The One Horned Minotaur had filled up by the time we returned from Aelfric’s. It was a colourful cast of characters. Maybe half were human. There was also a cyclops, five wolf people Gorn called lupines, a couple more gnomes, a few pointed eared elves or half elves and a couple of orcs. Their equipment was even more colourful than their features. Weapons and armour that were obviously magical; swords wreathed in flame, mail that glimmered in the shadows of an unlit corner, staves and wands with shining tips and many other examples littered the common room.

Gorn immediately spotted a party of his friends and dragged us along to a group of two humans, a gnome and the cyclops. The cyclops was seven feet tall wearing bronze plate armour and carrying a massive two handed sword. His helmet was on the table in front of him and his bald head, reddish skin and one large eye was a strange sight. One of the two humans looked like a cleric, with a rounded mace and a white tabard emblazoned with a set of golden scales. The other human was a bard in colourful renaissance looking clothes and the gnome was a spellcaster in robes with a wand at his belt. I honestly wasn’t paying attention when Gorn introduced them. The conversation was in Low Imperial and I was nowhere close to fluent enough to follow along. The party did cover our tab; so we had a fine meal of bread, stew and lots of mead. Unlike our neighbour to the south, both Canada and Germany had sane drinking ages. So I was experienced with alcohol. I couldn’t say the same for our three younger companions. Rachel and Meacham tried to order them smallbeer, which was a type of beer with almost no alcohol content mostly given to small children. But Gorn just shook his head and used his better command of the language to get them solidly wasted.

The next morning I had a slight headache and the rest of the adults were basically functional. The kids were doing their best to pretend they were up to meeting the council. Meacham tried to force them to stay in the inn but after an hour of arguing it proved futile. The potion of many tongues Aelfric sold us lasted one person twelve hours or five people just over two. There was some argument of reserving it for just Rachel but eventually it was decided our wide variety of skillsets might be useful in requesting aid. Rachel would take point as the personal envoy of our likely new leader, I’d be the one answering any technical questions, Meacham would talk about defence and strategy and the kids would be around to hopefully provoke some sympathy.

It turned out the Council Hall was not on the top tier. Instead there was a winding set of switchbacks leading to a cave set high behind the waterfall. Local legend said it used to be the lair of the dragon which had given the town its name. It was a ludicrous place to put your seat of government; but I guess fantasy worlds have different standards than Canada.

There were two giantkin standing guard outside the cave entrance. We were saving the potion for the meeting so Gorn took point. From what he said it would be a few hours before the council had time to see us. To be honest I was expecting we would have to wait days; I guess dealing with small town councils had its perks.

One of the giantkin took us inside to a small alcove with cushioned seats and a pitcher of cool water straight from the falls. It was heaven. As we waited we debated strategy. “Let me start,” Rachel said. “I’ve done these kinds of negotiations before. Based on our work with the alchemist we know our technology is valuable. Simon, I hope you have more ideas.”

‘I have a few,” I replied, “but the engineers would be the people to talk to for anything substantial.”

“Do you think your husband will accede to us selling the plane?” Meacham asked.

“Probably not without a good argument. Plus I want to leave it as a last resort. It may be the key to getting home.”

“I doubt it,” I said. “If we need to fly magic should be able to do it. And survival should be our major concern right now.”

Sara was on her third cup of water when she added. “If the salvage is valuable we can always use it to sweeten the pot. Basic marketing strategy. If you want to sell something you market it slightly higher than the cheapest option and a lot lower than the most expensive. The plane is our most expensive asset. If we price it very, very high we can use it to drive up the price of all our other goods.”

It took around another two hours for a young satyr to fetch us and take us to the council chamber. It wasn’t actually a separate room. Just a big tunnel leading to a much bigger cavern with a flattened floor. The walls were carved with what seemed like the history of the town. A giant, much bigger than the giantkin, slaying a dragon. A horde of trolls charging at the gates across a frozen river. And many more images filled the walls.

The council was sitting around a circular table in the centre. There were five of them. An ancient satyr with a beard halfway to the floor with a staff and violet wizards robes sat closest to us. He was gazing into a mirror set on the table in front of him. Next to him was a giantkin woman in an embroidered tunic with several books in front of her. A human in shining mail armour wielding a huge polearm that looked like the axe the giant in the carvings used. She sat ramrod straight in her seat and was looking at us with suspicion.. Another satyr was sitting with golden chains around her neck. And lastly there was a thick, bulbous woman with sallow skin and yellow teeth. She was wearing a stereotypical witch’s hat and had a black cat on the table in front of her.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I saw Gorn grab at his warhammer when he saw the last woman. “That’s a hag,” he whispered. “They eat people. I have no idea why one is on the council.”

Rachel groaned and said, “If the woman was a vampire I’d still deal with her. We don’t have a choice in the matter. If we don’t secure their help hundreds of people will die.”

Gorn seemed to settle after this. We each took our share of the language potion and walked to the table. The satyr woman with the golden chains was the first to speak. “Welcome. Welcome. I’m mayor Eradne.” She introduced the rest. Hektor was the town’s arcanist, Leda was the town’s treasurer. Paris was the captain of the militia. And Babu was the eldest of the coven of witches scattered about the various holdfasts in the region. When she was introduced she gave a smile and said in plain English, “You’re mistaken dwarf, hags gain power from what they eat. But I have no desire to consume any civilised flesh when there are many more potent delicacies in the surrounding woods. Troll liver alone has kept me alive for five hundred years.”

I don’t think the rest of the council had taken measures to translate the conversation; since they all communicated in Low Imperial. So it seemed the translation potion wasn’t a waste. Rachel introduced us and explained we were lost travellers who had been transported here by some unknown means and were hoping the council had some reason to help.

At this the wizard looked up from his mirror. “I have scryed the location and confirmed there is some sort of vessel carrying hundreds of humans. They seem quite alien in nature. I’m not detecting any magic at all.”

“Gorn’s theory was that we must have been residents of a lost moon trapped in an antimagic field. Though I have no idea what would mean for us.”

The wizard harrumphed. “Wandering priests should leave scholarship to the scholars. Dwarven education is much better than the Lowlands, but without evidence it’s pure speculation.”

“Regardless of the cause we need help. Lindisfarne’s holdfast said we could use their warehouse for shelter. But we need help transporting people here and feeding them over the winter.”

The treasurer then spoke up. “The town has extra stores in case of emergencies. But if we take in hundreds more people we will need to restock next harvest. Will you be able to pay for these supplies?”

“We can pay in barter.” Rachel said.

The wizard chuckled. “Based on my examinations these goods are very fragile. Even an apprentice smith could make something more durable. And enchanting after production has never been reliable.”

“The town alchemist seemed very interested,” I said.

He laughed harder. “Our resident gnome is a member of the Artificers Guild. They consider all magical goods produced by their members to be their property. And considering his feud with the current guildmaster any magic items he makes would be seized and if he tried selling them without guild permission he’d be executed. He’s run as far as possible to get out from under their sway. But their scryers are always watching for rule breakers. His alchemy is the one loophole he has.”

“And wouldn’t the alchemists’ guild object to his shop?” I asked confused.

“You folk really are from far off. Very few guilds are as far reaching as the Artificers. In most cases each city has an independent guild for each trade. Our witches provide most of our potions so we’ve never had much need for an alchemists’ guild. He’s free to sell as many potions as he wants.”

Rachel tried a different approach, “You are very isolated here. I can’t imagine you produce very many magic items. Maybe we’ll have something you can use.”

“Like what?” Paris asked.

Sara then said, “Our planes can fly at fifty thousand feet, our cars can go hundreds of kilometres an hour, our weapons can destroy cities other continents, our computers can make millions of calculations a second.”

“None of which you have here,” Babu said.

“We have computers. And most of a plane.”

“What do you mean by millions of calculations a second,” Hektor asked.

I pulled out my phone. I had charged it with the solar charger before we left and kept it off In case of an emergency. It wasn’t much of a demonstration. But it was the best I could think of on short notice. I took a video of the table and showed it to them. “The image is comprised of millions of dots of colours. The phone maps each dot to a coordinate on the screen to create an image. And then a series of images are played ever second to create a video.”

“It seems horribly inefficient,” the wizard said. A scrying mirror can do all that and more.

Paris then interjected. “And you refuse to let anyone but you touch your mirror. This has potential for scouting even if the range is limited we can hide them at strategic points. With their lack of aura they’ll be almost undetectable. But if they break within a few years I don’t really see the point.”

The wizard sighed. “I could cast a preservation spell on it. It’s not very efficient. But a comparable magic item would be worth several thousand marks. It’s easily worth the effort.”

I then felt forced to add, “the phones have other features. Most of them require infrastructure we don’t have. But they can transfer information to and from each other using Bluetooth, record sound and video and they can transfer information to and from each other using Bluetooth.”

“How many of these do you want?” Rachel asked.

“How many do you have?” Hektor replied.

“A few hundred.” Xola said.

The entire council looked shocked. Eventually Hektor said, “The preservation spell takes time and I will have to recast it periodically. I don’t think I can do more than ten every lunar cycle. I have other business to attend to. But we can take more and sell them to other wizards. The preservation ritual isn’t something a craftsman could cast so there wouldn’t be many buyers. But the ones that do would pay handsomely. Real scrying mirrors are a lot more expensive.”

I then decided to gamble a bit. “The phones need to be charged. Our engineers can make a generator. You’d need to sell them with the phones. But I think we can arrange that for free if you agree to spend a few months teaching some of us magic in exchange.”

Rachel then ended the negotiation with, “The alchemist was trying to buy the entire plane for two thousand. I think twenty phones is worth a few months’ supply and some extra funds to help us decide our next step when the time comes.”