with clients in a litter made of coral and bone shaped like a tub and filled with Thrassian seawater, bubbling and steaming from a mixture of firesalts and carried aloft by the sturdy shoulders and indefatigable strength of undead Nordic porters, skin still milk-white and eyes still sparkling and precious gems hammered into the joints. And yet, no one had ever seen from where that one left or to where that one returned during these business excursions onto dry, rich land, or where that one’s treasury might lie.