"My goodness, Runt, you don't have to do all of that. Washing all those dishes was a great help. And the floor was getting a little dirty. But I know Ozzy is probably looking for some help over at that flaming pit of his. I can wipe off the tables while dinner is cooking in the ovens. No need for you to keep working."

Runt had been working since lunch was over, a couple of hours ago. Betty had been glad for the help and made sure Ozzy's new helper got a big slice of apple pie when it came out of the oven. She'd also pretended not to notice when he snuck another slice. Such a hard little worker, even with that crippled leg.

She'd asked how it happened and hadn't liked the answer. He was vague about it, claiming it was punishment for something he'd done wrong in the dungeon, and old news. Betty would get the story eventually, and then she was going to have some words with the person that did it, dungeon or no dungeon.

Runt's head snapped around. "Ozzy has a pit! Really? I thought he was just a boring, normal butcher."

Betty shook her head in a manner that said she didn't approve of something. "Oh, that one is anything but normal or boring. Take my word for it. You'll have to go see for yourself, but take my advice and stay clear of that flame-spouting hole in the ground, it just isn't safe. Why that angel that fell in screamed for days on end until Ozzy put a stop to it."

"Oh, I'll be careful alright. I'll just take a quick look before I head back to the butcher shop." Runt walked out the door, grabbing a couple of muffins as he went. As soon as he was around a corner he started running. "Oh boy! That smart-assed bastard was hiding the good stuff the whole time. Why didn't he tell me he was Master of a Pit? Wow, and burning angels already? No wonder he kicked Miggy's ass so hard."

Belatedly, Runt remembered that Ozzy had actually told him to come help out with some stuff over by the barn. But he hadn't mentioned a Pit!

Runt came around the corner of the barn at a run, and saw the smoke belching monstrosity in all its glory. Wow, it was a big one! Had to be Tier 2, maybe Tier 3. How many people did it hold? He had some sort of gallows set up to lower people down. Two-dozen? Man, they must set up one unholy chorus of screams.

Runt slowed down. "Hey, how come no one is screaming?"

There was a dwarf reclining in a wooden, slant-back chair. He looked up as Runt blurted out his question. "Oh, you missed the screaming. The tough guy tried my latest version of Strawberry Surprise and was making sounds like a new babe looking for his mama's breast. Wah-Wah! Poor little baby with a hurt tongue."

Ozzy was moving something around in the pit with some big torture tool. Runt heard him growl a bit at the dwarf. Runt giggled at the dwarf’s imitation of a baby butcher. The butcher looked up. "Oh, you think it's funny, Runt? You should try some someday. Don't claim I didn't warn you."

Free food or something? Runt didn't turn that down. "Sure thing, boss, I'll try it. This bottle?" There was a wine bottle in front of the dwarf that held some slightly glowing red concoction. A whisp of steam came from the uncorked top. Makken leaned forward to pour some into one of the shot glasses on the table, but Runt just took the bottle and downed a few swallows, then set the bottle down.

Makken froze in place, then leaned back. The damage was done. He just hoped the kid didn't explode into too many parts. Ozzy was horrified. "Oh shit! Makken, is there an anti-dote? Milk? Do something."

Runt's face screwed up. "Man, dwarves are crappy brewers. That tastes worse than licking a dungeon floor after a seven-day slaughter-fest. Hot too! I think I just lost a kidney. Do you torture everyone with that stuff?"

Makken started to take offense, then let it go. "It's Strawberry Surprise! It ain't supposed to taste good! Hell, I don't remember it having a taste, I usually lose my tastebuds on the first swig."

The old man sitting in another chair looked at Runt for a few seconds, and then commented. "He's a dungeon critter, Makken. Probably has a skill like 'Eat Shit' or something similar.

Runt sneered. "That's a newb skill. I replaced it with 'Eat Anthing' a long time ago. But screw this, I don't have time for games with minions anymore. Show me your pit, Ozzy!"

Ozzy waved Runt over. "Glad to see that you’re interested.”

“I slaughter the animals on the backside of the barn. We have a never-ending supply of sedge beasts. They smoke up good, full of a lot of dark mana from eating the sedge. The meat has a good flavor once it’s smoked with the right wood.”

“Then I hang the sides of beast on the poles for about a day, and mop them good with sauce. The get a little smoke from the pit and start the cooking process. Too quick and you char the sauce before it soaks in. After that I lower them down in the pit where the smoke is really heavy.

Joe does a great job keeping it swirling around the meat. We can turn out a couple of dozen fully smoked cows a day, then pack the meat in barrels and send it off to the Legion."

Ozzy continued to point out small details of the operation. He babbled about how they made the various sauces and marinades and lots of other stuff Runt wasn't really hearing. He slowly realized that Ozzy was talking about smoking the meat. Ruining it!

He took in the barn filled with hanging carcasses and barrels of meat. He remembered how he'd been smelling the sickly-sweet smell of something he'd never smelled in the dungeon. It all came together. The light cantrips, how he acted. Runt hadn't even been kicked once yet. Hell, the bastard gave him a room and a bed.

Runt realized the horrible truth. "You're a Pit Master! A soft-on-minions, meat-smoking, light-casting Pit Master!"

Ozzy nodded. "Yep. What gave it away? The sauce or the slow cooking?" He laughed.

"You're a perversion of the profession! I thought the Butcher was bad, but he's just old school mean and sloppy. You're a Meat Murderer!"

Ozzy was confused. Runt was upset about something again. "Now hold on. This is just cooking. Same as what Betty does. You must have had cooked meat in the dungeon?"

Runt took a step back. "Of course, we cooked the meat. Well, not all of it. You wave it over the fire and let it char a bit, then bite in. Black on the outside, bloody on the inside. That's how meat is supposed to be.

Lemme guess. You sit here all day with your pet dwarf and old human drinking that shit brew. Probably play checkers. Talk a little politics or discuss who's raising the biggest gourd this year. Then you wave the smoke around, and send another ton of good meat straight to hell!"

The accusation didn't seem to faze any of the three people. If anything, it confused and amused them.

The old man slowly stood up. "Son, I think you might have a few wrong misconceptions about the fine art of smoking."

"Stuff it, grandpa McCoy. When I need advice from a minion, I’ll rattle your chain.”

Joe's face went from kindly to anger quickly. He flicked his wrist and a black chain composed of smoke shot out towards Runt. Runt dodged and his cane flicked out, knocking the chain aside and causing it to come near Makken. Like a thing alive, the chain wrapped around the dwarf. "Dammit Joe, how did I get in the middle of this!"

Joe transformed into a swirling tornado of smoke with two huge arms, two eyes, and nothing else. Runt squealed and ran behind Ozzy.

"Dammit, tell your pet smokemon to lay off. You didn't train him at all after you bound him, did you?"

Ozzy scratched his head. "Didn't train him at all, no. Didn't bind him either. Was I supposed to bind you Joe?" Ozzy was joking, but Joe didn’t take it that way.

Joe paused and gave Ozzy a strange look. "Is that your wish? To bind me"

Ozzy shook his head. "Nope. Doesn't sound too friendly and it isn't needed, is it? "

Joe turned back into his other form. He sat back down in his chair. "No, far as I'm concerned, it's not needed. Get your new apprentice to sit down over here. Then bring us a couple of barb-b-que sandwiches so I can show him the point of all this and set him straight."

Runt sat down on the stool and looked with dismay at a small loaf of bread filled with over-cooked meat in a sticky, sweet sauce.

It was horrible. It was free. It was food.

A lifetime of eating anything he could get his hands on took over. He took a bite of the sandwich and managed to swallow. When he didn't die, he took another bite, chewing and tasting it this time."

"This is actually pretty good. What the hell did you call this?"

Ozzy got his own sandwich, adding a pick slice to it. Joe grimaced but said nothing. Ozzy took a bite. "This is pulled, smoked sedge beast. Usually we just call it Bar-b-que."

"Eat up, you'll need the calories. We're going back up to Gadobhra tonight and filling that damned dungeon all the way up."