"The maintenance of my realm. The distribution of petitioners to their appropriate afterlives. And..." He hesitates. "...another matter, the discussion of which is forbidden to me by the ancient laws. It is no threat to you. I would not mention it, except that to omit it would be incorrect."

"Who's making all these ancient laws?"

"The ancient laws I refer to were put in place by a coalition of gods shortly after my creation," he says, with the same dull resentment with which he mentioned the Wall of the Faithless. "I was deemed too dangerous to exist without being bound. And so, using my True Name, they bound me. I am no more capable of disobeying than water is of flowing uphill."

"Wow. Uh, True Name?"

"Every being has a True Name," the Reaper explains. "Knowing your own grants you power over yourself; knowing another's grants you power over them. There are ways to find one's own True Name, but if you wish to find the True Name of another it must be told to you - either by that person or by the Knower of Names, one of the natives of the eighth Hell, Cania."

"There's a resident of a Hell who knows controlling magic words about everybody and not the entire planet's gone to shit yet?"

"She is not a devil," the Reaper clarifies. "She was there before the devils colonized the Hells. And she is barred from using the names she knows, and she cannot reveal a name under duress."

"Oh good. Should someone, uh, rescue her, or is she doing okay down there."

"I believe she remains in Cania by choice," the Reaper says, "and that she enjoys being largely unreachable."

"If I write stuff down here do I keep it?"

"Yes; when you return to your physical form, your possessions will overwrite their physical selves."

"Cool." She pulls out a notebook and takes notes on all the stuff he's just told her.

He stands there, unmoving, as she writes. "When you are ready to rest, would you like a bed, or would you prefer to use your own bedroll? I have known those who find beds intolerable after spending too long sleeping on the ground."

"Oh, I like beds if you have one."

The Reaper inclines his head, and a bed appears against one of the walls.

"Do you also do dinner?"

"It will not nourish your physical body, but I can conjure food, yes. What would you like?"

"First time I surfaced I splurged on a honey pear cake and I have wondered ever since if it was really that good or if it just wasn't a mushroom."

A honey pear cake appears on a little porcelain plate. "I cannot recreate the cake you had at that time, but I have instantiated an example of the form."

"Thanks, you're a pal." Nom.

"Thank you, Sojourner."

It's quite good.

"Why're you calling me that?"

"I do not actually know your name," he says apologetically, "and it seemed impolite to ask when I do not have one to give in return."

"Belmarniss. Means 'bottomless pit'."

The Reaper nods. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Belmarniss."