There was barely enough space for the caravan to squeeze past the store without scraping the wall of the neighboring building. And yet this tiny passage made the store stand out among all the houses down the road that were pretty much stacked on top of one another. This Marco fellow must have been doing fairly well for himself. Or perhaps paying for these extra feet of property was exactly what caused him to eventually go out of business.

  Behind the store was a narrow plot of land with a mountain for the back wall. During his stint as Brother Greenleaf, Gaius had to learn a thing or two about the art of druidry. He could tell that despite its rocky surroundings, the soil there looked fertile enough for a reasonable garden or a few vegetable patches. Instead, it was squandered on a carpet of sickly yellow grass, an outhouse, and a tiny stable.

  Gaius drove the caravan up to the stable and once the horses were inside, conjured an orb of light above his shoulder.

  "Let's see what's so great about this emporium of yours, Vasily," Gaius said under his breath as he was climbing into the caravan.

  His first get was several sturdy Slavian helmets. Those could turn a nice profit in Mystlund. Right by the helmets, Gaius found a bundle of swords and a couple of six-flanged maces.

  He then took some time to admire a stack of neatly folded chain shirts, and this allowed him to discover an ornate lockbox hidden underneath. The box was positively humming with magic.

  Gaius produced a wavy piece of wire from under his belt and started picking the lock while making sure he didn't trigger any arcane trap. After a few spins of the wire and a counter-magic enchantment, the box admitted defeat and presented Gaius with its contents.

  "Now we're talking," he whispered with a grin.

  The lockbox was partitioned into numerous insulated compartments, each housing a piece of elaborate jewelry. It would take a real enchanter to figure out what each of these trinkets did, but even discounting their potential magical properties, the precious metals and gemstones alone would be considered a decent haul by any but the pickiest of thieves.

  Apart from that, the caravan was packed full of less glamorous but nonetheless essential adventuring supplies like coiled ropes, quivers, torches, and what have you. It was everything you would expect to find in a general store.

  But even though Gaius usually did his shopping when the lights were out and the owners not around, something didn't sit right with him. The contents of the caravan weren't the problem, their volume was. There just wasn't enough stuff there for a store that was getting its stock all the way from Slavia.

  "You're holding out on me, old man," Gaius said and crawled back outside.

  After his earlier workout with the lockbox, the simple mechanical lock on the shop's front door didn't even slow Gaius down. He slinked inside with the urgency of a thief, on account of him being one, then locked the door behind him.

  With his back pressed to the door, Gaius spent some time listening for any signs of movement outside. It then dawned on him that as far as the locals were concerned, he had every right to be in the store. He took a deep breath and looked around.

  The spacious main area was partitioned with two rows of shelves still stacked with a wide assortment of potions. Numerous racks ready to display weapons and armor were lining the side walls along with a couple of sturdy cabinets for the smaller items.

  At the center of it all, over by the back wall, was a carved wood counter. On one side of it was a staircase leading to the second floor and on the other, a beaded curtain separated the store's back areas.

  The air inside was permeated with a vague hint of sulfur. This led Gaius to assume that Marco was not only dealing in salves and tonics, but also in reagents critical for the more complex spells. Some of those could fetch quite a price.

  With his hands interlocked behind his head, Gaius stepped through the curtain, looking for the signature glyphs of a wizard's pantry.

  To Gaius' great disappointment, instead of an alchemy lab, he discovered a kitchen. A kitchen with a great view of the mountains, a row of stacked cupboards, and a cozy-looking stove, but still just a kitchen. A promising trapdoor was tucked away in a corner, but after persuading it to open, Gaius discovered a cold room where Marco was storing his excess stock of commonplace potions.

  The damp and chilly air of the cold room reminded Gaius about his less than pleasant trek through the mountains and his lost hat. That memory spurred him to fire up the stove. Halfway through feeding the thing with wood, it occurred to him that his fingers weren't numb anymore. He even cracked open one of the windows and stuck his bald head outside.

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  Contrary to the entire mountain range surrounding it, Siembra's air was far from chilly this late autumn afternoon. Gaius had no idea whether this was some natural phenomenon or if a hefty dose of sorcery was involved. It didn't much matter to him, truth be told. He was perfectly happy to enjoy the pleasant weather in blissful ignorance.

  Having enjoyed his short break, Gaius moved up to the second floor. It consisted of a narrow hallway with three identical doors on both sides. Behind each was a room barely large enough to house a bed, a chest of drawers, and a low table, all covered with a thick layer of dust. It appeared that the second floor was intended to offer cheap lodging.

  Gaius couldn't help but feel he was getting ripped off on this whole Siembra deal. The caravan had some nice stuff but not a lot of it, and only the most die-hard of potion addicts could get excited by the shop's rows upon rows of healing tonics.

  A nice warm meal and maybe a mug of that famous Trogsmasher ale were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. At the same time, he didn't want to go outside for fear of introducing any unnecessary unknowns to his already shaky plan.

  After considering his options, Gaius decided to tread on the side of caution. He had another helping of nuts for his meal. Washed them down with a sour potion where a few droplets of mint barely did anything to mask the cheap booze Marco used as a conductor for the potion's magic.

  Sitting at the kitchen table with a bunch of nuts scattered all over and a half-empty vial in hand, Gaius tried to figure out how this whole trading operation was supposed to work. An established local vendor gets bought out and his specialty store is repurposed into a general one, but the new stock is woefully inadequate and, unless Vasily wanted to run the place himself, there's no one to run things.

  Eventually Gaius realized that none of it concerned him. He was leaving soon anyway. Plus, he now had a cool new caravan that he didn't have that morning.

  The caravan. Gaius never really owned a horse, but over the years, he stole enough of them to know that the animals needed to eat too. He made his way to the stable and tried feeding Vasily's stallions some hay.

  They weren't interested.

  "What's the matter, Apples? Don't like the dry stuff?" Gaius asked one of the horses. As far as he was concerned, they were all Apples.

  The horse didn't respond and Gaius, figuring he needed the creatures in top shape for tomorrow, moved closer to try and do whatever it was people did to make animals like them.

  He put his hand on the horse's mane but had to immediately jerk it away. The beast radiated magic and more than just a bit of it.

  Gaius took a step back and squinted at the horse. "Are you the real Vasily, Apples?" he asked. When he heard his own words, he chuckled, then slapped himself and tried to attune himself to the magics surrounding the stallions.

  Sensing magic was about the first thing they taught you in Mystlund schools. Separating the disorienting static of arcane energies into coherent strands of spells and incantations came right after.

  Now, identifying the exact spells, that took real knowledge. Most of what Gaius was seeing at the moment was way above his education. Yet among all that clumped mess of magic, there was one spell Gaius instantly recognized. An illusion. He knew all about those. Without breaking the spell, he peeled the outer coat of it away and gazed at the horses with fresh eyes.

  A pair of decrepit equine skeletons covered in dried-out vines were staring at him with curious eye sockets where otherworldly mists swirled in mesmerizing harmony.

  Gaius reacted to the sudden change by leaping backwards and reaching for his axe. It was one of those rare moments when he regretted that unlike Esven, he didn't have any understanding goddesses to call upon.

  The horses didn't react. Nor did they attempt to catch fire and drag Gaius into the fiery underworld. He took that as a good sign.

  Keeping his eyes on the horses, he started to pace around the stable. "Well, you're dead, so what? Plenty of wizards reanimate their pets to boast how good they are at necromancy. No big deal. That Vasily fellow was clearly a mage of some sort. And who knows with those Slavians. Maybe they're so practical that instead of rats and weasels they reanimate their horses. At least it's not his butler. Or wife for that matter."

  The mental image of a pair of misty eyes shining through the curtain on some totem-encircled canopy bed sent a shiver down Gaius' spine. "Horses, right, no big deal."

  He released his hold on the illusion spell, allowing it to once again fool his senses into thinking there was nothing wrong with Vasily's stallions. It helped, if only a bit. Whenever he blinked, he could still see the skeletons covered in thorny vines, no doubt some reagent Slavians used in their rituals.

  Being around the not quite living always reminded Gaius of the inevitable end of his own journey and its only grim alternative. It was like taking a nap in his own grave.

  Too preoccupied with trying not to think about that stuff, Gaius nearly walked himself into an unmarked hole on the far end of the stable. A simple straight ladder was leading into the darkness.

  Just to prove to himself he wasn't succumbing to superstition, Gaius accepted the invitation.

  With how his day was going up until that point, he was getting ready to discover a hoard of gold, an army of alefs, a crypt full of shambling corpses, a troglodyte colony, or maybe even a river of dwarven ale.

  Instead, he discovered a very much ordinary basement in the process of being built.

  Gaius' light orb illuminated rough walls, a few wooden beams, and some assorted tools scattered around. The most dangerous thing about the basement was its shoddy structural integrity.

  "I give up," Gaius said when he climbed back up. "Mind the pit," he said to the horses.

  The dead merchant could keep his secrets for all Gaius cared.

  Before long, he settled into a room overlooking the pass with a couple of potions to keep him company.

  Some hours and empty vials later, Gaius fell asleep with one hand as his pillow and the other gripping the axe's handle.

  Story Facts - Chapter 4