Tom recognized the scholar after a moment. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.” Tom shook his hand briefly.

“All right, Mr. Walker, what do you need examined?”

“They're in this wagon.” Tom climbed up in the back, then stuck his head out. “Eubexa, call out if you need anything, or if there's any trouble.”

“Yes, Master.”

Tom gave the scholar a hand up into the wagon. “I'm sorry, I forgot your name…”

“Winfried Goodman, Temple curate. You can call me Winfried or Goodman, as you like.”

“Thanks, um, Winfried. You can call me Tom.”

Winfried pulled out a rock light. “Rock light flash,” he warned, and Tom closed his eyes. Once the glow through his eyelids stopped, he looked around. The magic-user did the same.

“Eight black cases…what are the contents?”

“Some kind of crystals, in padding, very, very old.”

“How did you come across these?”

“A Mr. Sashen was the owner of this wagon. He was killed in a bandit attack on a caravan. Recovering his personal effects, we only found a few papers in some strange language, and an envelope addressed to High Pass Temple.”

“Do you have these papers?”

Tom cursed himself, mentally. “Um, let me check.” Fortunately, a minute of rummaging in his pack produced the pages. Tom knew which ones because of the odd kind of paper used: it was a darker tan than most, and felt sort of scratchy. Scholar stared at the pages under the rock light for a minute.

“Well, that's a strange language, all right. It's not Elvish or Dwarvish. Could be Highlander? I'd have to check at the Library. May I keep these?”

“Ah, I'd rather hold on to them. Do you have copyists at the temple?”

“One, but there are several at the Library. It would be faster to go there.”

“I keep hearing about this place,” Tom observed. “I'll have to go check it out.”

“It's worth the visit; the Library is one of the gems of Rivermarch.” The man looked around. “So, what do you need?”

“Well, seven cases are intact; the last one was damaged by bandits. I want to know if any of these things are dangerous, first of all. I suspect the intact cases are fine, but I'd still like to know anything you can tell me about them without cracking them open. Then we can look at the opened one, if that plan is all right?”

“Sensible enough. Sure. Let's see what we have here.” Goodman looked over the intact cases from all angles, then sat down cross-legged in front of one of them. He poked and prodded for a minute, ran his fingers over the engravings, and hummed to himself. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Well, from the look of it, assuming the patterns continue on the underside, this could well be a sealing formation.”

“To protect the cases?” Tom asked.

“No, that would be a warding formation. A sealing formation is the opposite. It's meant to keep magic in, not out.”

“All right…” Tom wasn't sure what question to ask.

“I can check to see whether there's active magic, easily enough.” The man fished in his robes for a few moments, then pulled out a small glowing stick. Tom frowned in confusion.

“Is that like a rock light?”

“This? No, this is a wand. A simple one. All it does is light up in the presence of active magic. As you can see, it lights up just from being in my hand, because I'm a devout of Barsel and get a few spells from the goddess. Which makes this tool mostly useless for me, so I'll need your help.”

Tom was curious. “All right, what do I do?”

“It's easy enough. Just take this and wave it slowly over the runes, and we'll see whether it lights up.” Goodman held out the wand, and Tom reached out and took it.

The light dimmed, but didn't go out, though. “I guess it takes a minute? Do I need to squeeze it off and back on?” Tom looked at Goodman, who was staring at the wand in surprise.

“Are you a mage, Tom?”

That startled a big laugh out of Tom. “HA! Me, a mage!” The thought was hilarious. Tom shook with laughter that he did his best to contain, then sobered enough to answer, “No, no chance at all of that.”

“A devout, then?”

Tom shook his head. “I give at Temples, and I'm grateful when good things happen, and I pray a little, but I've never gotten any spells or blessings or…” He trailed off, thinking about the dream with his comrades. After a pause, he asked, “Dreams aren't magic, are they?”

“They certainly can be. Sometimes, the gods send us messages that way.”

The thought discomfited Tom a bit. “But gods don't appear in my dreams.”

“Do they ever tell you things you didn't know before, but then they turn out to be true?” Tom thought back.

…Well, he's got a great chance to get started right—

Julio! Nothing he doesn't know already! You know the rules…

Tom swallowed, and shook his head. “Um, I guess it's not important. Right now, I need to know about these cases.” He handed back the wand, eager to be rid of it.

“Well, I can improvise here.” Goodman bent down and leaned the wand against some of the carvings on one case, and stepped back. “I really should get a stick to hold that thing out on…” the magic-user muttered. “Would that work? Maybe a string…” His mumbling trailed off as he observed that the wand was glowing brightly.

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“So…it's active magic?” Tom guessed.

“Very.”

“Is that the magic on the box or in the box?”

“On the box. It's saying that the sealing formation is working,” Winfried explained.

“Can you tell anything about what's inside?”

“Hmm…I could set something up, but the seal is so strong it basically doesn't matter. You said one of them was broken…?” Tom pointed. Goodman moved closer and crouched down, staring at the damage. “Ouch.”

“Ouch?”

“This is a elaborate formation that took a lot of work to put together. It's definitely busted, but I'll double check.” Winfried set the wand against the runes and stepped back again. The wand was still glowing, although not quite as brightly as for the other cases. “Well, that's odd. Um, have you opened this case?”

“Yes.”

“Does the lid come off?”

Tom frowned. “I'm not sure.” He checked, and it turned out that the lid was held in place by intricate hinges that nonetheless could be slid apart by removing a couple of wooden dowels. However, he dreaded the thought of trying to neatly and gently separate wood that had been sealed together for many years. “This thing is ancient, and I do not want to bump it around.”

“Hm, well, give me your pack, just for a minute?”

After some fiddling, they got the wand to rest on the pack behind the crate, and when the crate was fully opened, the wand nearly touched the lid right where the formation engravings were. When they stepped back, the wand was dark.

“Yup, like I thought. The sealing formation is completely dead,” Winfried concluded. “Not surprising. The things have to be perfect to work right.”

Tom pounced on that. “So, if it was already scratched up and a little bit gouged out, that would be enough to break it?”

“Yes.”

Tom breathed a small sigh of relief, and Winfried eyed him suspiciously. “Did you break this after it was already broken?”

Tom grimaced and nodded guiltily. “I figured it was already busted and I wanted to see what was inside.”

“Well, you were very lucky.” The scholar shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me how many people will screw around with magic when they have no idea what they're doing. Don't do that again,” he scolded.

Tom held his hands up in surrender. “I'm just trying to figure out how to get rid of these. I was hoping the temple would take them.”

“Well, that depends on what they are. We're not necessarily going to clean up your mess for free, but let's see what we're dealing with. Something inside the case is radiating enough magic to set the wand off. You mentioned crystals. Can I see them?”

Tom explained about the dust and how he found it itchy. Then he went through the steps of removing the padding and the upper tray, so that Goodman could see everything, and stepped back. “Now, I got a really, really bad feeling when I was about to touch one of the intact crystals, so I didn't do it. I hope you know better than me how much danger there is and what kind.”

“I'll see what I can learn. This will take a few minutes.”

“Shall I give you space to work?”

“Please.”

“All right.” Tom climbed out of the wagon and walked over to Eubexa.

“Everything all right, Master?”

“He's just confirmed my guesses, so far. Hopefully in a few minutes, he'll be able to tell us more.”

Just then Diavla returned, carrying a small board with five meat sticks standing up in holes along the top. “Breakfasts,” she announced, proudly. Tom was about to correct her Western, then realized that she was right, so he didn't say anything.

Instead, he grabbed a stick, feeling oddly ravenous. He hadn't done very much yet all morning, not even his sword drills. The chicken had too much pepper on it, but was good enough.

After a minute, Diavla asked Eubexa something in Elvish, then pulled out a small dagger and handed it hilt-first to the sickly elf. They argued for a few moments. Eubexa is a stubborn one, Tom noted. Finally, Diavla took one of the sticks and cut the meat up more finely, then put it back. Eubexa picked it up carefully in one gloved hand. She's going to ruin her gloves like that. Diavla seemed annoyed, which surprised Tom. He hadn't gotten the impression from her that she would be impatient with sick people.

They ate in silence. Tom gobbled down two meat sticks. Diavla had one, then got fidgety and kept staring at the crystals wagon. Eubexa didn't quite finish one stick. Tom thought about eating the untouched stick, but decided he was rich enough to give it to a street kid, instead.

Suddenly, Winfried yelled wordlessly. Diavla startled at the same moment.

Tom rushed forward and pulled back the flap to see inside. The scholar was staggering away from the broken case.

“What happened?” Tom demanded.

“Get the guard. Now. I need… four guards!” Winfried climbed quickly out of the wagon, dropping a couple of items in his haste.

Tom was already moving. “Going! What for?”

“We need to get this to the temple now and we need to keep everyone away from it.”

Demon shit. What in the demon lands did he find in there?

Tom darted out to the exit of the lot, and ordered the watcher there to call the guard. Tom stepped out into the street himself, put fingers to his mouth and gave a piercing whistle four times, then yelled, “GUARDS!” I don't know if they use the same code here, but it's the best I can do.

He looked around, waited a few more moments, then started another four whistles. Partway through, he spotted a guard and waved to him with his free hand while he finished the signal.

The guard ran up to him. “Where?” He was a man of medium build and brown hair, dressed in leathers and carrying a staff.

“Dangerous escort, here to the temple. Winfried Goodman asked for you.”

“What kind of dangerous?”

“Something magic. I rode with it for days, but apparently, I was lucky. We need to keep people back from it.”

The guard pulled out a wooden whistle and blew four blasts. “How did you know the signal?”

“Four months as a guard at Peter's Crossing. I took a chance that the codes were the same. Four is ‘Backup Needed’, right?”

“You got it. Where's the trouble?”

Tom pointed. “That wagon. The one with the scared curate in front of it.”

“You rode with it for days? Is there a reason it's about to go off now?”

Tom shrugged, and the guard relaxed a fraction. “Better safe than sorry, but sounds like we can cool our blood.”

Tom nodded. “I think so, too.”

“I'll be in as soon as backup arrives. Yell if anything happens.”

“Will do.” Tom jogged back inside.

Winfried was snapping together some wooden blocks with runes carved into them. “That's two…” He fished more blocks out of his packs and seemed intent on putting them together in a specific pattern. There were two sticks of four blocks each on the cobblestones beside him. Seeing Tom's puzzled look, he explained, “I'm going to put up a very simple sealing foundation in the corners of the wagon. It's not much, but every little bit helps. Guards are coming?”

“On their way.” The scholar nodded and kept working. Tom turned to the elves. Eubexa looked no different, and Diavla was helpfully picking up items that the curate had dropped.

Tom saw her pick up the wand that detected magic, and it immediately began glowing—much brighter than it had for Winfried. Tom raised his eyebrows. Diavla noticed his gaze, and held her hands protectively under her breasts. The gesture made the wand glow even brighter.

Put out the fires, Tom told himself, and hurried over to Diavla, putting himself between her and Winfried. “Guards no see you is good,” he murmured in Elvish, then dropped back into Western. “Eubexa, translate. I want you both to stay here and not be noticed, if possible. After a little while, Diavla should drive this wagon to the temple. They should bring you in. I want a full report on your health, and if there's anything easy to fix, I want them to fix it.”

“Master—” Eubexa started to protest.

“Diavla. Temple see Eubexa. Temple see Eubexa sick. Temple say Eubexa sick. Temple maybe heal Eubexa some. You see, you listen. Eubexa no say no. Understand?” Eubexa cursed in Elvish; Tom ignored it.

“Yes. Where you go?” Diavla asked, not yet up to speed.

“I go slow to temple. Magic danger. People back. Guards. No see you. You wait, you go temple. Give me that,” he hissed in Western, reaching for the brilliantly glowing wand. She held it out and the light dimmed somewhat. Tom took it and it dimmed a lot farther. Diavla looked confused. “See magic,” Tom explained, gesturing with the wand. Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows, looking a question at him. Tom frowned in annoyance. “We'll talk about this later,” he half promised, half warned.

Quickly, he fished some silver out of his coin pouch, then handed the pouch to Diavla. There were three gold coins and plenty of others in it. “You pay temple. If I'm not there when you are finished, you can wait or go home. I go now. Good luck.”

“I will translate, Master,” Eubexa murmured quietly. “Good luck.” She murmured quickly in Elvish, and Diavla echoed the sentiment. Tom gave them a somewhat forced smile, then turned to distract Winfried.

This day just keeps getting busier.