A Wave Where a Number Should Be

Sit, $N, and I will tell you this as close to exactly as I can manage, which will not be very close. Before the Book was bound, one page held a measurement: a distance, a weight, a number of years, something the author never pinned down before the ink dried, so they wrote a wave of a mark over it instead and moved on, meaning to come back. They never came back. The Binders would not print a number that admitted it might be wrong, so they cut the page loose rather than round it off for them, and the Ink Tide carried it here, where it has been rolling in two long lawns ever since, never quite the same height twice. I have measured this island a thousand times, $N, and it comes out a little different every time, which used to bother me and now mostly does not. The Glossator measured it too, more patiently than I ever managed; they left their own estimate out at Farcrest before they went looking for the exact number this leaf was missing.

Experience

21000

Currency reward

1g 62s 0c

Repeatable

No

Sigil

Tide and water