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

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

As the wagon rocks its way through the darkening Tulgey Wood, Emus begins to cool down. His eyes sharper in the darkness than the others, he watches Khenemet-Apep intently for a long time before speaking.

"Hey, constable," he says finally. "Mind if I ask this 'un a question?"

Constable Bridger shrugs and says nothing.

"So, wizard, when's this supposed kobold attack coming, eh?"

Swaying back and forth with the motion of the cart, Khenemet-Apep looks down at Emus, his dark face split by a wide grin.

"Hmmm? Well, I have an idea, but I think that's a matter for the baron, not a dwarf covered in sap and fleas."

"Yeah, that's sorta what I figgered you'd say," Emus says, leanining back against the edge of the cart. After a moment, he self-consciously picks a flea out of his beard.

Katadid looks at Emus. He looks at Apep. He then looks at Emus again. Alarm and confusion darts across his face.

"Kobold attack? There's a kobold attack? When did this happen? Or start to happen? Or will happen?"

Emus shrugs.

"Eh. It's just a rumor I heard goin' around the tavern. Figgered he'd know somethin' about it. Ain't gonna happen today, though. Too many dwarves around.

"And if it were gonna happen tonight, I figgered this 'un, would've mentioned it now, seein' as he's about to talk to the baron and all. It's not nothin' to worry about, son."

"Emus, truly," Renraw interjects, his voice spilling over with sincerity, "It means quite a lot to me that you joined us for the journey. This will not be forgotten."

The Wizard of Green Mountain ignores Renraw's comment, looking back and forth in the darkening twilight between Emus and Kat.

"Why, Young Master Leach, what did you think the kobolds wanted the military information you gave them for? To send flowers?"

In the darkness near his feet, it sounds like the cat is snickering again.

Kat looks stunned for a moment.

"I-I didn't ... I thought they just wanted to be prepared ... in case."

"But the dwarf is correct. The kobolds' attack requires the successful completion of a complex ritual. They still have numerous parts to collect before they can begin, as well as piecing together the rest of the ritual itself."

"Don't you dare," Renraw snarls. "Leach didn't give them any information they didn't already know. Neither of us have any reason to feel guilt, Kat."

"Yes, but-" Katadid starts to reply.

"Which the boy could not have known and," Khenemet-Apep peers at Kat through the remaining light, "I suspect he would have given them the information no matter what. A fair trade and all of that."

"Well, yes, but I had to, I didn't want-"

"'The boy' is touched. He was compelled by his own personal demons. He's no more guilty of treason than I am. You, on the other hand, did your damnedest to have Deputy Gallaway killed. I'm quite eager to see how you manage to avoid that while you're within the zone of truth."

"'Touched?' But ... treason? Wait, the deputy will be kill-"

"Oh, I don't know that the baron would rule him guilty, or that he would impose a harsh sentence if he did, but you and I both know what you agreed to do."

"That's what we're going to the Baron for? A-"

"Of course, of course. And everyone took me at my word, didn't they?" Renraw grins with tight lips.

"Wormy is K-"

"Light a lamp, Tucker," the constable says, ignoring the debate between the wizards three and slowing the cart. He nods in the gloom to the trunk beneath the bench seat and the poles for lanterns at the front of the cart.

"MORE LIGHT! I NEED TO THINK!" Kat shouts, causing everyone to jump in their seats. The cat hisses and its fur bristles. Skeeter, meanwhile nuzzles further into Kat's armpit. Kat holds his head in his hands, breathing heavily and trying to calm himself from the flurry of words around him.

"I-I just need to think for a moment," he says into his shackles. Katadid mutters to himself for another minute while hiding his head, his feet tapping sporadically. When he finally raises his head, he looks directly into Apep's eyes. "Ritual. Parts. They need time. And pieces.

"So tell me what it is. And tell me where I can find them before they do."

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

As worried as he is about his cousin, Tock Chandler finds himself unable to completely let go of his scheme:

He makes his way into the middle of town. To humans and gnomes he shouts, "Contest is starting! Contest is starting! Everybody to the Cat!"

To Farrin dwarves he mentions, "Argus is about to go on with that dreadful song, boys. Don't stand for it."

To Glangirn dwarves he says, "Them Farrin boys have been cheating and plan on interfering with the contest. It's not right! Even I'll admit Argus is the best bard this year."

He jots something down on a piece of paper and when he Fibber moving toward the tavern, he gives the note to him. "Hey, bud, give this to Ella after the contest tonight. Not before. Y'hear me? Free drinks all night tomorrow if you do it."

Meanwhile, Stotch runs for the stables. When he is sure that no one is watching, he begins to untie the horses. Leading two of the finer geldings out of their pens, he hands them off to Tock.

"I freed the rest. No innocent animal should be hurt." Stotch then pulls a lantern from a sconce in the wall, and hands it to Tock, taking back the geldings' reins. "This hay is dry enough; I reckon you won't need any extra lamp oil."

He leads the horses out quickly, pulling up his hood as he goes.

* * *

Bufer waits until he can no longer hear Swifty's footfalls before turning his back and reentering The Cat & The Fiddle, now packed to the rafters with the bardic contest almost underway. Hopping up and down, he strives to catch a glimpse of Emmerson or Ragglus.

In the process, his eyes land on a female dwarf with elaborately braided hair whom he's never seen before, nibbling idly on her nails as she waits for the show to start. A silver amulet of a hand gripping a gemstone hangs around her neck and gives him pause -- clearly, she is a cleric of Yurabbos and Clan Farrin. He blinks in surprise and curiousity, and then pushes through the crowd towards her, his mission momentarily forgotten in his eagerness to recruit a dwarf cleric to his agenda of a 'cosmopolitan' chapel in Maidensbridge.

"Evenin', Priestess of Yurabbos," he says once he gets within earshot of the dwarven cleric, shouting to be heard over the din of the crowd. "My name is Ebuferpaly Whitethatch Malpractice Potentloins, cleric of Garl Glittergold. I don't recall seein' ye 'round, before. Are ye new to these parts?"

"Well, depends on how you define n --" Vonmora Farrin looks up after a moment, realizing the question must have been aimed at her due to the long silence and lack of forthcoming reply from anyone else. She barely gets a glimpse of the gnome before the crowd surged in panic. The smell reaches her a moment before the cry goes out.

"Kramer's store is on fire!" someone outside yells.

Ella screams in terror, and the mass of dwarves inside all attempt to get out at once, flooding into the dark and muddy square. The Fordhams seem almost paralyzed, dragged outside by Ella, staring back at the inn, dumbstruck.

Vonmora surges outside with her kinfolk: The two clans may not like each other -- may even hate each other -- but this is their mountain and when fire threatens, they know what to do.

A couple of buckets land at Vonmora's side. She carefully pushes through crowd, bucket in each hand, moving to her place along the coast of the Moss River. One human male behind her knees her repeatedly in the back in panic, obviously only concerned with his safety. After the third sharp jab in her back, Vonmora turns and head-butts him in the jewels.

* * *

Thundering down the Baron's Road, Tock turns in the saddle, looking back behind him. There's Stotch, black hair silhouetted against the growing yellow flames in the distance. There's Kramer's stable, quickly being eaten by fire.

"I'm comin', Kat, I'm comin'," no one hears him say. Tock takes an arrow and cuts his cheek and musses his face with dirt as well.

"Sing a song as we ride!" Stotch yells at him, pulling up alongside. "Inspire your friends as we try to save them! Use your talents for more than winning contests!"

He reaches into his bag, and pulls out a small black bag, and reaches over with it, holding it out to Tock.

"Just in case! Pray you don't have to use them!"

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

While the dwarves seem to know what to do without even speaking about it, the humans and gnomes of Maidensbridge aren't quite so lucky.

Struggling against the panicked mob like a salmon swimming upstream, Bufer grabs hold of the bar and clamber atop it. Kicking aside several half-empty tankards of green ale, he calls out to the surging mass of people as they bottleneck in the doorway, threatening to crush one another in their eagerness to escape.

"EVERYBODY CALM DOWN!" Bufer shouts. "PANIC IS ONLY GOING TO GET PEOPLE HURT, OR WORSE! WOMEN AND CHILDREN OUT FIRST, THEN I WANT EVERY ABLE-BODIED GNOME, DWARF AND MAN TO FIND THEMSELVES A BUCKET AND FORM A CHAIN 'TWEEN THE RIVER AN' THE STABLE! QUICKLY NOW, FOLKS! WE HAVEN'T A MOMENT TO SPARE!

"EMMERSON, RAGS, HAZEL, TOCK, GET THIS RABBLE MOVIN'! I'LL BE ALONG IN TWO SHAKES!"

With that, Bufer hops down behind the bar and charges into the kitchen, searching for as many buckets as his two little hands will carry, not taking note of the fact that Tock Chandler was nowhere to be seen.

As the crowd empties out the bar, Jack Sawyer herds his family to a now-vacant corner table. He drops his cloak over a chair and seats his wife, planting a kiss on her brow. With a few sharp words to Reed about minding his mama, Jack leaves the boy with Rosalind and Aspen.

"Wait here till I come back for you. Kramer's store is a goodly distance from the tavern, so the fire's not like to spread this far, and I don't want you walking home alone in the dark."

Rosalind hauls the squirming Reed into a chair beside her and gives her husband a smile.

"Be careful. We'll be just fine here." She looks around the tavern's main room. "If you see Jana, will you send her in? I'm sure she'll be wanting to start fixing a meal for the fire crew."

Hazel and Mat fall in behind Jack as he heads out the door and toward the fire line.

"Mat, run by your dad's shop and get some buckets and half-barrels, as many as you can carry." Jack eyes the growing flames. "Looks like we'll be needing them sooner rather than later. Hazel'll help ya carry."

The two dart off toward the cooperage as Jack joins the dwarven bucket brigade.

Emmerson hangs back in the tavern a moment, considering.

Is this the kobold attack? Fire would be a good distraction. A coordinated attack that would involve Fiddler would already be on the way.

With the fire to one side, and dazed by Fiddler's magic from the other, the kobold attack would make short work of the firefighters and the exposed throats of the dazed patrons at the inn. But around town, the only sounds Emmerson hears are of men, dwarf and gnome calling for buckets and water. No one is attacking.

Something doesn't add up.

Emmerson leaves the inn and runs to the chapel to get the few buckets there are, perhaps even the cast iron baptismal, if there's enough strong arms to lift it. After the fire is doused, there will be a time for questions.

Outside, Bufer curses as he gets his first real look at the fire -- already having fully consumed the stables, and one wall of the store proper -- then casts his eyes around in search of the others.

He can't spy Boots or Argus anywhere, but he hears a steady stream of dwarvish invective erupting from somewhere in the distance, and assumes they're at the river, probably arguing over how best to cut through the ice. He rolls his eyes, and briefly considers heading down that way, but stops short as he catches sight of Emmerson and Ragglus, now both fully armed and carrying a small bucket each. He hurries towards them, shoving his buckets at the first pairs of empty hands he sees in the line.

"Hurry lads, pass those down," he mutters, as the two men approach. "Rags, you're faster than I am; get on down to the river, would you? Start crackin' the whip down at that end. Kick some ass if you have to. We need to get these buckets movin' if we're going to save the store! C'mon, Emmerson, let's get 'em organized at this end."

He grabs hold of Emmerson's elbow, and they jog towards the fire, shouting at the line as they run along it, more and more townspeople running up to join it every second.

"PASS THOSE BUCKETS DOWN, LADIES!" Bufer howls. "THAT'S RIGHT, THAT'S RIGHT! LOOK ALIVE, NOW! I HEAR THE GLANGIRNS SAY THEY CAN PASS FASTER THAN ANYONE. ARE YOU FARRINS GONNA STAND FOR THAT?"

Bufer glances up at Emmerson as they take their places in the chain closest to the fire, both their faces already covered in sweat as they wait for the first of the water-filled buckets to make their way down.

"I lost track of Fiddler in all the confusion!" he shouts, grimacing against the heat. "You ain't seen 'im, have you?"

"No, I haven't," Emmerson shakes his head, scanning the crowd. "But I told Tock to keep an eye out for him."

"THOSE DOWN THE RIVER! HURRY UP WITH THE WATER OR THERE'LL BE NO STORE LEFT TO SAVE!" Bufer roars once more. Smoke and shouting will leave his voice a ragged croak tomorrow.

Accustomed to taking orders in times of crisis, there's barely a pause in Ragglus' steps as he hears Bufer's words and turns to run through those loitering among the crowd, darting between the mill and the smithy, and making haste for Moss River.

Hearing the sounds of raised voices at the end of the people chain -- frustrated folk in the line yelling for action -- Ragglus wastes no time and wades through those arguing, grabs one of the fallen heavy axes, and begins moving toward the ice.

"Less arguin' an' more ice breakin', you horses' asses!" Ragglus brings the axe down, cracking at the ice, over and over.

Whether by his words or by his example, by the time the third blow has fallen, people have moved into action. A few more take up the axes and hammers and began to help.

"Stand by with the buckets!" Ragglus calls again, seeing the anxious faces in the chain. "Won't be long now!"

Hazel and Mat burst out of the cooperage, having grabbed everything finished enough to hold water. Buckets stacked high in their arms, they run for the riverbank. There's the sound of cracking ice as they descend toward the bank of the Moss River.

"Rags!" Hazel cries out.

Ragglus is knee-deep in the frigid waters of the Moss, tossing an axe aside with a proud grin. She wades out to him with a bucket, shivering violently. "Let's get to filling these buckets!

"Leave the rest here and run up the front of the line, Mat. As soon as they start getting empties, bring 'em back here. If you can organize some of the little boys to do the running, go on and join the fire line, yeah?"

Hazel feeds the empty buckets to Rags as fast as he can fill them.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

As he rides through the dark of the Tulgey Wood, Tock Chandler sings.

He had intended to sing "The Ballad of Tiberius" in the competition, but that seems unlikely now.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited a lot.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited for naught.

"Upright adventurers set out on that cold morn,
Weapons they were carried and armor it was worn.
They had but one mission, they had but one thought,
To wait for some Tiberius and wait till he was caught.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited a lot.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited for naught.

"The ranger she was quiet, the wizards they were loud,
The cleric he was not human, the paladin was proud,
The dwarf was deftly hiding, silent as a breath,
Then the noble kobolds came and scared them half to death.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited a lot.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited for naught.

"The ranger talked to dragonkin and a deal was made.
A bland female for a shifty kob’ was to be the trade.
But the gnome had other plans, he wanted to impress.
He volunteered himself instead, wanting in her dress.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited a lot.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited for naught.

"The dragonkin were keeping faith, but the others were unjust.
They attacked the kobolds without cause, because they had no trust.
Kobolds murdered left and right, two more fought and fled.
If it weren’t for Katadid, they would all be dead.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited a lot.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
They waited and waited for naught.

"Paladin with head of stone was brought back from the grave.
He now licks the bishop’s boot and might be his love slave.
The gnome, he almost died, and, yes, the dwarf, too!
Their treachery bit them back, don't let this come to you.

"Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
Tried to kill all kobolds.
Oh the fools, oh the fools,
But dragonkin are noble.
Oh, the fools, oh the fools,
Try to keep your word!
Oh the fools, oh the fools
Or you’ll be interred."

Spotting their quarry, Tock and Chandler gallop after the wagon ferrying Renraw, Katadid and Khenemet-Apep to Midwood Hall and the baron's justice.

"STOP THE CART!" Stotch roars. "MAIDENSBRIDGE IS BURNING! THE DWARVES ARE RIOTING! CONSTABLE! YOU'RE NEEDED IN TOWN URGENTLY!"

Renraw hears the riders before he sees them and his face flushes with anger and frustration.

"Wha-?" Katadid looks up, dumfounded. Manic tapping ensues. "Is Heath ... How is ... I mean ..."

The constable murmurs something to Tucker as the two riders approach, and both he and his deputy place their hands on their weapons as the cart comes to a halt.

"Why, young Mister Chandler, I had no idea you owned a horse. And how interesting that two of you would ride to find us down this one road, instead of staying in town to help."

"Bridger, dammit, we don't like each other, I know," Tock spits back. "But do you really think I'm better prepared to handle a dwarven riot -- not a brawl, mind you, a real riot -- than you are?"

The constable spits a blast of chewing tobacco onto the hard ground.

"Well, I don't see that I have a lot of choice here. I need you two to dismount. Tucker will pull out another pair of shackles out of the trunk here, and clap you in them and put you in the cart. I don't know whose horses those are, but they aren't yours, and you'll stay where I can find you until that's straightened out.

"I'll take the horses and ride back to Maidensbridge and see what's what. Tucker will take you all on to Foxton on Moss and wait with the constable there for me. If there's a riot, I'll be a little while catching up to you all, but I'll be by soon enough, and the constable in Foxton has a sturdy stone house with a roof that don't leak none while you wait."

He eyes the horsemen expectantly.

"Off the horses, boys."

Stotch dismounts quickly, snarling.

"We grabbed the first horses we saw, and came for you as fast we could. This gelding is fast, so make haste!" He shoves the reins at Constable Bridger. "Shackle me if you must, but hurry! Innocent people are at risk!"

In the relative dark, Tucker brings out two more sets of shackles.

"One for Tock, one for ... wait, who are you?" He shrugs, and binds the stranger, then helps the pair into opposite corners of the wagon. "Emus, if they act up, tell the dog he can eat them."

As the constable climbs up onto one of the purloined horses, Tucker takes his place on the wagon's seat.

"In fact, anyone wants t' act up, we'll loop your chain through the wheel and see how long you can keep pace walking."

He cracks the reins and the dray lurches forward with a creak.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Standing side by side at the head of the line, Bufer and Emmerson watch the growing blaze helplessly as they wait for fully-laden buckets to be passed their way. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Bufer casts his gaze around the town square, searching for Fiddler.

A ragged cheer erupts partway down the line, and Emmerson elbows him in the side, pointing to where the first full buckets of water are slowly making their way towards them.

"Attaboy, Rags!" Bufer grins. "I knew he'd get it done! As Garl's my witness, if I ever hear anybody call that boy a good-for-nothin' again, they'll have earned themselves a kneecappin' from yours truly, they will!"

Turning back to the line, he cups his hands around his mouth, and shouts hard as he can to be heard over the roar of the flames.

"PICK UP THE PACE, LADIES! EVERY SECOND COUNTS, SO LET'S LIGHT A FIRE UNDER, uh, I MEAN, LET'S PUT OUR BACKS INTO IT! GLANGIRNS, THEM FARRINS ARE MAKIN' YA LOOK BAD! WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT, HUH?"

Bufer licks his dry lips as he watches the first bucket seem to crawl toward him as it's fumbled from one set of hands to another, then looks back up at Emmerson.

"All right, beanpole, the trick now is t'get 'em all workin' in a common rhythm," he says with a wink. "Follow my lead."

And taking a deep breath, he begins to belt out the only song in Imperial Common that immediately leaps to mind:

"Though the sky be black as coal,
Though still hours 'til break of day,
Still we march towards our goal,
Lothian's truth shall light our way!

"Onward, Onward, Brave Soldiers!
Onward 'til the break of dawn.
Onward, Onward, Brave Soldiers!
For the glory of Lo-th-ian!"

Grinning widely at the shocked look on Emmerson's face as he passes him the first bucket, Bufer turns and yells to the others behind him.

"WELL? IS THIS A BARDIC CONTEST OR NOT? LET'S HEAR SOME VOICES OUT THERE!"

As Bufer works the line, he continues scanning for Fiddler, finally spotting him fidgeting in the doorway of The Cat & The Fiddle. His prize fiddle has been hidden away, presumably locked in his rented room, and his goggles have been taken off, and hang around his neck, his reflective eyes blinking at the diminishing fire.

Finally, some inner battle is resolved, and he hustles forward to the line, cursing and snarling as he forces the dwarves to make a spot for him and he passes a bucket uphill, his foot tapping in time to the Lothianite hymn as sung by a gnome.

The slap of his claws on the frozen mud is ever so slightly faster than the tempo Bufer sang at, and the gnome is singing faster, and the line is passing buckets at a faster cadence, before anyone realizes what's happening.

Bufer blinks in surprise, then breaks into a grin and nods respectfully at Fiddler. Tearing his eyes away from the kobold, back to the fire, Bufer sings with even more gusto than before, evoking a wince even from his tin-earred companion.

"I think we got this one beat, beanpole," he grins up at Emmerson between verses. "No matter what may happen tomorrow, Maidensbridge ain't burnin' down tonight!"

"Not on our watch, Bufer," Emmerson agrees, half-coughing his reply. He takes the bucket and throws the water at the fire with all his strength. He drops the bucket to the side and receives another. He splashes the water on the fire and drops the bucket to the side. It's an endless cycle, receiving, throwing, dropping, all the while his heart filled with joy at the fire brigade singing his favorite lothian hymn.

Half a dozen soot-faced boys drop empty buckets near Hazel's feet at a regular pace; she tries to give each a nod and a smile for their efforts without losing the song's rhythm.

The pile of empties never seems to dwindle, no matter how quickly she sends the buckets on to Rags. Smoke hides the line snaking across the town square toward Kramer's General Store.

"Ya reckon it's havin' any effect yet?" she asks as she tosses the bucket to Ragglus.

Ragglus dips the next bucket in and hands it off, giving an ever-so-slight shrug to Hazel as he accepts the next from her.

"Either some horses is burnin' alive an' screamin', or i'm hearin' some singin'. Not sure which."

Giving a final, defiant sputtering hiss, the last stubborn embers of the blaze are extinguished as Emmerson douses them. Bufer pauses in mid-verse as he watches the paladin stomp on them with his boot, then turn and nod silently, a wide grin splitting his soot-streaked face.

Bufer returns the grin and drops his bucket to the ground, cupping his sore and calloused hands around his mouth as the twists 'round to address the line.

"HOLD UP, EVERYBODY, HOLD UP!" he shouts, straining to be heard over the fire brigade's singing. "PAT YOURSELVES ON THE BACKS, FOLKS, AND YOUR NEIGHBOR'S BESIDES! THE FIRE'S OUT! WE DID IT!!"

"Well done, everyone," Emmerson says, his voice raw from smoke and singing. "Bufer, we need two things: Find out the cause of the fire and get everyone in Maidensbridge accounted for."

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Hazel continues passing buckets along until a grime-smeared grin appears in her peripheral vision. The grinning boy isn't carrying a bucket.

"Fire's out!" he shouts before dashing off again.

"Hold up, Rags." Hazel scans the water-passing line and sees the word heading their way as men gratefully drop buckets to the ground and congratulate one another on a job well done. "Looks like we're in the clear."

Reluctant to slap him on the back without warning, Hazel smiles and adds, "You did nice work."

She turns and heads up the line.

Unused to compliments, Ragglus nods briefly in reply. Stretching his arms and rotating his shoulders, he begins a slow walk back to the square, hoping that if the kobolds attack they'll wait until much later to do so, or at least until he's well-rested and his feet are dry.

* * *

Bufer ponders the sodden remains of the stables, and frowns.

"There's not likely to be many clues left in this mess, but I'll give it a thorough goin' over and see what I can find. In the meantime, I suggest we round up Boots and Argus before they start hurling accusations and denials at each other. If we include 'em in the investigation straight off, they're more likely to be reasonable, and less likely to put up a ruckus later, I figure. Just remember to take everythin' they say with a salt lick, huh?"

A sudden strikes the gnome.

"Oh!"

Blinking, he turns around and seeks out Fiddler in the meandering crowd of firefighters that still fills the town square. It's only when he looks away from the crowd that he spots the kobold, shifting from foot to foot impatiently, clearly thinking. He sees the gnome looking at him, and hisses nastily.

Nearby, the two dwarven clan leaders stand together, talking, and glaring at Fiddler, muttering darkly, united in suspicion.

The rest of the town mills around in confusion, wondering what happens now. Finally Fibber asks the question so many have on their mind: "Does this mean the festival is over?"

Bufer blinks, then turns to exchange a silent glance with Emmerson, both of them apparently thinking the same thing: It will be much easier to account for everyone in town if they're all in the same place.

Off Emmerson's nod, Bufer smiles and gestures expansively to the crowd filling the square.

"Over?" he shouts incredulously. "What, you think all of Maidensbridge is gonna turn in over a little ash and soot? No! There's still a contest that needs winning! And green ale that needs quaffing! And a hard-won victory needs celebrating! Frost's Leavin' ain't over yet, boy! Why, it's barely begun! Let's everyone get back to The Cat & The Fiddle, and get this party started!"

Grinning, Bufer walks across the square, slapping backs and shaking hands of man, dwarf and gnome alike, tossing out thanks and compliments as he heads in the general direction of Fiddler, without looking directly at him. Once he's sure he's within earshot of the kobold, he stops and bends over to pick up a discarded bucket, and turns it this way and that, examining it intently.

"Listen," he says conversationally, without looking up, "It might not be safe for you to stay. Some of these folk are already thinking your kin were behind the fire, and once they get some ale into 'em ... well, it might not be pretty. The knight'll do his best to keep 'em in line, but ..."

Bufer shrugs as he pretends to find the bottom of the bucket intensely interesting.

"I understand your honor's on the line, though, so if you do stay, I wonder if you'd be willing to put aside differences enough for me to buy you a round, in appreciation for all you've done tonight. If it helps, you can tell yer folk that you picked my pocket." He smiles. "Wouldn't be the first time a kobold got the better of me, as I'm sure you've heard."

With that, Bufer drops the bucket to his side and, without looking at Fiddler, strides back across the square towards Emmerson.

* * *

By the time Hazel finds Mat in the crowd, he's already got a gang of youngsters toting buckets back to their rightful places and seems quite happy in his supervisory role. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her father giving the boy an appraising look. She quickly fakes a cough to hide her smile, waving off Mat's assistance when the fakery turns into a real cough as the lingering smoke irritates her throat.

"See ya back at the Cat," she rasps out. "Gotta few things to take care of before I catch up with the family."

Hazel had planned to look for Emmerson's head bobbing above the level of the crowd, but she hadn't counted on Bufer's penchant for grand speeches. His voice drowns out the chatter of curious folks; as the crowd lumbers into the tavern, Hazel spies her quarry heading away from the kobold musician. She sets out to intercept him, but only manages to catch him as he reaches Emmerson's side.

At this rate, I'll never find out what he wants to tell me.

With a soft sigh, Hazel greets the pair.

"So, the fire," she looks over her shoulder at the water-soaked remains of the stables. "You figure it was deliberate? If it was a diversion, it's a poor one: The kobolds ain't taken advantage of the confusion to attack, anyway."

"I dunno," Bufer says with a sigh. "I'm fairly certain the kobolds weren't them what set it, unless it was just some random mischief. If they were gonna attack, they would have done it by now, and if they were trying to burn down the village, that fire woulda been a lot harder to put out. Plus, Fiddler was in the line, hauling buckets along with everyone else. That doesn't sound like a conspirator t'me."

"Indeed," Emmerson rumbles. "The fire was a pretty weak distraction. For the time being, we need to ascertain how and indeed who started the fire. That means looking around the store trying to find out anything useful.

"I'll buy a few rounds here and there to keep the main troublemakers in check, and hopefully once the music contest restarts, they'll let go of this situation."

Bufer nods.

"Good idea. I'll stay here and go over the debris, see if I can't find some clue in this mess. You mind lending a hand, lass? Two pairs of eyes are better than one."

"Don't mind at all, Bufer," Hazel drawls. "Come to think of it, who loosed the horses? They would have panicked, sure enough, so why ain't we looking at a stable full of burnt horseflesh?"

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Hazel gingerly picks her way across the ground to what used to be the stable's main door, peering at the gutted interior without quite stepping inside just yet. She eyes the remaining support beams warily, disturbed by the occasional groan as the debris shifts and settles.

"Don't see any bodies," she says finally. "Don't hear any horses squealing."

One glance at the churned-up mud and ash is disheartening, as frenzy of footprints obscure the hoofprints that must have once been there. Hazel looks over at Bufer, shaking her head.

"This ain't gonna be easy."

"You ain't kidding," Bufer says as he begins a thorough search of the burnt-out remains of the stable. "If we find anything in this mess, it'll be a miracle."

They work in silence for a bit.

"Listen, lass," Bufer says, as he sifts through the sodden debris, "The real reason I asked you to stay behind was because I wanted to talk to you about ... that day. I ain't had a chance to explain why I did what I did. I know there's been ... idle speculation, I guess you'd say. At least I know there has been in Wit's End, and the look Tock gave us this afternoon makes me think there's been some here, too. I just ... I thought I oughta set the record straight, is all."

"N-nobody wants to talk about what really happened," Hazel growls quietly, failing to keep the angry edge from her voice. "And Tock's good at spreading rumors."

She crouches down beside Bufer, busying her hands with the search for clues and casting sidelong glances at the gnome.

"I didn't get there until after ... after everything was over. If you don't want to ... I mean, if it's ... Look, you don't owe me any explanations, Bufer, but I'd sure like to know: Did Pick break her word?"

"No, Pick didn't break her word," he says with a heavy sigh. "Not even after she doubled back and caught someone -- Emmerson, I reckon -- following us. She even let me run my mouth off for awhile, about how I thought it was stupid for we shorties to nurse a grudge just for the sake of nursing it, when we've lived in relative peace for almost 10 years."

Bufer flushes in embarassment at the memory.

"And then I started to get carried away. I don't if you've noticed, but I'm prone to speechifying whenever I'm ... well, talking. If I was her, I probably woulda gagged me, too.

"No, lass, I think Kat was right in what he said: stupid as it was, I think it would have worked. Pick would have held up her end of the bargain, at least right up until the moment when she turned me loose. Then she could have gone back to her people, and said 'Hey, this gnome trusted me.' And I could gone back to mine and said 'Hey, this kobold was trustworthy.' And then maybe the two would have looked at each other a little bit differently, you know?

"Instead, it all turned to crap, and now things are even worse off than before," he says bitterly. "Some peacemaker I turned out to be."

"Well, even if this don't turn out to be part of the kobold plot, we know they're still planning something, right? So I reckon you're likely to have a whole lot more chances to give peacemaking a whirl." She elbows him in the ribs. "They can't all go as badly as our last attempt, right?"

"They better not," Bufer chuckles ruefully, "Or else Kat's going to have a lot more headstones to count.

"I just wanted ye t'unnerstand that I didn't tell Pick to take me because I thought you weren't capable of handling yerself, lass. Or because I was trying to get under your, well, because I had, uh, ulterior motives. It's just that ..."

They lapse into an uncomfortable silence as they shift through the burned remains of Kramer's stable.

"Did I ever tell ye I've got a little sister?" Bufer asks after a bit. "Ellyjojobell. She's about Reed's age. Beautiful little girl, but a bit of a hellion. They'd like each other. Smart as a whip, too. She wants to be a paladin like Emmerson when she grows up, Garl help her. Spends all of her time running around with a wooden sword, protecting Wit's End from whole armies of imaginary kobolds.

"When I look at you, I see Elly, or at least the girl I hope she grows up to be. Not quite so tall of course, but otherwise ..."

Bufer trails off again, fishing for something in his pocket. As Hazel watches, he withdraws a thin strip of cloth, which appears to have writing of some sort embroidered on one side.

"I guess this is as good a time as any to do this," Bufer says, flushing slightly as he fidgets with the band.

"Back when my pa, Master Barennackle and Lord Rubik were part of the Laughing Blades in Tarsis, way back in the day, it was customary to write your name on a strip of cloth, and wrap it around the pointy finger of the friends you trusted most, the ones you knew would always watch your back, and whose back you'd watch, without question, no matter what. It's a symbol of trust, respect, I dunno, that goes beyond normal friendship or family."

Bufer awkwardly holds the band out to her.

"Anyway, this is mine," he says bashfully. "I want you to have it."

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

The constable gallops off on one of the two horses brought by Tock and Stotch, leading the other behind him. As the hoofbeats fall silent off in the trees, Tock begins singing a tune in Dwarvish.

"Emus we don't want
To hurt anyo-o-o-o-one.
But they're going to kill Kat,
Bridger's always hated us.
You can keep this mountain wizard,
But if we throw Tucker off,
Please don't kill us.
I can always cast a charm on you,
So you'd have
Plau-au-au-au-ausible
Deniability."

Emus and Skeeter simultaneously cock their heads in confusion. The dwarf raises one bushy eyebrow and glances at Katadid before looking back at Tock.

"No, they don't!" He hisses quietly. "That's jes' paranoid!"

"They put Katadid-did-did-did
In chains.
You know he's harmless,
You've known him all your life.
Bridger's always been wanting
My neck in a noose.
He's said so himself.
We're getting these two out of here.
With your help we can avoid hurting Tucker."

"Putting the lad in chains ain't the same thing as killin' him," Emus whispers back, patting Skeeter to keep the dog calm. "He sorta turned himself in, anyways. Hell, Renraw exactly turned himself in! Neither one of them want you to be their savior, lad. Don't do nothin' stupid."

Remembering Renraw speaks Dwarven, Emus turns to the wizard, still whispering in Imperial Common.

"Son, you listenin' to this?"

Katadid has sat listening to the song in what appears to be some sort of trance. Finally, he snaps out of it and turns to Khenemet-Apep, who appeared to have been listening to the song with rapt interest.

"There are components needed for the kobold's ritual before this attack. I need you to tell me where we can find them. Before they do," Katadid says. "Please answer quickly. We may not have much time."

Renraw flings himself across the cart, his chains swinging heavily as he grips Tock's collar.

"What are you doing? Apep has to be made to pay for what he's done! If I don't give testimony, he could escape justice!" The wizard loosens his grip on Chandler, his eyes darting back and forth in contemplation. "Of course, they by now have a fair idea of his crime ..."

His hands let go of Chandler and he whips around violently, pointing all his fingers at Khenemet-Apep.

"Wizard!" he shouts, interrupting Kat and Apep. He then remembers to speak in Draconic. "How do you plan to dodge the effects of the zone of truth? Tell me now! Your future depends upon it!"

"Quiet down back there!" Tucker shouts. "No more of those heathen tongues, in song or in speak! No offense, Emus."

"Or WHAT, Gallaway?" Renraw screams back. "You now cart five prisoners, four of whom are innocent! What more abuse will you dole out to the blameless?"

He turns back to Khenemet-Apep.

"Apep! Answer me now!"

The Wizard of Green Mountain smiles sweetly at Renraw.

"I am going to tell them the truth, Renraw. The power of truth is something they apparently don't teach at St. Feldin's College for Slow Children."

Khenemet-Apep turns to Kat, smiling slowly.

"For the answers to your questions, you will have to wait until we are before the baron. I will tell him what he needs to know."

He turns to the others, well aware that Tucker is listening.

"It seems you all have a decision to make."

"I hope the constable gets there in time," Tock says in Imperial Common now. "I hate the bastard, but I don't want Boots and his boys to do to the rest of the Glangirns what they did to poor Argus. We were coming here anyway, but we really did need to get Bridger to stop that carnage. Argus was calling for you, by the way."

"I don't doubt it," Emus says, leaning back the side of the cart.

"It's true," Stotch nods. "Argus was screaming your name there, and doing some sort of chant everyone seemed to be taking very seriously."

* * *

Meanwhile, on a rocky island of the Ethereal Sea roughly corresponding to the Anvil Plateau, two little dwarves pop up on Emus' broad shoulders. One dwarf looks like Emus, except that he's well-groomed, wearing spectacles, and is sitting comfortably in an overstuffed chair reading a book and smoking a pipe. The other dwarf also looks similar to Emus, except that he's wearing ratty overalls and looks like he was recently sitting comfortably in a puddle of mud.

The first dwarf looks up from his book.

"Emus! Do not fall for this ruse! If Argus had really summoned you, these two rogues would have mentioned it right away. Obviously, they just want you to leave so that they can go about whatever foolish notions they've concocted."

The other dwarf takes his finger out of his nose and wipes it on his beard.

"Yep, that sure sounds reasonable to me, Emus! Don't let 'em fool ya!

"But ... what if he's telling the truth?" Ethereal-Emus asks slowly.

The first dwarf suddenly leans forward in his chair and begins talking excitedly.

"Oh, damn! Emus, they might be telling the truth! You should check in with Argus before you get in even more trouble! Hurry, Emus! HURRY!"

* * *

Back on Praemal, Emus looks panicked. He and Skeeter scramble out the back of the cart.

"Tucker! I need to check in with Argus! I'll be right back!" Emus gives one last pleading shake of the head to Tock, Renraw, and Kat, and then he and Skeeter sprint back to town.

Tucker glances back as Emus and his dog tumble off the back of the wagon, but thinks nothing of it. He's not a prisoner, or even needed for questioning. In fact, it's not really clear why the dwarf had been there in the first place. With a shrug, Tucker keeps driving.

Kat stares at Apep for a long moment.

"I'll see you there then." He turns to Tock and speaks in Dwarvish. "We should go."

Stotch stands and draws his rapier, as his shackles drop to the floor of the cart, and plunges his rapier at the lawman driving the cart.

Tock lifts his hands, and his shackles fall as well. He begins making a complicated series of gestures, mumbling a spell softly, a strange expression on his face as he watches Stotch's blade move toward Tucker's broad back.

Renraw and Katadid's jaws drop open in shocked unison.

"NO!" Katadid screams, leaping toward Tock, attempting to foil his spell. Renraw squawks wordlessly and attempts to grab the junior wizard before he can reach the bard.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Inside The Cat & The Fiddle, Heda Littlelark squeezes her accordion and begins to sing.

"Have you heard the Gnomish band?
With a bang
With a boom
With a bing-bang bing-bang boom!
Ah, have you heard the Gnomish band?
With a bang
With a boom
With a bing-bang bing-bang boom!"

* * *

Tucker is just about to turn around and find out what all the noise in the back of the cart is when the rapier suddenly juts out of the shoulder of his armor a moment before being whisked back out.

It takes him, and Stotch, a moment to realize the sword tip simply scratched its way across the meat of his shoulder but failed to penetrate.

* * *

"Human folk songs and Elvish ooh-la-la
Can't compare with a Gnomish oom-pah-pah!
I'm saying …
Have you heard the Gnomish band?
With a zetz, with a zap, with a zing ...
Dwarven polkas, they're stupid and they're rotten!
It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that
Schweigen-reigen-schone-schutzen-schmutzen sauerbraten!"

* * *

Katadid finds himself on the floor of the cart, face down in what smells like half-rotten burlap and the unmistakable smell of something related to apples. Everyone seems to be standing around him except for Renraw, who is on a pile atop him, all elbows and knees, preventing him from getting up and forcing his face into the old burlap sacking.

* * *

"Big finish!
I'm sayin' ...
Have you heard the Gnomish band?
With a zetz, with a zap, with a zing ...
It's the only kind of music
That we gnomes and our honeys
Love to sing!"

* * *

Before Tucker can take action against this attack, he's momentarily overwhelmed, as though a bright light just flashed in his eyes or a loud noise just filled his ears. Although he can see and hear, he's disoriented for a moment ...

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Tock!" Stotch shouts, "I am poor at swordplay! Really abysmal! I should have mentioned it sooner!"

"I am sorry, Katadid," Renraw mutters into the other wizard's back, "For whatever it's worth. But I've begun to think our chances are better with your cousin than they are with the law. We shouldn't interfere."

Kat looks up at him frustratedly from the bottom of the cart. Renraw realizes he's pressing a little harder than he probably needs.

"My, but these shackles are uncomfortable, aren't they?"

"No!" Katadid cries out, spitting out rotten burlap. "We don't ... He can't! It'll ... STOP! Tock, don't!"

"Stop struggling!" Renraw hisses. "What's done is done! And with any luck, maybe they'll break my curse!"

"Settle down, Kat, this is for you!" Tock takes out his shortbow and, in stepping back a bit, attempts to strike the deputy from the other side.

A number of things happen at once:

Stotch pulls back his rapier and stabs forward again, missing once more. As he does so, he locks eyes with the deputy, who visibly seethes with rage.

Khenemet-Apep's vile cat leaps onto Renraw's back, pushing off that bony surface, claws out, and vanishes over the side of the cart, into the night.

The bard looses an arrow, which likewise goes wide of Tucker, who seems ready to explode.

Which makes the eruption of profanities he lets loose as he bounces off the side of the moving cart, into a muddy ditch, quite understandable.

"Damnation! Lothian smite you both!" He roars, before moving into stronger language, some of which include the sorts of prayers unlikely to be heard in St. Yessid's in the Woods.

The Wizard of Green Mountain steadies himself after kicking the deputy off the side of the cart.

"Amateurs. Now, when I appear before the baron, the deputy will tell the sheriff how I saved his life from Renraw's band of fugitives, making my version of events all the more plausible. The question, young ones, becomes who kills you first: Imperial soldiers, the kobolds or me."

He says a single word and vanishes from the wagon.

"Oh, gods," Katadid whimpers.

Stotch turns, watching where the deputy has fallen and flings a sticky, oily green bag after him and then tumbles off the back of the cart.

Renraw, still atop a struggling Katadid, suddenly becomes very aware that he, Kat, and Tock are now riding in the back of a dilapidated apple cart, accelerating out of control with no driver. He glances up at the unsteady Tock, who is looking out the back at Stotch and Tucker.

"Jump for it! We'll be right behind!" Renraw yells, then takes his knee off of Kat's chest and makes his way up off the floor of the cart and over to the edge. "Come on, Leach!"

"What? Oh, right."

Renraw looks down at the ground speeding underneath them. If he were more religious, he would say a little prayer, but as it is he steels himself and jumps.

A moment later, Katadid stands up and casually walks off the edge of the moving cart.

Tock gets ready to cast another spell but he finds himself standing on a stray apple core. His foot suddenly flies out off the back of the cart and falls headfirst on the ground with a loud crack and lays still.

Stotch turns and sees Tock laying still. He whips his head back toward Deputy Gallaway, stuck fast in the tanglefoot bag, but for how long, he cannot know. Choosing to exercise the better part of valor, he turns and runs into the dark of the Tulgey Wood. A moment later, there's a sound like the roar of a bear.

"It's enough to convince you of the power of prayer," Tucker growls, tugging at his bonds. Suddenly Renraw shuffles over and, without saying a word, starts rifling through the deputy's pockets. Despite the fact that Tucker is thrashing about quite violently, struggling with whatever it is that's grabbed him, Renraw doesn't get stuck and finds what he's looking for: the keys to his shackles.

"Renraw!" Tucker shouts, rolling around on the ground, trying to break free of the gooey mess. "Attempted escape isn't helping you. Hey! What are you doing?"

Renraw clamps the shackles tight onto Tucker, one end on his right arm, the other on his left leg. He locks them and then, waving the key once in front of Tucker's face, tosses it into the woods, in the direction opposite of Stotch's flight.

"You blamed idiot! What are you doing? You haven't done anything wrong! It was all Tock and his idiot friend -- until now!"

But Renraw isn't listening. He walks over to the prone body of Tock Chandler. Tock: the lovable scamp. Tock: the incorrigible ladies' man. Tock: one of the wizard's only friends in the world. Renraw kicks him in the head.

Flipping the body over, Renraw scoops up the remnants of the bard's shattered banjo -- Gertrude as he'd called it -- and brings them back over to Tucker, who looks likely to have a rage-induced stroke at any moment.

As Tucker struggles with the goo, it's clear that he's close to ripping himself out at any moment. As Renraw is approaching with the banjo string, he does so.

Renraw purses his lips, furrows his brow, and drops the banjo string. He talks over his shoulder to Katadid.

"Fetch the cart, Leach. We'll need it if we're all to come away from this unharmed." Renraw turns back to Tucker. "There are a few different ways this can go, Gallaway, none of which will be good for you. It's up to you to choose your humiliation."

He counts on his fingers.

"One, you get up off the ground, dust yourself off as best you can, and hobble back to Maidensbridge right now.

"Two, we can maybe save a little face for you and use Kat's shackles on you, as well, immobilizing you. You can then make up whatever lie you wish when the Constable picks you up.

"Three, you can charge me like a buffoon and I will either be forced to kill you or harm you and then escape myself, leaving you to return to Maidensbridge, now shackled and injured.

"What say you, deputy?"

"You were in the clear, you idiot! The Constable may act gruff, but the only person actually in danger of seeing a rope tonight was the wizard. Not you, and certainly not Kat! And with those idiots fled or dead, you had a chance to look the hero, before this," he says, indictating his shackles. Tucker has drawn his sword, and has been jabbing at the chain, trying to break it.

"Now what? You run off, those bears will eat you, too. Neither of you know how to handle a horse, let alone work a cart, but you threw the only key away before unlocking Kat! Now come back to town and we'll get this curse of yours lifted!"

Katadid is aware of nothing. Not Stotch's sudden egress toward the woods. Not Renraw's speech, nor Tucker's predicament. He stays standing, dusty and scratched from his face-first pratfall off the cart, just above Tock's body. He's staring at it, with no visible reaction on his face. His body is statue still, and remains so as the cart rolls to a lazy halt some ways off as the horse decides he is bored with all the madness.

"I'm afraid I don't share your faith in the justice system, deputy," Renraw sneers. "Especially now that Khenemet-Apep has vanished. That will put the focus back onto me and my alleged crimes, although I do appreciate your trust in my innocence!"

Renraw runs over to the seemingly comatose Katadid.

"Kat," he says tenderly, "Tock did not die in vain so long as you and I are free. I know some part of you is listening to me. It's very important that that part of you gets you up off your knees and follows me to the cart."

Renraw leans in closer, whispering in Katadid's ear.

"I have the key to your chains in my pocket."

Nothing.

"Southerly," Renraw whispers urgently. "And beyond, the Great Tower. I'm going there, and I'll need your keen intellect to help me sort it all out. Follow if you will."

With that, Renraw quickly rummages through Tock's clothes, grabbing what belongings he can. When he is finished, he picks up Tock's bow and arrows and bolts for the cart.