The last thing Henrick remembered was being pulled under. He blinked as the taste of salt overwhelmed him. In front was a gate made of wrought iron. He sighed, disappointed. He was expected pearls. There was no music. No person with a book, a tablet or scales to greet him. Unsure of what to do, Henrick paced until thirst got the better of him and he stepped through. The gates clanged shut softly as if patiently awaiting his arrival.