Dim Prisons and Drakes, chapters 6-11. (Patreon)

No you didn't misread that. It has come to my attention that, for whatever reason, these chapters of Dim Prisons aren't showing up in searches. I'm quite certain I put them in here, but for whatever reason, poof. So... I'm going to add them here and now. My apologies for the inconvenience, and here they are, starting from chapter 6.

True to his word, Mr. Stone did not keep us waiting long. It could have been more than the stated five minutes, but without watches or smart phones we had no way of knowing. It' s the little conveniences that are missed the most. That true-ism was actually from a reporter reporting in a war zone; Baghdad, I think, but I couldn't remember for sure.

“Thank you for waiting. I appreciate the chance to go along.”

Karl asked the million dollar question I wanted to, but didn't dare.

“So, why did you want to come along? You seemed pretty suspicious of us before.”

In response he pointed rather rudely at me.

“Well, you had her along. You even listen to her. You seem to have level heads, more so than those we just left. To be honest, it felt as if it were just a matter of time before I was run out of town; I just hastened things a bit. Hopefully either we can fix whatever happened, or absence will make their hearts grow fonder, and I'll be able to go home after all this.”

That was... surprisingly forthcoming of him, and I could sympathize. I made the effort, and lowered my own paranoia a notch. The way he was treated must have been far different than the deference/awe I had been treated with so far; it had to be a mage thing, as opposed to an elf thing.

Poor Dwarves, and their lack of magic. I couldn't even imagine it... which was really strange, because I hadn't had any myself a few days ago. Or had I? The cars, phones, television, and computers... wasn't science a type of magic in itself? Those devices were able to make the impossible commonplace every day.

Of course, we didn't have Elementals a few days ago, so there was that. Didn't have zombies either. But we had legends of zombies, for thousands of years in some cultures. So what did that mean exactly? I was on to something there, I smelled it. A ghost of a ghost of a thought.

“So, why do you listen to an elf anyway?”

Well that was rude; very rude.

“How partial are you to that beard, exactly?”

He backpedaled.

“I didn't mean it like that! What I meant was, my own home town was treating me as if I were half a stranger; like I didn't belong there, with them. And you heard how they reacted to the Orc. I'm fighting a fair bit of prejudice that's been rammed into my head sideways, and unless I miss my guess little lady, you are too.”

While I bristled at the little lady comment, I had to concede the point.

“I am, and I'm sorry; I'm trying very hard not to snap.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“As am I, but that begs the answer to my question; why aren't you receiving the same treatment? Even my own village was all but kissing your ass.”

It had to be reputation somehow. While beating the dinosaur with magic would be enough for my own home, Mr. Stone's town would not know anything about that until I told them, and they still treated me with respect. How would I have such a reputation? I've only been using magic for a few days.

“It has to be my reputation as a mage somehow. Let me ask you; were you always a bit taciturn, or introverted?”

He nodded, conceding my point.

“Yes, I never did like the neighbors much, but I was never impolite or anything of that sort.”

“right. I think somehow who we were carries over into who we are now; no idea how it works, but I was always sort of active in my community.”

For better or worse. It definitely was part of why mayor Conratty was anxious to get rid of me. Come to think of it, pastor Collins had too... and Karl was more a friend of mine than the mayor's. I didn't know if the others were sort of enemies of the mayor, or more of the general malcontents, but I suspected the latter.

“Perhaps that's it, but something tells me there is more to it, and it's something worth investigating. So, here I am, and I can help you all investigate what's going on as well. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“You'd have followed us if we hadn't said yes, wouldn't you?”

Mr. Stone nodded.

“Or course; wouldn't you?”

I had to admit, at least to myself, that I would. I didn't need to say it out loud however, Karl, Matt and Mr. Stone were already turning away to give more attention to their surroundings, and Randolf was looking at me in a new light, by all appearances. It made me a bit uncomfortable really, but I didn't let it show – I hoped.

I had to focus myself; we were out of the village limits proper, and the forest was starting to close in again. After the zombies in the gas station that wasn't a gas station, a certain amount of wariness was called for.

After all it was only paranoia if no one was out to get you.

The late afternoon however, mocked such attention; it was calm, with a slight northerly breeze. The sun was bright and warm; even the highly overgrown forest was bright in comparison to when we set out this morning. The air carried the same hint of flowers and wild spices it had before, and I couldn't help but want to breathe it in.

And of course in the middle of taking nice deep breaths, I caught all the men staring at me. Damned if I do, indeed. Mr. Stone snorted.

“Must be an elf thing.”

“I was smelling the air; don't you smell the hint of wild onion? The strong smell of Horsemint off the right?”

“Of course I smell it, faerie, I just don't need to breathe it in like that. What's so great about the stench of a few plants?”

“Never mind Mr. Stone, if you don't understand, I don't think I can explain it to you.”

Thomas piped up from a nearby tree.

“It's OK, she can breathe like that all she wants, we won't complain at all.”

“Shouldn't your eyes be the other way? You know, facing away from us, looking for threats?”

He grinned, the smug bastard.

“I couldn't possibly pass up such a view. Any ambush that gets us is worth it.”

“You won't say that if a dinosaur sneaks up on us.”

They all stopped and just stared at me.

“Alright, so they can't really sneak. My point stands. Screw you guys anyway.”

Karl decided to rope in the morons.

“Alright guys, the point is still a good one. Eyes facing where they should be. Focus up, remember the zombies.”

They all sobered up, even Mr. Stone, who hadn't seen them personally.

A lesson of a more abject sort was not long in coming. Karl fell into, of all things, a pit trap. It was cleverly concealed in the middle of the trail; None of us spotted it. If Karl's feet hadn't been heavily armored, the spikes at the bottom would have impaled him; as it was, he was able to keep standing, barely. The climb out was a long one however, even with Randolf helping things along.

So who set it?

A quick investigation revealed dark freshly turned earth, still bearing it's musty smell. The worms were still wriggling along through it, and the stakes were green and oozing sap. For all of that, it had been camouflaged by a master; small sticks in a grid pattern bearing a slight dusting of what had appeared to be hard packed dirt. For all I knew it could have been from the road itself mere hours ago; it certainly smelled like it.

A quick thought and gesture, and the dirt the hole was missing came out of the woods and filled it again; wouldn't do to leave traps like that in the road for the next passersby to die to.

All done in hours. Maybe less. What could...?

“Thomas.”

“Yes?”

“Phil.”

“Yes?”

“You both need to start scouting ahead, very carefully. Stay in sight of us and each other at all times, and be on the lookout for anything unusual; anything at all that doesn't fit. There will be more traps like this. Karl, get a walking stick, a long one.”

Matt, a bit more savvy than the rest when it came to these things, bent over to whisper.

“What are you thinking?”

My whispered reply was cryptic; I didn't want to give voice outright to the horror I feared it was.

“Something I hope I'm wrong about. Oh boy, do I ever hope I'm wrong.”

There was a new trap about every ten feet on the road. Pits, swinging logs coming from the tree line, once an honest to the gods rolling boulder trap. All cleverly concealed by a master of the art, or so Phil kept insisting. I just knew that my guess was getting more likely.

According to Phil and Thomas, the traps out in the woods lining the road were even better. Or as Phil was putting it:

“I'm telling you, you almost fell in it. One more inch to the right and you'd have been upside down, hanging like a trout.”

Thomas of course, was bristling worse than a cornered porcupine.

“No way in all the hells was it that close. I had a good amount of clearance to disarm both traps, and I managed just fine.”

“I know what I saw Thomas, you were almost trapped while disarming another. It's OK, we can't all be as good as me.”

That did not bode well at all.

“So the trap builders are getting more creative then?”

“Yes indeed. I'd suspect they were watching us, but I haven't caught them at it. So if they are, they are VERY good.”

Of course they are. Sigh, it almost has to be them, doesn't it? I can't think of any other critter or race so good at trap making and so absolutely cowardly as to employ long term trap ambush tactics like this. Especially after the first several traps didn't work; any other race would switch to some other tactic. But not these, no they would just hide, and good luck finding them.

And all this was taking place along what was once a well traveled road, leading to two different villages, with only 10 miles or so between them, and not more than a mile away from Shrewsberry. Someone was bound to get hurt or killed if we did nothing.

But how to draw them out? Usually getting 'caught' was a good way to draw them out, but the traps weren't big enough for all of us, and the evil little things wouldn't come out before a healthy group like ours. Unless we made them. But if their boltholes were too good for even our ranger and rogue to spot, how would we do that?

I wouldn't burn the forest for this, that was just stupid.

Think! How to do this? Of course, I'm an idiot... the very same thing we were discussing earlier. Reputation. They always did have a nice healthy awe of magic, and magic users. I could use that to bluff them. It would require a light show, but I could do that.

“Group huddle guys. I've got a plan.”

They huddled; I silently directed Phil, Thomas, and Randolf to face outward so we couldn't be shot with arrows while our backs were turned. It wasn't likely, but it could happen.

“OK so the plan is, I make a flashy light show while you all cover me, then I bluff. You guys follow my lead.”

Karl looked curious.

“Why do you think that will work? We haven't seen any sign of these trap builders; they could be long gone by now.”

“No, they are here; watching us. I'm sure of it. They have just had hours to prepare their camouflage. It's like their traps now, so well hidden we'd have to trip over it.”

Matt asked again.

“You know what's doing this? How dangerous are they? Orcs?”

“I suspect, and if I'm right, they are very dangerous. And no, worse than Orcs.”

Mr. Stone spoke up, having invited himself to our huddle.

“What could be worse than Orcs?”

Pastor Collins shook his head, finger to his lips.

“Don't say such things. It could be always be something worse than Orcs. Or worse than worse than Orcs.”

I stared at him, and he blushed.

“You know what I mean, Muse.”

I nodded.

“I do, but trust me, if I tell you, you won't believe me. Just work with me on this. We need to solve this, or Shrewsberry citizenry is in danger. Anyone who comes down this path that isn't as good as we are is going to die. And they might even be able to get one of us, if we continue to let them try hard enough.”

Karl's hand was a comforting presence on my shoulder.

“We trust you. Do what you need to do, we will follow your lead.”

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding and nodded. How to make the best light show? Hmm, a simple summoning? I already knew I could summon Elementals. No, in the numbers I needed I'd quickly drain myself, even with minor ones. So if I couldn't do that, I should fake it.

My own variant of the light spell, a little juiced up, would do perfectly. Especially when combined with another small spell I knew. This was the first time I went ahead and actually focused on my magic, without the element of surprise or adrenalin dump from seeing a charging dinosaur that could level a house.

It was harder than I thought to make the magic come unbidden. It was a focus, a feeling, a code of emotional response. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than to summon light, I needed to feel light, to be bright emotionally. I was also very sure that it was different for other spell casters.

Stray thoughts defeated the process though, so I had to start again. I ignored Matt raising his eyebrow at me and cleared my mind with far more ease than I should have... almost as if I were more experienced at this sort of thing than I really was. Another piece of the puzzle.

In seconds 6 multi-colored balls of light were swirling around me, trailing a slowly fading colored dust and making strange sounds, almost ghostly ooooo noises but not quite. I actually fed pretty proud of my creations until I caught the muted snickers from the peanut gallery.

Philistines, I swear if they screwed this up... well it'd be the toad treatment, and flies for all.

Now, to make this good. Loudly, and as clear as I could.

“If you don't come out, I'll send my minions hunting for you. You won't like what happens when they catch you, so come out now. You have five minutes.”

I sent the harmless balls of light flitting around the group, slowly at first, then faster in a show of agitation.

Then I swear, my ear twitched. Stupid twitchy ears, they had caught something. A gust of wind brought more, and I realized what I was hearing was a snatch of conversation:
“...but what is minute?”

“Not know, may be magic thing? You want find out? Could be bad.”

“But she say we have them. Isn't have things good?”

Oh gods damn it. I hate being right. I really do.

A quick twitch sent two of my globes of light heading the direction of the sound. The reaction was immediate.

“It sees us!”

“The jig is up! We should flee!”

“Shut up Norie, you is stupid! Give up is only way!”

Thomas twitched a bit. The voices had raised, and he had heard that part. The next action of the little scum in question though made that point moot. The horrid reedy voice I'd heard raised itself in an ear wincing, strident refrain from back along the road we had just passed, not more than 100 feet from us:

“We give ups! Don't hurt us!”

They were as tall or perhaps a little less than the dwarf, but had to weigh far less. Animal like legs despite an upright posture, hands that might be lacking in fingers, but managed to have an opposable thumb. Snaggle toothed maws under beady black eyes, ragged clothes covering mottled fur and scabrous lesions. Small harmless claws, but one held a rusted dagger, and the rest small cudgels.

And oddly enough, they had hair, sticking out straw like from baggy potato sack hats. It just had to be freaking Kobolds.

Cowardly, back-biting, trap setting half intelligent vermin only one jump up from giant rats, and probably distant cousins to same. They certainly had the look of bipedal rats, without the fat. Thomas's hands tightened on his bow, making it creak. Karl looked amused if anything, Randolf looked intrigued. Matt and Mr. Stone looked as suitably horrified as I felt, however.

Matt's reaction was expected, but Mr. Stone's wasn't, perhaps he had previous experience with the things? If so, how? Was he a gamer in another life, like Matt and I? Questions for another time.

As I watched, the one in the least ragged clothes stepped forward from his small pack of four, mouth open to speak. I cut him off. (I hoped it was a him, it was wearing pants... but then they all were.)

“Is this all of you? Speak truth or all of you will be cursed.”

I didn't know any curses, but I knew Kobolds were among the most superstitious races in all fantasy settings. That was what made this plan work; the little vermin would not willingly bring down the wrath of a magic user upon themselves, even a weak one. And I was anything but weak. Exactly how strong I was I didn't know, but Kobolds were no threat face to face.

They preferred to set traps then loot corpses for valuables and food. Sometimes the food was the corpse itself. They rarely attacked full well equipped parties though, preferring to let them go by in favor of easier conquests. We were never really in danger, but ordinary Shrewsberry citizens would be killed without thought or remorse.

But for all of that, I couldn't forget the most important fact; these cowardly flea bitten things may have started out as human as I was. They had in effect, fell for my ruse and surrendered. Anything final we did to them could be murder.

Of course, if they were just jumped up rats, then murder was stretching it, even though they were sentient now. Sentience on their part was debatable anyway.

In response to my both shouted and pointed question, the one I took for the leader raised a small beaten metal whistle to his mouth (I hesitate to use the word lips, they didn't seem to have much there) and blew it.

I knew it was a whistle due to just being able to make out the broken hearing destroying sound. Any dogs in the area would surely be going crazy right now, but I could tell it was outside human hearing range. It was nearly outside of my own, and oh how I wished it had been.

“Others come now, you no curse, yes?”

I tried to look as stern as possible. It seemed to work. Or perhaps it was Randolf behind me, idly fingering his many weapons. Karl was just as bad, and Matt was downright glaring. Only pastor Collins showed any signs of leniency at all.

“As long as they all show up and quickly, no I won't curse the lot of you. How many of there are you?”

He counted. Using his fingers, then his toes. I tried very hard not to scowl through the long process.

“Twelve.”

Well that was surprising; he actually could count past ten, and knew what the number meant. No wonder he was the leader. He also didn't hesitate, trying to make himself as small as possible, cowering before us. They all were. I sent my balls of light further out, trying to make them look menacing for the new arrivals.

Two I had spell out the words “Give up or be cursed” in common, the language we were using. I knew the dust I had them spitting would be good for something.

“Then we wait.”

I couldn't contain my curiosity any more.

“So, Norie.”

“Yes, mighty one?”

“Were you always like this? You and your pack?”

The confusion was immediate. The face he made was charming, in a child's nightmare kind of way.

“Like what mighty one?”

“Always short, furry, and... smart? Good at traps?”

“Oh, yes yes Norie always smart and furry. Norie's pack always good at traps. Is good for food.”

If the Kobolds were ever human then, they did not remember being so, or lacked the capacity for it now. But chances were that they were not. The rest of us remembered easily enough after all. But wasn't memory a function of intelligence? I was pretty sure I read that somewhere. The bottom line was, I couldn't be 100% sure.

We really didn't have to wait long. No more than 10 minutes, all told. Twice groups did not come out, but the leader, (the infamous Norie) blew the whistle again and yelled, pulling them from hiding before we even knew they were there. Waste of a species, only partly sentient, but they had sharp senses.

Each new group added to the pointless arguing amongst them, words flying too fast for me to properly decipher through their atrocious accent. His pack seemed to hold Norie responsible, and most wanted to stay hidden. Norie in turn pointed to me, and said I would have killed them all if he had not called them out. They countered that his group was the only one in direct danger, (a surprisingly clear observation from them) and he should have kept silent and died a hero.

Once the last group was walking towards us I no longer had to put up with such crap. A good stomp of my magic infused foot to the hard packed earth of the road and a nice thunderous crack sounded.

“Shut up, all of you.”

I split the light balls in half (making 12) and sent them at the little vermin. When they floated harmlessly into the now shrieking beasts, I let them dissipate, giving the appearance of the light being absorbed into them.

“You said you no curse!”

“And I didn't. That magic is to track you. You will disable your traps, all of them. Then you will leave this place, and never return. If you do not remove your traps, I will know. If you do not leave, I will know. AND I WILL KILL YOU ALL. Understood? This is the only mercy you get from me.”

“We understand, and obey.”

Some chattered directions and they split up, two groups heading off into the woods, and one back along the road we hadn't traveled yet. In order to hedge my bets, I borrowed a few crows from the trees nearby. Another simple spell had their eyes following my target groups. I hoped they wouldn't notice the tails, they had proven very observant. One last crow took a small note from me, and went to find a certain mayor.

Once the vermin were out of earshot, the expected blow up happened.

“So why are we letting these... things go, exactly.”

Wow, that was Karl's reaction. Normally he was among the least bloodthirsty of us.

“Because they might have been as human as us, not all that long ago. I really don't want to murder someone if we can fix this, or fix them.”

“But they said they weren't.”

“They may not know, anymore.”

Randy put his two cents in, backed closely by Mr. Stone of all people.

“They are dangerous, without a doubt. They kill to rob people. They target the weak directly.”

My anger rose. I tried to keep the heat from my reply.

“They can't help that, exactly! What happens if we kill them and manage to figure out what's going on? Do you really want to kill someone who hasn't done anything wrong yet?”

Matt chimed in.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see any bodies? We'd have found any if they had any victims; after all they don't seem the burying type to me. Heck, they only rely on the traps because they can't actually fight anything straight up.”

Randy's reply had more than a little heat of his own.

“They are still dangerous, no matter what they might have been before! We have to deal with the realities of now! Letting those things kill people just because they might have been human before is stupid!'”

He was right into my face, spitting. I wouldn't back down.

“Then you go right ahead! They are right down the road, murder them all with a smile! I made a choice, and I will accept the consequences! They won't find villagers traveling alone, Shrewsberry is currently being warned, I made a choice to turn away from having my own prejudices, that were shoved into my head sideways, rule me. You do as you like.”

He looked as if he got it, but he was, if anything, more angry.

“No, you made our choice. Ours. You decided for all of us... remember that. I won't stand for that again. Anyone they kill is strictly on your head alone.”

Ugh. Pissing contest with me unarmed, so to speak. He had a point, but the world wasn't always going to wait for us to vote. I suppose we could have though, this time. Well I wasn't going to apologize to his butt-hurt self.

“Understood.”

We started off again in silence, Randolf leading the way with Thomas and Phil scouting, and Matt bringing up the rear. Karl, pastor Collins, and I were in the center.

I noticed a distinct lack of eye contact, and more than a little cold shoulder from the party at large. Or maybe it was my imagination. I certainly hoped it was. The only thing I felt from Matt were his eyes occasionally glued to my ass. I wasn't sure how to feel about that.

At least he was looking for threats behind us some of the time, and if he was so mesmerized, he wouldn't turn completely against me. At least, he shouldn't. After less than a day, I was already making new friends; only not.

Hopefully I wasn't losing any old ones.

The rest of the day was spent in an otherwise blissful stroll through nature, complete with birds chirping, the sun shining, and trees and brush rustling in the breeze. And the smells were pure and sweet. Fresh pine needles, various grasses, the occasional deer, and just about any wild flower you could hope to smell.

It was soothing, but I felt half sorry for those around me. They didn't seem to see/hear/smell the same way I did, or as much. They were missing out. Maybe Thomas could; I'd have to ask when we stopped.
Occasionally, when Phil or Thomas checked in, they would look back at me (we were maintaining a loose formation on Karl's unspoken insistence), say something to Karl or each other I couldn't quite catch, and chuckle. Every great once in awhile I heard a chuckle by them from the forest too.

Close to sunset, or at least sunset for the forest (when the sun dipped below the tree line, still some time from full sunset, but more than enough to make a forest dark) Karl halted and signaled us all to close up.

“It's time to find a place to set up camp; our two scouts are going to range on either side of the road, the rest of us are going to look a bit closer in; stay within sight of each other, and be careful. The events of the day have proven this is dangerous.”

I had to; I just had to.

“Alright, but I have something I need to ask. Phil, Thomas, what's so funny?”

They looked at each other in a perfect deadpan moment, then both burst into laughter.

“It's you.”

“It's definitely you.”

“Using balls of light farting pixie dust to try and look scary.”

“Only you would even think such a thing intimidating.”

“You're lucky the rats were so gullible.”

“You'll be in trouble if you do that against anything smart. First the bug thing, then this.”

“You're such a girl there, Sailor Moon.”

Oh. Oh! Oh, damn it. Damn it all.

“Shut. Up. Go find a camp, before you need to find flies.”

“Sure sure there, mighty one. Phil, ribbiting away.”

“Thom, ribbiting away!”

They actually jumped their way into the forest. While croaking. Un-fucking-believable. Mr. Stone and Randolf were already laughing so loudly the birds were flying off in alarm (I did not blame them). Karl was at least silent about it, and Matt was red in the face. Pastor Collins just looked pole axed. His question of “what is Sailor Moon?” did not surprise me.

Rather than answer I turned to Matt.

“What's your problem? My spell choices not funny enough for you?”

“Not at all, just imagining you with a henshin sequence.”

Urk. By all that was, that was sick. I slapped him upside the back of his head.

“Mind out of the gutter there, and focus.”

Karl, who had managed to compose himself, interrupted.

“That's my line, Lady Muse. Look for a camping spot over there if you would. Matt and I need to have a little talk with pastor Collins.”

“....Fine.”

I left. I didn't look as hard as perhaps I should have. They waited until I was out of easy earshot however.

Meanwhile they chatted and laughed. In two cases, they laughed rather loudly. Pastor Collins also went red in the face a few times too. Then Randolf caught me looking and wiggled his bushy uni-brow at me.

Philistines.

Well, there was no clearing this way, so time to go save Pastor Collins from the corrupting influences currently surrounding him.

“Alright he's a man of god, or a man of a god, quit trying to warp his head.”

Matt pulled his innocent look at me, but Karl went for the more direct challenge.

“He's holy, not dead. Right Collins?”

“Quite right; nothing in the new faith about celibacy., at least as far as I know. Matt was just explaining all about this anime I missed, and what a henshin sequence was. It's been quite educational.”

I swear I could see a small stream of blood from his nose, but with his beet red face I couldn't be entirely sure. I was too late. It'd only been about five minutes! Randolf was openly leering. I wanted to hit him, but I felt I'd hurt my hand to do so. Karl glared at him a bit and he stopped. Then he changed the subject.

“So, anything?”

“No clearings at all nearby that direction, let alone ones with handy sources of water or easily defensible locations. So, no. Not really.”

“Well I didn't think there would be. So now we wait for the scouts. Who are supposed to be smart enough to avoid trouble, and should therefore be back any minute.”

“Bad idea to say anything like that.”

“I know, but I strongly suspect they are off drinking somewhere, so I'm a bit angry. If they can hear me, they better come out.”

Delivered in a normal tone of voice, with little emotion. Karl was formidable. A slight rustle of brush and Thomas was next to us; Phil showed up a moment later, materializing next to me. Me, of all people... the jerk.

Him I could punch, so I did.

“Ouch, what was that for?”

“Scaring me. Don't do that.”

“Point taken. Karl we found a good spot.”

He pointed off to my left.

“Good, it's beginning to get a little too dark for my liking. I don't want to run into anything in the dark. Lead on.”

He did, leading us a good fifty yards or so into the wild undergrowth. The moment we left the road a form of uneasy twilight struck us. I remained sure footed, but there was much stumbling around me. A few curses here and there, too.

The clearing in question wasn't big enough to let the sun through the gloom, but it was big enough for a sizable fire pit and several tents or shelters. The pine trees closing ranks around it would keep out the worst of the wind and any rain, and the brook that was busy babbling on the other side was a convenient source of water. In fact, there already was a sizable fire pit of water eroded stones in the center of the grass free clearing, and the old fallen tree that was our way in (a break from the ring of trees) bore evidence of old ax or hatchet marks. Possibly both.

All I really cared about was that it was big enough for tents, if we wanted to. And I wanted to. Sleeping on the cold, dirty ground in no way appealed to me.

Of course I knew what sort of ridicule I'd get before hand. Farting pixie dust indeed. Nevertheless, I reached in and pulled it out while striding to the back (and incidentally the highest) patch of the clearing. Normally, it would be just me, and my sleeping bag (or in this case, bedroll). But this close to a bunch of huge men I felt the urge to have another layer between me and prying eyes. Besides, I had to use locking spells on something with a kind f door; a tent qualified, barely, while a bedroll did not.

Hey, I didn't make the rules... or even know about them before I thought of it just now.

The tent was a welcome nod away from the light and dare I say feminine cloth I had hitherto found, being a tough burlap in serrated earth tones. The pattern made a good camouflage in a temperate forest or plains setting with a little work, and the bottom had a built in heavily waxed groundcloth. The stitching on the seams were as fine as those on my clothes; the entire thing with a bag full of bright copper tent stakes, mallet, and screw together tent poles included probably weighed less than my spell book.

The real question was, where had it come from? I didn't remember packing it last night. For that matter, I had thought about it twice today, hadn't I? As if I had known it was there all along; had it been in the bag of plenty all along, and I knew somehow? If so then why hadn't the other items been in it? Was I getting way too paranoid about every little thing?

I ignored the peanut gallery, busy drinking the fresh water or just plunking down and relaxing, and started rolling the tent out.

“Hey, is that an actual tent?”

Matt strode up, cup in hand, water drizzling down his chin, and got in the way.

“Grrrrrrrrr.”

He jumped back, allowing me to roll it

“What the... did you just growl at me?”

I finished rolling the tent out, the end touching right where his feet were before, and nodded.

“Sure did.”

A few quick blows with the mallet (the head of which was covered in padded cloth to prevent the noise from traveling, apparently I wasn't the only one who was paranoid) and the stakes were driven in; the ground was nice and soft. Good farming loam, unless I missed my guess.

“Might I ask why?”

I knocked another stake in.

“Well you were standing right where the back of the tent goes. Door flap towards the fire, slight downgrade from the tree line, otherwise the area is flat and level. Perfect place for a tent. In fact, best place for a tent in the entire clearing.”

I drove the last stake in. Now this tent was a form of pup tent, so all these pieces had to make two tent poles. I started linking them up.

They were carved of course. They suffered from the same motif as the bag itself, wooden vines coated in resin, the odd flower cropping up. Each pole also had a stylized thorn hook at about two feet up( the poles were three feet all told, or I was a Dwarf).

And now that I could stretch it out, the design scheme on the tent had it's own rose and vine motif running the length of it, through the muddy multi-hued 'earth' the tent portrayed. When spread out, it had more than enough room for any three people and looked like a small flower strewn hillock, or at least it would from a distance.

Not at all out of place in a forest, but a little more... elf like than I had previously hoped. At least the copper stakes didn't burn my hands.

I went inside to place the final stake, and it promptly got worse. The inside was a second layer, this one of beige linen, with a small window in the back (also covered in linen, white). The linen had a meadow in full bloom painted on it, lightening to a pastel blue sky, and the window was the sun. Of course. I threw my bag inside and closed the flaps. No one must know.

“So um, that thing looks pretty big.”

“Indeed it does.”

I replied as I looked around idly. None of the others seemed to have tents. Karl didn't seem to care, dragging a small stump in front of the fire pit. Phil and Thomas were gathering firewood, and pastor Collins was working on lighting said fire in the fire pit. It wasn't really late in the year, or shouldn't be, and the temperature was still warm.

But a fire made us all feel safer; and a fire here would be almost impossible to spot from the road, or deeper into the woods.

Randolf clanked off with Mr. Stone, gathering firewood by excuse, telling bawdy stories by the sound and sharing liquor by the smell.

“So, um... can I share your tent?”

“Grrrrrrrrrrr.”

I won't lie to myself. Watching him jump back like that was pretty satisfying. I did manage to keep a straight face... mostly.

“Right. I'll take that as a no.”

I looked up; there were clouds, painted fiery yet muted colors, scudding their merry way across the sky. They seemed none the worse for wear for the rain burden they carried. A quick sniff of the air revealed a hint of fresh moisture.

Feh, they would live.

“No room in the tent; it's strictly a single.”

He stared, completely flabbergasted. But none must know. Besides, it was too hot to sleep clothed, and I'd be damned if I'd let any of them in to possibly sneak a peek. So I stared back, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I kept my cool even when Karl snorted laughter behind me, but almost lost it with Matt's retort.

“Chicks.”

OK, I admit to being a jerk here, but Matt is the one that joined in to mock my light creations earlier. Along with the bug thing. And he had been staring earlier, when he though I wouldn't know. I am sure of it.

But that one stung.

“don't you have something useful to do?”

Karl interrupted before things could go further downhill. He handed Matt a small wooden shovel.

“Yes he does. Matt, go dig a latrine, now.”

Matt moved off.

“Other direction Matt, not next to the stream.”

He shook his head as I face-palmed.

“Sorry Lady Muse, he was out of line there.”

“No need for any apologies, I'd be happy to share normally, but there are... complications.”

It really wouldn't do to have the people I may need to save my life feel that I don't trust them. I did. But all the same, as close a friend as Matt was, I wasn't sure he'd ever see the inside of that tent. At least not while I was in it.

And that went double for the rest of them. I'd just never live it down.

“And you Lady Muse, you get the first cooking duty.”

...excuse me?

“Excuse me?”

“Yep. Cooking duty. Phil and Thom are out hunting. Whatever they catch, they skin and bring back. Pastor Collins has fire duty. Randolf and Ethan are handling the fire wood. I have first watch, and Matt is digging the latrine. That leaves cooking duty. Tomorrow night we all switch jobs, except possibly Thom; he's our best hunter.”

So, it wasn't the whole 'woman’s work' bs. I guess I could live with that. If they started treating me as some stupid simpering yokel in homespun though, It'd be the toad treatment.

“Alright, I get it. I'll get everything set up.”

I had a sort of medieval mess kit, I remembered that one and had made sure to pack it before. It was small though; I hoped it was up to the task. Turns out I needn't have bothered. As soon as Mr. Stone spotted my little kit he ambled over, muttering.

Mr. Stone had almost a full kitchen in collapsible pots.

“I think you'll need it, lady. I heard Thom talking about the deer trail he'd found not too far from here.”

A deer? An entire deer? Heck with that, if they brought back a full deer, I'd need help. Of course one look at Karl and I knew I wouldn't be getting any; it'd be my task alone to dress and cook it. I had no idea how to cook anything like that, unless it was as venison steaks.

And of course, Google was dead. Good luck finding really cool recipes now for really strange food now. Perhaps after we solved the mystery of the ages, we could find Chef Ramsey.

Luckily enough, Thom and Phil did not bring back Bambi. Unluckily for me, they did bring back a brace of Thumper. The no longer cute cuddly things had been skinned, (mostly) bled, and dressed before being brought back to camp, so as not to attract local wildlife of the more dangerous sort. At least I had that going for me.

I decided on a stew, with some tubers and wild onions (and some garlic, salt, basil, and mushrooms from my own food stores, but no one needed to know that). It's very hard to screw up any kind of stew. Stew is almost unkillable. Nevertheless, I tried. Fortunately for all stomachs involved, I did not succeed.

At every comment of 'great stew' and 'very good' I searched for signs of mockery. It all seemed to be genuine, but I knew it wasn't as good as it could have been. After everyone was finished and busy seeing who could make the loudest belch, I retired to the stream to wash the dishes. Always part of any cooking job as far as I was concerned.

Besides, I doubted any of the others had brought soap.

Then my task being done, I nodded my good night to Karl (who was the only one paying attention) and went inside my tent. I did not want to leave matters there though, so I cast about in my mind for that which came so easily now; at least part of the time. This time it took longer than I wished.

I focused, and the door 'locked'. Another moment of focus, and I had an alarm set; anything with hostile intent coming within 50 feet of the tent would set off a loud hawk's cry. I chose a hawk specifically because it would be out of place at night, and yet hawks had been flying around earlier this very day. So someone or something with less knowledge of animal behavior might ignore it. Like a bear; bears were rather big on my mind at the moment.

I still felt better knowing that Karl was on watch. After all something might get past my spell somehow; a sentry was always preferable to just magic alone.

Preparation work done, and my two spells adding to my weariness (keeping up with tall people on the march was hard work) I shucked my clothes and hung them on one of the thorn hooks. The bag went on the other. Then I climbed into my bedroll.

The conversation was too loud.

“Did you see that?”

“Well, now I know why she insisted it was a single.”

Sigh.

“Gentlemen.”

The reply came in chorus.

“Yes, Lady Muse?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes Lady Muse.”

I swear. They had to rehearse or something.

Though I tried, sleep was a long time coming.

(Chapter 7.)

Sometimes, no matter how much sleep you have, it's just never enough. And sometimes you wish you could sleep more. Very rarely do those days coincide though. Today, with the pleasant rays of the sun streaming through my tent's fake one, removing the slight chill, and my very warm sleeping bag firmly ensconced around me, was one of those rare days.

Then again, with the pleasant rays of the sun streaming in, it was at least an hour past dawn; the sun wouldn't be able to penetrate the forest canopy otherwise. And that of course, meant I was likely late.

On the other hand, I was comfortable, and didn't hear any hints of movement. My spell alarms hadn't been tripped, so I was inclined to believe it was a completely innocent sort of silence. Unless of course, someone could manage to get past them without setting them off or dispelling them, and then start world war 3 without me hearing it.

Who was I to say what was and what was not possible? The world didn't make sense anymore.

So as much as I wanted to just lay back and read my new book, I decided to get up and dress. I could possibly read a little while everyone else was breaking camp if it was just a case of me being early. Turns out it was neither.

Everyone was up, breakfast was made (and mine was waiting) and everyone was looking at me as I opened the tent flap.

“...What?”

It was a wonderful morning, with fresh scents and bright colors. Of course, there had been a little bit of a drizzle some time last night, which led to a few soggy companions huddled around a fire. Also at some point last night, a brown waxed tarp had been affixed to some trees as a makeshift shelter against the rain.

Their sleeping bags and bedrolls were on a line, drying. Surely it hadn't been that bad.

I joined the group at the fire, grabbing my set aside plate. The stares continued.

“Seriously, what? I didn't sleep through some wake up call of yours, did I?”

I was pretty sure I was told last night I wouldn't get a stint at watch... though maybe I was wrong in that? Karl finally deigned to answer.

“No, they are just wondering how much you knew and when.”

A slight sinking feeling. What I knew about what? Had the distrust our Gimli reject suffered started affecting us now, after a delay?

“...What?”

“The rain, lady Muse. The rain. You set up that tent; elves don't normally use such, at least according to our resident experts. So they were wondering if you knew it was going to rain last night.”

That delivered deadpan with pointed glances at Phil and Thomas, letting me know three things; that he wasn't in on this, tempers had apparently actually flared, and who the actual experts were. The tone of voice also let me know he didn't believe a word of it, which made the next part a bit of a shame.

“Um, actually, I did. But in my defense, our woodsman did too! So you really need to talk to him. Also, I apparently do use a tent, at least most of the time. It felt like second nature after all. I'm not sure why.”

Maybe because the sleeping under the stars thing was a bullcrap stereotype, and I didn't go for it?

“She has a point, Thomas. You should have known too.”

“Meh, I smelled rain, but thought it would hold off another night. It was a light scent after all. I'm pretty good, but when its 50/50 I can get it wrong.”

I smelled a rat, is what I smelled.

“And you expect me to be better at it?”

He didn't miss a beat. “Yes.”

Alright, time to get insulting. I opened my mouth but Matt put a finger to his lips briefly from his position behind Thomas. So I shut up and let him handle it.

“You pissed off Lady Muse yesterday something fierce. We all did. Is it a wonder she didn't mention any chance for rain? We got soggy, it was our own fault. You didn't mention it either, and that's your fault. Quit trying to shift blame onto her for your shit.”

“Alright, I get the point.”

With a sour look, Thomas reached over and started undoing the knots holding up his tarp. I approved, it was a sunny day, with no hint of rain lingering in the air. The various birds were frolicking in the sky, and my ears could catch other small critters likewise frolicking in the forest around us, used to our presence and noise by now.

In short, the makings of a wonderful day.

“Lady Muse, I don't suppose you could help us dry our things, so we could get going, could you?”

I empathized with Karl on this one. On the one hand, a large part of me was screaming silently that there was no rush; we had nowhere specific to be. On the other, the sooner we got some place, any place, we would learn more of just what happened to us and our world. I could feel that urgency in a very real 'nails on chalkboard' kind of way. So I ignored that traitorous part of myself that urged relaxation.

“Sure.”

Now, how to do this... the easiest way would be with fire. But fire would of course, burn. The next easiest would be air. But I didn't want to risk blowing things away. Any spells strong enough to dry the cloth in a hurry would either risk burning or blowing it away. Wait, water could work, and there was a stream nearby...

I really needed to stop coming up with solutions to problems that involved summoning Elementals all the time. It was the strongest spell I had, and really took a lot out of me. Hmm, maybe a variation on my magic toilet spell? That could work, and it didn't take that much out of me.

Well casting the spell didn't. Enchanting something with it did. Good thing that wasn't what I was being asked to do, or I'd have to say no in order to avoid wasting more time, most of it flat on my back.

Using a slightly more juiced version of my 'instant bum drying spell' was easy enough; even moving from bedding to bedding. Using as many uses of it as I did still didn't come close to one elemental summoning, even a small one.

The two spells seemed sort of similar, actually. The main difference being power added and a difference of degrees....

“Lady Muse.”

“Huh, what?”

Karl was next to me, and I hadn't heard him approach.

“You alright? You were staring off into space there.”

“Yeah I'm fine. Was just contemplating spellcraft.”

“So... are they done?”

I nodded and pointed to the small puddles under the bedding.

“All done. Should be completely dry and ready to pack up. And before you ask, no it didn't take all that much effort.”

“Good.”

He grabbed his own and began to roll it up. Taking that as my cue, I went back to my tent to pack my own things up. My bedroll was easy enough, and everything else I used was packed up beforehand... so in no time at all I was left with the one chore I didn't want to deal with. The packing up of my tent.

I traced a hand along it, following one of the vines sewn in. It was dry. Not a magical dryness, I was sure, just a normal one comprised of rain sliding off and the sun evaporating what was left. The poles came apart with a half twist, the copper stakes came out easily with a single pull on their ring heads.

No dirt at all stuck to them; not even a speck. The holes made closed back up as if nothing had ever been hammered in there.

The tent folded up easily, with no air bubbles and went back into it's pouch with all it's accoutrements as if it had never been out of it.

OK, this crap was getting weird; I'd never had a tent that cleaned up so easily; either the poles wanted to do their own thing, or the stakes wanted to stay in the ground forever, or the tent needed to be refolded five times before you could fit it back in it's bag. Even one of these enchantments was beyond me. But I couldn't help thinking that it had been made specifically for me.

So who had made it for me? My father, like the sword? Or someone else?

I wonder if there was some way to magic up a few of these answers, so I'd be at least a little less confused? If so, it's probably beyond my current power; cause I couldn't think of a way to do it currently. Maybe if I read more. Which would necessitate me demanding down time in which to read.

Maybe I would have to, but that felt like a drastic measure this morning. I could feel time wasting as I stood there, bag in hand. A quick glance showed much the same point of view among the rest of us; we were all already packed.

Well everyone but Ethan, who was still rolling up his bedroll with some muted curses.

“Alright Lady Muse, you got up last, so all the other jobs were taken before you. You have the last one; filling in the latrine.”

Karl handed me the small shovel with a smile. Jerk.

Sigh, Oh well. I took the thing with as much grace as I could muster and went to do it. Someone had been very... enthusiastic during the night, and with no paper, no less. I tried very hard not to breathe through my nose.

When I was done, I couldn't smell anything though. Jobs done right, that's my motto, even in bizarro world.

I made sure the shovel was properly clean then returned it. By the time I was done, all evidence of the campsite's recent use had vanished; a form of magic in itself, though one of mundane origin. While I could do it, I had to admit to myself that I couldn't do it as well as some of my companions.

And then just like that, we were back on the road, squinting in the suddenly brighter sunshine. There was no one on the road, a fact that both made me sigh with relief even as it filled me with a vague dread.

You would think someone else would have used the roads by now. I mean sure, most people would be motivated by fear not to, but we couldn't be the only intrepid types in all the land, reshaped or not... could we?

Something wasn't adding up here.

Something was telling me that we should not be the only people on this road. A road which, only four days ago, was busy. Not the busiest by any means, but seeing cars zip by every few minutes was the norm. That same road for the past few days, now had nothing on it but a few kobolds, setting traps.

They hadn't even had any victims in their traps, something I at least had looked for. Even considering the lack of time, that seemed odd.

Having nothing else to do, I sent my Raven to scout the path ahead. I had already taken the place Karl wanted me to take; right behind him. Thomas was scouting the road ahead in his own way, Phil was behind. Matt and Ethan were leading the way and setting the pace, and Randolf was behind us watching the rear.

We were still lined up like ducks or lemmings to an ambush, but we couldn't do much about that without ditching the road, something we were loath to do. For better or worse, by silent majority, we felt our best chance to get answers lay with civilization. So we stuck to the one landmark we had that we knew would lead us to it.

It was somewhat after the sun was directly overhead that we got to the next village. I compared what I saw at the other side of clearing to the mental map I had. Yep, Georgetown township, right there. Named after Washington and sporting some five thousand people a few days ago... and currently a walled community.

Which was very odd; the other small towns, ours or Shrewsberry, hadn't been walled.

“Let's wait a bit Karl, like we did for Shrewsberry.”

He nodded, picking up on the feeling we all seemed to have, and we waited just outside the forest. I could see that the road led both into the town... and a fresher, less beaten path led off to the side. Focusing, my eyes could pick up signs of decay in the wooden palisade; The logs weren't chinked well, and the ropes were sagging.

Five minutes revealed no activity on the wall or in the watchtower, and the gate was sagging open. I could see not a single hint of movement. The grass in the clearing closest to the town was a mottled brown and laying over. It did not move in the hint of a breeze we had, as the other grasses did.

I recalled my raven and sent him over the place. His general sense of the village was a lack of motion; of activity of any sort. There was nothing more he could communicate to me, my link with him wasn't good enough yet and my ability to speak his language nonexistent at the moment.

“I think whatever happened here, we missed it.”

Thomas picked up on something I hadn't thought of.

“Chances are we missed it some time ago; there are no traces of smoke. Fires around this place would be going strong for days after they were made; even at home some of us had embers in our fireplaces, pumping out some smoke. Nothing like that here.”

Karl nodded.

“Not a smoking gun in and of itself, but highly suggestive. Alright so a vote; do we follow that,' he pointed to the newer trail leading away from Georgetown. 'or do we go in?”

I didn't even hesitate.

“We go in. There may be answers in there, especially because it looks like it does, not in spite of it.”

Matt and oddly enough, Ethan both backed me, with a chorus of “I second that.” followed by a mild glare at each other.

Thomas and Pastor Collins shrugged their lack of feeling, while Randolf and Phil were more cautious.

“I don't like the look of it. Or the smell. I say we go around.”

The way Randolf was fingering the scar road map on his face was a bit disconcerting.

“The smell, Randy? We are a bit far for any scents to reach us.”

“I'm not talking about that kind of smell, Karl.”

“I'm with Randy on this one, Karl. Something just feels wrong here.”

I nodded, letting them know I felt it too, but refuting the argument.

“That's exactly why we need to look. We're investigating, remember?”

Randolf nodded slowly.

“Yes, I understand the point. I just feel that caution is more important. We can't do anyone any good if we die to some random dinosaur or something worse, regardless of what we find.”

Phil added his thoughts.

“I'm just not a fan of dying at all, for any reason.”

Karl made a show of considering it, but we all knew his mind was already made up.

“Noted; but we also need to take risks too, and this one looks like a good one to take. We go in, standard formation and try to be quiet this time.”

We got into our standard traveling formation again, only spread out a bit more, and started in again. There was no hail or challenge, and no noise at all save for things rattling in the light breeze. The sun seemed to dim a bit more with each step towards the place, and the willies were a definite thing.

Up close it was easy to see the palisade was in total disrepair; the gate hadn't been destroyed by conquest but by the elements. The ropes were loose and rotted, the wood crumbling and lopsided. The path was overgrown oddly enough, with weeds long dead. The smell was of vague decay and mold.

Once past the gate, it was even more strange. The sunlight seemed not to reach all the way into the village itself, and there were dead weeds and live disgusting looking mushrooms everywhere. There was standing brackish water in puddles, stone depressions, and even holes in the wood rotting everywhere.

Not a single building looked as if it had been touched in ten years. The thatch roofs of the houses had long since rotted or fallen in, the doors were as rotted as the palisade gated and also hanging ajar, and the assembled detritus of living had seen much better days. Our own noises and footsteps seemed curiously muted in the silence, as if they were not a part of the scene in which we found ourselves.

I'd been to this town five days ago; it had been a bustling if small Midwestern backwoods metropolis.

The good news is, we saw no evidence of bodies. Any bodies, even animals.

I had a hard time thinking we'd even find insects, for some reason. I certainly didn't see any; not even mosquito larvae in the brackish water, and normally such a thing was a given.

I certainly wasn't going to drink any water from here; and food was a revolting thought. I normally liked mushrooms, but ewww. A glance showed the mushrooms were the only things alive in our sight range. My raven felt no reticence in coming down however, so I used him to fly by and see if anything was startled out of hiding.

Nothing. Just the dead grass screaming it's reedy moans in the wind.

I looked to Karl. I actually felt splitting up into two teams would be a decent idea here, as long as we didn't stray too far. We needed to do like the Scooby gang and cover ground to look for clues while not tempting old man Rivers to put on his mask. But I didn't dare suggest that; it would be summarily rejected, just because I made it.

So I waited for the proper decision with patience, poise, and grace.

“What's gotten into you? Fire ants in your pants?”

Matt was grinning, a wan thing in this atmosphere, but Karl actually looked concerned after asking that. The jerk. I was not fidgeting!

“I'm fine, thanks. No I'm not detecting anything other than what you all are. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm not.”

He gave me his patented 'pull the other one, it has bells on' look but didn't call me on the statement.

“Alright. Randolf, Thomas, Pastor Collins and I will take the right. Lady Muse, Matt, Ethan, and Phil take the left. Yell if you find anything interesting or unusual. Or at least, unusual for this place. Be careful, and meet back at the gates in an hour, whether you find anything or not.”

I knew I wouldn't have to say anything. Karl and I understood each other. I even understood his reasons for splitting the group up the way he did. He could have taken Ethan too though, I doubted his presence would even slow anything that wanted to eat me down. I also doubted he'd try.

Pretty uncharitable of me, but I couldn't help it. I wouldn't let anything eat him though; if I did, I'd never hear the end of it. My raven still couldn't spot anything alive from the air, so I started off along the first side street leading of into our assigned search area. Matt stopped me with an iron hand.

“I go first, lady Muse. Ethan you have the rear. Phil, scout for us.”

With a whispered “got it” Phil was gone; talk about spooked. Sigh; more glass treatment. If there was anything weird going on, I was likely more able to handle it than Matt. After all, there was nothing alive visible here, which left more unpleasant options. The old gas station was in the forefront of my mind.

Matt was in fact, placing himself directly between something he likely could not fight and me. I didn't know whether to hug him or brain him. And where had the hugging thought come from, anyway? That's it, he definitely deserved a braining later, if only for making me think about hugging.

Ethan wasn't talking, which was a plus; his eyes were everywhere, and his hand was stroking his ax like he was a villain in a movie and it was his cat. It looked like a good “boo” would send him screaming back to the road.

I could be really mean here. I was half tempted to. More than half tempted.

Bur I wouldn't. A soft tone would do wonders.

“Hey, Ethan.”

He looked at me, the question in his eyes. I pointed to his ax, and his hand upon it.

“Relax. I know how the place feels. But we need to do this. Just... take a breath, OK?”

I could see it all; he started to get angry at what I was suggesting, then stopped and noticeably backed that up. He was actually taking the advice as intended.

“It's just that a place like this is a prime breeding ground for spooks.”

Well that sounded ominous; but wait, how did he know that? How did any of us know that? What was actually tripping our senses here? That last sense we had that spoke of danger; it was obvious we were all feeling that sense screaming at us, but why? How? We weren't similar anymore, at least not too similar. This felt like a clue. Perhaps a small one, but a clue nonetheless.

“How do you know?”

He lost his temper a bit, and raised his voice accordingly.

“What do you mean how? It just is! Look around you, you daft elf!”

Then the light dawned yet again, just as Matt turned around with a warning glare.

“I get it lady Muse... it's the lore of my people that abandoned places like this are a haven for hungry ghosts....”

By people I was fairly certain that he didn't mean humans. I had to bring him back from the brink before he retreated mentally, so I nodded.

“Mine too; we have that much in common. Why though, that's anyone's guess.”

A pointed glance at Matt, who had heard us but whose face only betrayed confusion gave me another piece. There was no lore of his people regarding places like this, just as you'd expect from nice logical humanity. All I had was the knowledge that such lore was there; apparently Ethan felt it strongly enough to remember individual stories? I'd have to ask later, at a more appropriate time.

In the interest of being thorough, I went to one of the homes. The door was collapsed into a bundle of rotted wood to the side, which seemed a little soon for the rest of the decay of the place, as if it started decaying earlier. A look inside without breaking the plane of the doorway was therefore easy to accomplish.

That look revealed a rotting oak table and a few collapsed chairs, rusted pots and utensils, and a crumbling fireplace much like my own back home. The floor, oddly enough, was made of clay tiles that had at one point been painted. Those tiles were cracked and faded.

Even the dirt encrusted cloth doll in the corner looked rotted.

On the one hand, the door looked more dilapidated than anything else; it was almost sawdust. On the other hand, everything else was fairly uniform. Which was odd in the extreme. Given different weather conditions and exposure to the elements, I would expect the stuff in the houses to be better preserved.

That did not seem to be the case, but perhaps I was wrong? Perhaps there was something different here going on?

I did not enter the house. Call it a superstition. I also stopped Matt from entering the house I was looking in.

“No Matt.”

“Why not?”

A good question, and one I didn't really have an answer to. I did have a good deflection though.

“Remember the gas station? Let's try not to disturb anything inside the homes, alright?”

He thought a bit.

“Got you; guess we can ignore the interiors for now. If we need to we can always check them later. If we don't we are just wasting time doing it.”

Reminded of the time I looked up. Maybe a half hour had passed already, judging from the sun. That seemed a little odd; a little off. Had we really been looking that long?

“Come on, let's hurry and complete a sweep.”

We walked quickly, attempting to take in everything. My raven caught occasional glimpses of Phil around us, or the others moving through. I didn't want him to get too close for fear my own party would get twitchy and kill him.

Unfortunately, all we saw was more of the same. It was beginning to remind me of the story of that old lost colony, Roanoke. I doubted it was the same of course, but everyone was gone, and there as no evidence as to where; nothing was out of place, there was no rubble from an attack, (like by a dinosaur) and no bodies. It was as if everyone who made the town had simply decided to get up and walk off, taking nothing with them.

And that did nothing to solve the issue of what was making us jumpier than cats high on catnip. Though it was suggestive. Maybe the feeling itself was responsible for everyone leaving? ....Right. Leaving ten years ago, when our Georgetown was populated and bustling 5 days ago.

This town did not match my Georgetown. Not only that, but it didn't match my expectations either. The why seemed very important; but there was just nothing around to tell me. Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some presence here; it only got stronger the more we lingered in fact. It was for that reason I kept us out of the houses, I realized.

The town still felt occupied, somehow. By something.

And I was an idiot for not recognizing that feeling earlier.

“You know something elf, I can see it on your face.”

I came back from my musings to the accusation from the peanut gallery.

“I'll tell you later, Ethan. For now let's just focus on completing the pass. And getting out of here. Like now. We have our evidence, or at least some of it. It's time to focus on getting out.”

Matt needed no further urging for haste. And we completed our half circle around the town; according to the position of the sun, we were late by about forty-five minutes. Yet when we arrived, we could just make out the other part of our party at the other end of the street, leisurely headed our way and not waiting impatiently for us.

I gestured with my arms rather manically, but did not yell. Then we waited. For another half and hour easily, we waited for them to walk down the street to us. They did not hesitate or stop to sight see, yet it still took them that long to cross the distance.

Matt caught on before they caught up to us; I had to stop him from joining them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt anything, maybe it would.

Karl spoke first, as soon as they got in range of a normal tone of voice. His voice didn't carry far, even in the silence.

“Alright Lady Muse, what's going on?”

Thank goodness they seemed to have picked up on it too, at least something. How much remained to be seen.

“Later Karl, we need to move now. I'll explain later, once we're clear. Back the way we came, not through the town.”

With a raised eyebrow and a nod, he led the way.

I wanted to run, and I likely wasn't the only one, but his pace forced a walk out of all of us. By the end of that walk I was ready to jump out of my skin; the sun told me it was nearing six-o-clock or so. That position seemed to reverse some in the sky with each step out of the village, until we stood once again on the border of the dead grass, where the newer path around Georgetown was.

On the other side of that, the Sun seemed to be nearing the three-o-clock range. Plenty of daylight left, and possibly another mystery solved. I spoke up first to forestall the inevitable questions.

“Time and possibly space were acting differently in there, I'm all but certain of it. Why I don't know, but it didn't strike me as safe to stay, given that everything affected seemed to be aging rapidly.”

I made as good an inspection of my companions as possible, even as they got the idea themselves and looked each other over. They didn't look any older to me. Pastor Collins said a prayer and made a show of looking at us with glowy eyes.

“We haven't been affected by any sort of aging magic or curse; perhaps we need more exposure for it to affect us.”

Karl interrupted the general freak out session.

“Then let's not give it a chance to; let's assume Lady Muse is right, and get down the path and well out of here before anything happens.”

We stayed to the far side of the trail... and we didn't walk. I checked my gear as best I could, on the off chance it didn't affect people so much as non-living objects. But all my gear seemed perfectly preserved. From what I could tell the gear on everyone else seemed okay too.

I wasn't too worried about myself; elves age slower than humans, a well known fact from fantasy lore everywhere; if my human companions didn't look older, I wouldn't either. Besides I was pretty sure Randolf at the very least would speak up had I suddenly become a hag. My hands still looked unlined, and my body was firm.

“Not that I don't mind the show, but what are you doing?”

Of course Matt, being behind me, had seen everything. I took my hands from my breasts.

“Just checking same as you. I saw you checking the family jewels.”

I was still faced firmly ahead so I could only hear his grin.

“Hey got to keep an eye, and a hand, on the important things. You look fine by the way; better than fine, you vain foxy thing, you. If anything you lost a year or two.”

“You look... unaffected as well.”

The grin I was hearing turned insufferable.

Karl didn't turn around either.

“Shut up. Keep silent and let's focus on distance.”

I was rather awed by the stamina we all displayed; we kept up the not quite headlong flight for a bit over an hour. Phil and Thomas spent their time scouting ahead as fast as could reasonably be deemed safe, and the rest of us booked it.

I was gasping and wheezing with the rest by the time we did stop, but I felt I could go another hour and not drop. I didn't let on though; poor Ethan was doubled over coughing, and looked as if another step would kill him.  We were very lucky nothing jumped us.

Or maybe not, we hadn't seen anything alive big enough to jump us, though the insects and squirrels were back at least.

Another check proved we all looked just as old as we had this morning, and no older. Same for our gear. Maybe, just maybe, I could relax. Of course if something was wrong, for this type of thing pastor Collins was our best bet. I wasn't sure I could do anything about freaky time warps or premature aging, but a goddess could reverse either... if pastor Collins could make her care enough.

I on the other hand, would have to peruse my book for answers or fixes on the off chance. Bah, who was I kidding, I'd be doing that the moment we had camp set up.

“Alright, we set up camp here. I want it nice and cozy before dark.”

This time there were no arguments. That feeling of strange occupation, of presence, had left me by now; I wasn't sure when I had lost it. But the area still felt haunted to me. By the looks of things, I wasn't the only one still spooked. No one else wanted to take chances either.

“Lady Muse, you have firewood duty. I want enough to last the night.”

On that Karl and I were in perfect agreement.

“Wait, I don't think Lady Muse should be off alone; I'll go with her.”

Matt's concern was touching, but easily waved off.

“Oh, don't worry about it. I'm not going out there at all. You can watch me to your heart's content.”

Karl gave me the stink eye.

“Don't worry, you'll have your firewood.”

After all, it was only the matter of concentration and focus... and perhaps too much energy for me to waste. The small mud man waited patiently for me to collect myself and give it orders.

“Bring me dead wood no larger than that man's forearm, and no smaller than my finger. Continue gathering the wood for the next hour and bring it right to this spot to my left. Carefully stack the wood into a neat pile. After that you may go.”

It nodded, burbled once, then slid it's way off to do as ordered.

“And why did you do that?”

“I saw some Holly and willow that I'm going to use to weave into a few symbols that will offer us some protection from the supernatural; ghosts and other spooks, such as you might find in a town like we just left. I'd rather have that done before dark. Since I wouldn't be able to do both before dark, and since an elemental isn't likely to be attacked by a ghost, it goes out and I stay.”

He sighed, taking in Ethan's hopeful look at the mention of protective symbols. No doubt he was cursing our superstitious selves.

“Makes sense I guess. Provided that mud man can collect enough wood. Alright then, get to work on those charms.”

Rolling my eyes so he'd know exactly what I felt as I snapped off the crisp salute, I went to the nearest willow tree. I hated to tear limbs off live trees and such branches would be less effective in any case, but this next part was going to be embarrassing. So I waited until no one was watching or listening in, leaned up to the trunk, and hummed a certain song as softly as I could, convincing the tree to part with a few branches in exchange for the rapid growth of others.

A fair exchange for a tree, as it were.

Once done with the willow, it was on to collect the Holly. I turned around after crooning to it to find an audience. For once though, they did not seem interested in making wisecracks. I settled in to work, weaving the very supple limbs together in a specified manner while the other camp chores were done, weaving my own magic into each in turn as my hands worked.

Pastor Collins came by as I was working on the third one, working his own brand of magic over me. He was checking us all for various evil influences, but I couldn't spare the focus to see exactly what he was doing.

I had one for each cardinal direction by the time I felt my elemental dispel; it had made a neatly stacked mound of logs and branches almost as tall as I was in an hour; easily enough to last the night. The ground wasn't all that even but none of us wanted to go back into the woods, so the firepit and fire were started right on the trail itself.

I didn't smell any rain, which was a good thing, because between the drain from the elemental, and the charms themselves, I was pretty much flat on my back. I barely managed to hang them properly, and collapsed on my half unpacked sleeping bag. Matt was of course the first to notice.

“you okay?”

“No; help me unroll this thing?”

He helped while I took a long pull of water from my canteen. As soon as he had it spread out I flopped on it, breaking out some granola from my stores. I was pretty sure none of us wanted to test eating anything from what could be a haunted wood.

“Well pastor? What's the good word?”

“No curses, no strange illnesses or ailments, no ill effects at all from what I can tell. There was a faint echo of an echo of something, but I don't know what it was. All I know is She let me know that while it could have been very bad for us had we stayed, nothing is wrong with us now.”

Of course She meant his goddess. Whom he had asked directly... and whom had answered. Guess I really didn't need to worry about any crisis of faith issues anymore. That in an of itself was another clue. At least, I thought it was.

After all, it could mean that pastor Collins was 'going native'. Perhaps have a goddess breathing down his neck added just enough pressure for such a thing. And perhaps I was way off base, and a colossal jerk for thinking such a thing.

“So what did we learn by viewing that town, and why did we risk our lives going into it?”

Ugh. Of course Karl would ask now that we were somewhat safe. And I wouldn't be able to pass out until I answered him.

“We learned that time did not flow in the township of Georgetown at the same rate it does for us. Why, I don't know. We also learned that either the people moved away from Georgetown before this happened, or were not affected somehow. We also learned that the Georgetown we remember and the one that we just saw earlier are not the same.

Before this, we saw towns that were parallel to our own, and people we knew. Georgetown was different. Why, I can't say. I'm not willing to stay there long enough to uncover all the answers that place undoubtedly has. I'm not sure what the cost of staying would be, but I'm sure I don't want to find out.

We also learned that some of us have an actual other history jammed sideways into our heads. Ask Ethan if you want to know more. Well no rain tonight, so I'm just going to sleep. Don't mess with the charms, and wake me if WW3 starts.”

And amidst incredulous stares, I did.

(Chapter 8.)

I came back to the land of the living slowly, amidst half remembered nightmares involving strange spectral phrases and broken things.  Almost as if those same dream creatures or whatever they were refused to let me go.

But come to I eventually did, to find Matt and Phil both watching over the camp from opposite sides. A double watch I approved of, but why didn't they wake me to take my turn? I probably could have used the break from... whatever had been in my head last night; any concrete images had vanished like wisps of fog with full wakefullness.

Upon closer inspection; both Matt and Phil both looked pale and wild-eyed. The others were tossing and turning in their sleep, and the wards I created last night were glowing ever so faintly in the pre-dawn light. Another moment and I'd have been unable to see it as the sun broke over us all.

I wouldn't have missed the heavy, heaving sighs from both our sentries however. Something was up, and I really hoped it wasn't what I thought it was. They both gave a guilty start, having been focused on the surroundings away from camp, and more than likely, on their own thoughts as well.

“So what did I miss? What has you so spooked?”

Matt answered me, Phil was busy waking up everyone else. There was no waiting in pleasant languor this morning.

“About 3 or 4 am, just as we settled into our watch; we started hearing noises. Distant, near silent, but audible to both of us clearly from across camp. That was about the time everyone started tossing and turning.”

Noises was in no way clear enough; and from the way his eyes rolled, he knew it... and was dreading my coming question.

“What kind of noises?”

Phil broke in with a laconic tone that hid his fear and relief well; not entirely of course, but well. Something had definitely happened.

“Oh just voices and sounds of the world at first; things like cars and trucks and planes. After that it was mostly screaming.”

That didn't sound good at all.

“Screaming?”

“Long, loud, wet and throat tearing... for a solid half hour or so, multiple voices, all screaming. That and your wards glowing.”

Well what the hell?!?

“Why didn't you wake anyone up?”

Matt fielded that one.

“We actually tried. None of you would wake, not for anything. So we settled in, tried to watch for more physical threats and hoped for the best.”

Well that explains the relief at seeing the sun rise; only all too well. Made me more relieved to see every one else getting up; haunted and knowing looks between them or not. As for me, I immediately started working on my calligraphy.

The others were finished packing up by the time I had the signs ready, bright and dry with bright red painted words and borders. Each one had a warning that there was danger in the area ahead, and in the event that someone absolutely had to travel that way, to bypass the town we'd just seen. In as many languages as I could, which turned out to be six. I could only hope it was enough.

The kobolds we met two days ago, for example, might well be too stupid to read. But they had to survive somehow so maybe their instincts were better? Orcs I knew were superstitious, and would take the warnings seriously. So would elves or dwarves, simply by knowing that I (an elf) wrote it.

Humans would likely ignore it, or worse, go into the town itself to prove there was nothing to fear. But I had to try. Maybe I could save the smart ones at least. Karl looked on, and I could sense the approval. In fact while I was painting those signs no one bothered me. I posted the first and started walking along the border in the woods itself. I had to cover as much ground as possible.

“Muse, wait!”

I looked back to find Matt running up. He swiped half the signs from my hands with a wink.

“Faster this way. I'll take this side.”

A sign every 20 paces meant that I had covered about as much area as a football field. Any further back into the undergrowth and no one would see the signs anyway, no matter how brightly painted. I was tempted to cast some sort of attention gathering magic on them... but I didn't know any. In my opinion that was a rather large hole in my magical education, and one I should remedy as soon as possible.

After all, magical attention getting could be the first component to magical distraction spells, which would be an alternative to killing people indiscriminately. Killing was something  some people might go for, or even enjoy... but it wasn't me.

Thanks to Matt, we were ready to go after only a half hour. While Tom was tapping his foot, clearly anxious to be gone, and Ethan was pale and staring back in the direction of the ghost town, Karl was patient. He didn't say a word as we came trotting back from opposite directions, just motioned everyone to fall in. Which we did.

I had a debate about taking my charms, as they cost me quite a bit in power and materials to make. But if I took so much as one, it compromised the circle. And that circle might save a life, or even several. So I left them.

The slips holding the charms wouldn't even degrade in the weather; not even the worst rainstorm. I did good work. And I carefully stomped down on my feelings of regret over leaving them. I could always make more. Well, at least one full batch more. Hopefully we would get to a town where I could restock some of my precious metals; they made good bindings.

I had to work pretty hard to keep up; the pace being set away from the gloomy forest and towards the relatively less gloomy forest was almost a jog. Ethan was even trying to push the pace a little, by jogging himself. As for me, I didn't think it necessary. The phantom sounds and images had dissipated like so much mist in the sunlight. It was safe.

Well, ghost safe, at any rate. Though come to think of it, we hadn't seen anything alive since yesterday. To be fair, we hadn't been looking all that hard, but we'd only seen birds. Birds I was not seeing or hearing so far this morning. My own raven did not count.

Nothing scrabbling about in the underbrush either. Plenty of insects though.

And then just as I was about to quote a movie where an alien comes down to Earth to hunt people in true one-liner fashion, a flock of starlings took off. A large flock, several hundred strong, and headed directly away from the ghost town, as we were. My ears started to twitch with all the sudden sounds of re-awakened life.

No one else seemed to be catching on, but everyone had breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the starlings. I deemed it safe to let my raven scout. Of course no sooner did that happen than he had to dodge a hawk, going after breakfast. My raven was smart enough to dodge at least. The starlings, not so much, but that was nature, and no concern of mine.

The road widened out and signs of recent use became more frequent. Fresh cart wheels and spoor from beasts of burden, mostly. I wondered when the last time I had seen an ox was. I would certainly see one soon; that was ox crap sitting right on the road.

The forest also started to clear, but not into plains. Instead the trees faded into worked land, with wheat, corn, and beans on either side as far as the eye could see. Broken up by houses dotted amongst the fields like stars in the night sky. Each field had a fence or posts marking the boundary of it, and for the most part they were small compared to the farms I was used to. Not that I had seen the status of farming lately, I'd been too busy.

But now I could see the image brought home; without the labor saving devices of our machines (our past, I thought with a sense of irony), without tractors and intricately made metal plows and the other things we had developed, there were many more farmers needed to work a given plot of land than we had been used to for at least a century.

And if a Feudal system was back in place around here, then most of them would be starving come winter.

But I had seen no evidence of that in the last two towns; there was very much a sense of 'you earn it, it's yours' about food and goods both from the last two (inhabited) towns. but if this situation we were in was persistent, how long would that last? The older systems from earlier eras were very much the ancestors of modern day protection rackets. Not so good in the 21st century, where people's rights were respected. But very good for dark age or early Renaissance tech and systems, when rights only belong to the strong.

I'd know when we hit the first city; which should be tomorrow given our pace. There would be no village within easy reach today, unless geography were markedly different.

With a mental shrug, I waved to those farmers throwing up hesitant waves our direction. If they were friendly to people they no longer recognized, that was a good sign. Of course, the general settled nature of the land without any form of oversight for things coming out of the woods was a little odd, but much as I wanted to break ranks and go ask about it, the look on Karl's face stopped me.

His face was taut and thoughtful. Come to think of it, the farmers stayed seemed to be staying well out of yell range... or bowshot. Wonder why that was? Matt just looked worried, when he looked back my direction. Ethan was oddest of all; as pale as he had been when back in the haunted forest. I really hoped he didn't know anything I didn't. The farmers I had seen thus far were all human, but surely that was just coincidence, right?

There had to be Elf and Dwarf farmers somewhere, right?

For that matter, there had to be Elven and Dwarven controlled lands. It was a fantasy world given. So where were they? I didn't have a clue, save for one small nagging feeling that spoke to me almost like the old movie I vaguely remembered; “Go west, young man, go west.” Except I wasn't a man anymore. What I needed to find, and hadn't really been able to before I left home, was a map.

A map, like any of the books I had owned, would have been altered to show the new world we were now a part of, right? So if so, then a map would answer many of the questions about where we were and how we got there. It might even answer a few on how this all happened.

But maps were usually more rare than books if this world followed ours in tech level and such. Only the truly wealthy of the age could afford well drawn hand made maps. But then, if a map was a map was a map, and simply changed... wouldn't we have several per person just lying around? I mean Rand McNally printed maps should be just as good now as anything else. But most of those had been stored in car glove compartments... and cars were horses now, right?

I missed seeing any horses with glove compartments, let alone maps. Argh but this was infuriating! For every thing I remembered, every idea considered, it felt as if there was a counter to it. And I bet, I just bet, that Karl already considered the map thing, and if I open my mouth I'd look like an idiot. And of course here I was, worrying myself silly over stupid thoughts I couldn't answer right now. I was doing more than looking like an idiot lately.

Pulling out my journal with the intention to sketch and make notes on my questions brought up another of the same; namely, we all still knew how to read, didn't we? Literacy was pretty much taken for granted in our society, with 98% of all of us knowing how to do it. I knew how, and in more than one language. Matt knew how. Pastor Collins had to know how, in order to read the tenets of his faith. But did we all?

Yet another question to put into the journal for another time. Hopefully a time not too distant.

The further we hiked, the more settled the land got. The less wild. And the more uneasy I felt. So I almost jumped when the men in armor appeared in the distance, still perhaps a mile away when my eyes picked them out. They were fully armed and armored, wearing long chain mail shirts with greaves, and sported spears, short-swords, and large daggers.

There were twelve of them, and they were being led by a man on horseback clad in splint mail and bearing a large curved sword. A scimitar perhaps, but it looked a bit too large to be one. It was hard to tell at this distance. They seemed to be dressed alike, as a cohesive party, but it was hard to tell. But then again...

“You all see that?”

Karl responded.

“See what?”

“The party of armed men on the road ahead of us. They look like uniformed troops.”

Seeing the hint of hope in their eyes I cursed my traitor tongue and amended my words.

“Well, troops from the dark ages or so at least. Not U.S. army or anything awesome like that.”

Seeing the fleeting hope dash itself on the rocks of reality hurt, just a little. But still I had to steer this conversation to fruitful ground.

“Well at least now we know why the farmers don't seem too worried, I think.”

“Oh?”

I nodded almost to myself, watching carefully and making sure before I replied.

“Yep, no one is making any moves to run or avoid them, so they aren't likely to be criminals. Uniform equipment marks them out as an armed force, and the greetings from the farmers ahead of us marks them as friendly.”

Or at least friendly to the farmers. I tended to doubt they were dangerous to us on principle, but these were interesting times, after all. I certainly wouldn't discount it.

“Well do we relocate and let them go by, or do we walk on?”

Matt put it nicely, but I could tell he wanted to hide. It was pointless though, and I proved it by pointing  at the farmers, who had been keeping track of us the entire time; no doubt in order to stay away from us. But they knew where we were now, and unless we wanted to commit murder and flee they would be able to direct any pursuit our way.

Karl hadn't even asked; he just kept squinting forward with a frown creasing his face. I don't think his eyes were in the best shape, it was pretty obvious he couldn't see the troops and wanted to. Come to think of it. It looked like I was the first to see them, and they still weren't in range. Oops, couldn't everyone else see this far? Yet another question for the book.

At any rate, it took a good fifteen minutes of both of us marching towards each other before we met. And well before that we all got a much better look at them.

Their armor was all shiny steel chain mail without a single speck of rust. They also all wore matching helmets, full one with a face cut into them and a nose piece. I wasn't sure what they were called, but they reflected the sun as well as any mirror. They had the same burnished greaves and armguards. They were even roughly the same height (too darn tall, or about 6 feet each) and their weapons could have been stamped from a mold. Unfortunately I couldn't make out much in the way of features, as the helms prevented that.

Their leader however, didn't wear one. His bare head was open to the sun and his hair bleached blonde from it's rays. At least I assumed that was what it was from... it certainly looked like it. His face was open but creased with old cares, but his blue eyes sparkled with vitality. He could have been anywhere from 25 to 45; it was just hard to tell.

He didn't look to be suspicious of us, just riding right up on that large shaggy corn colored roan of his. His splint mail gathered more light than the chain mail though, and I was forced to squint my eyes almost shut when he got close. His sword felt as if it had power, and up close was just as big an enigma as it was from a distance.

They all wore matching emblem patches on their sleeves, a shield and crossed spears (which seemed a little generic to me). The man on the horse also wore another patch that was three simple yellow lines. So he was the officer of course, as if I needed more confirmation.

They all had less road dust on them than we did, and hid their curiosity somewhat well, though I seemed to be drawing every eye. Could they see my ears or something? My hair should be covering them....

“Well met friends! And who might you all be?”

I really should have suspected that big, bluff, hale and hearty type voice and forced tone. The smile didn't fully reach his eyes, even though his soldiers seemed to be keeping their weapons well away from us and any misunderstandings.

As I had been told to do, I let Karl do the talking. Let him screw things up with the locals, I wouldn't care. Much.

“We are travelers from the village of Solace, beyond Shrewsberry; an expedition to discover what the hell exactly is going on, basically. I am Karl, this is Phil, Tom, Ethan, pastor Collins, Randolf, Matt, and Lady Muse.”

Understanding crossed his face like the sunlight itself as he shifted in his saddle.

“Ahh, another one of those. Well you're as welcome as the rest of them, but I can't promise you'll get much in the way of answers. I'm Harry, and this is my squad of merry men. We all used to be police for  Toledo, which you are not far from. I must admit to being curious about what you've seen, since you are the first expedition to come from this particular direction; we've had several from the North, South, and East already.”

“Well a dozen or so miles back is the town of Georgtown. It's... well, in a nutshell, it's haunted somehow. If anyone else made it through before us, I would be very much surprised. We only made it because of our mage here.”

He spared me a second appraising look and a courtly bow while he was still on his horse, which is quite the trick.

“Ahh yes, the famous Lady Muse, who commands the elements. You have quite the reputation my dear! I see at least some of it is well deserved.”

Was he flirting with me? It certainly sounded like it. And that was all kinds of shudder worthy. But hopefully I was misreading that. And wait a sec, how would I have a reputation of any kind past my home town? I had been to Toledo before, but no one there knew me from Adam. And he knew I had some control of the elements. Certainly sounded like he knew me. My phantom reputation had spread pretty far.

“You know of me? How, exactly?”

His hearty grin gained an undertone of someone who knew a secret that he wouldn't share.

“Well, somehow, the people who can work true magic at a certain level are known to us all. Tell me, have you heard of Stick?”

And like a light bulb in my mind, the image went off; a stick thin old man given to wearing flowing gray robes who knew some of the secrets of conjuring and enchanting. He worked out of an old pile of bricks tower in the middle of downtown Toledo.

Of course, Toledo didn't have such a tower last time I was here, but I knew it did now, with the same certainty that I knew the sun rose in the East. Which would have been confusing I guess if it didn't anymore.

“I see your point.”

“I take it you have not had much in the way of more worldly interactions as yet; those of us in larger cities spent much of our first day thoroughly confused, as multiple associations such as that one were made one after the other. For example, Toledo does not have a mayor anymore... we have a duke. Which I will now direct you to see, so that all your questions may be answered.”

“Not going to take us personally?”

He shook his head, smile still in place.

“Not at all, just take this badge here' – he handed it to Karl after a short hesitation; I could tell he wanted to hand it to me – 'and when you make it to the gates hand the guards that and tell them Harry sent you. Chances are they would let you in anyway, but I want to make sure. The more magic users we have working on why this happened, the better, to my thinking. After all, if this isn't magic, then what is?”

Something about that last statement struck me as wrong, but I conceded the point until later. I caught Karl motioning us out of the corner of my eye. I looked over to find my group already stepping to one side of the road, so I hurried to do the same so I wouldn't look like a jerk.

“Alright, just follow the road then I take it?”

“Yes, just follow the road and show the badge at the gate. If you have no further question, we will just be on our way? We need to patrol this road and see where it leads. Orders are orders are orders, after all.”

Wait, hadn't he heard us?

“But A good 6 hours from here, you'll hit the boundaries of Georgetown. We weren't kidding, it's haunted somehow. We even posted signs. It's dangerous.”

“I'm sure it is, but there are towns and outposts that belong to the great kingdom of Ohier there, and our orders are to find them or find out what's become of them.”

The kingdom of Ohier; a somewhat back woods kingdom of the lands of man, stretching to the border of wild country and then... elven lands? So we were far to the East of elf lands? What did that mean for places like California and Oregon? Did other places have Elf lands, like Britain or France?

I shook my head clear as Harry looked on, amused.

“Remembering where you come from?”

“Sort of. Look, if you absolutely must go past the signs we laid out, camp at the campsite we used, the charms should protect you, and then book it using the path, not the road. And by all that's good in the world, don't stop until you hit Shrewsberry, even should you find yourselves traveling at night.”

That took the wind out of his sails. I felt gratified to finally get past his happy go lucky demeanor. And then ashamed of feeling that; I was a horrible person sometimes.

“Any other hints of advice?”

“Yes; beware of dinosaurs. We had one attack us, and it required sorcery to defeat, or at least easily defeat.  Came right through our town and tried to eat the residents, first day. If you see one before it sees you, hide.”

He nodded, glancing back at his men, whose visible features were beginning to look a little green.

“Anything else?”

I shook my head. I wanted to tell them about my suspicions on the roaming orcs and the zombie encounter, but I didn't think his men would be able to take it after everything else.

“Um, no, that's everything. Good luck, Harry. See you again soon.”

You never know, he might survive. Though with the lack of magic users on their side (I sensed only a few small charms and the sword, and nothing the troops wore screamed 'mage' to me) I suspected they were going to die. Though if they made it to Solace, our town would take good care of them.

And with a jaunty wave he led his now much more slowly marching band of merry men off in pursuit of adventure and destiny. Which may or may not include a fast, grisly death. Once off the road we continued our own trek.

I rapidly noticed right off that the farmers in the local vicinity were no longer steering clear of us, and when I waved more than a few of them returned it with some show of enthusiasm. I was gladdened that the farmers were paying attention and smarter than they looked. That and the fact that they trusted their own armed forces or militia or whatever they were now.

That said, it gave me hope that now when I gave the warning I needed to give, it would be respected and welcomed. It took almost no time at all to single out the one I thought I needed to find; an older man with gray hair directing a few others in the tilling of a field with old school rakes and hoes.

“Hold on guys. Need to do something really quick.”

I broke ranks and vaulted the fence separating the road from the farmland, confusing my party. At least they stopped. And they shouldn't be confused, they had seen the same things I had, for craps sake.

As soon as I had vaulted the fence all work had ceased, and the old man and his staff? Family? There did seem to be a bit of resemblance there – were watching me, tools held in not quite firm grips and not quite hostile stances. In response I kept my hands in plain sight and spoke first.

They were typical of the people I'd seen in the role recently. Lined and careworn faces along with not quite clean hair, dusty clothes and wary expressions. One of the workers was a girl no more than eight years old, who was staring at me with something more akin to awe than caution.

“Hello.”

The old man's response was terse and just shy of rude in tone.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

I had to say it all quick and at once, or it would likely be misinterpreted. So I rushed it.

“Yes, I was hoping you would do me a favor and pass on a warning to the people around here. Almost a day's travel back west along the road is the town of Georgetown. It's haunted somehow. I'd strongly advise against heading that direction past the signs I posted near the road. If you could tell all your friends and neighbors, I'd really appreciate it.”

His face had opened up by the time I finished and took a breath. His family (I was sure now) had followed suit.

“We can do that. Thank you for the warning.”

“You're welcome. There is a safe path if you have business or family beyond Georgetown; you just have to be  careful to stick to the trail and not enter the town itself. We came from Solace ourselves, and made it through in good shape. But it is something to be aware of. Good luck in your endeavors”

And the old man bowed. Literally bowed to me. The little girl was doing her best fish impression and reaching an obviously forgotten grimy hand my way. It was time to get out of here before the Twilight Zone gremlins came in.

“Thank you, Lady. Good day to you, and I'll see the word gets out.”

I wasted no time, throwing a 'thanks' over my shoulder as I ran. Not the best speed I could make, but I wanted some distance before the family started worshiping me as their new goddess or something. I could still feel their eyes on my back, and it was giving me a rash.

Of course the peanut gallery had things to say when I got back to them.

“So, what was that all about? Wanted to tell them you like their banjos? Or admire the crude tools?”

Thomas was a jerk. And classist, if that was a term.

“If you must know, I was warning them, same as I did the squad we just met. The last thing I want to have happen is some random kid or farmer go into the woods chasing a horse or something, and get eaten by Georgetown somehow. The old guy is likely one of the respected members of the community and will spread the word.”

He snickered and I knew I was in for it.

“Oh? I just thought you were flirting with your new potential boyfriend.”

What the literal hell. Was he 12 or something? Was I traveling with children now? Phil sealed the deal:

“You certainly looked like you were flirting; 'Good luck, Harry! Come back soon so I can rustle your jimmies!'”

I didn't even know what that meant, but I knew it couldn't be anything good. I could guess at least. Every single day, it was something. I might well have to give one of them the toad treatment, just to teach them the meaning of respect. Karl shut that thought down.

“Enough you morons. Let's just go. The sooner we get going the sooner we can get our answers.”

And he started off at a pace just under a jog, forcing us to shut up and follow. Ethan clapped a hand to my back as he walked by in a comradely gesture that caused me to stumble. He didn't grin at that though. Friends in adversity, I guess. Matt was a little more gentle, but did the same thing, for the same reason. At least his wouldn't leave a bruise.

We walked in time with the creeping sun, silently. I for one, was enjoying the fresh scents of sage and wildflowers in the brisk breeze and bright light unobstructed by any trees. I didn't mind the gloom of the forest, but there was no substitute for the warmth and light. I really wanted to just lie in it and soak it up for an hour or so, but I knew that would go over well.

This area actually seemed pretty safe; at least nothing jumped out at us. The farmers didn't seem to be worried at all, going about business as usual; well as usual as their business could be without tractors or power tools.

And then just as the sun set, we came upon a break in the monotony of fields dirt and road dust. An oasis in the desert, a comforting glade in a forest, a sure sign of comforting civilization... An inn.

(Chapter 9.)

I didn't see an inn. I saw a hot meal that hopefully wasn't burned on one side, and a hot bath. Just a few days stewing in my own juices, even if I could keep both myself and my clothes clean with magic, was enough to swear me off camping forever. After all, it was a waste of power, and nothing beat a nice soak to clear your head.

“Do you need a moment to wax poetic or something there, princess?”

“Screw you, Phil.”

Jerk probably liked being dirty or something.

The building itself was humble but well kept, brick and stucco affair colored a light gray. It was nearly spotless, and a kid was currently washing some dirt stains off the wall facing us while grumbling; the horse that was no doubt responsible for the chore looking on innocently. That horse was one of two total, and well decked in barding and bright cloth. The other was still bearing an old cracked saddle and little else. Both had clean lines and good endurance, but the one in barding was clearly more strong than the plow horse.

And how did I know that?

The roof of the inn was thatch, but there wasn't a hint of the rotten odor one associated with old thatch, and the door was well fit to the frame, allowing little light to escape. The door opened into a well-lit lamp filled room; smoke infused, but clean. The was a sodden mat before an actual wooden floor which was somewhat clean, and the place was cheered by hangings and tapestries. Those too were somewhat less dingy than I would expect.

All in all, it was a pleasant surprise.

I had to whack the morons; only a few days, and they already forgot how to wipe their feet! I stared them all down until they did so, filing past me one by one. I followed suit and walked to the table Karl chose. It had a good view of the front door, and the door to the kitchen, and was next to the one that could only be the owner of the well-dressed horse outside.

He was middle-aged and lean, with some kind of roguish musketeer style uniform in bright reds and eye stinging whites. The broad floppy hat was off of course, and he was nursing an ale around his eloquently waxed mustache. A sword stood propped at his side... and it had seen use. His dagger, a fine yet dainty thing, was currently buried up to it's hilt in a haunch of mutton. The entire haunch. He was going to get fat, eating all that.

He watched us all go by, and I could swear he was grinning behind that mug of his when I passed.

Karl was rousting some poor dirt covered farmers out of their seats at the table. Well at least that's what I thought until I caught the glint of coinage pass hands. So he was paying them to move. That I could approve of at least. Being the conscience of a group of violence prone guys was pretty stressful. I had to be vigilant.

The two farmers left for the bar, smiles on their faces. No doubt to get beer or ale or whatever.

Randolf looked sour about it, but it wasn't his money. He would probably have bullied them out of the table though, something to watch. I was beginning to feel like a herder of cats, or a babysitter to troubled teens. Or something similar, since I didn't have experience with either. But for now Karl seemed to have things well in hand, so it was time to get to the important things. Before sitting down I had to find a waitress, or barmaid, or whatever I was supposed to call them now. I wasn't about to yell for one, as literally everyone else was doing. In a place this busy, that got noisy quickly.

“Be right back Karl.”

I waited by the door to the kitchen. And soon enough a barmaid I liked the look of strode confidently by. Long dark brown hair, and fresh face that still had some baby fat to it, and a figure that wouldn't have looked out of place in a magazine that no longer existed. She was wearing a white shirt chased with lace and cut to show as much of her cleavage as she could get away with, a pair of leather pants that she probably had to use mechanical aids to fit herself into every morning... and no bra.

She probably made tons of money in tips.

“Excuse me.”

She stopped right away, clearly busy and flustered, but polite. The mark of a true service industry professional, and I was impressed.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a bath on premises?”

She grinned.

“Of course we do! You go to that door there at the far wall. Walk right through that. It'll lead you outside. Go to the Shed on the right, and knock. A guy named Gar will answer. Don't let him frighten you, he's a pussycat. Anyway he let's you in and takes a position by the door. You go inside the inner door while he makes sure you aren't disturbed. No need to worry about him, that's his job and he takes it very seriously. Once there, it's all pretty self explanatory, and it's all self service at the moment. Once out, you pay Gar and you're done.”

Made sense that it would be self service; they seemed pretty shorthanded for the crowd. Besides I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable with another woman in a bath with me... or anyone else for that matter. I pointed back at my 'dauntless companions.'

“Alright, I'd like to rent a room, and pay for the first round for that table over there.”

“Alright I can do the round alright, but don't you want to see the room? I'm not sure I have the time....”

“No, You pick it. I trust your judgment already. Just don't hit me with a drafty one, please. I get cold easily.”

From the way her face brightened I think I just made her night. She was into the kitchen with a wave and a bounce in her step. I headed out the door indicated, noting Both Karl and Matt's eyes watching me go. I gave them a wave of my own, a subtle signal that all was well.

The yard behind the inn was a dirty mess, a large hundred feet enclosed space with free roaming chickens and a very fragrant pig pen off to the side. There was a stable parked at the other end, and I hoped it was in better condition. It shared the same whitewash stucco and was just as clean as the front. That poor kid must be running all over the place with his bucket every day.

The wall was a little warped but in good repair and about eight feet tall, and a smaller fence walled a garden off. There was a trail off into the forest. And there, right next to the stable and as far away from the pig stench as it was possible to get while still remaining in the yard, was my target. It was also coated in white. The fence did look sturdy enough in construction to at least slow a dinosaur down, and the building? Outhouse? Looked sturdy enough to hold out a siege in.

I had dinosaurs on the brain. I needed to work on that.

I knocked on the sturdy looking door, which gave a sturdy sounding echo.

“Hello, Gar?” I was told you have a bath in there?”

The door opened, and the largest humanoid bipedal thing I have ever seen to date hunched over to squint at me. He was green, and tusked, and his shoulders were so wide I half suspected that the building had been constructed around him; surely he couldn't fit those through the door? He was dressed in rough white cotton pants, had no shirt, and bore a club that I suspected weighed more than I did. To my credit I kept the flinch small. Orcs did not have the best reputation, and he was huge; large enough to give a dinosaur pause.

Yep, definitely needed to work on the dinosaur thing.

“Gar?”

He nodded with a smile that, while menacing in a way, oddly enough did put me at ease as he stepped aside and gestured me in. Once inside even though the inside was a near match to the outside in cleanliness, it was still easy to tell it was a bathroom. There were benches with holes cut in intervals lining the room, and I could just make out the sound of running water underneath us through them. There were also buckets placed periodically around the room, with rags in them. I really hoped they didn't re-use those.

I sure as hell wasn't going to use those. That little spell I knew that cleaned me was looking more and more like the greatest thing since sliced bread. The smell could have been worse, though I suppose it could have been better as well. Gar motioned me towards the door in back and spoke, a voice like two rocks grinding into each other.

“The cost is two copper, paid when you get out. Since you're alone you know it's serve yourself?”

I nodded.

“Alright. There is a skylight in the chamber, but no windows. If you scream, I'll come running and hammer whatever frightened you into the dirt; though... if you scream because of a spider, please don't yell at me if I bust the door down. I'll not take that well.”

“I won't scream because of a spider.”

It was true, I had no issue with spiders. Corpse bugs were a different creature entirely.

“The small lock will keep most out, the bigger lock is to keep me out, in case you're worried about me. I won't barge in on you unless you scream, but some people like the extra security.”

His look said it all; he knew some people were wary of him because he was an Orc, and was not only used to it, but well past blaming anyone over it.

The next room had a door even more ponderous and sturdy than the outside door was. The small lock was a bolt lock as big as my middle finger that you engaged with your foot and went in the floor. The big lock was a wooden bar the size of my arm that was cradled by slots and slid into place. It looked like it could take a day's worth of pounding with a battering ram to get through it. I slid the smaller lock in place, but left the bigger one.

I wanted to trust.

The room itself had no less than 4 tubs, oblong hollowed out tree trunks... or possibly the same trunk, with tables next to each. There was a rack of clean towels, and a basket hamper for the dirty ones under it. The tables each held soap; the color suggested pine tar. At the far corner there was a trough, buckets floating in it. There was steam rising from it too. The floor was stone, and constructed at a slant so as to drain the water towards the back, where a grated drain sat. The floor itself was dry, indicating how much this room had been used today. The walls were painted a nice muted yellow, matching the light.

I checked the skylight before starting to disrobe. It was clear of lurkers... and clean, which was a nice touch. Someone should tip that poor kid. I wasted no time at all, then realized I probably should have dipped the water into the tub first. Oh well, no one was watching, so no one would know.

As tempted as I was, I didn't cheat. Moving the water one bucket at a time would save energy, and I saw no reason to waste it. The only thing I wouldn't compromise was setting my clothes to clean themselves, cloak included. I wasn't packing them away dirty. It only took about fifteen minutes of bailing to fill the tub with piping hot water. The table next to the water trough had a number of oils to make the water smell better (and by proxy, the person in the water) and I chose one made from cactus and melon. I pointed my eyes to the skylight and the sliver of sun.

And then I soaked.

Drifting along, I soaked in the water so long that I pruned, and there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Yes? Does someone need let in?”

“No Ma'am, I was simply checking to make sure you were alright. You've been in there some time.”

I blinked. Come to think of it, it had probably been about an hour.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, I was just soaking, and kind of zoned out. I'm on my way out.”

His voice came through again, slightly panicked.

“No! No, ma'am, you don't have to get out on my account. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Don't worry Gar, you didn't disturb me or chase me out. I should just get out before my friends start looking for me.”

I got out and dried off with a towel that was so clean it glowed in the dying light. Taking my spare outfit out of my pack I threw it on. There was no mirror so I couldn't really check the results, but I brushed my hair anyway, mainly to help it dry. Putting my towel in the basket, put everything I used in its place. Then I put my boots on, shouldered my pack, shot the bolt and opened the door.

Gar, at his place by the other door, stared at me with his mouth open. What? Had I forgotten something? I took inventory; nope, all there. I was properly dressed. He closed it soon enough when I brought up a concern.

“Um, I wasn't sure how to empty the tub. I didn't want to try it by bucket, and....”

“Oh! It's no problem ma'am. I handle that job. Was everything to your liking?”

“Yes it was, thank you. So how much do I owe you?”

“Three copper.”

I handed him five. So odd that copper was now a viable medium of exchange again; I mean pennies looked like copper, but they weren't. And the nice pleasant experience was worth the copper. So I handed him five as I thanked him.

“Thank you for the nice bath.”

He actually blushed and stammered.

“Th-thank you ma'am.”

As soon as the door closed behind me I skipped a bit; I couldn't resist. The inn was just as loud as it was an hour ago, and even darker. Coming fresh from outside the pungent smoke odor of the tar soaked torches was even stronger.

The table was still full of my companions. There was also an earthenware pitcher of beer, and plenty of plates with bits and debris of some form of dinner no doubt. There was also a plate of some sort of bird; a grouse? And peas. Placed in front of an empty spot on a bench, complete with Phil staring longingly at it.

I settled right in with a smile. Matt started off the questioning.

“So where were you? You took quite a while. We've already been through dinner and a pitcher; we had to order for you.”

“Was taking a bath. I highly recommend the facilities for current company, by the way.”

“You saying I stink?”

“You saying you don't?”

“....Well played.”

Phil had to join in. It was clear they were all at least two sheets to the wind already. A bit odd, was it really beer in that pitcher?

“But don't you use that spell of yours to clean up every day?”

I nodded.

“Of course, but a good soak is a good soak. Haven't any of you ever wanted to just soak in a tub?”

They looked at each other, silent. Traitors. I knew they were holding out on me. Then Randolf, surprisingly, bailed me out.

“Sure. Especially after a game or a twelve hour shift. Eases the muscles.”

He took a drink, daring the others to contradict him. For my part I tried dinner; it was good. Almost five star good, considering the locale and background issues. The gourmet restaurant business must be suffering like no other under the current problems; it had to be hard to make great dishes out of monster guts.

The waitress was back and by my elbow before I noticed her, placing a large iron key and a silver goblet of wine on the table in front of me.

“Hey! Just heard from Gar you were back in, sorry about the dinner being cold. Your room is number four on the third floor. The wine is the best we have, let me know if you want something else instead, OK?”

And like a tornado she was gone again, with only the impression of a verbal smile lingering in the air. Just watching her made me tired, not that I saw where she had gone.

“Well, the good stuff. Somehow you rate the good stuff. Makes me wonder....”

I knew what he was wondering, and he could stew. Karl rescued him from my no doubt visible wrath.

“No, just something I ordered for Muse. She isn't getting comped, though the bit about the room was interesting.”

“I simply asked her to pick a room for me that wasn't too drafty. She should know what the bad rooms are, and I didn't want to get cold.”

“Makes sense to me. Kind of regretting I didn't do that while I had the chance.”

Weird, support from the dwarf.

“Thank you Ethan, but why can't you do it now?”

He burped before burying his face in his cup. Then he replied.

“Because I'm a bit too drunk to walk, darlin'.”

I rolled by eyes, taking in the soot stained ceiling. Oh well, guess that kid couldn't get everything.

“Did you all at least remember to get rooms?”

Nods all around. Good; I didn't want to share.

“Yep, we filled the place up; they could only stuff us in two at a time. Kind of jealous you get one to yourself.”

I knew how to fix that. I pasted on a nice serene face with a bland smile and attacked.

“Well I can always help you with that. All I'd have to do is make you female.”

Matt coughed as his beer went down the wrong pipe.

“Um, no, thanks, that won't be necessary.”

Success! Just that simple. Ethan was on to me though.

“You don't know how to do that, do you lass?”

I felt I had to answer truthfully.

“Nope. Not even a little. I can't do transformational magics.”

I did hope to learn though. I might be able to fix my own condition if I did, though I suspected it wouldn't be that simple. I hated that feeling, but couldn't quite deny it. The others didn't even seem to be entertaining the idea of going back to normal. Making the world go back to normal, yes, but not themselves. Not even the dwarf, though in his case I wasn't sure.

The wine was barely passable, from an obviously local vintage. But barely passable was passable, and it set off the meal perfectly. Now I needed a wet nap or something. Just as I was beginning to despair, the waitress came by again, this time with a damp but clean hot towel and another goblet of wine.

“Here you go! Can I time things or what?”

“You can, thanks.”

I wiped down and she took it and was gone again. I was very happy I didn't have to deal with a brindle dog or something similar. Rubbing greasy hands on a flea infested mongrel was shudder worthy. The others were staring at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just good service here, you better tip the waitress.”

“I intend to, why wouldn't I?”

Randolf goggled at me, then smirked.

“No reason. Screw all this, we aren't drunk enough.”

Even pastor Collins was drinking, though his pace more closely matched my own. We were all going to be senseless by the end of the night though, by the looks of things. The wine was potent after all; I resolved to slow down. Drinking something other than water was nice though. I'd probably gladly murder a few people for a Coke.

Ethan Matt and Randolf were talking sports, something I never cared for. Karl was staring into his cup like it contained all the answers to life's questions, and pastor Collins was muttering prayers under his breath from the sounds of things by the time I finished my second cup. My ears were starting to heat up.

It was time to go do something. And unfortunately, that something involved going back out to the bath shed again. So I stood back up, just as Matt Karl and Phil did.

“Where are you going?”

“The can. Where are you going?”

“The same. “

Stupid biology. I was closer to the door, but they were more reckless, so we all made it outside together. Which of course meant that I would be waiting, since I wasn't about to risk them getting a peek... or peek myself. It took them less than three minutes while I watched the trees move in the breeze. Looked like the weather was going to turn foul again.

Then it was my turn, and Gar was at the door.

“Hello again ma'am. In the far right corner there is a screen, and a specially made seat. Next to those is a bucket and rags should you need to clean yourself. The rags are clean, I laundered them myself. The idea is to throw the rags down the hole too. I'm not supposed to leave, but I'll be right here but facing the door if you need anything.”

And out he went. I checked the walls... like the bath room itself, there were no convenient holes anywhere, and the screen was dark and covered everything. I pulled it across. The bucket full of rags was clean, they looked like the remains of old sheets or something, cut into strips.

I trusted Gar on maters of cleanliness after my earlier brush, but I still thanked my lucky stars that I didn't need them. The seat however, I did need, and it was clean too. It was made of oak, fit directly over the hole, and smelled of bleach, somehow. Evidently they had access to bleach still. Once finished I used my best spell, and made sure to hit the seat and surroundings with it too. Gar wouldn't have extra work on my account.

A quick retraction of the screen showed Gar right where I'd left him.

“So what do I owe you this time?”

He grinned.

“Nothing at all, only the baths are charged. Enjoy your stay Ma'am.”

I waved and stepped outside, to find Matt Karl and Phil, enjoying the moonlight and swaying of the trees. Should I be breathing fire their direction, or touched? I settled for neither, even though I was sorely tempted.

“Pretty decent facilities.”

Phil nodded with some obvious relief.

“Yep! Better than what I have at home. Stupid outhouse.”

I could sympathize. We made it back in with the gentlemen leading the way, but I collected my key and went on to the stairs while they sat back down before the beer.

“I'm going to go study. You all should probably slow down. Hangovers will really suck tomorrow.”

Karl stepped in.

“Agreed. This is the last pitcher guys' we need to be sharp tomorrow.”

There were groans that Gar could probably hear. They were like children or something. The common room was still crowded, with waitresses flitting around like large dragonflies. So it took me a bit longer to navigate than I wanted. The stairs were narrow and high, but at least they didn't need a banister. I ignored the second floor and started up the next claustrophobia inducing flight.

At the third floor there were three rooms. I was in the last, the rather sturdy door directly across from the landing. The key opened the lock and I went in to discover a space a bit smaller than a modern hotel room, with a small scarred desk set next to the only and currently shuttered window and a rather large bed that looked a bit lumpy.

It felt a bit lumpy too, under the gray checkered comforter, but it felt soft and appeared free of any creepy crawlies. I used the spell to repel insect life anyway, and watched the result carefully; nothing. Very good.

The door also sported a small metal bar like the one in the bathroom as well as the standard lock, which was perfect. I closed the door and shot it, and only after realized I'd forgotten to light the lamp first. Stupid dark seeing eyes. I lit the lamp with another small application of magic because id of course forgotten to bring a candle or ember with me. I was burning through magic to do the mundane again, and it was annoying. I really had to get a handle on that.

I plunked down on the bed and opened my pack, grabbing my spell book. I needed to know much more about how this crazy stuff worked if I was to use it. I doubted I could use it to fix the problem we were sent to investigate since it was likely the cause, but I wouldn't discount it either. And anything that could be used to help save lives was a good thing.

Besides, how could I sleep with all that racket going on downstairs?

Well somehow I managed it. Because the next thing I knew I woke to a hand reaching past my drooling face to snag the spell book I was resting on. How the hell had someone gotten into my locked room?

I turned quickly, adrenalin spiking me awake and hand going for my dagger. The cloaked individual moved even faster than I, avoiding the slash I'd aimed in haste. Through the dim light of the dying lamp I could easily read the surprise. There was nothing in the individuals hands, but obviously they were a thief.

As I watched they turned to smoke, and filtered out the slots in the window. I opened it shortly after, spell of fire already formed in my mind, but the fog or mist was gone.

Well that was new.

Checking my belongings revealed nothing missing, not even my coin purse. A small spell would prevent any further incursions from the window. Only then did I allow my heart to slow. That hadn't felt like an attack on myself; it would have been easy to just stab me while I was asleep. It would have been just as easy to slash my coin purse and leave. My instinct was telling me whoever that was, had been after my book specifically.

Which made no sense at all, since only I could use the darn thing.

The real question was; should I tell the others? A quick glance revealed how late it was. I could tell by the light from the window slits that the moon was facing it; which meant it was close to setting. And the lamp, which had enough oil for several hours, was almost out. I didn't want to wake everyone else up, only to have them sit on me while I slept.

Then again, they might be targets themselves.

Then again, if the thief had already hit them, it was too late to worry about it. None of them had spell books, however. Well maybe pastor Collins did for some of the things his goddess asked of him, but I didn't think so. I was fairly sure the thief wouldn't be back tonight, for fear that I had the rabble roused against them.

Sigh.

I opened my door. The party down below was in full swing. I headed down the stairs; I didn't know which rooms my companions had, so I'd have to ask. Luckily enough no one was coming up said stairs, or it would have been a tight squeeze.

Just before the first floor landing I paused; the view laid out the entire common room. There were still old salts and farmers chatting merrily away at this hour. And there, right where I left them... were my companions. All of them still drinking merrily away, even Karl. And they were very loud, if not especially coherent. I think I heard three different stories at once, and all of them just as improbable. I'd have to remember the one about the bar room dancer the next time Randolf gave me crap. Even pastor Collins was still there, listening intently with his face beet red!

I turned around and marched back up without a word. It was 3 am, or thereabouts, and whatever the thief did to them was well deserved, as long as death wasn't involved. After all, death was too good for them at this point.

(Chapter 10.)

The morning dawned bright and clear. Birds were singing, insects chirping or buzzing, and I could almost hear the flowers opening up in response to the warming sun. I certainly wanted to. I opened the window, noting that the alarms I'd placed last night were still intact. Good.

The fresh morning breeze was sweetly scented with the aroma of flowers and pollen. It smelled like revenge. I dressed in my clean clothes as opposed to cleaning what I wore yesterday, and crept as silently as possible down the stairs to the common room. Which was apparently pretty darn silent; I couldn't hear me. Though that might have more to do with the humming barmaid, already up and sweeping broken crockery and assembled crap from the floor. She was even being thorough, lifting up and moving chairs and leaning down to get under tables.

There were no other people, slumped over a table or otherwise. So they had gotten upstairs to their rooms after all. Maybe they hadn't been as drunk? Oh well, time to startle the unsuspecting!

“Good morning.”

She jumped in a most satisfying way, then flushed and favored me with a broad grin.

“You got me good! Good morning. Would you like some breakfast? The right part of the common room is clean.”

“I would, yes. What do you have?”

“Well we have a choice of pancakes or ham and eggs, with bread. Though I suppose you could ask for a mix; you'd have to speak to the cook or something about that, I just work here.”

Were all the barmaids here cut from the same cloth? Perky, chipper and upbeat? Where did they find them? Even three or four was an awful lot of upbeat people. Maybe there was something in the water? Why was I always suspecting the water? It could be something else. It could even be that the change in the world itself was doing this somehow; there had been weirder clues to weird happenings in life.

“Just the pancakes are fine. Some syrup if you have it, a slice of bread, and some tea if you have that?”

“Sure do! Pancakes and maple syrup, coming right up. I have to continue cleaning, but I'll tell the cook and someone else will bring it out, OK?”

“Sure, that's fine.”

I found a seat while she ran off. She came back before I could get settled in, and picked up a rag to wash tables. She did good work, the side of the common room I was in gleamed. I could see my outline in the table wax, and while I wasn't sure I could eat off the floor, I could definitely walk barefoot on it without fear.

My new found friend from last night I didn't remember the name to; with some shame I realized I hadn't asked.

“Hey! Good morning, here you go. Sleep well?”

“Thank you. I did for the most part. I have something to tell you if you have a minute.”

She looked back at the kitchen.

“Just dishes, they can wait a few. What's up?”

“Um, first off, what's your name? I forgot to ask, and it's been bugging me.”

She laughed.

“Whoops, my bad. I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. I'm Caitlyn. So, what do you need?”

“Hi, I'm Muse.”

I took a bite, trying to think of how to play this. The pancake was good. IHOP worthy, or better. Best to play it straight I suppose, even if it started a very public search or worse, a panic. After all, having someone break into your supposedly secure place with ease using magic and up to no good... well I didn't feel good about it, and I could counter it.

“Well last night I was sleeping, and someone managed to enter my room using magic and try to steal from me. They didn't manage to, but it was a close thing. I was wondering if you had heard anything about prior incidents.”

I wasn't willing to call it an inside job just yet, but chances were the barmaids here might know the perpetrator; he was almost certainly a local; we had no cars anymore after all. No mass transit meant most people around here lived here.

“Oh no! Did they get anything? What were they after? Did you get a look at them? Maybe we can track them down or something. Get the guard involved, or something.”

Well, her reaction was a reassurance; I didn't think she could pull off innocent and perky and fool me, and she seemed pretty sincere about not knowing anything. I held my hands up; she was beginning to raise her voice and get a good head of steam; her coworker had paused in her broom-work to give a curious glance.

“No, they didn't get anything. They were after my spell book, oddly enough. I got a look, and I'm fairly sure it was a him, but he wore a mask so I can't identify him. However he used a spell to turn himself into a fog to get out of my room, and likely that's how he got in. Sound like anyone you know?”

She slowly shook her head.

“Sorry, I don't know anyone who can throw spells. Well, other than you. I can ask around, maybe one of the other girls has heard something. We have to try and get this creep off the streets! I'll go get the guard!”

I managed to stop her in time, I almost wasn't fast enough to snag her arm.

“Quietly, Caitlyn. Quietly. We don't want to call too much attention to this and scare the perpetrator away.”

Even if chances were he was long gone by now.

“Oh, right. Low key.”

She dashed off to the kitchen, leaving me to ponder. Keys would probably be a good start to fix the problem for this inn in the future; it wouldn't be that much different for what I had for my own home. But could I do it for an inn? I wasn't sure, the traffic would be immense. I'd have to modify the spell, and I really wasn't sure in what way.

I'd have to think on it. But while I was thinking, I could be eating and drinking tea. I have to give the other barmaid present her due; she actually did finish her job before rushing into the kitchen to see what was going on. She didn't stop to ask me either, which might be a point against her; I was approachable! Even nice! Maybe she was under orders not to bug guests? Whatever. I knew my little bit of excitement would be all over town by noon; between all the people currently learning the news, there had to be at least one incurable gossip. I just hoped that the guard would hear first.

I wish I'd managed to get a hold of a scrap of cloth, or mark the intruder. I could trace him myself in that case, then ask him what the heck he thought he was doing. It wasn't like he could actually use my spell book; it had it's own lock, keyed to me. And it was in old elvish, a nearly dead language. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did.

There were spells that could force the lock of course, and spells to allow one to read any language, so maybe it wasn't as secure as I first thought. But the thief would have to know those spells, and I didn't even know what spells I knew for sure until I needed them. So why go to all the effort and take the chance? Hopefully I'd get the chance to ask.

But for now, I had the more fun task of my morning to complete. And I really was an idiot; I forgot to ask Caitlyn some crucial questions. So I had to go to the kitchen first. I managed to catch Caitlyn in mid story, regaling the kitchen staff with my daring fight against the midnight intruder. I was pretty good in a fight, to hear someone who never saw me fight tell it.

“Excuse me, Caitlyn?”

She had the good grace to look embarrassed, but I wasn't here to call her out so I didn't.

“Could you tell me the room numbers my friends are staying in? I need to wake them up.”

“Oh, sure. Though they probably won't be ready to travel. Even Gar had trouble carrying them up last night.”

….perfect.

“And when was that?”

“Oh about 4 am, maybe a bit later.”

And they had had their gear downstairs with them until then. Maybe I was worrying over nothing. I hoped I was. Guilt sucked, I should have told them about the break in earlier. Caitlyn rattled the numbers off; rooms 2, 3, and 4 on the second floor. They were sleeping two to a room, apparently in order to save money. They had apparently drunk up quite the tab last night. This was also perfect. I crept back upstairs, silent as a mouse. After all, I didn't want to wake anyone else up. Just my targets.

So how was I going to do that? The inn was full, and pounding on the door would disturb the other guests. Yelling would most definitely disturb the other guests. But I didn't want to just leave this one alone and wait a year for them to get up. I wanted to see what happened to the nearest actual city. Oh, I could have simply asked travelers last night, but I wanted to see it with fresh eyes.

Polite knocking got me nowhere, except in room four. I could hear Ethan grumbling about the noise, but I didn't hear him get up, so he probably just rolled over. Famed Dwarven constitution for you. With a shrug I headed back downstairs. And the guard captain from yesterday was just walking in, shaking the road dust off his cloak.

“Good morning, Captain.”

“Good morning lady Muse. Glad to see you here, I was hoping to discuss the situation at Georgetown with you.”

“Well we can try, Though I'm not sure what help I can be. We can also discuss a small event that happened last night since you're here. After all, you're responsible for crimes along your patrol route, aren't you?”

He nodded warily.

“Then since you're here, I'd like to report a thief on the loose. A person broke into my room last night and tried to steal my spellbook. They used magic in the attempt, a spell to turn one's self into fog or mist, and wore a mask and dark clothes. Gray to be precise, and under that a male. I really can't offer you anything else except when I woke and confronted them, they ran instead of simply trying to kill me and take it; so it is unlikely they are a murderer.”

He sighed as we sat down. He seemed tired. One of the barmaids, a pleasant looking blonde, came out and handed him some wine. He quaffed a good dose of it before answering.

“I'll see what I can do, though I hope you don't expect much. There is no DNA analysis, and though we could do fingerprints, we have nothing to compare it to anymore. Without a good description we are left hoping to catch such criminals in the act. Spells and books of spells are important; some people are looking to magic for the answer to why the world changed.”

“Not surprising; I also think magic might hold the answer, or the tools for getting it. I just didn't expect someone trying to steal it. I don't think it would do them much good in any event, it's written in a dead language.”

His return look was cryptic, to say the least.

“Some people like to work fast, and cover all the angles. Were I you, I wouldn't trust many. Your companions perhaps... and me, of course. One minute.”

He levered himself up and went to the door, calling someone named Grim over. Grim turned out to be his sergeant or second in command, and whispers were exchanged along with loaded glances shot ym way. My ears were very good however, and I knew he was simply filling the man in and telling him to make quiet inquiries. I sipped and waited; I had nothing else to do really. I wanted to be reading my book, but that was rude. He came back and downed the rest of his wine, gesturing for a refill. Apparently someone was watching, because one of the other barmaids was at our table so fast she might have used magic, blushing and refilling the Captain's cup. She gave me one and filled it. I took it even though it was a bit early for me to be drinking.

“Alright, your turn. My men and I went down the road, found the trail, and eventually your campsite. It was late in the day, and I left one squad there, and took another with me into the outskirts of Georgetown. I'm not sure how you made it into the town itself, but we didn't venture that close. It was obvious something was wrong with the place.”

I didn't blame them their possible cowardice. I certainly wouldn't want to go back there, even though I knew I'd have to at least head back that way in order to get home. Maybe I could take the really long way around... as if that likely wouldn't prove to be more dangerous. The Captain's trip down recently made memory lane was cause him no small amount of stress; he looked gray.

“We started back, but night fell before we could reach the campsite. Lady Muse, what came out of those woods... well they were ghosts. Just having them get close sucked the heat from your bones, and the WAILING; that gods-awful wailing. Well, we didn't stay; your wards stopped them, but we decided we really didn't want to be there; to listen to... that. So we packed up and marched, and here we are.”

They hard marched all night, probably without rest. Their experience had to have been much worse than ours. After all, some of us had been able to sleep through the noise. Or was that the truth? Might be more to it, but I was no expert on spooks.

“Everyone made it out alright though, right?”

He nodded and grabbed my hands in his.

“All thanks to your wards, and on behalf of my men, I thank you.”

I reclaimed my hands. He was too busy looking deeply into my eyes to notice, or if he did, he did not take offense.

“No problem, think nothing of it. Do you of the guard have a mage handy? One on the payroll?”

He nodded.

“We do. And I'm way ahead of you. I will request those more of those wards from him, or whatever similar ward he can make. Everyone in the area is currently being warned about the town as we speak; I sent our fastest runners with the news.”

I could find no flaw in that.

“Good. Sorry about the harrowing experience.”

He grinned, seemingly recovered.

“All part of the hazards of a cop's life.”

An opening to change the subject if ever I heard one.

“Oh? You were a cop before?”

“Nope, I was military. But I was taking military police training, and was going to become a cop after I got out. Now I'm drafted all over again, and Ohio is part of a kingdom.”

Ohio was part of a kingdom? Now that I heard it said, that gem fit in my head, much in the way magic did. Ohio wasn't really Ohio any more, but was a duchy. The duchy of Orrus? Named after the family. Though why they ruled I didn't know. Maybe I would eventually; and that prospect only mildly scared the crap out of me. Just having information randomly appear in my head was never something I wanted to get used to.

“So now you do the state cop thing, sort of.”

“Yep.”

As a guard member he would work directly for the king, or emperor, or whatever was around. He would know, but I didn't feel like asking. Maybe I should, for the information and mystery solving, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Time to take both our minds off things with another handy subject change.

“So where do you need to report to now? What new area do you need to patrol?”

He grinned.

“About that. I don't. It's time for my squad to report in, and part of that is heading to the city. And I'm glad you stayed here last night. I'd like to offer to escort your team to the city. I'd hate for something to happen to you in my patrol area, and that thief may try again. You might be the one to solve this mess, and get reality back to, well, reality.”

He was smooth. I'm betting he really wanted to escort us to make sure we didn't cause trouble. But maybe I was just being paranoid. Then again, I doubted that we were the only ones running around and doing this. And it might look really bad for the Captain to have casualties or thefts in his patrol area. Then again, I was pretty surprised that the places we had been weren't all rioting; there was something to be said for societal inertia after all.

Or did any of that judgmental crap even apply yet? It might apply to us all if we were actually part of a medieval era world or whatever era it was ripped from, but surely even without the trappings of our modern society, we were more enlightened than that? I could hope, right?

My gut spawned butterflies. I really hoped my cynicism was misplaced. Time would of course, tell. Karl was going to be pissed at me, but he was just as drunk as the rest. Together collectively they would be unable to beat the group of kobolds we encountered before.

“We'd be delighted of course, Captain. It may be some time before my companions wake however, so you have time to rest up and get some food in you. This inn is first rate, just as you said yesterday.”

“A good plan. The inn has a check out time of noon; I'll meet you all outside then, or shortly after?”

“Sure. See you then. Where are you headed now?”

It didn't seem like sleep was something the good Captain would be getting any time soon.

“There aren't any rooms. So I think I'll pick a spot where my men are, out in the shade, and sleep until it's time to go. Well that or until the locals ask my help. They should be able to handle the search for your thief until the next patrol comes along, and in all honesty I'm too tired to think straight. See you soon.”

I waved as he made his way out the door. The sun was nice and bright; I wanted to be out there myself. Weren't the locals around here the innkeeper, his staff, and the local farmers? Would they have anyone around who could handle an investigation for a thief? On the other hand, they would know who the magic users were; after all, my own townspeople had known at a glance.

The real question is, should I investigate myself while I had the time. Would these people even talk to an outsider? They seemed pretty close minded yesterday. It would be best to harness another approach. But which approach? The human nature one or the magic one? I decided on the human route, which took me back to the kitchen.

“Excuse me.”

The cook was a small man, dressed in an almost immaculately clean white tunic and pants. The apron he wore over them was mostly spotless too; I only saw a few flour stains. He was not a handsome man, his face was far to hatchet-like for that, and he seemed to hold an aura of command that brooked no nonsense. There wasn't anyone else present.

“Yes, may I help you?”

He was as least polite to guests. Another plus.

“Yes, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”

He wiped his hands on the apron and came forward.

“Come in; none will disturb us here for the moment. What do you need? Was there a problem with the breakfast?”

Another point in his favor. I was quick to assure him no.

“No, nothing like that. I'd just like you to do a favor for me. You know about the incident this morning, I'm guessing?”

He shifted from solicitous to wary. I took that as a yes.

“What can I do for you?”

I couldn't resist the grin that came to my face; It seemed I was 100% right in the gossipy nature of the staff.

“Well, when your help comes back from their rounds, I'd appreciate it if any juicy tidbits they uncover regarding the identity of the would be thief were relayed to me. I'd really like to get a few leads, but I'm unsure the people around here will talk to me much.”

He conceded the point without actually conceding the point.

“I can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

As close to a dismissal as he could get politely; I heard it loud and clear.

“Another pot of that tea would be excellent, thank you.”

“I'll bring one out.”

I didn't know why he was in such a hurry to get rid of me; he ran a nice clean kitchen. No chance I'd complain, at least on that score. I sat back down and opening my pack; Since I kept my book, and no one was here to annoy me, might as well read it.

Five minutes later I barely noticed the tea the cook brought out himself; it was tasty, but so was the discourse on elementals, as animate essences of an idea. Like a fire elemental wasn't just fire; it was representative of fire itself. And there was more than one. Countless numbers, somehow. Another concept that they represented; that of numbers beyond counting, though they were hardly the only creature (or was it concept) to reinforce that idea.

The entire explanation introduced a cosmology I found vaguely disturbing; the book seemed to claim that elementals backed those elemental forces which drove the world, and that was how the entire process worked. If I wasn't just reading too much into this, then what was next? The four humors of the body? Some sort of half-hearted Kabbalah?

An hour later my tea was cold and I was sick of waiting. The morning crowd was wafting in, and the barmaids were back to deal with them. No one had sat down close to me, however; the nearest person was two tables away and eying me warily over coffee. Conversation was muted... but at least it existed. It was eleven.

“Caitlyn, are most of the guests out of their rooms by now?”

She stopped and turned.

“Yes, most. Why, what are you planning?”

“To roust my companions of course. We need to get moving; the mysteries of the world won't solve themselves.”

“Hmm, should be fine. We usually have Gar start things off about now anyway.”

Well, that's pretty kind, letting the drunks sleep in late. So there won't be any problems with me going upstairs and knocking on a few doors?”

She shook her head with a grin.

“Pound away, anyone not up yet should be. Anyone who complains, well they can complain to Gar.”

I handed the tea pot to her as she moved to leave, and stuffed my book back in my bag.

“That's a pretty sound customer service decision. Happen often?”

“Only twice so far!”

And then she was gone. Hmm, in a week, twice seemed often. Oh well, back upstairs with no need to creep this time. I knocked at a polite volume on the door of room number 2, Karl and Matt's. I was greeted with silence. So I knocked a little louder. Then louder still, and there was still no response.

So it was time to take the kid gloves off.

My sword would make a good conductor, as well as offering me some control over the direction of the sound, and possibly even distance. I'd never done this before, but it should work. It was a mild worry that I seemed to keep resorting to magic for the most mundane things, but it is what it is. I was going to be kinder than Gar, I was sure. The rooms were all next to each other, which definitely helped the next step.

Some concentration, some focus on my blade, and a good whack on the door with it were all that was required to get the ball rolling. At my urging my blade acting like a tuning fork, spreading a low, persistent, and absolutely nagging sound directly into the rooms I was targeting. It took less than a minute to get results, though they weren't the results I was expecting.

I almost lost my breakfast as multiple sounds of others upchucking hit my ears over the resonant tone I had made. Whoops, looks like I had found one of THOSE sounds. It hadn't affected me that way... but they were drunk after all. Ugh, I had just made more work for the staff here; they were not going to be fond of us. I hoped they'd let us stay on our way back home... if we came back this way that is.

The door in front of me opened, and Karl stared blearily out. He had some vomit running down his chin. He did not look at all pleased, but responded calmly enough.

“Morning. Could you please stop that noise?”

I stopped, just as the next door opened and Thomas roared through it.

“Someone stop that infernal racket before I kill them!”

He promptly bounced his shoulder off the door jamb. He couldn't kill a fly, as uncoordinated as he was. Well maybe by falling on it; he was a huge guy, after all. I decided to ignore him; looking further into the room I saw Matt staring at the puddle of puke on his bedding, he looked out of it, and that made me feel guilty... at least a little. After all none of them looked in any way near sober, even after seven hours.

“Morning. Almost check out time, so I came to wake you all. Sorry about the results.”

“Why would you pick that way, you witch?”

Did I hear correctly? Did Thomas just call me a witch?

“Well it was me or Gar you neanderthal. Which would you have preferred?”

He shut up as heavy footprints sounded up the stairs. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear; there was Gar. He looked less than unhappy, though he wasn't looking at me. In fact, he looked downright terrifying at the moment.

“Lady Muse, these drunks bothering you?”

“No, just needed to wake them up. Can you help them get cleaned up, please?”

They needed a good dunk to clear their heads. And maybe some pharmaceutical help with their inevitable headaches. I could handle that end, if they asked nicely. I couldn't help carry them all, after all. Gar probably could, if they left their armor off. Then again, it looked like I didn't have to; I finally noticed the stable hands behind Gar on the stair way. The last room, the one with Phil and pastor Collins, hadn't even been opened yet.

“Sure I can do that.”

Then he bellowed, startling me.

“Alright you lot, get up! You had your fun, now it's time to pay for it!”

He put an arm around Thomas and guided him down the stairs; he wasn't gentle, but he did keep him from tumbling headfirst and breaking something he might need. There were enough stable hands to grab everyone, and they did so, quickly and quietly. I wanted to help, but there was no one left to help... and I wasn't cleaning up all that vomit. Caitlyn was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Sorry; there is an awful lot of... mess up there.”

Her cheer slipped a bit.

“It's OK, it's not your fault.”

“Actually I think it was. The magic didn't work as I expected.”

She nodded to the two girls that went by, headed upstairs with soapy water filled buckets and some kind of gloves on their hands. While the two passed me they weren't smiling, but they weren't frowning either.

“Nah, that's not your fault. Really! The drink around here makes people puke all the time! We're used to it.”

She leaned in close.

“We just charge them for the clean up.”

She smiled, and I couldn't help it; I smiled back. The service of this inn was excellent.

(Chapter 11.)

Toledo looked quite different from the last time I was here. It could have been the buildings, none of them over four stories and all of them made of wood or cut stone. It could have been the sprawl of it, with the winding and narrow cobbled streets. It could even have been the market with unrefrigerated meats, butchers nearby watching with naked cleavers in their hands, or the loud farmers selling vegetables out of carts, many of them small and wilted looking. Maybe the obvious open drainage was a clue, or the smells that were ranging from faintly rotten to absolutely disgusting.

It could also be the fully moated castle on the obviously man-made hill overlooking everything. It was sort of rough to tell.

We went through the gate with our escort, the esteemed Captain and his merry men. Who actually had been merry, and nice company for the trip. He waved at me with a wide grin when we split up; he had to report in and we had to find rooms for the night.

“Sheesh, finally. Thought that guy would never shut up.”

Matt did not appreciate the good Captain, or his small talk.

“At least he made things easier.”

The escort had cleared us from any further harassment by other patrols, gotten us in the gate of Toledo with ease, and had kept us from getting attacked on the road. Of course, I wasn't sure about the last part, but with thieves in my room last night, I wasn't about to deny the chance, no matter how tame this area looked. Monsters had nothing on mankind sometimes, after all, and the thief hadn't been a Kobold.

Or if he was, he was a very tall one.

The inn recommended by the Captain was called the “Sword sheath”, and was probably only recommended because the military or cops or whatever they wanted to call themselves had an eye on it already – but that suited me right down to the ground. Some of us had other ideas though.

“We shouldn't be where any organized military can watch or find us.”

Some of them wanted to give me a headache.

“Phil, if we vanish they will just look for us until they find us, and then trust us less because we vanished in the first place. We need to work within any official channels left for now, we need the information they are likely to have.”

Your average mugger or murderer isn't likely to have ideas on what happened to the world, after all. Or if they did, they were unlikely to be useful. There would be plenty of time to check whatever dark underbelly this city had (and I had no doubt at all that it had one) after we had exhausted the side of the street with actual paid spies.

The inn itself was down the main street (I didn't catch the name, road signs seemed to be missing) and near the market. It was not all that different from the road in we'd stayed the night before. Smaller, less sprawling, and without a barn for animals, it still managed to leave the impression with me – probably because it was clean and looked well cared for. I could smell food inside, meat roasting vegetables frying, and they didn't smell as if they were burning.

I missed the lack of trees around it though; even this main street felt a little claustrophobic to me.

The inside was brightly lit thanks to the use of actual skylights made of glass colored a washed out blue set into the slat roof. The place looked clean and smelled of mint – and unwashed people of course. There was a sizable crowd, mostly Men in uniforms and clad in steel; Phil's hands were already twitching, and Thomas looked a little green.

Karl and I, on the other hand, strode up to the bar as if we owned the place; after we all wiped our feet of course. I didn't even have to remind them this time. Aside from a few curious glances, mainly at Ethan, our party was ignored. The bartender was old, graying, and had long since run mostly to fat; though he was in that curious not quite overweight stage. He smiled as we approached, showing some bright shiny teeth.

“Can I help you?”

Alright, so it was polite, but it seemed a bit less so than one would expect. Karl answered while I kept my mouth shut, per our agreement.

“Yes, we'd like rooms if possible.”

“Of course sir! How many?”

“Four.” That was 2 of us per room. I wonder who Karl wanted me to room with. I wasn't sure if I should object after my last inn experience…..

“Of course sir, that will be eight gold.”

Eight gold!?! Per night? Was this place the Ritz or something? Karl handed over the money with a raised eyebrow. The bartender just shrugged and handed him four crude keys. Thinking back, eight gold was around a thousand dollars in my head; I knew what I guess were something like exchange rates. I also knew that while I could afford it easily, staying here for long would probably bankrupt my companions. We needed to find our answers quick or we'd be in back washing dishes or worse.

Karl handed me a key on the walk back to the group. “You'll be with Pastor Collins.”

That made sense – Pastor Collins wouldn't try anything, and he as ex-military, he was better in a physical fight than I was, or even than the robes he wore suggested. So if we wanted to bait a repeat performance, then squash it, he was the perfect choice. He was even a lighter sleeper than I was.

I wasn't in any hurry to dump my stuff in the rooms for obvious reasons, so I took a chair while the others went on up; not that I blamed them, they didn't have bags like mine. I passed the Key to Pastor Collins and flagged down the barmaid as they made their noisy way up the stairs.

The barmaid was less young than the last example, and less pretty, with limp stringy dirt colored hair and a disinterested attitude. Then again, getting groped all day by men with metal gloves while wearing crappy wooden shoes might have something to do with it.

“I'd like a bottle of good wine, and a pitcher of beer for my companions, please.”

“hm, We've some Sigalan red if you want.”

Sigalan red jogged another memory I didn't know I had. Sigalan was an elven kingdom, in Idaho, or what used to be Idaho. On the border of Oregon, or what used to be Oregon, they grew some surprisingly good grapes, somehow. There was some sort of trade secret there that I could almost tease out of my head… but all in all it made for a mid to high quality wine; just short of the truly expensive vintages.

“That will be perfect, thank you.”

She flounced off, literally avoiding a grabby hand by less than an inch. The guardsman the hand belonged to looked amused. Maybe this was a game the two played or something; she didn't seem all that upset either.

I had a book pulled out (my bestiary) and was taking my first sip when the guys came back down. They were pretty noisy and much more relaxed. Phil wasted no time in telling me why as they all sat down, almost fighting over the pitcher like starving dogs over a piece of meat.

“The windows have bars in them; all of them. They are pretty sturdy, too. You'd need a pry bar or hammer to take them out, and it's make a lot of noise. The locks are terrible, but no absolutely awful. Makes things a bit harder for any mystery guests.”

That combined with the military presence the place had, off duty or not, will definitely help. Still, there were other ways, especially with spells. It would be nice if the esteemed Captain had this in mind when he recommended the place, rather than the watching thing. But he could probably manage both thoughts.

“Ah, lass, you read my mind!” Ethan effused at me, blowing froth from his beard.

I managed to keep any of his froth from hitting me; why he'd sat next to me I didn't know.

“Not all that hard really, Ethan. There is only one thought on it, after all.”

He laughed so loudly everyone turned to look; I hid in my cloak hood.

“You've got the right of things there! A day of walking and a cool beer is the only thing I want. Makes the hot dusty day worth it.”

Well at least he didn't take offense and yell at me.

Karl was too busy drinking to comment though Matt was grinning. Thomas was staring into his own half full mug as if it contained something dead – which it may, I didn't actually specify any quality for the beer. An oversight caused by the fact that I wasn't drinking that swill. The others didn't seem to mind, at least.

Randolf had a different take on things. “You should drink this instead of that fruity smelling wine; it'll put hair on your chest.”

I looked down with an arched brow. He shrugged back at me.

“Drink enough, maybe the hair will replace those?”

“Surprisingly tempting, but I think I'll pass. This stuffs pretty good.”

Karl looked relieved to not have a fight on his hands. He really should have more faith,

I'm not that touchy.

“So did you order food too?”

“Of course not, I didn't know what any of you wanted.”

Phil finished draining his tankard and stood up. “None for me, thanks. Got things to do.”

So he was going to prowl for information. “You sure? The meal is included in the inn price.”

For as much as the room cost, it had better be. He visibly waffled for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah, I'll get something along the way. Got to see a man about a horse.”

Karl waved the barmaid back, and she avoided another pinch from the same guy with a grin on her face that matched his; apparently it was a joke after all.

“What can I get for you?” She didn't have a notepad or a menu, I realized. In fact, there wasn't a menu posted anywhere. She also didn't have a name tag.

“Whats' today's special?” Karl asked her.

“Roasted pork and butter beans, with summer squash, or grilled vegetable medley, which is green beans, carrots, mushrooms, grilled and then put in a salad with some tomatoes and radishes.”

So, a vegetarian option, huh?

Everyone else ordered the pork, and the barmaid just nodded as if she expected it. But

I just wasn't feeling it today.

“I'll take the grilled vegetable medley.”

Of course everyone but Pastor Collins stared at me as if I had said I'd murder everyone in the room.

“What? Some day's you just feel like a salad.”

Randolf immediately barked out: “I don't.”

“Well, I do.” Philistines. It wasn't like I didn't eat meat; I'd eaten deer jerky on the trip, and rabbit. I just didn't feel like it right now. Hm, was philistines even an accurate term anymore? I was willing to bet the books we now had no longer mentioned the culture. Another thing to check on….

The barmaid skipped off again, taking a few more orders from memory before skipping off into the kitchen. It was mildly impressive, actually, even if most people probably ordered the same thing.

“So, how do we go about finding our answers, lady Muse?” Matt asked, obviously trying to needle me.

“I've got to wait on the good Captain to find time to escort me to the castle, so I can see the wizard in residence. A guy by the name of 'Stick.'” From what the Captain said, he's the one co-coordinating the 'what the hell happened' efforts here.”

“Well that sounds like a whole lot of useless waiting.”

Pastor Collins spoke up: “I believe I can help with that. There are bound to be churches here, with other men of the cloth, whatever cloth that may be now. If I get in touch with them, we might get some answers.”

It seemed unlikely it would be that easy, but it was worth a shot. Karl seemed to agree.

“Alright, but take Thomas with you. It might be dangerous alone.”

Randolf grumbled but stood up when Pastor Collins did, and followed him out the door. Of course, he still had the tankard in his hand, and it was full, but I doubted there were public drunkenness laws on the books anymore. It certainly wouldn't hurt his disposition any, so there was less chance of scaring off any clergy.

Ethan took his cue. “On that note, I'll see if I can contact any Dwarves. There should be some here, and they may know things we don't.”

He stumped out, leaving his own tankard while I looked on. Karl hadn't assigned him a buddy; he'd just waved as he left. Was it just that he was a fighter and Pastor Collins wasn't, or were there maybe some trust issues there? I mean, I didn't trust him, he was a dick. But I thought he and Karl were getting along.

Thomas stood up a mere beer later, wiping the foam from his mouth with a hand.

“Screw this. It's too annoying in here; I'm going outside.”

With a shrug I returned to my book. And then there were three; at least Karl and Matt didn't seem to want to go anywhere. They both looked pretty bored though, so I reached into my bag and pulled out my spellbook and another bestiary edition.

“Do something useful, don't just drink.”

Matt shrugged. “Well, it's better than tiddlywinks or dice.”

Karl just started flipping the pages, no doubt looking at the illustrations. I knew he could read, and I wasn't letting him off that easy. I had to admit the illustrations were very well done however; very lifelike. I didn't really want to know how the artist had gotten some of the creatures depicted in it to hold still in such poses long enough to draw or paint them… that way lay madness.

It was probably magic anyway; the games always made stopping time seem like child's play.

I was done with my wine and the section on elemental contracts when the Captain walked up to our table. The sun had to be setting outside, judging by the light.

“You're late Captain.” I don't think he ever had told me his last name; if he had, I didn't remember it, and I wasn't going to call him Captain Harry.

“Sorry, got held up when making a report to all the assorted brains trying to figure out what happened. You'll be pleased to know that they add Solace and Shrewsberry to the map of affected areas, and the grilled me for an hour on Georgetown for answers I didn't have. Then of course, they sent me to find you, because you'd have an eyewitness account and a much better understanding of what went on there, and never mind that they had delayed me from going back to get you in the first place.”

I grinned and pushed a clean tankard his way. It was going to be his anyway, I'd ordered for him too. That the boys had gone through the first pitcher didn't change that.

“Stay the extra five for a drink? You look parched.”

He sat with a clatter and a sigh. “You read my mind, Lady Muse. Though I really shouldn't here. Word might get back to my superiors regarding my prompt service or lack thereof.”

Karl gave an amused look. “Their fault for wasting time as much as yours. I doubt anyone here is going to rat you out, and if the information is that time sensitive then we should have been there already.”

He nodded but drained his beer in one gulp, so fast he almost choked, then stood up. With a shrug I stood up too. Karl and Matt both stood up a moment later, at the same time.

“If you'll follow me, Lady Muse.”

He led the way out, to where two of his own men were waiting in the street while Karl and Matt both followed me. Somehow I rated two buddies in our system, when Pastor Collins only rated one? The Captain had probably not wanted to spook us, which explained how many men and why for him, but I had to work to stave off the anger.

Mildly insulting it may be, it was also accurate that I was one of the weaker members of us, and going into what could be a lion's den.

Karl had to come anyway, as he was our expedition leader; Matt was just being a concerned friend. Nothing to set their hair on fire for.

The streets were more open in the burgeoning darkness; the merchants and stall vendors had closed up shop and most of the people out seemed to be rushing home.

There were torch brackets on the walls here and there, but no torches lit, and it was probably going to get very dark very quickly.

“Not paying the torch guy?”

The Captain smirked. “Nope, city is still busy getting lumberjacks to cut the wood. There is a nice convenient forest that popped up not far from the city though, so it's not all bad.”

I thought about it; that would be an awful lot of wood. They needed to switch to natural gas… or magic. Made me wonder, though; shouldn't this city have something like that already, considering the changes everywhere else I'd seen? I could see small towns closing up at night, but cities, even bronze age cities, tended to sleep late. Something else for the book.

One of the escorts was fumbling a torch; I kept forgetting human eyes were worse than mine.

“Well I'll do my part. You all can save your own torches.”

A slight hum and light bloomed, bright and warm as the sun. The captain whistled in appreciation while the guard just shrugged. I sent the ball on ahead of us and the captain led the way. He led all the way up the hill at the edge of town, and to grounds of the castle I was admiring earlier: it was much easier to admire from this range.

The pile of stones was literal, made of local granite blocks big enough to use as a table. It was gray and shot through with bands of dirty yellow. The cobbled road led right to the moat, which was about 20 feet across, and a drawbridge to go over it. There were soldiers all over, and more than a few were carefully watching my ball as it floated up. The rest were watching us – almost as if who would be watching whom was scripted.

“The lady Muse to see the Explorer's council.”

“Of course, Captain Sark, they are expecting you. One moment.” The guy, a tough and grizzled looker who could probably give Randolf a run for his money waved at the guards behind him, and the drawbridge started lowering with a screech.

It took a moment while each group politely pretended we didn't exist to the other for the thing to finally lower. This close I could see the cracks in the treated but obviously aged wood, and the rust in the iron bands holding it together. It didn't even creak as we walked over it, but that kind of lack of maintenance probably said something about the minds of past occupants – or current ones.

The inner courtyard seemed to echo my thoughts. there were the usual outbuildings; the smithy, the stable and farrier, a covered well and a grain silo, barracks and a garden… but the smithy was ramshackle for all it's large size, the stable was unpainted and the wood slats were beginning to warp, and the garden was overgrown. Only the castle itself and the barracks looked cared for, for all that the other buildings were occupied. Cheap candles glowing through windows gave that game away.

There wasn't any sort of chapel, and I couldn't help feeling that there should be one. Didn't all castles used to have one as a standard? Maybe it was in the castle proper or something, but that didn't seem right.

We were quickly led past a truly massive banded iron gate and into the castle proper. I snuffed my light as I walked in; I did not want to cause any misunderstandings. Here things were obviously cared for, with vibrant tapestries dusted fresh flowers placed strategically for color. I suspected if I lifted up one of the corners of the rugs in the receiving hall however, there would be dirt under it. I could see staff working on cleaning, but they were listless; uninterested. The only good news was they seemed even less interested in us than they were in cleaning.

They didn't lack for delicate looking glass and tin lanterns, placed everywhere with an oil and wick burning merrily away.

We were led around the front and to the tallest tower because of course the wizards and wise men would be holed up there. Never mind that the tallest tower was easiest to shell or nuke and visible from great range than the rest of the castle.

There had been plenty of soldiers outside, but there seemed to be precious few in here. Just two in the receiving hall, and two in front of the tower door proper. They stiffened and waved us through, looking at me the entire time.

The ground floor looked like a war room, with a large round table and several people, a few in armor, and many in a multitude of civilian dress, hunched over what looked like maps and reports… most on paper, but some on parchment. Unless I missed my guess that one in the upper right corner was on badly cured sheepskin.

There was a second table, just under the open window, full of food and drink of all kinds. It took full advantage of the breeze and flies, but those grazing on it didn't seem to mind too much. I resolved not to touch anything; I'd eat my ration mix before I touched that mess.

The first person to look up and notice us had to be the mage Sticks. Mainly because, well, he was a collection of sticks. I could see his arm bones, his cheek bones, and if not for the none too clean white robe made of cheap cotton, I would probably be able to count ribs. Worse, he had a large mustache that looked like a caterpillar bristling on his hatchet face; it almost seemed alive. I guess it was making up for the fact that it was the only hair he could grow anymore.

“Lady Muse, thank you for your timely report on the villages and sights you've seen.

We've been expecting you, and have a few questions…?”

“Why yes, I am Lady Muse. And you are, sir? Who are your companions?”

He flushed.

“Ah, I apologize. I've not slept in a very long time. I am of course Sticks.' he glared at the Captain as he gave the moniker, there had to be a story there, 'and I'll go around the table for you.”

He started pointing. “From the left, we have Salamander, Pile, and Crone, and Sir Finley Surrat, Sir Dennis Barrington, and Captain Howell, our captain of the guard.”

The first three were obviously magic users: Salamander was a small handsome man with orange hair dressed in oranges and reds; all his clothes had a sort of flame pattern, and he was smoking. More of a dead giveaway could not be given. Pile was the groups Pigpen, in a dirty black robe made of burlap; he even had smudges on his crude featured face. The Crone was a rather ugly looking middle aged human woman, all bony planes and edges, but far from looking witch-like. Almost like a female sticks; She was still glaring at sticks.

“Katerine is my given name. Please call me by it, and don't be like these other assholes.”

Sir Finley Surrat coughed.

“I'm Muse, and I'm pleased to meet you. These are my friends, Matt, and Karl.”

“Pleased to meet you all.' Captain Howell drawled back at us – was he southern, and if so how did that translate so well? 'Now, if you'll come over here, we will try to answer your questions so that you may take the answers back to your patch of the world.

They led us to the table, where a map rested. The map was new and showed the castle we were in. A significant portion of the map around Toledo was covered in a faded pink color. I recognized it as having come from a type of pigment from crushed rocks, and rubbed into the parchment. Shrewsberry was newly colored.

“The colored region is the one we know for sure is like the surrounding area. We were going to mark suspected areas too, but Cro – err Katerine correctly mentioned that it would hamper later marking efforts on a now very expensive map, so we decided not to.”

Katerine elbowed him. “They didn't need to know that, you dolt.”

I focused on the map while they argued.

The area colored in was large in square miles, but there were very few areas marked out from farther out than Shrewsberry – which I'd sort of expect, given the state of travel now. What was less than reassuring were the two small areas marked with a skull and crossbones. I doubted Johnny Depp had found some friends and set up shop, which meant they were marking danger. A third sported the same symbol, but I knew all about it – Georgetown.

“What about these spots?” Karl had noticed, and didn't hesitate; his finger was tapping the skull closest to him.

“Well, that one is the old quarry. It used to be an old coal mine but reconverted itself when everything else did. The only reason we know that is because of old maps; to date, only one scout sent into the area has returned, and he said he some really large people there… giants.

The other spot is the town of Normal, which isn't anymore.' he grinned, but the rest of us failed to laugh, so he stopped. 'A day after whatever happened, happened, the town was taken over by rioting orcs, who have been there ever since. Talks are currently ongoing to resolve the issue peacefully, but that's all I really know. We've been a little busy looking for the root cause, rather than dealing with symptoms.”

“Find anything interesting?” I'm an idiot; I shouldn't have interrupted. Sticks didn't seem to mind though, or even notice. His eyes were bright as he replied.

“No, although your own report does lead us into some interesting territory in that regard.”

Matt did it this time. “How so?”

“Well, Georgetown wasn't a ghost town in any sense of the word. Now it is. But it's more than that – according to the report that captain Sark gave us, you stated that time worked differently there, and at different locations within the town?”

“From what I observed, yes. It seemed too risky to stay and observe the process, but that is what I – what we all saw.”

“Right, well it's more than we had to go on. With that sort of phenomenon happening, it's not that big a stretch to say that whatever happened was dimensionally related.

Katerine snorted. “Says you. I think it's a large stretch, especially considering that we only have one incident to go on, and that only on the word of some people we don't know – no offense, dear.”

Dear, huh? “None taken.”

Sticks almost slapped her with a waving arm.

“But it's not just one incident! There are other reports, dozens, all stating the same kinds of things!”

“All even less substantiated than this one, and on a much smaller scale! We haven't proven anything with this!” Katerine fired back.

Clearly this was an argument they had argued before.

“But this is a fully substantiated report, witnessed and signed by several people, and investigated by our own troops!”

Katerine huffed and crossed her arms. “It's a start, is what it is. And that's all it is.”

Sir Surrat coughed again.

“So, Lady Muse. Do you have anything to add to your observations as reported to us?”

The implications of the event being some sort of time effect we all suffered were staggering; if these people had other reports, no matter how unsubstantiated they were, it didn't look good.

“Just that I'm not sure those ghosts there were ghosts, after all. At least now. If time was affecting them differently they probably died, but if it was another sort of dimensional interaction, then they might just be – trapped. And unable to do anything.”

Something which in my opinion was far more horrifying. Sticks broke that train of thought as it was leaving the station.

“You mean like the town and everything in it was out of phase, or similar?”

“That's exactly what I mean, but I don't see how it would work. It seems pinned to a locale, but if it's fixed then why doesn't it stay put when the Earth moves, or even move to another location? Having it fixed in one place, on one town, seems suspicious.”

Katerine shook her finger at us both. “It's all unfounded speculation, and that's enough of that.' She put a hand in Stick's face, forestalling his retort. 'I'm not saying you're wrong, I'm saying we don't have enough information to know, and it may be detrimental to pursue one avenue of thought when there might be others we never consider as a result.”

I actually agreed. “Another thing to consider is that what happened in Georgetown and other places, may be a symptom of something else related to the cause we're looking for but not related to the cause itself. It's not likely, but it's something we can't ignore.”

They both stared at me, mouths open. Salamander face-palmed in the background, muttering something I heard clearly: “Not another one.”

Sticks recovered first. “True, it wouldn't do to get ahead of ourselves. More expeditions will need to be sent, and our current ones informed of the possibility of more Georgetowns. Captain Sark, please send more runners.”

Salamander face palmed again, while Captain Howell paled.

“We cannot send any more runners; the last group we sent haven't returned yet. We simply don't have anyone to spare.”

That was a lie, I was sure of it. There were plenty of people around if you weren't paranoid. What did the guy in charge, this Duke Oher, think was going to happen? Was it Duke Oher? I was pretty sure Captain Sark had told me it was, at one point. At any rate, the man seemed a little too fixated on security.

I was pretty sure Captain Howell knew what I was thinking; he didn't call me on it though. Captain Sark went the table and snagged a drink; he was a very brave man, there were probably flies in it or something.

“So, Lady Muse, your report says you've seen dinosaurs and kobolds in your travels?”

I nodded. “Yes. The dinosaur actually attacked Solace. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but it was only quick spell-work that saved lives. In fact, if there are other towns that are not covered the way Solace was, troops should be dispatched to serve there.”

I wouldn't say Solace 'is' covered since I'm not there and I didn't trust the magical backup they had in my stead.

Sir Surrat coughed. “We do in fact have troops on their way, even to the borders of the kingdom, in order to protect the populace. Those that need the help, that is.”

And also to secure the borders against invasion no doubt. The lord here was definitely on the paranoid side. Whatever, it worked for us. The more people flooding areas, the more information we got. I wasn't even sure it was a bad thing.

“So, since we shared, mind if you return the favor, so we can do our due diligence?”

Katerine looked at me sourly, while Sticks just shook his head.

“The cribs notes version is we are just as lost as you are. No idea what happened or why, though it's beginning to look like it had something to do with time or other dimensions, somehow.”

“Well then, can I read your reports and dispatches? Would you mind?”

Captain Howell gestured expansively. “Not all all; be our guest.”

I took a seat and a stack of parchment… and then the Captain slapped down a much larger stack next to me with a grin. “I'd take it as a favor if you'd organize them by region, according to the map there.”

It was going to be a long night.