[It could be another riddle. The cup could be meant to trick them into the wrong answer. Młynar tilts his head up to examine the ceiling, wondering if some preposterous crystal cave would form stalactites. But there's no sign of anything, including the trapdoor they entered by. Just reflections chasing their own refractions.
Do they actually have to collect five tears? What kind of demand is that? Młynar hasn't cried since...
since...
Shouldn't he be able to remember that? His mind offers up some vague recollections of the war, but he has no idea if he cried during any of it. And that was what, close to twenty years ago now? He did something between then and Dzwonek, surely. He's been trying to ignore the fact that something is wrong with his memory, but it's getting harder and harder. How long will this last?
He realizes that he's frowning deeply at the walls, and corrects his expression into his typical neutral frown. It's one thing for him to be worried; it would be another to further worry the boy.
He turns back to the plinth and examines his burned hand. If he squeezes it hard enough, could that produce five tears?]
no subject
Do they actually have to collect five tears? What kind of demand is that? Młynar hasn't cried since...
since...
Shouldn't he be able to remember that? His mind offers up some vague recollections of the war, but he has no idea if he cried during any of it. And that was what, close to twenty years ago now? He did something between then and Dzwonek, surely. He's been trying to ignore the fact that something is wrong with his memory, but it's getting harder and harder. How long will this last?
He realizes that he's frowning deeply at the walls, and corrects his expression into his typical neutral frown. It's one thing for him to be worried; it would be another to further worry the boy.
He turns back to the plinth and examines his burned hand. If he squeezes it hard enough, could that produce five tears?]
I don't think it's a riddle.