Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"

"Yes, your baronship," Bufer nods, eliciting another snort from Sheriff Glangirn. He hops down off the bench and steps towards the zone of truth, giving Tucker a reassuring smile as they pass each other. He can feel Khenemet-Apep's eyes on him the whole way, making the hair on the back of his neck begin to creep.

Stepping into the zone of truth is an odd sensation, the likes of which he can't quite put his finger on, but it's unsettling nonetheless.

"My name is," He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flicking towards Hazel before he resumes. "I'm known in Maidensbridge as Ebuferpaly Whitethatch Malpractice Potentloins, although to be perfectly honest, the name is somewhat of a misnomer, and I am hardly gifted by any means, even by gnome standards. Most of my friends in town know me as Bufer."

He glances towards the wizard in chains as he continues.

"I first noticed the wizard, Khenemet-Apep, when he hired my friend and fellow gnome Heda Littlelark -- who I've been in love with since I was about eight years old, by the way, not that that's here nor there, and I can't believe I just told you that - -to sing for him in The Cat & The Fiddle -- uh, that's the tavern in Maidensbridge, your lordship.

"Anyway, I didn't like the look of him, being a stranger and all, and Heda looked downright uncomfortable, so I thought I'd casually sidle past the table on my way to the bar, get a good look at him and make sure she was all right. He noticed me looking at him, and flipped a coin at me to deliver a message for him to Renraw Kem, who was standing at the bar: 'Let him know that I bear a message from some mutual friends,' he said. I thought about telling him off for treating me as some kind of common servant, but as I had been heading over there to invite Kem and his companions to sit with me and my friends anyway, I figured I might as well do as he asked and keep the silver. The robes he was wearing, and the fact that he had a cat with him, in the back of my mind, I was already beginning to speculate that he might be a wizard, or at least a user of arcane magic of some sort, especially since it was Kem he was looking for. I thought Kem might be in some kind of trouble with that wizarding school he'd been away to.

"I gave the message to Kem upon arriving at the bar, and he practically had a fit at the idea that some stranger was looking for him. Kem asked me, and our friend Katadid Leach, to return to the stranger's table and find out who he was, and what he wanted. We obliged, and asked the stranger, who gave me his name -- Khenemet-Apep -- and told us his message was for Kem alone, and that Kem was expecting it. He asked that we fetch Kem for him, and when Katadid went to do so, Kem took off like a shot through the door.

Now Kem might have his shortcomings, your baronship -- several, in fact, not the least of which are pride, greed, a seeming inability to be truthful, an altogether too-high opinion of his own intelligence, and some very, very questionable personal grooming habits -- but I would not classify him as one prone to undue cowardice. I've seen Kem face down undead soldiers and rampaging owlbears, and try and talk his way out of a kobold ambush. To see him run out into the street in terror as he did, well, then I knew for certain that something was amiss.

"Around this time is when the brawl started -- Tock Chandler had characteristically picked a fight with some local dwarves, probably over an unkind and most likely lewd remark about one of their sisters, mothers, or quite possibly a grandmother (Tock isn't all that discriminating, you see) -- and although I certainly didn't trust the stranger at this point, I offered to shepherd him safely to the rear exit of the inn, if only that I might keep a close eye on him. To make a long story short --"

Bufer can barely make out Emus muttering "too late."

"-- the wizard and I caught up with Kem at the front of the inn, where he'd been caught up in the ensuing meelee as it spilled out into the street. Khenemet-Apep grabbed Kem by the shoulders and led him away, towards the cemetary. I admit that I hesitated a moment or two before I followed -- my good friend Hazel Sawyer was still in the inn, you see, and while she's smart as a whip and extremely capable as humans go, she's still barely out of diapers by gnome reckoning, and I feared for her safety. Eventually, I made my way to the graveyard, and preceded to creep stealthily towards them, that I might overhear what the wizard wanted of Kem, and possibly render aid should things turn violent. As I got closer, I noticed with some alarm that Kem had been bound and gagged, and that Khenemet-Apep was evidently casting some form of enchantment on him.

"Now, I admit to being fairly ignorant of arcane spellcraft, your lordship, but as I came within earshot, I distinctly heard Khenemet-Apep say to Kem: 'When the attack comes on Maidensbridge, you must kill Tucker Gallaway.'

Bufer looks over his shoulder at Tucker as he says this, and frowns as he notices that all of his companions -- including the constable -- are staring at him open-mouthed. He blinks at them in askance, then shrugs and turns back to the baron to continue.

"Of course, this is when Khenemet-Apep's familiar spotted me. The next few moments were extraordinarly tense, as I feared the wizard might elect to immolate me where I stood. Instead he bade me to come forward, and not seeing any alternative, I did so, and invited him to explain. After some inconsequential verbal fencing, he asked me to untie Kem, so that he might supply his version of events first, and then volunteered to come to St. Yessid's in the Woods and be placed inside a zone of truth in case their stories differed. Kem seemed enamored of the idea, and suggested we all come to Middleborough so that they might both have the benefit of the spell.

"Oddly enough, though, Khenemet-Apep began to volunteer his explanation anyway, suggesting that he was attempting to talk Kem out of a bargain he'd struck with -- and I believe this part is of utmost importance, your lordship -- 'the Tiamat faction of the kobolds,' which apparently aspires to genocide, and that the only way out of this bargain was to ensure this 'Tiamat faction' did not remain in control. He declined to explain what precisely the bargain Kem had struck was, or with whom, until he was testifying before the sheriff in Middleborough, although he suggested that Kem would likely be hanged as a result.

"At this point, I thought it prudent to find the constable, if for no other reason than I was beginning to feel a little out of my depth, that I might swear out warrants against both Kem and Khenemet-Apep based on what I'd witnessed, and arrange for the trip to Middleborough. Although they both agreed, Apep attempted to cast a spell -- the likes of which I'm afraid I cannot say, although he claimed it to be a simple remedy for corns -- before I interrupted by grabbing his wrists.

"He then suggested that Kem should be hailed as a hero for what he was attempting -- that he was actually saving Maidensbridge by allowing he kobolds to believe he'd betrayed us -- and that he wished only to counsel Kem and warn him of certain risks of his 'secret mission.' He claimed he had bound and gagged Kem only for the benefit of spies who might be watching, and that the kobolds had hired him to bind Kem to their agreement, although he had used a strict interpretation of their instructions from Draconic to Imperial Common to provide Kem with what you might call 'wriggle room.' Warning me that I must keep all this secret, lest those selfsame spies catch wind of Renraw's intended betrayal, he then offered to bring me -- as a co-conspirator in their plan, now, apparently -- to the Black Tower, where he would educate me in the secret ways of his neighbors, the Green Mountain Kobolds."

Here, Bufer glances wryly and unafraid at the Kemite.

"I won't lie to you, your lordship -- it was an offer I found extremely tempting, but one I declined without hesitation. I finally managed to usher the two wizards out of the graveyard -- exhorting them both to keep their hands where I might see them -- and back to the inn, where things were now back in order, Constable Bridger having put an end to the brawl. We found the constable -- or, rather, he found us -- and Renraw swore out charges against Khenemet-Apep, who in return accused Kem and Katadid Leach of conspiring against the barony, which led to all three of them being shackled and piled into an applecart bound for Middleborough, accompanied by the constable and Deputy Gallaway, leaving the safety of the town in the care of Emmerson Grant, myself, and the trusted associates you see seated behind me now.

"At some point during their journey, I'm led to understand that the prisoners engineered an escape -- I wasn't present for that, as I was back in Maidensbridge at the time, helping to put out the fire that had erupted in the stables of Kramer's General Store. All I know for certain is that, shortly after we'd gotten the fire extinquished, having been told there'd been a riot in his his absence, the constable rode back into town. Seeing the ruse for what it was -- and suspecting that the fire had been set as a diversion by horse thieves -- we doubled back along the baron's road, accompanied by Emmerson and Hazel, only to find the prisoners gone, the cart missing, and poor Tucker trussed up in the middle of the road. After removing some caltrops that had been scattered onto the road to discourage pursuit, the constable and I rode on ahead to Foxton on Moss in an attempt to catch up to the fugitives and raise the alarm, while the others followed along behind. In Foxton, we learned that the fugitives had indeed gone there ahead of us, but left before we got there, setting out for parts unknown. At some point -- I'm not sure of when -- Khenemet-Apep was recaptured by Deputy Gallaway and his companions, and the lot of us rode on here to Middleborough, where we arrived early this morning."

Bufer walks back to his place on the bench, his worry that he left something out showing on his face. He climbs up next to Hazel, who gives him a reassuring pat and a smile.

From the bench behind, Emus leans forward and whispers loud enough that only those next to Bufer can hear:

"Bufer's got a giiiirrrrlfriend ..."

The baron turns towards his sheriff.

"Kem is ... ?"

"Th' bookkeeper for the bailiff of Maidensbridge, my lord."

"Ah, yes. That business with the murders last year."

"Yes, my lord."

"We have a hard time keeping that position filled." The baron glances towards Khenemet-Apep. "'Kem.' There's no relation to ..."

The Wizard of Green Mountain and Constable Bridger both shake their heads, indicating there is not.

"So the bookkeeper went to school to become a wizard, did he?"

"Yes, my lord. He dropped out when his uncle's financial double-dealings became clear," Bridger says. "Came home before graduation."

"Pity. Some of the best years of my life were spent at Redhurst." He twists the gold signet ring on his finger, the golden ram's head set in a field of red. "Well, then, let us hear from Khenemet-Apep. Start with why you wanted to speak to the bookkeeper."

The Wizard of Green Mountain pulls himself up to his full height, his cat emerging from where it had been hiding between his feet and rubbing around his ankles as he shuffles forward, bowing deeply before Baron Midwood.

"It would be my pleasure, my lord ..."

The mangy black cat does tight figure eights around its master's ankles, seemingly smirking at the group assembled on the benches.

"As your lordship well knows, I have lived on Green Mountain for almost a dozen years, since my ... departure from my homeland. Seeking solitude, I erected a tower in the shadow of Gax's lair, trusting that her presence would ensure my privacy.

"When the dragon left, the kobolds made contact with me, demanding to know if I knew anything about her departure, if I was responsible somehow. And shortly after kobolds began coming and going from the Black Tower, your constable and sheriff paid me a visit and invited me into your presence."

Khenemet-Apep's tone is light and casual, as though he and the baron did nothing more than sip tea.

"Since then, I have had periodic contact with the kobolds, who were thrown into disarray by their mistress' departure. Once it became clear that Gax would not be returning, the various factions she had nurtured in their community turned on one another. An important kobold lieutenant I might deal with regularly would suddenly vanish, and his replacement would refuse to speak to me about what happened or why. Some kobolds would come to me and treat me as an equal, others would flatter me in an obvious attempt to turn me against their rivals and still others would treat me with thinly veiled hostility. But when it became clear that I am my own master, we settled into an agreeable business relationship all of the factions appear to find comfortable.

"Recently, a new leader has emerged among the kobolds. I have not yet met him, nor do I know his name, but he appears to be a worshipper of Tiamat, Mother of Father Claw and Queen of Dragons. In keeping with his faith, his goals appear to be the annihilation of the gnomes of Wit's End and, beyond that, the destruction of your barony and the wholesale slaughter of your people, your lordship."

The wizard sneaks in a smirk back at Tucker before continuing.

"All of this, you know."

From where he watches on the bench, Bufer blinks, looks up at Hazel in shock, then turns back to the baron and Khenemet-Apep, red-faced and wide-eyed.

"You KN--"

Reacting faster than anyone not expecting this sooner or later possibly could have, Hazel clamps one hand over the gnome's mouth and smiles apologetically at the baron.

"Sorry about that," she says sweetly, as Bufer murmers loudly and struggles against her hand. "Please go on."

The baron stares at Bufer until he quiets down.

"I studied under Jecture himself," Nicodemus Midwood says mildly. "There is very little that happens in my barony that I do not know, and praise Lothian for that." He murmurs a quiet word to soothe an outraged Sheriff Glangirn, who is silently apoplectic with anger at the interruption. "Now then, if there are no further comments from Master Potentloins, let us hear about your meeting with the bookkeeper, Khenemet-Apep, and what transpired after."

Bufer stops struggling against Hazel's restraining hand, and after a few hesitant moments, the young ranger removes it from his mouth. For his part, Bufer barely seems to notice as he glares from the baron to Khenemet-Apep and back again, quietly seething. He says nothing, but the grinding of his teeth is plainly audible.

Khenemet-Apep hunches over and raises his hands to wipe a stray hair from his face, his chains clinking as he does so.

"About a month ago, a representative of the Green Mountain tribe came to visit me in Baraj Al-Aswad, my Black Tower. She was seeking information about where the tribe could find dragonscales, one of each of the colors of Tiamat's scales, for a ritual that will somehow enable them to destroy the gnomes and the barony. They will be entering Glangirn to try and recover one of Gax's green scales, and apparently have purchased another scale from the Black Reavers, but still need three more beyond that."

The baron snaps his fingers and points at the slate, which his steward hastily brings him, along with the chalk. The baron begins jotting notes as the Kemite continues to speak.

"In addition to asking about various ancient ruins in Kem, as well as inquiring how difficult it would be to board a ship to Uraq and visit some ancient temple of Tiamat there, the young priestess wanted to ask me about a pair of wizards living in Maidensbridge," Khenemet-Apep continues. "According to her, both had conspired to assist the kobolds in their plan. She claims one, a simpleton, had given her information about what sorts of military forces were stationed in Maidensbridge. The other, the bookkeeper who calls himself Kem, had made a deal in which he agreed to kill Deputy Gallaway on the night of the ritual, when the kobolds attacked.

"But the kobolds do not trust outsiders, a situation which has only gotten worse since their new leader unified the factions. So she paid me to cast a spell on the bookkeeper, as they did not believe he would follow through on his deal."

The baron looks up, puzzled.

"What? A geas?"

"Yes, my lord."

The pair grin at each other, chuckling. Even the cat seems to snicker. The baron waves for the other man to continue, but his mood has considerably brightened.

"I went to Maidensbridge during the festival. I had planned to 'enchant' the bookkeeper," and here the Kemite makes the universal sign of quotation marks with his fingers, "But it seems the kobolds were right about his intentions and he fled my presence. I have reason to believe the kobolds have a spy in Maidensbridge, so I was determined to cast the spell for their benefit."

For the first time, Steward Eule Wood seems bothered by the testimony, and he begins pacing before the Oak Throne.

"The gnome overheard the proceedings and interfered," the Wizard of Green Mountain continues. "I know what the Vast Codex demands as a sentence for treason, and did not want things to become any more complicated, and tried to get the bookkeeper to get his friend to leave us alone, but he seemed perversely determined to find himself with a noose about his neck, or so I thought.

"On the ride to Middleborough, a group of young men I assume are the bookkeeper's co-conspirators rode up to meet us and tricked the constable into leaving. Once he was gone, they drew their weapons and attempted to kill Deputy Gallaway. None of them are experienced criminals, though, and the cart was still heading down the road. I did not want to be seen as conspiring to help kill an Imperial official -- I know the sentence for that, as well -- and knocked him out of the cart before opening a dimension door and fleeing into the woods. My thought had been that the bookkeeper and his friends would continue to flee instead of risking a delay. The rest, the deputy has told you."

Khenemet-Apep stands proudly a moment, but as the baron's silence continues, he shrugs awkwardly, his dusky skin darkening as he blushes.

"That's all, my lord."

"Very well, then ..."

"My lord, may I speak?" Constable Ward Bridger asks as he stands.

The baron seems surprised at this.

"Yes, constable?"

"Do you intend to pass sentence on Renraw and Katadid and the rest, without them here to defend themselves, and without the benefit of an advocate who knows the Vast Codex and can speak on their behalf?"

The sheriff initially bristles as his underling speaks up, but as he listens, his expression changes, softening, and he puffs on his pipe, considering.

"His lordship is free to render a sentence in their absence, with them being fugitives and all."

"Yes, sir, he is," the constable says, bowing stiffly towards his superior before facing the baron again, "But my lord, these are not experienced criminals and I had told you all of Katadid's betrayal previously. It was agreed then that, as he is simple, I would keep my eye on him henceforth and he would not swing for this crime.

"As for the others, I don't think they have the wit to escape Imperial justice for long. We will turn them up in the woods, hungry and dirty and, if I know Renraw, scared to death, before long.

"I pray, my lord, that you will hold off on rendering a verdict until such time as they are back in our custody and can defend themselves as the law allows. And, if I may, I can think of a number of ways they might serve their sentence and be of aid to the barony beyond just stretching out a piece of rope, although I know that would make my deputy happiest."

The baron taps the chalk against his pursed lips, considering a moment before speaking.

"In point of fact, before you were let in, I just received word that three of them, including the bookkeeper, went over the falls. It is likely the rapids have already reached a verdict and meted out punishment on them, but I have instructed some of my men to search Goblin Falls for any sign of them," the baron says, handing the slate to his steward once more before standing. "But your point is well-taken. If they live, they will appear before me and defend themselves to the full extent that the law allows."

"Followed by a short drop and a sudden stop," the sheriff says quietly, but loudly enough for all to hear.

"Perhaps. As for Khenemet-Apep, who is here before us today, I think we can dispense with a full trial. He cast a spell that, if the bookkeeper had the benefit of a full wizardly education ... er, he's not a Redhurst man, is he?"

"No," the constable answers. "St. Feldin's, I believe."

"Ah, that explains it. Had the bookkeeper had the benefit of a proper education, he would know that a geas spell does not work indefinitely. Khenemet-Apep's spell will last a matter of days before expiring. Since it seems unlikely that the kobold's ritual will be ready during that time -- a voyage to Uraq and back alone would take longer than that -- the spell will harmlessly dissipate long before the attack, and there will be no compulsion to kill Deputy Gallaway, who of course could not be expected to know a detail like that. But Khenemet-Apep certainly did, as would any Redhurst man.

"Therefore, I find him not guilty of the crime of casting an enchantment on a resident of the empire without their consent. He was merely play-acting. Likewise, the bishop's zone of truth -- thank you, your holiness -- proves that he intended no harm against the deputy himself, although he may well have acted rashly in his actions. Release him, if you please. Khenemet-Apep, you will return home and continue to pass along any information you obtain from the kobolds to me.

"I will seek to discover more about this ritual the kobolds are planning and will work to prevent it ever being completed." He brushes his hands together, chalk dust puffing out in a white cloud, and he looks shrewdly at the Maidensbridge group sitting on the bench together. "I expect I know where I can find some unofficial agents to help me do just that without tipping my hand too obviously.

"But these are things to discuss at a later time," the baron says, as Khenemet-Apep's shackles and manacles are unlocked and the wizard's cat leaps into his arms, rubbing his greasy face against his master's almost nonexistent chin. "If there is nothing else, this baronal court is adjourned pending the capture of the bookkeeper and his fellow fugitives. May Lothian guide and protect the Empire and its Emperor."

Bufer turns and glares at his companions the very moment the baron has dismissed them.

"The first one of you to breathe a word of this to Heda Littlelark gets to spend the rest of his life sittin' down to pee!" he hisses. "I mean it!"

"But I already--" Hazel giggles.

"And if you don't wanna find yourself growin' somethin' unnatural, you'll keep yer mouth shut too, missy! Don't think I won't do it, either! I know people: Things could happen!" Bufer points at her sternly and holds her gaze until her grin mostly subsides, then exhales sharply and looks up at Constable Ward Bridger. "Constable, I owe you an apology. I misjudged you somethin' fierce, yesterday, and threw a pretty harsh fit at ye as a result. That was right charitable what you did for Katadid and Kem, and we appreciate it greatly. Well, most of us, anyway. Emmerson and Tucker have always spoke right highly of you, and now I see why. If you ever need anythin', sir, I'm your gnome."

"Well, I may be the baron's man, but I serve the law, and the law says that even Tock Chandler gets a proper defense," Bridger says simply, and Bufer nods in agreement.

"If you'll all excuse me," the gnome says, "Before we all get thrown outta here, I gotta see a wizard about a kobold."

With that, Bufer hops off the bench and marches off towards Khenemet-Apep. Feeling himself being watched, Bufer looks up just in time to see the baron's eyes flick back down to the slate in his hands, a look of bemusement playing across his features. Bufer wrinkles his nose and wonders for a split second what he's on about before drawing himself up to his full height before the Kemite wizard.

"Excuse me, sir," he says as gently as possible, trying to draw the wizard's attention, "But I just wanted to come over and congratulate you. And to say that I hope there ain't any hard feelings. I hope you understand that, from where I was standing yesterday, I believed I had a duty, sir, to Maidensbridge as well as to Kem. If you've been injured by any of this, I apologize."

The Wizard of Green Mountain half-opens his mouth before something apparently occurs to him, and he shuts his mouth, choosing his words carefully.

"Thank you for your apology, Master Potentloins. I feel certain we will be seeing more of each other in the future. Now, I will take my leave; I have not slept except for a few minutes on a jailhouse bench earlier."

Carrying his cat in his arms, Khenemet-Apep walks to the door to the antechamber before turning, looking back, and bowing in farewell to the assembled party.

Hazel moves toward Constable Bridger and lightly clears her throat.

"Sir? I just wanted to thank you for speaking up for Kat and the rest. Do you think ... I mean, who's going to tell their families? About the falls, I mean."

The constable scowls, turning Hazel and himself away from the baron and sheriff.

"When I see the bodies, I'll be the one to tell them. Don't start burying them until then, Hazel."

"Not until then, sir," she agrees, giving a tight-lipped smile.

Bufer watches Khenemet-Apep and his cat make their way out of Midwood Hall, blinking in surprise at having been brushed off so easily.

"Bugger," he says, making up his mind, then hikes up his robe and runs through the door after the wizard. "Mister Wizard, sir! Begging your pardon, sir, but there was somethin' else.

"You see, after hearing your testimony, I found myself wondering -- and I appreciate this is kinda awkward given what we just been through, but as you say, I have a knack for the dangerously stupid -- I was wondering if you might allow me to reconsider your offer to apprentice with you in the Black Tower and learn the ways of the Green Mountain Kobolds, so that I might --" Bufer breaks off and looks over his shoulder to check for potential eavesdroppers, then leans forward and lowers his voice. "So that I might find a way to make peace between them and the folks of Midwood and Wit's End.

"It might be a fool's errand, I know. Lord Rubik and the baron both would probably tell me it is, right after they slapped me upside the head for even considering it, but on the off-chance it succeeds, it would prevent a rather messy and inconvenient war in your backyard, not to mention get both this Tiamat faction and the baron off your back as far as helping them do the other in is concerned."

Khenemet-Apep stares in astonishment a moment, then his face slowly twists into a smile.

"Perhaps, perhaps. I can certainly sketch out what I know for you and perhaps make a few introductions," he says. "But you will forgive me if, after the experiences of the last day, I will need a gesture of good faith on your part. But that is a matter for another time. I am to bed. I will be in contact with you, Master Potentloins."

And with that, Khenemet-Apep and his cat march off to the Shady Dragon Inn. Bufer waits until the wizard and his cat are out of sight before heaving a sigh of relief.

"'You do have a knack for wandering into the bear's cave, don't you?'" he mutters to himself, quoting the Kemite from the day before.

As the stolen boat begin to bump its way down the rapids, Katadid Leach looks from the astonished guards toward their destination.

"Oh, dear."

He rummages through the saddlebag and grabs his spellbook and after a moment, grabs Renraw's as well. Tossing them into an empty sack, he wraps the burlap around the precious tomes tightly before wrapping the ripped bedsheet around it as well. He tosses the bundled books into the leather saddlebags and seals it as tightly as he can before being almost bounced out of the boat by a sudden drop.

"KAT!" Tock yells. "Some help rowing would be nice!"

"Ah," Kat coughs and picks up an oar. "Um ... shore soon?"

Before anyone can answer, the entire boat is suddenly dumped under the water as it drops down a steep set of falls before landing in a fast-moving pool. Aside from bloody knuckles, bruised limbs and, of course, being nearly drowned several times, the fugitives are in relatively good shape.

The boat spins as it approaches another series of rocks. The trio cling to their possessions, the boat and each other, eyes wild, exhausted yet oddly exhilerated.

"I can't believe it," Renraw sputters, his hair plastered to his head, "We're going to make it."

"Maybe," Kat says ominously. The other two look to see where he's staring. Pointed rocks jab up at them, forming a stony barricade before a foaming spray beyond. Kat says something else, but the roar of water beyond the rocks gets louder and louder as they approach.

The boat slams against the rocks, shattering into splinters. The current yanks the fugitives past and over the edge of a tall, tall waterfall dropping hundreds of feet into Goblin Pond below.

"I HATE YOU, TOCK CHAAAAAAAAAAAANDLER!" Renraw screams as the trio plummet towards the dark water, far below.

Katadid find himself counting the seconds as they fall. He's dimly aware of his lungs burning, their ability to breathe hampered even under the best of circumstances. His world is full of bursts of intense sound, rushing air, and pounding water. He wonders if he could even tell when he hits the pond with everything so muddled already. It wouldn't do to die yet: There are too many things to do.

Yet, as Kat falls, he realizes that he isn't afraid to die if he has to. It's an interesting revelation. He contemplates it quietly as the pond rushes up to greet him.

Beside him, Tock Chandler grips the edge of the boat, staring wide-eyed at the approaching pond.

Unnoticed, Renraw has hit his head on something, and falls, unconconscious, along with the boat, his forehead bloody.

Renraw Kem is a child of 8 again. He kneels in the corner of his bedroom, rocking himself calm. The small table he kept is overturned; his things are scattered. In the next room, he can hear his mother moaning loudly, in her private place again. She begins to sob, but here and there come intelligible words, something about the books.

The books ...

Why did he think he could get away with it this time? What made him think now would be any different?

He raises a hand to his face and winces. There's blood, but he could hardly be surprised about blood anymore. But there, under his eye, something moves. A piece of bone, loose above his cheek. Floating.

He closes his eyes and gently nudges the fragment with a fingertip. The pain he expected doesn't follow; it's buried somewhere deep. His rocking slows, and he thinks about the skull underneath his face for the first time. Is the little shard still a part of it? He wonders if the bone will slide around inside his face if he pulls his finger away. Should he let it? Or should he keep it where it is?

He is startled to hear his mother address him, still in the other room. She must imagine me nearby, Renraw thinks. Finger still to cheek, he opens his eyes and looks to the direction of the sound.

"Don't read the books, Renraw," she pleads, "Don't try. It isn't for us."

It wasn't the first time she'd warned him about the library. And it wasn't the first thrashing he'd caught from his father after ignoring those warnings. He understood (almost) all the words in the books now, though he still had a great deal of trouble putting meaning in their order. Roebello only mocked him when he asked what something meant (but even at a young age, Renraw knew that was because his brother didn't know himself). Even Uncle Ronco begged him to stay away from the books in the family library, promising him all the books he could ever want in Middleborough.

At the time, Renraw believed the books must have some secret contents, some forbidden knowledge his family wanted to keep from him, but now something his father had shouted has the boy beginning to suspect the truth: The books themselves are worthless. It's just that Rogren wants them to himself.

"You are to stay here. Stay here. STAY HERE."

The memory of it frightens young Renraw and stiffens him. His finger goes white, tightly pinching his eye socket.

That day he held his face together in his hands for hours until he decided to (badly) improvise a bandage. But, this time, something is different. This time, he relaxes his finger and pulls it away slowly.

What will happen?

Although still hours from sunset, the sun is hidden behind the rooftops of Middleborough as an acolyte greets Bufer and Emmerson outside St. Yessid's in the Woods.

"Lothian bless and keep you both," he murmurs before leading them inside the cool darkness of the church. They wind their way behind the pews and up one side of the building until he opens the door and lets them into an antechamber. Excusing himself, he ducks through a door on the far side of the room. A quiet conversation is audible from beyond, and after a moment, the acolyte opens the door, ushering the pair into Bishop Jurgen Lehmann's private office.

The Bishop of Midwood is going through some paperwork, sucking the grease of his late lunch off his fingers -- a thoroughly picked-over chicken carcass sits on a silver plate nearby on his massive wooden desk -- as he does so.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I understand you had a proposal for me?"

"Your excellency," Emmerson says as he enters the room with Bufer. He approaches the bishop, kneels on his left knee and kisses the bishop's ring. Behind him, Bufer remains where he was, bowing slightly. "Let me present to you Ebuferpaly Whitethatch Malpractice Potentloins, cleric of Garl Glittergold and apprentice of High Priest Boddynock of Wit's End."

"A pleasure to meet you, your worship. Father Grant and I most appreciate you taking the time out of your undoubtedly full schedule to meet with us."

Bishop Lehmann acknowledges Bufer and Emmerson's greetings and gestures for them to take a seat.

"It has not been that long since your Excellency gave me the mission of ministering to those living in the shadow of Green Mountain, and I've done some work in that regard."

"One would hope so," the bishop says, his voice even.

"I started by cleaning up the chapel, built some cots for the sick and infirm and gave invites to the services, but so far, my efforts have been fruitless."

The bishop remains silent.

"I have seen the registered Lothianites go to church and participate of the services, but the non-believers and the flock of dwarven and gnome gods go more willingly to The Cat & The Fiddle than to the chapel."

Bishop Lehmann begins to visibly grow less interested. Emmerson flushes, remembering his father's admonition that important people have little time for small talk.

"Your Excellency, as it stands today, Maidensbridge Chapel is a place for Lothianites, but hardly anybody else ventures there. If folk want to gather, they go to the nearest tavern. If they want to unburden their souls, they turn to the bartender. Master Potentloins and I wish to make Lothian's chapel a beacon for those around Maidensbridge. We propose to open up the chapel to also hold services for the dwarven and gnomish gods."

The bishop's steely blue eyes are fixed on Emmerson. The young priest feels his voice quaver and beads of sweat start to form on his forehead. Bufer smiles kindly and lays one hand gently on the boy's forearm.

"Your worship, Emmerson and I have long lamented this state of affairs," Bufer begins. "And when you granted him leave to assume the ministry of Maidensbridge, we saw an opportunity to restore Maidensbridge Chapel to its rightful place as the beating heart of the village.

"What we propose may seem somewhat ... cosmopolitan at first, especially given that church doctrine has not always looked favorably on other religions, but we respectfully ask that you hear us out, and reserve judgement until we're finished."

The bishop remains silent, but nods in assent as he sits back and steeples his fingers beneath his chin. Bufer glances up at his companion, and Emmerson, his face white as a newly laundered sheet, nods for him to continue. Bufer nods back in return, and turns back to the bishop wearing a grave expression.

"Your worship, although it may not seem so on the surface, the people of Maidensbridge stand deeply divided, by race, by culture, by religion. Just yesterday, a riot nearly broke out between members of Clan Glangirn and Clan Farrin, which might have consumed the entire town if not for the quick actions of Constable Bridger, Deputy Gallaway and Father Grant, here. This simply cannot be allowed to continue, especially now that the various factions of the Green Moutain Kobolds have been united against the people of Midwood. It's long past time that all Bridgers, be they gnome, dwarf or tallfolk, be made to see that only united can we weather the coming storm, as Lothian the Lightbringer would undoubtedly have us do.

"Father Grant and I propose that Maidensbridge Chapel be the means through which we unify the town, by rededicating it to serving all of Maidensbridge's sons and daughters, including those -- especially those -- who do not walk Lothian's path."

As expected, the bishop visibly bristles at such a bold pronouncement, but before he can open his mouth to object, Bufer plunges forward.

"Please understand, your grace," he says in a rush, "That the chapel will remain a temple primarily devoted to the worship of Lothain, as most of Maidensbridge's residents remain faithful in their devotion to the Lightbringer. That is not in any way in dispute. But in an effort to appeal to the gnomish and dwarven popluations of the town -- as well as those tallfolk who have elected not to follow the Lightbringer -- we plan to hold services devoted to Garl Glittergold, Yurabbos and Hanseath. I personally plan to permanently relocate to the chapel from Wit's End to oversee the Glittergoldain rites, and Master Grant and I have a dwarvish cleric in mind -- although we have not yet approached her, pending your worship's approval -- to take on the rites of Yurabbos.

"Although unprecedented by church doctrine, your grace, in taking such a 'big tent' view of religion, Maidensbridge Chapel will take on a special relevance to everyone, even those who aren't Lothianites."

"Indeed," Emmerson says, his voice cracking slightly out of nervousness, "Not only that would be a good way to bring back those who have strayed from Lothian's path, but an excellent way of bringing to Lothian those who have never walked with him before."

"Your Excellency, I am but a humble tool for Lothian to use as he sees fit, but I pray that perhaps you will look upon this plan with sympathetic eyes. Master Potentloins and I will place our hearts and souls into the project and, if in one year's time, the number of faithful has not significantly increased, we will leave it to your Excellency to decide its fate."

"Your grace," Bufer says, "As has become most evident this morning, there are indeed troubled times for Maidensbridge ahead, which Father Grant and I believe can only be survived if we overcome our prejudices and differences, and stand shoulder-to-shoulder, as the Lightbringer would doubtlessly have us do. Although a Glittergoldian, I have always held a healthy respect for --"

Bufer pauses and chooses his words carefully.

"-- for those who walk the true path of Lothian, as I believe Father Grant does. And I would be most honored to partner with him in bringing this most noble and holy endeavor to its fruition."

Bufer glances again at Emmerson, then exhales quietly and bows again to the bishop, a little deeper this time.

"This concludes our proposal, your worship. We thank you for indulging us, and eagerly await your decision."

The bishop says nothing for a long time, instead standing up and opening one of the thick windows of his office, letting him peer through the small gap at the tree outside. He appears to listen to the birds singing outside and breathe in the wet scent of spring as he thinks.

Finally, he turns.

"If, as you say, your aim is not to tear down the faith of Lothian, but rather to bring those who have strayed back into the light, Master Gnome," Lehmann's eyes drop to Bufer, "Then you would not be adverse to proving your willingness to further the glory of Lothian before I agree to such a ... novel suggestion."

Bufer raises an eyebrow, bemused.

"A gesture of good faith, your grace?" he asks. "Within reason, of course. I am still a Glittergoldian, after all, and not a --"

Emmerson pointedly clears his throat.

"-- most honored and holy servant of Lothian. However, as the aims of our respective deities are not altogether dissimiliar, I imagine Garl would be only too pleased to give me leave. What did you have in mind, your worship?"

"Surely all who live in Maidensbridge know the story of Maidensbridge Abbey and what happened there with the Sisters of the New Dawn. It is time their pain was ended and the unquiet dead there are sent to their final rest." The bishop looks up at Emmerson. "Gather the clergy of whatever faiths you hope to share the chapel together, and bring them to Maidensbridge Abbey and lift its curse. Lothian will come to greater glory, the people of Maidensbridge will walk through the forest unafraid and your commitment will be proven.

"I will have an acolyte gather all the information the church has on the abbey and the Sisters of the New Dawn and bring it to you, Father Grant, in Maidensbridge.

"Let us not see another Brightfather's Day with the abbey still under the shadow of its tragedy." The bishop's face darkens, and he looks towards the window again. "The sisters deserve peace."

Emmerson stands straighter, smiling broadly and with tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Your Excellency, it shall be done."

His expression completely blank, Bufer slowly turns his head to stare at his overjoyed partner.

"Or, you know, we'll die trying," he sighs in resignation, then turns back to the bishop and shrugs. "Either way."

The baron's soldiers stomp around the edge of Goblin Pond, stabbing at the dark water of the shallows with spears, watched dubiously by Southerly soldiers who clearly had no intention of getting wet and muddy themselves.

"You're not going to find anything," snaps a young ducal soldier, his voice breaking in mid-sneer. "They died when they hit the water and like as not, Old Grandfather ate them."

The giant catfish is a legend around Goblin Falls and is known as far away as Stonecrown. No one knows of anyone actually eaten by Old Grandfather, but everyone is sure the massive beast has done so at some point.

The soldier's complaint was a refrain that had been going on all day, but after this many hours searching the pond for signs of the fugitives and circling the muddy waters looking for tracks that were not created by the soldiers themselves, the baron's men have had enough.

"Right," says the senior man, which is obvious because he is the least muddy of the bunch. "Unless this bunch turned into wee little birdies on the way down, they're fish food. And good riddance; Chandler cheated at dice. I'm for a pint, lads, come on."

Both groups of soldiers stomp off to the Goblin's Head and the pond is quiet for a long time.

A muddy patch of reeds well away from the shore begins to move slightly, sending out ripples across the brownish waters. Two heads erupt from the water before a pair of hands lashes out, holding the faces -- but little else -- just above the water line.

"Careful," Tock says, spitting out a hollow reed, "One of them could still be watching."

"Don't be stupid," Renraw says, snatching himself out of Tock's muddy grasp, and standing up in the chest-high water, caked in mud. "They don't want anything to do with this damn mudhole."

Katadid spits his reed out and sat straight up, wiping glop from his eyes with his fingers.

"How did you know to do that, Tock?"

"Nergle did it in a song," Tock says, his chin still underwater as he looks around. "OK, I know of a barn we can dry off in and wait out the soldiers. We'll nip over to the Goblin's Head and see Petra after that."

* * *

It was three days later, on the 27th day of Wind, in Maidensbridge Chapel.

"Scim," Ragglus Chaplin growled, his sword bared. "I knew it."

Roebello "Scimitar" Kem bolted for the front doors of the chapel, throwing his full body into them to expedite his retreat. The doors refused to budge and he bounced backwards onto the floor, coins spilling out of his pouch, scattering across the chapel floor.

"Barred from the outside," Ragglus snarled. "You ain't goin' nowhere."

"Ragglus, my friend," Scimitar began, "Let me explain."

"Nothin' to explain, except how I'm gonna run you through."

"That's enough, Ragglus," Emmerson said, stepping in through the now-unbarred front door.

"I weren't gonna kill 'im," Ragglus says through clenched teeth, "Much."

"I couldn't see in here, it was dark," Scimitar says, speaking quickly, frantically, "I came to pray, I must have misjudged the location of the altar."

"This is no time for lies, Roebello!" Emmerson says, leaping to grab Ragglus before he can lay hands or sword on Scimitar. "He might not kill you, but you may just find yourself wishing you were dead!"

"Killed?" Scimitar answers, in what's clearly meant to be an innocent tone. "Over a few paltry coins?"

"Not just coins!" Ragglus roars.

"Wait, th-that was yours?" Scimitar squeaks, his hair now gripped in Ragglus' left fist. "My d-dear Ragglus, I didn't know! It was so pretty, I-I never would have ..."

"Where is it? WHERE IS IT?"

"It's ... Renraw! Yes, Renraw took it!"

"What?" Emmerson snaps, as he tries to pull the pair apart with Scimitar's scalp intact. "Renraw is many things, but a thief is not one of them."

"H-he didn't steal it, I did! But Renraw took it, I swear! That's wh-why I've been taking things, h-he needed traveling money! Items for trade on the road! I've been working for him!"

"He's been gone more than two days," Ragglus spits, eyes blazing. "You're still stealin', why?"

"Because ... because he left without giving me my cut! Why, I've half a mind to track him down myself and give him a good thrashing for all the pain he's caused!"

"Oh, don't worry, when I find him, he'll be getting all he deserves," Ragglus says, shaking with anger.

"Don't bother: My brother is dead."

"Huh?"

"You're better off trading in that sword for a fishing pole if you want to find Renraw. Haven't you heard? Those fools went over the falls in their haste to escape Midwood. They're in Old Grandfather's belly in Goblin Pond."

"If there ain't no body," Ragglus spat, "There ain't no death!"

"Where is he off to, Roebello?" Emmerson interjects. "Goblin Falls, certainly, but they'll be looking for help. A thief such as you surely knows some of the shadier characters in Goblin Falls, who would they attempt to contact?"

"Kujau," Scimitar sighs, shoulders slumped, beaten. "Petra Kujau."

Ragglus relaxes.

"Good. That's a start. I'll get it back or take it out of your brother's hide."

"What is this all about?" Emmerson asks.

Ragglus glares at him in stony silence a long moment before exploding.

"My blasted ankh-crucifix!" the former paladin roars, face dark red. "It was my uncle's."

"The priest," Emmerson says quietly, nodding.

"Happy now?" Ragglus snarls, shooting a look that tells Scimitar to keep silent if he knows what's best. "It's all I got. And I'm going to get it back."

As Ragglus throws his remaining goods into a backpack, Scimitar quietly wonders in which of his stashes in and around the Tulgey Woods he's actually left Ragglus' crucifix and how quickly he'll be able to sell it after the larger man leaves town.

* * *

Leaning on a mailbox that apparently stands in the middle of nowhere, Bufer watches his cousin Swifty race off through the forest.

"Petra Kujau," Bufer repeats to himself. "Thank you, Emmerson."

The silence behind him in the forest is deafening.

"You don't approve," he remarks, without turning around.

"Of course I don't approve," High Priest Barennackle replies calmly, suddenly appearing on the road as if he'd been there all along. He steps up next to Bufer and joins him in watching the settling dust. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

"You're tellin' me you never exchanged words with them on the wrong side of the law in your day?" Bufer scoffs.

"Things were different, then," Barennackle says. "Baron Midwood is going to be most incensed if he learns you've been aiding the fugitives, and it will reflect poorly on all of us. Lord Rubik will not be pleased."

"Yeah," Bufer snarls. "I've learned I can trust a human and a dwarf a damn sight more than my own kin. When -- if ever -- were you gonna tell me about this damned Tiamat faction?"

"It was not your place to know, apprentice," the high priest replies calmly. "Lord Rubik and I are not obliged to share everything with you."

"I've been like a son to you," Bufer says quietly, his frame stiffening. "You've meant more to me than my own dad. How dare you hide behind this 'master-apprentice' crap over something this important?"

"Ebu," Barennackle sighs, looking at his apprentice sadly, "Be reasonable. You know how uncomfortable Lord Rubik gets over your radical view of the kobolds. I've always tried to be understanding, but --"

"UNDERSTANDING?" Bufer shouts. "Really? Then call me by my real name!"

Barennackle blinks in surprise.

"Ebu ..."

"CALL ME BY MY REAL NAME!"

Barennackle recoils as though Bufer has struck him, but he remains silent and stone-faced.

"Right then," Bufer says as he hoists it over one shoulder. "See ya 'round, Master Barrenackle. I'll be sure to let ye know how things with the abbey turn out."

Bufer turns his back on the mailbox, and his mentor, and faces the road.

"Bejik-Caesin," the high priest calls, before he can take two steps, "You are making a mistake!"

"Of course, I'm making a mistake," he replies, "But when has that ever stopped me before?"

And with that, Bufer sets out on the road to Maidensbridge, leaving Master Barennackle and Wit's End behind him.

* * *

On the slopes of Green Mountain, a man with white hair sits casually on the edge of a cliff, his feet dangling over the edge. Next to him a dwarf sits cross-legged; he looks out over the trees of Tulgey Wood, but he's not really seeing the view. Behind the dwarf a dog sits folded in on itself with one leg in the air; he is noisily licking his crotch.

The man's name is Theran, and he is silently observing Emus Graymullet as the dwarf relays the events of the past few days. Emus is stripped to the waist because he is still hot from the exertion of climbing this far up the mountain. It is the first close-up look that the old druid has seen of the tattoos spread out over Emus' tattoo-covered body.

"And this religious junction that they're forming at Maidensbridge Chapel that you mentioned," Theran says, scratching his beard.

"Yep." There is a pause. "Go on."

"I think it's a real bad idea."

"That's what I thought you had said."

* * *

At The Cat & The Fiddle, Ella re-reads the note. The courier hadn't known it was from Tock Chandler, but she had, the moment she'd seen it.

In Middleborough, Telgen Mythander stands tip-toe on a stepstool inside his alchemy shop, The House of the Transformed Toad. Frowning, he plucks a note tuked between two bottles. He hadn't put that there, perhaps a customer had. Removing it, the gnome opens it, and his impressive eyebrows crawl up his forehead when he realizes it's from the fugitive, Renraw Kem.

* * *

In Midwood Hall, the vision fades and the mirror returns to normal, revealing Steward Eule Wood watching from a discreet distance over Baron Nicodemus Midwood's shoulder.

"Well, they're alive," the baron says, closing the steel shutters over the mirror and locking them, then closing a pair of decoratively carved wooden shutters over those. "Bring me blank warrants and stationery. We'll see if they can outrun the heliograph."

"Whatcyadoin', Bug?"

Katadid Leach looked into his hands and watched the mud slide through his fingers to reveal rocks, not insects. He was confused to say the least, as his name wasn't Bug, so the voice behind him must have been referring to something near him. Maybe the water bugs darting across the surface of the ...

Kat was shoved roughly from behind and found himself slipping down the muddy bank and falling face down into the shallow water under the Maiden's Bridge. He came up sputtering and flailing, despite the lack of danger. This made the moment even more hilarious to the group of children laughing behind him. One of the larger children made his way down the banks and roughly pulled the flapping child out to the road, dragging Kat a good portion of the way.

"That was AWESOME!" Edgar Russell laughed. He was pushed aside by a larger child and glowered at. The other boy took off, which was a very good idea, given that the boy who shoved him and rescued Kat was Tucker Gallaway.

"What did you have to fall in for?" Tucker yelled. Kat shivered and looked panicked as the giggling children surrounded him. Tucker bit his lip, feeling a moment of guilt. "You gotta look around sometimes Kat! Otherwise Edgar's going to keep on pushing you in!"

Kat began stammering and running his hands through his thin hair.

"I ... well ... stones and ..."

"He's probably counting ROCKS again!" Bree Russell said, running a dirty hand under her nose. Kat promptly knelt to the ground and began to turn around in a circle, tapping his feet as he did so. He had to whenever the word "rocks" was mentioned, and the children knew it. Tucker sighed and turned to chastise Bree and the other children, when a rock ricocheted off his skull.

"Ow!" Tucker bent over holding his ear. When he stood up, he was red-faced and growling at the young blonde boy with a sling shot standing on the railing of the bridge.

"I'm telling your mom, Tock!" Tucker screamed.

"Fine!" Tock laughed. "She can ask your mom about your real dad!"

Tucker advanced a few steps. The other children began whispering among themselves, eager to witness some entertainment.

"Don't you say nothin' bout my dad," he growled.

"What?" Tock hopped off the bridge in front of Tucker. "Like he's green and ugly and smelly and lives under a bridge?"

Tucker blinked.

"My dad doesn't ..."

"Your REAL dad. I saw your mom come down to the bridge and have the troll stick his thingy into her. And after it was done it ..."

Tock cried out and hit the ground, holding a bloody nose. Tucker shook his hand and brought it up to his mouth to suck on the already swelling knuckles. Lidda Ward rushed over and knelt over the swearing Tock, all too eager to coo over her latest crush. Bree looked like she wanted to join her, but reluctantly stayed by the other boys, who were disappointed by the fight's duration.

Tucker turned around and put his hand on Kat's shoulder.

"Come on. My ma's got some clothes that she ..."

All Kat saw was Tucker going down, Tock's tiny fists pummeling his back. The kids screeched like bats as they surrounded the pair. Tucker pushed Chandler off easily and took a few wild swings, which Tock seemed to dodge easily.

"Smelly Gallaway!
Why don’t ya go away!
Take your troll daddy and smell some hay!"

"SHUT UP, CHANDLER!" Tucker's face went red as his next swing went wide and the nimbler boy danced around him, slapping the back of his head.

"Make me troll baby! Make ... OW!"

The children scattered as they saw the adult grab Tock's shoulder and yank the boy back enough and grab his shirt with the other hand. Only Tucker stayed put, although it looked like he wished he could run as well. He looked to the ground with clenched fists as Heath Leach stared at the boy. Heath looked to his wet and miserable son and sighed.

"Tock, did you push my boy in the river, again?"

Tock struggled in the adult's grip but only succeeded in twisting his shirt around Heath's fist.

"Tucker did it! I saw him! It's why I was fighting, Uncle Heath!"

"This true, Tucker?" Mister Leach asked the boy, whose face had gone red.

"No, sir. It was Edgar Russell."

Heath nodded.

"All right, then. Why don't you go run off and play with that Grant boy? He's looking mighty bored sitting in that cart while his father's talking with Bridger. And I don't want to see you fighting no more!" Mister Leach yelled as Tucker shot off to the town square. Heath scowled to the boy he held. "As for you, Tock Chandler ..."

He sputtered as Tock simply slipped out of his shirt and took off bare-chested toward the bridge.

"I hate you! I hate this town!" Tock screeched angrily. To emphasize his point, he turned around and stuck his rear out to fart toward Heath. Heath shook his head and started to fold up the shirt to take to his brother-in-law.

"Cute kid," a voice came from behind Heath. He turned around and smiled at his companion, who had managed to remain unnoticed behind Heath's size. The gnome was young, with wild hair and the meager beginnings of a mustache dotting his lip. Heath laughed and bent down to his son, who had remained shivering and wide-eyed the entire time.

"No surprise he was Helga's favorite, is it? Kat, you all right?"

Kat nodded once and then twice as he realized it would have been an odd number. His father sighed and lifted up Kat's dripping arm.

"We gotta get you some dry clothes. Again. It's in the pharmacy, Bufer. Won't take any time."

"Don't worry, Heath," the gnome said. "Where I come from, kids pushing each other into a lake is necessary for their development. I'd be more worried if they didn't. Although that brings up an interesting theory, as my great-great aunt Ihaliabop was this conjurer who thought that children multiplied when they got wet."

The trio stopped as an apple core dropped in front of them, as the passed between the mill and the old chapel. They looked up to see a filthy girl smiling as she pulled another apple from her pocket and leaned back into the tree branches far above the ground.

"Hazel," Heath warned, "You better be careful up there."

Her face fell as she began to climb down,

"Sorry, Mister Leach."

Heath shook his head and smiled.

"Now, I didn't say you had to come down. Must be a great view. Just be careful, hear? Your father will burst if he finds out I left you there and you break your arm soon as I leave."

"Oh, I don't think we need to worry, Heath," Bufer said. "Looks more like a squirrel to me. And squirrels don't fall easily." The girl giggled and Bufer winked at her.

Heath shook his head and ushered his son forward.

The gnome continued on with his story as if nothing had happened.

"Of course, she ended up thinking that dogs were telling her to take off her clothes and run through Wit's End, which sort of put an end to seriously considering her theories. I'm honestly not sure if was the actual scientific disproving of her ideas or the sight of her bits flapping around like caught fish that -"

"HEY!" Heath shouted. A sullen young boy was using a hand axe to chip away at one of the gravestones in the cemetery. He looked toward the trio with an impressive mixture of hostility and disinterest.

"Boy, " Heath growled, "I don't care if you're St. Yessid's mascot or not. You leave those stones alone."

"Ain't gonna matter to dem issit?" the boy slurred. "Bethcya cleanin' mold offa moldies ain't anythin." The child tossed the hand axe to the ground and grabbed a stick to start tearing away the moss off the tombstones. Heath stared for a moment to make sure the kid didn't try any other vandalism and shook his head as they continued. "That boy is touched in the head."

"Now, where was I?" Bufer muttered after they passed. "Where was I? Oh, yeah! My great-great aunt's-"

"We're home!" Heath said quickly, before running inside the apothecary. Bufer chuckled and looked across at the twitchy child.

"Never thought your dad queasy about public nudity what with your mom and that one, ah ..." Bufer closed his mouth rapidly and looked to the town square awkwardly.

Milos was tossing a drunken dwarf (Graymail? It was hard to keep track of them) out of The Cat & The Fiddle and elicited another chuckle.

"How do gnomes go to the bathroom?"

Bufer's head turned very slowly to the young boy, whose head was posed quizzically.

"Ah, well," the gnome began.

"Tock says that gnomes have to pee in foxholes because no other hole will take them. Is that true?"

"Er, no."

"Where's Wit's End?"

"Um ..."

"How come no one can find it? Do you use spells? A special artifact?"

"How's a boy of eight know the word arti-"

"What do these gnome words mean? Clockwork? Wonder? Daft?"

At that moment, Heath came out with a new set of clothes, saving Bufer from further interrogation. Heath snickered at the gnome as he removed Kat's sopping wet shirt.

"He start with the questions again?"

Bufer nodded slowly and Heath laughed.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes. I'd just answer them or find someone who can or you'll never get any peace. Now Kat," Heath lifted his son's eyes to meet his own after he had been redressed. "This'll have to do till I get to the washing tonight. PLEASE, try not to dig anything up till at least dusk, OK? Now, Mister Potentloins and I have to go in and discuss this order for his ma, so I want you to stay close by."

Kat nodded and Heath rustled his son's hair, which caused a string of apologies as Kat started moaning as his hair became messy. After adjusting it and an almost wary look from Bufer toward him, Kat was left alone outside of the apothecary.

Katadid started counting the number of stones that touched the outer walls. He then figured out the average between all four. He was beginning to get worried, as he could feel an odd number coming, when he heard a hiss from behind him.

Kat turned to see a young boy with greasy black hair and bulging eyes across way, behind the mill. He beckoned toward Kat. He hesitated. He vaguely recognized the boy, but couldn't remember from where. The boy hissed again, this time angrily, and Kat walked tentatively forward.

"Why did you take so long?" the boy snarled. He started at a snapping branch and pressed himself against the wall, but when nothing happened, turned back around.

"Remember what we were talking about? About machines?"

"Um ... Well, not-"

"Yes, we did! Don't be stupid!"

Kat didn't like to be called stupid, as he heard it often and knew it wasn't a good thing.

"OK."

"Look," the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out an oily rag. He took his time unwrapping it. Inside was a golden pistol; intricate script written across the hilt and a dragon's head whose mouth was open and ready to belch flame.

"Wow," Kat said as he reached out. The pistol was pulled back and testily wrapped.

"I didn't say you could touch it!" the boy said.

"How does it work?" Kat asked, his eyes wide. Renraw opened his mouth and thought for a moment, mouth wide.

"It has this fairy inside. It's a fire fairy. And when you pull this little thing here, it shoots the little ball you put in. I've seen it done hundreds of time. It's so easy. For me, I mean."

"Can I see it?" Kat asked.

"Sure," Renraw said. He threw the rag down and pointed the dragon pistol at the young boy's head. "Now, I'm going to pull this thingy JUST a little. Not enough to make it go off, but you should be able to see the fairy peek out. Now look close! I don't want to have to do this again!"

"OK!" Kat squealed. He put his eye against the dragon's mouth. Renraw looked nervous and started to open his mouth to say something.

Kat fell back and screamed as Renraw was lifted off the ground and slammed against the wall. The dragon pistol fell to the ground and snapped as the hammer clicked against an empty chamber, the metal ball rolling uselessly out of the barrel. Kat looked up to see an older version of Renraw holding him off the ground.

"What the HELL are you doing? I come to visit and you're pulling this crap?"

"Let me go, Scim! LET ME -- AAH!" Kat flinched and backed up as Renraw's head was bounced against the wall.

"Are you an idiot? Do you have any idea what he'll do if he catches you with-"

"ROEBELLOOO!" A voice bellowed across the square. Both of the Kem boys froze, eyes wide with terror. Even Renraw's fear during his brother's beating paled in comparison to what this voice engendered in him.

"Damn it," Scim picked up the gun and stuffed it inside his pants. He shoved Renraw against the wall and held him there. "You are meeting Uncle Ronco out in the orchard for this. DAMN!"

And with that, Scimitar ran off.

Kat moaned softly and banged his head against the wall as Renraw sniffed and wiped his eyes. Renraw looked at Kat with hatred twisting his features.

"What did you have to do that for? You STUPID MORON, you messed everything up!"

Kat cried out as Renraw kicked him in the shin and ran off, tears streaming down his face.

It was a long while before Kat stood back up, and only after he counted to 224. Still nervous, he tapped the corners of the mill and looked across the river to the orchard. Realizing that counting the trees and touching the branches would sooth him, he started walking and soon crossed the bridge.

Before going to the orchard, however, Kat had to stop by Constable Bridger's tower. It was a rule. He HAD to touch each of the large stones behind Bridger's house before walking to the orchard. Kat began getting nervous when he saw the cart parked outside, which on the sides beheld a crest of something called "Grant Old Ale," but no one seemed to be in it, so Kat walked around toward the back. He touched each of the stones and immediately felt better. Kat sighed and started to walk back around the long way toward the orchard when he heard a noise.

Looking up, he saw a brown tail flap back and forth from the window above. Kat watched as a kobold, holding a torn white puffy shirt jumped down to the ground. The kobold looked hurt, with minor cuts and bruising on his scales that made his skin a darker brown, and one side of his face seemed swollen. In one hand, he held an apple and in the other a pair of dark goggles, which he tried to put on one-handed as he sloppily ate the apple. After a moment, the kobold succeeded and sighed.

And that was when he noticed Kat.