I locked my office using my mana key, headed downstairs and told Naida I'd be off for a few days, which she took in stride. She assured me she'd keep abreast of things while I was gone and that Martin could declare any incoming parcels. I smiled inwardly knowing my recommendation of her to the Party had been correct, she had turned out to be an excellent hire.

The air outside was still cold, a small breeze nipping at my earlobes and ruffling the sparse hair on my head before I could don my tophat. I briefly considered heading for the teleporter again, but thought better of it. A brisk walk would do me good, it was a small village and the inn was only a few bends down the main street. For all I knew it'd be the last time I'd see it for quite a while. I whistled a few notes of no particular tune, and made to take in as much of the scenery as I could while I walked.

As I went down the road past the Great Pond and the duckery, I soon found myself outside the ancient, mortared walls of The Fat Duck. Like the guild hall and the dungeon it was one of the few buildings in Newbshere that predated the founding of the Party and the Queen's ascension, and had stood here since the murky depths of pre-recorded history.

A couple of middle-aged, unemployed mages were standing outside, guffawing at the wooden sign that hung above the door. I must admit, I chuckled as well. Someone, an enterprising gang of youngsters no doubt, must have snuck out with a stepladder and a pail of white paint last night. Quite bold of them with the curfew in effect, but the summer drones hadn't been replaced yet, and the autumn chill always made them a bit sluggish. I suppose I had been no better in my younger days, either. Tipping my hat at the bystanders, I moseyed past them and walked down the stairs to enter The Fat Dick.

The atmosphere in the cellar was serene and welcoming, as usual. The alcoves in the wall had curtains so the patrons could enjoy their drinks in private, and the tables in the middle were lit by the warm, orange glow of Grandiloquent 5W candles. A magnificent fireplace crackled in the wall opposite the alcoves, fueled by actual wooden logs rather than spell rods, and the air was pleasantly smoky. The barmatron, a stout, red-haired woman named Rosie, was her usual chatty self.

"'Lo there mister Stonks, how's the morning? Didn't expect you in so soon. Early lunch today? Roast duck won't be ready for a few hours, but we have some leftover wings from yesterday." She was talking over her shoulder, busying herself with a sink full of dirty cupware. I sighed morosely and slumped down at the bar. I would miss the simplicity of this place.

"Vanilla cream. Extra happy."

She stopped wiping the glass she held, and turned to lean over the counter. By the Queen, that woman had a bosom on her. "That bad, eh? Is it yer family again?" I briefly regretted having spilled my guts to her on earlier occasions. Within a few hours the whole town would know that Gaylor Stonks was nothing but a pawn on his father's chessboard. But a man must confide in someone, and I've a tendency to grow maudlin when the milk hits me.

"Yeah, pretty much. Not sure what he wants, but it sounded important. I may be gone for a few days."

"Well, ye gotta do what ye gotta do. Can't change our lot in life, but we can make the most of it." She headed over to the taps and filled a large earthen mug with vanilla cream, extra happy, before setting it down in front of me. "Here ya go. I'll put the merits on yer tab."

"Thanks, Rosie."

The effects were subtle at first, but soon enough the inn began to wobble. I felt a slight pang of nausea and decided I'd be more comfortable in one of the alcoves, so I headed over to the nearest one and closed the curtain. As I sat down, I noticed the stones in the wall had twisted into rows of faces, looking at me. Judging. They smiled, and one of them told me not to be afraid, that he'd always known I was a good son. He was proud of me, in fact. The candlelight agreed, and stretched its warm pillows out to caress my face. One of Mr. Wainwright's walking devices had wandered onto the table, but Martin soon appeared, wielding a giant hammer shaped like a duck. He smashed the duckhammer down onto the machine, and it went up in a great deal of smoke that smelled like overcooked cauliflower. The faces laughed, Martin threw his massive head back and laughed, the table swallowed him up and burped, it was a great time to be alive.

"Look outside the curtain, Gaylor!" one of the faces said, and pointed its stony fingers to my left. I agreed, it was a little too tight in here, and I opened the curtain. It was a magnificent sight. I could see the empty wooden tables bowing down in front of their master, the great and all-knowing fireplace. Fire turned wood to ash. Ash went up the chimney and became woodsmoke, which wafted out of town to settle on the trees in the forest, making them grow big and strong. It was only natural. The mages I had seen outside came down the steps, and one of them moved his lips in front of Rosie while the other warmed his hands by the Firefather. Then a giant purple petunia grew out of the wall, and stretched its green fingers to give Rosie a hug and pull her inside. I giggled.

The mages didn't seem to get the joke, they were running behind the counter and making an awful lot of noise. But then the flower opened up again, and the stems came out to put Rosie back where she had been. Now it was the noisy men's turn to go in, and apparently they enjoyed it so much they didn't come back! What a plot twist! I decided I'd had enough of this serial and pulled the curtain shut across the televisor. Then I leaned back against the nice, soft wall, closed my eyes and dove into the dreams.

A few hours later, a familiar voice woke me up.

"Greetings, stranger! What are you doing here in my inn? I've been wondering whether to wake you up or not, because I wasn't sure if this was a bed you were sleeping in, and if you're a patron sleeping in their bed I should let you be." I opened my eyes, feeling groggy and tender. "And if you're a miscreant, I'll have to escort you out!"

"Uh, hello, Rosie," I mumbled, stretching my legs. It had been a wonderful journey. "Sorry, what was that you said?"

"Rosie? Oh, is that me? I'm Rosie! How intriguing!"

I frowned and got out of the alcove, looking her in the eye to check her pupils, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Are you all right? Not getting high on your own supply, are you?" I winked at her. These rural types were a bit too lax with the law for my liking, but I wouldn't report her. After all, it was a lovely day.

She looked straight back at me and smiled. "I'm fine! Could you tell me where I am?"

I decided to play along with whatever small-town joke this was. "You're in The Fat Duck inn, currently undergoing a rather tasteless renaming, and in the company of Gaylor Stonks, lord and master of all things fat and ducky. And now I must go."

"Oh! That's enlightening," she said. Then she looked down at herself and grabbed her side handles. "I'm fat. And maybe I'm ducky, I'll have to conduct some experiments. Are you my master? Are we going on a quest?"

I frowned and blinked a couple of times. "Rosie... what's going on? You're acting like someone in an old pantomime serial."

She gasped and crossed her hands over her ample chest. "You're absolutely right, master! I have no idea what's going on around here! And for an innkeeper such as I, that will simply not do. I have to accompany you on your quest, and find out what's going on! Oh, and I need coin," she added as an afterthought.

I couldn't help but chuckle. I'd never seen her like this before, not since last Herald's Eve. Coin? Seriously? Maybe she'd knocked over an old vintage while I was away, and inhaled the fumes. "All right, what the heck. Let's go. I've got a duck to pluck with my father, and could use the company."

"A quest to pluck a duck! Let's go, master!"

The sun was flying high as we walked up the steps, shining brightly through the Dome and bathing the town in a golden hue. A couple of drones were busy cleaning the sign above us.

"Ello ello, what's this then, comrades? Can't be leaving your jobs during working hours now, can you?" one of them buzzed.

"Oooh! Swamp pixies! Those are level 3 opponents. Beware of their poisonous sting, and the illusions they cast while swarming!" Rosie looked up at the drones in wonderment, and I half expected her to pull out a mason jar and try to catch them. I was getting seriously worried now, but decided to try and smooth things over.

"It's an emergency, comrades! As you can see, this woman has hit her head and is concussed, so I must escort her to a physician. God save the Queen!" I gave them a winning smile.

"Ah, no worries guvna. God save the Queen!"

Crisis averted, I headed back up the main street with Rosie in tow, who kept blundering about like an innocent child and marvelling at everyday objects like postboxes (which I agree are marvellous) and gyrocycles (which I never could get my stomach to agree with). At one point she saw a duck of prey flying high above us before swooping down to catch a squirrel, and she nearly went ballistic and started bombarding me with questions. Passing the duckery led to even more inquiries, and eventually I had to drag her along, promising we'd go inside later to look at the different breeds.

Quite a few people stared at us and some were openly worried, but I gave them the same excuse I had served the drones and hurried on. It wasn't just an excuse either. Had I not just had a tall glass of poppycock for lunch, I would have ducked (oh dear) into the nearest alleyway and left her to her own devices, but in my afterglow I decided to embrace the silliness and take her to a physician. I'd drop her off, say goodbye, pack a suitcase and go see my father to give him a piece of my mind.

"What's that?" Rosie asked, pointing up at the sky. "It's like we're underwater!"

I sighed, but went along with it. "That's the Dome. It keeps people with passive jobs from going outside the village, and people with combat jobs from getting in." And was the chief reason why I'd moved here. "But it doesn't stop spell rods or sigil teleports. Honestly it serves no real purpose, but it's ancient magic, supposedly of divine origin, and nobody knows how to turn it off."

"Oh! Magic sounds powerful. What are spell rods? And what's that building?"

"That," I said, and looked at the concrete building squatting in front of us, "is the infirmary. Hopefully one of the physicians here specializes in head trauma. We're going to go inside here, and introduce you to some nice people who can answer any and all questions you may have about ducks, cobblestone, lamp posts, spell rods, pixies, doorknobs and alcohol." I snickered. Some parting gift I would be leaving them. At one point she'd asked me if we could restock her inventory, with spirits of all things! Nobody had drunk a drop of alcohol here for a century at least, the drones could smell that stuff a mile away.

The doors opened magically in front of us, and a whiff of antiseptic hit my nose. I hated these places. "Good day, comrade," I said to the receptionist. "Our friend here seems to have been sipping a bit of the good stuff this fine morning, and she's been a bit... addlecoved ever since. Or perhaps she just slipped and fell, hitting her head. Is there perhaps someone here who could have a look at her?"

"Rosie!" said the receptionist and ignored me completely. "Are you all right, love? City boy's not trying to pull one over on us, is he?" She eyed me suspiciously, leaning in to check my pupils. That's the thanks I get for being nice.

"Oh I'm fine!" said Rosie. "Really, it's been such a nice walk. And he's a very informative patron I must say. Did you know that male ducks have a corkscrew p-"

"I'll be off then," I said, ducking down (oh no) so as not to get my hat caught in the doorframe. These peasants wouldn't know fashion if it blatted them over the head with a coathanger.

Master Gaylor left, and Rosie continued talking to the barmaid in the lovely white dress. The inn called Firmary was very different from hers, and she wondered if maybe the back door was where the beds were? Or was it the kitchen perhaps?

After a bit of back and forth the barmaid agreed to let her have a look at the beds, but first she wanted to introduce her to the owner of the premises, a man named Doctor Reginold. He brought her into the back room, where a lot of bottles and devices were neatly stacked along the walls. Ah, of course! Wouldn't do to keep the best vintages out in plain sight, that would only attract thieves!

"So, Rosie," said Doctor after demonstrating how some of the brewing equipment worked, "I'm not seeing anything wrong with your head, and your vitals are fine. But I am a bit concerned about the mana signatures I'm picking up here. I know it's a silly question, but have you ever..."

"Yes?" asked Rosie. She liked Doctor, although he wasn't nearly as informative as Master Gaylor. Weren't innkeepers supposed to be fonts of local knowledge?

Doctor lowered his voice. "Have you been attempting to cast Demonology spells? It's the only possible explanation I can think of. You're not a Warlock of course, but... Are you a spellcaster at all? Dabbling in the arts, perhaps?"

"Hmmm," said Rosie, and had to think. "Ooh! Are you talking about magic? Can you teach me magic spells? Master Gaylor told me about those."

"He did, did he? And he's a Master, even. I'll have to call him back and ask him a few questions. I think we better get the authorities involved, too. But first I'd like you to do something for me." He swiveled around on his chair to open a drawer behind him, and pulled out a pouch full of blue, shiny stones! They were so pretty!

"I'd like you to swallow a couple of these stones, and then try to cast a little spell on that teddy over there. Don't worry, you won't hurt him," he smiled, "it's just so this device here can pick up your mana signature and see if you're the one who's been casting those... other spells."

Snacks! Of course! Every inn worth its salt must serve snacks. And a magic show to entertain the guests, why, she took all her earlier misgivings back; Innkeeper Doctor was a prince among men for teaching her these tricks of the trade. She grabbed a couple of the stones and popped them in her mouth. They tasted like blue.

"Okay, now try aiming your finger at Comrade Teddy here, and think about a little, blue bolt of force flying over from your finger to tickle him on the belly." Reginold smiled. It was just like treating one of the little scamps at the nursery. He took great pride in his work as pediatrician. Rosie stretched out her finger, and Reginold activated the mana reader.

"Are you thinking about it? Okay good, now, say the words "Magic Missile"."