It is extremely hard to play the harmonica underwater. Even whales communicate at low frequencies. To push water through a harmonica at the necessary velocities, Grobian's lungs would have each had to have been the size of his cell.

Hence, the invention of the spinorgan. Sea urchin spines, hollow by nature, were fitted with shaved lengths of bone that would vibrate under the pressure of water exhaled from the player's lungs. The sound was not quite unpleasant, yet utterly unlike anything on the surface world. Perhaps a cross between a shrill whistle and the sputtering shriek a child makes when blowing air past a blade of grass. A skilled player could elicit a tune of some beauty. Grobian was not a skilled player.

Still, after some time practicing in his cell, those down the corridor from him stopped shouting swears at him and listened to his attempts at Y'nobian folk songs.

A couple days after Grobian's imprisonment he sat in his y'Nobian cell, trying out his new spinorgan.

A guard came to the Prince's cell and passed through a folded piece of paper. The paper was yellow on one side and brown on the other and had been folded into the shape of a bear. It had no address on it. [OCC: Grobian recognized this as coming from Mercury.]

When opened, the paper is revealed to be a special, waterproof parchment with non-running ink. The unsigned messages stated:

I wanted to give my condolances on the death of your father, assuming such sentiments appropriate. With Neptune's death, the throne of y'Nobe is available and I have already received a request for support from your brother. For my own part, I have no interest in y'Nobe's throne, never having even the chance to visit your fair city. However, the throne must be filled, so I plan to meet Asterion tomorrow to dicuss the throne but thought I would get your position on the topic first. I would normally think such discussions in bad taste before the funeral but Asterion's request has pressed the issue.

Grobian tucked the paper away and played on, musing as to who to trust, who to embrace, and who to add to his enemies list.

When he finished, he went to the door of his cell.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week! Perhaps all month!" he shouted.

A laugh echoed from elsewhere in the caverns, but broke almost immediately into a wracking cough. After...silence.

Grobian reread the note he had received. He thanked the foresight of the person who had sent to include a writing implement or means of response.

"lackwits and dumb shits!" he shouted down the cell block. "I will maintain that until the day I die!"

"Which could, I suppose, be sooner than I desire," he muttered.

He carefully refolded the note so all that could be seen was

Support
Grobian

and threw it through the bars of his cell into the corridor.