Mr. Cross had been right. Rog was not as stupid as he seemed. The manner of his condition was not as simple, though, as acting a fool on purpose. Sure, he took advantage of his comical appearance. Sure, he enjoyed the attention he received. There was, however, something wrong with Rog’s psyche at a much deeper level. Something not even he understood. On the morning he awoke a hole in his ceiling, something fundamentally changed within Rog’s mind. He had never before committed so sincerely to the role of the fool. He wondered, as he danced about brandishing a steak knife in the presence of real soldiers, where his self respect had gone. A week prior, he would have joined the soldiers and laughed at himself. Now, he was compelled to act as though he had no idea how moronically he presented himself. The same force that compelled him to act an idiot compelled him to keep his mouth shut when Calvin invited his new friends to the Caravan’s head.

Calvin was an assistant to a mysterious character called ‘Mr. Prime’. He had invited Rog’s new friends into the privacy of his luxurious traveling carriage to discuss the matter of Tommy’s condition. This is what he told them.

First, Tommy had been the victim of something called a ‘Thyrean Spirit’. It was, as Calvin described it, a remnant of human consciousness that sought out objects such as the stone that had passed through Rog’s ceiling that very morning. When Elliot inquired as to why, Calvin answered that his own knowledge was very limited, but that Mr. Prime was very wise. Who was this Mr. Prime? Rog was genuinely intrigued, but all he could bring himself to do was make a rather ignorant comment about his affinity for rocks. Frustrating.

Second, Thyrean Spirits were anchored to a single point in space. When they had a fancy for something out of reach, they would commandeer an animal’s mind and force it to fetch the object of their desire. Allegedly, this is what had happened to Tommy. A spirit dwelling in the waters of Madison River had commanded him to retrieve something within the town of Madison. Tommy had failed in his mission, and the spirit had killed him. Maybe. Calvin knew frighteningly little about these spirits, and could answer none of Elliot’s questions.

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Rog had questions of his own. How many of these spirits were there? How many people suffered poor Tommy’s fate everyday? What would have happened should the spirit have acquired the stone? He could not bring himself to speak. He was beginning to doubt his own sanity.

The last piece of information Calvin shared was the most concerning by far. An unknown quantity of stones like the one in Rigg’s possession had fallen from the heavens in the last twelve hours. At any time, any member of the caravan might wander off the trail in search of one of these stones. They might never return.

Rog had begun to panic. Why wasn’t anyone else panicking? Was he losing his mind? He wanted to leave Calvin’s carriage. He tried to stand. To hold his head in his hands. He tried to cry out. He could not. Rog’s anxiety rose a level higher. He no longer cared about the question Mr. Cross seemed to be asking. He no longer cared about the orb of brass Calvin was placing delicately in Elliot’s outstretched palm. Had he fallen under a spirit’s control? Was he experiencing a panic attack?

Rog locked eyes with someone he hadn’t realized was there. Checker’s fragile, sweat soaked husk of a body huddled in the carriage’s darkest corner. His teeth chattered, and he tore at his mussed hair with nailless fingers. He looked just the way Rog felt. Rog’s mania reached a fever pitch. Had he begun to hallucinate?

“I will.” Elliot was saying.

“I as well.” Mr. Cross confirmed.

“And I.” Sutha followed suit.

“I.” Riggs was last to speak.

All eyes fell upon Rog. He smiled his usual vacant smile.

“Rog?” Elliot prompted.

“Of course!”