See everything, overlook a great deal, correct a little.

Pre-Fall quip

As he got close to the visitor parking area, Peter Donnall held his breath. So far, he’d done nothing special. Just an ordinary person, walking in the streets – already darkening, barely alighted from oil lamps – of Valetta in the waning evening of early August.

Truth be, trying to hide as he did was very, very stressful and tiring. He had never really achieved again that moment of preternatural clarity when he’d hid from the Canids, unaware of how well he’d been hiding. And he was very afraid of letting go of whatever supernatural capacity let him get away with ordinary peoples’ or beasts’ perception.

Not that he was doubting Johanna’s assertion of being perfectly fine and healthy… but it couldn’t hurt to check if she really could see magic, or if it was a magical aftershock.

Thankfully, the evening made it easier to get close to the town’s caravanserai, and he made it as close as he could, checking for the caravan’s workers, before flattening himself to the wall, and starting to move, hidden, along the wall, toward the campfire in the middle of the five wagons.

He thought he could probably move in full sight of people without them noticing, like when he pranked Johanna back in the ruins, but he wasn’t going to risk it. Not now. But he was definitively going to check that in the city. It was just figuring out a way not to look too weird if the strange ability that he got from the magic trap didn’t work reliably.

He wormed his way between two of the wagons, moving slowly closer and getting a better view of the campfire and the caravanners.

He had no problem spotting the Changed person Johanna had described. There was only one person below five feet, and that was obviously him. He stopped beside a wagon, listening for any information on the caravan’s wagons, not relaxing. He could stay fully hidden maybe half an hour or more, by his estimates.

“What I don’t understand, Nirvar, is why you never sleep in an inn?” one of the three other figures around the campfire said.

“You know me kind. We’re hunters. The best of the mountains. We sleep outdoor all the time, next to what’s precious to the clans, not away from all of it. The fastnesses are for winter, not summer.”

“Yes, but if I had a choice and the money…”

“You got the money. Tell me why you’re not at the nearest inn?”

“Besides you making a fuss about not enough people staying here to guard the camp? Okay, maybe because I’m still paying the debt on that house in Orange.”

“And here you are. Money, my man, money makes the world go round and so it decides what you do, not yourself. Me, I decide what I do, not my money.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Did we get a good haul? Ask the boss. He seems happy, so we made good sale. Of course, now we look at spending it back to buy what we can sell further north, and then down south. But we got plenty money, that’s for sure.”

“Not as much as that big sale will bring, eh,” another man said.

“Yea. It’s still a long way up northwest with all the twists in the roads, but we should make it in time to deliver, then head south along the coast road before winter arrives. I hate the winter this high north,” the Dwarf said.

“Really? I thought, with you being a Dwarf and all that…”

“Reminds me too much of home, yes. And even us Dwarves hole up in our fastnesses when winter falls over the Rockies. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise because we live up there. Fur coats are nice, but I’m not a hairy ape like you all,” he snorted back.

“What happens next?”

“After we arrive in Kamloops and deliver that artifact? We make a big honking feast, and we head back south with big bonuses and forget about that. I hate magic. Give me a good bow, crossbow, even a shield, spear, or whatever. But those magical things? No way. Things that get infused by Manastorms can get melted and recast for all I care.”

“It’s bringing in the money, Nirvar.”

“If you’re going to talk about magic, it’s Mr. Toigsson, please. And good riddance. If that mayor chick wants it for her giant guard dogs to sleep on or something, I’ll be happy to let her have it, and the boss worry about carrying the money.”

“And what if we get raided?”

“That’s what we got most of you for, right? All of us are trained. And don’t think I let my attention lapse. Even here, we had that girl trying to find out where the artifact is. Not going to happen on my watch, or yours. Understood?”

The various acknowledgments were enough for Peter. There was, in fact, a magical thingy in one of the wagons, Johanna had spotted it using whatever ability Change brought upon her, and the caravanners were worried about burglars.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

As he slowly backed away, he was wondering. Could he sneak into the appropriate wagon to see what it was about? Assuming he knew which one…

“Morning, Laura, Peter,” Johanna said jovially as the two others made their way to the table.

They’d barely sat down than the young man managing the counter at the Inn brought a second pot of tea, an additional plate of bread slices, and a pitcher of water. The two ordered bacon and cereals then started to hydrate themselves with the hot beverages of breakfast.

“So, plans for today. We let Grievar get money, we get ours, and we start out immediately. If we get out before noon, we might even make it to Anasta before nightfall.”

“And that leaves us the morning to find someone to consult about what happened,” Tom said.

“Not again. I tell you, I’m fine. We’ll talk it with our folks first, at least mine and Peter’s that is. Maybe head to Avon and Virtu for you two after.”

“I can confirm that what you saw is magic, anyway,” Peter announced before starting to munch on his bread.

“How do you?” Johanna started.

“I sneaked into the caravan.”

“WHAT?”

Johanna stopped herself, lowering her volume before attracting attention. She nervously checked, but Piturca wasn’t up yet. Or maybe had already left.

“Are. You. Mad?”

“Why?” Peter asked.

“I had a talk with the caravan master himself yesterday evening. The caravanner dwarf guy warned him about me and Tom. I tried my best to tell him we weren’t thieves or anything, but if he finds out you’re sneaking into his caravan…”

“Relax, Jo. No one can spot me that easy.”

“Yes, but climbing into a wagon…”

“I didn’t do that. I just listened to the conversations, with that Dwarf and the rest of the caravan guards there. And you’re right, they have some magical artifact in there. They’re delivering it to someplace up north, and it’s going to make them lots of money.”

“Might be why that dwarf guy got nervous, got it,” Tom said laconically.

“And you’re not helping. Peter, I mean,” Johanna said, almost covering her eyes in disgust.

“Yes, but that means you’re the one with two different… abilities?” the man answered.

Johanna frowned, contemplating her steaming tea mug. Then she idly put her finger in it, stirring the brew.

For all it did, she could have put it in cold water.

“Three,” she stated.

“I’d guess it might be part of your flame ability,” Laura mused. “I mean, if you can make a fire in your hand, but it’d burn you all the time, it would be a pretty shitty ability.”

Johanna snorted at the idea.

“Maybe this mana sight is part of the same.”

“I don’t have it,” Laura countered.

“Saints are supposed to be different.”

“That’s what the pastor always says, but I don’t know. I don’t pray to God. Not that much. I don’t… do anything. I just heal with my touch.”

Johanna sighed again. Breakfast in the city was supposed to be a good time, not the moment where she had to reflect on how their lives were headed in a strange direction, and she wasn’t in charge of that weirdness, unlike salvage.

She hated not being in charge.

She felt Tom’s hand on her shoulder.

“Breakfast first, magic later.”

“Thanks. Need someone to remind me of priorities.”

“Always.”

Personal stuff collected, bags repacked, they made their way finally back toward Grievar’s store. Johanna was unsure if they were early or late, but her uncertainties were dispelled when she spotted Dominik Piturca coming out of Grievar’s, escorted by two men. She thought at least one of them was feeling familiar before realizing she’d spotted him at the table from where the caravan master had been sitting before coming to meet her.

Still, the side swords and reinforced shoulder pads meant they weren’t simple friends of him, but more like guards, people that would protect the caravans against attacks by either beasts or men. And she guessed he was not taking risks even in Valetta. There was not much theft here despite the size of the city unless you left precious stuff unattended, but she could understand him. It had taken her time to adjust to the concept of stealing.

She waved at him, and he returned her salute with a slight smile, before stopping.

“You were right. There are a few things from your recent salvage that were indeed of interest.”

“Happy to be of help.”

“Keep the trade goods varied. Norman buys only Alium coming from the south, but he has all kinds of stuff to offer. If that’s from you, kudos.”

Johanna smiled at the compliment, and the man turned away, heading back toward the city center. Then the four turned back to the salvage store and moved in.

“Ah. My favorite salvagers. Were you waiting until Piturca and I were done?”

“No, but we would like to be getting home as soon as possible. I wasn’t sure if he’d been there already,” Johanna said.

“Home? You’re not heading back to salvage again until the weather turns bad?”

“We will, but we need to say hello a bit. Stuff to deal with the family.”

“Family first, always. So, money right now?”

“The sooner, the better.”

Norman Grievar grabbed a box and started counting out coins. As usual, he was using the large silver dollar coinage, fifty-coins. The ten coins came out, lined on the counter, and she quickly scanned them. As she’d expected, there were a lot of more exotic coins than usual, minted in different places of the Union of the States. The only one she didn’t recognize outright was one with a pick and shovel, but it did sport the proper 50, dollar sign and moon symbol that was pretty much a standard for official mints across the continent.

She just hoped that Piturca hadn’t foisted a counterfeit on Grievar.

She snarfed the coins, putting them in the bag along with yesterday’s half payment, and thanked again Grievar.

“Okay, let’s hit the road guys.”

“So, nothing,” Anthony Grievar finally said.

“Nothing I can pin definitively on them. I even regret giving them the Inn voucher. If I’d known Piturca was staying there instead of his wagon, as usual, I’d have found something else.”

“Cousin said he and Milton talked at length,” the son confirmed.

“I know, I know. And if your kids didn’t lose sight of the man next to the caravans, we’d probably know more.”

“Hey, they’re not my kids.”

Norman Grievar gestured dismissively.

“Whatever. Just the fact that they’re heading home shows something’s off. Last year, they were quite enthusiastic up to late November before going home when you had those early snowfalls. No, either they’re going to drop whatever they found safely there… or Piturca’s money.”

“He purchased a lot, so he still had money.”

“The Piturca family operates multiple large trading wagon trains across many marches and states. They got enough liquid capital to deal with us ‘yokels’ as they say behind our back. I’ve got no doubt he could do side deals. But we’re not a side deal. And we have to put his purchases in crates before his helpers arrive to pick the stuff. Time to work, son. This thing will have to wait.”

He looked at the shop’s exit, adding, “I hope they didn't try to stiff me, though. They’re good salvagers, and I rather like their work.”