Malcolm planted his feet and squared his shoulders. He held his breath and counted to three. The voices outside grew like the swelling of a storm. He tried desperately to hear any noises from his accompanying barrels but there was nothing.

“Are we going to let ourselves be stolen?” Minerva chided.

“I was trying to warn Anth and Tessa. You know, with my mind like Master Tenegal,” Malcolm whispered.

“Warn them about what?”

“Hang on!” Malcolm shouted as he sprang upward. The lid from his barrel popped off as he jumped out. He had meant to be followed out by majestic red fireworks in the shape of dragons and other, forgotten mythical creatures. Instead, a few yellow daisies began to sprout and stretch out from the barrel after him. “What ho, pirates! Stand down or be bested by Malcolm Fluke, wizard!”

“Oh no,” one of the barrels groaned distantly. Malcolm thought it sounded like Tessa.

All eyes turned upon him. He stood on the back of the wagon among the barrels. The merchants who were still alive were fighting – and dying – quickly along the side of the road. The pirates had pulled another wagon up alongside them, hitching the two together. The pirates who weren’t fighting were unloading the barrels onto their own cart. They promptly stopped what they were doing and drew small swords.

“Perhaps a poor plan,” Minerva said as she took to flight.

“A little help,” Malcolm called to the barrels, his voice quavering. A man came at him and swung his sword in a rather dramatic, ineffective way. Malcolm stumbled backwards and fell.

A more capable man leapt onto the cart. His breath reeked, his face was unshaven, and worst of all he had a dagger an inch from Malcolm’s face.

“A lot of help!” Malcolm batted away the man’s arm with a few, weak magical bursts. It did little to delay the man’s rapid approach.

“Oh seven pits, Malcolm, get out of the way!” Tessa cried. Malcolm jumped away just in time as the wagon began to shake. Barrels rolled down from the upper end. Tessa had gotten out of her barrel and set the others to rolling down. They bowled the one pirate over and fell off the end. They cracked and spilled barley and other grains for trading, they landed upon men, they generally caused chaos.

Malcolm whooped and cheered. Then, he was grabbed by a hand from over the edge of the cart and pulled off.

“It’s you!” He had time to say before the offending arm cut off his airflow. The man grinned. It was the twisted, cruel face of the thief from the bar and the warehouse.

“Where is it, boy? I’ve come for what’s mine!” he snarled. He pricked Malcolm’s ribs with the tip of his blade.

“Ow! I’m not going to give up my friend, not to you, not to anyone,” Malcolm kicked and thrashed at the man. He tried to fumble for a spell, but the man’s arm squeezed again and he began to get dizzy. He mumbled listlessly instead.

“I’m in here,” Anth grumbled. One of the barrels shook. “How do I get out?!”

The color drained from Malcolm’s face, accompanied by a feeling of dread. The thief turned towards the card and grinned. “Well then, that wasn’t so bad,” he said as he hauled Malcolm to his feet. “Let’s collect my bounty.”

As he went to take a step onto the cart, Minerva swooped down. Her talons dragged jagged cuts along the man’s face. He released Malcolm and put his palm to his eye as he cried out. Malcolm spun about and raised a hand, pointing his index finger threateningly at the thief.

“That is what you get when you mess with a wizard! What are those crystals, what do you need them for?”

“Ash ith I’d tell youtthhhh … youtthhh… you!” the man said, though his lip had also been cut by Minerva, so the words dribbled out like spilled milk.

“You’d better!” Malcolm took a breath. He concentrated very hard on the tip of his finger and the space between the thief’s second and third ribs. The man’s face contorted into pain at first, and then twisted into laughter.

“Seith him!” He managed between bursts of laughter.

Two large men appeared from behind and took hold of Malcolm. He had rather forgotten about them. “Oh,” he said. He dropped his finger to his side as one of the men choked the air from him, their arms about his chest and stomach.

Tessa swooped in and beat the two men with the lid to a barrel. Malcolm hardly had a chance to see what had happened before she was pulling him into the cart.

“Can you steer a wagon?!” she shouted, her face red as she dropped him into the back among the barrels.

“I can,” Anth cried distantly. “Will you let me out?”

“No, I mean, not really—“ Malcolm began.

“Nevermind!” Tessa cried and scrambled up to the front of the wagon. Before Malcolm knew it, they were on the move racing down the street. The wagon shook as though it would fall apart. Behind them he could see clouds of dirt rising.

“They’re following us,” Malcom warned, holding onto the railing at the back of the wagon. “I didn’t know you could drive a wagon!”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Now what’s so special about these gems? The man must be more than an ordinary thief to even know about them.”

“Do you think he’s trying to find Master Tenegal too?” Malcolm asked as he climbed up to the front of the wagon.

“If he is, it’s not for anything good—ah!” The reigns jerked in Tessa’s hands. The horses slowed before a rushing river that blocked their way forward.

“Ahhh, that’s not good.” Malcolm put his face in his hands.

“Not just any river, the Tallasy.” Tessa wrung the straps of the reigns in her hands. “I’ve heard there’s a ferry along the bank east of here, but they might catch us. What are we going to do?”

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“What exactly are we seeing here?” Anth asked as he paced the roof, keeping his feet away from the glass panes of the windows.

“Well, I don’t recognize any of them. It doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to go in and sneak the crystals away, either,” Tessa put in. “Would you stop pacing?”

“Shh, both of you.” Malcolm winced. “I’m trying to concentrate, and you’re giving me a headache.” He put his face against the window. Blue light shone through the glass, turning the five figures around the crystals into shadows. “It seems they’re doing their own divination; the thief must have brought the crystals. But what are they divining?”

“The health signets might have some magical residue in them.” Minerva perched on Malcolm’s shoulder, picking idly at his head. “Think.”

“Magical residue? Like dirt.” Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. “What was it Master Tenegal said… the M.U.D. formula, Magical Undulation Discrepancy!  You can use something of a magician’s to track him by his MUD, his magical signature.”

“Then let’s go down there and stop them! They can’t be up to anything good,” Anth said, stepping forward. The panes creaked beneath his weight.

“We can’t just go in, it’s dangerous. There’s a lot of energy involved.” Malcolm waved his hands through the air as if to explain. Anth’s face remained blank. Malcolm sighed.

“I agree, maybe if we—“ Tessa began.

“We don’t have time.” Anth took another step forward. The window cracked underneath his foot and gave way. Tessa and Malcolm reached but only caught his sleeves as he fell backwards into the warehouse, screaming.

“Anth!” Tessa cried.

There was a loud crash and the blue light of the crystal broke and dissipated. Malcolm scuttled forward to the broken window and peered inside, gaping.

“We better go get him out,” Malcolm said, his voice quavering. He looked to Tessa briefly before jumping down in the window. To his surprise, she jumped after him. Malcolm mumbled half remembered words and a strong current of air picked them up and carried them.

“It’s working!” Tessa grabbed Malcolm’s shoulder, trying to find a balance as they flew towards the floor.

“Too well!” Malcolm said as they flew towards the robed figures.

“Make it stop!”

“I wish I could. Brace for impact!” Malcolm shielded his face with his arms and kicked his legs out as they collided with the shadowy group. The wind gusted and sent them rolling across the floor.

Malcolm rubbed his head to clear the pain from it. One of the figures loomed over him. The hood of his cloak was cast aside and his sharp blue eyes glowered at Malcolm.

“That beard—Mayor Thornton?” Malcolm crawled backwards.

“Fluke,” Thornton growled. He turned his head back over his shoulder. “Elliott, tell the guards to close all of the gates. No one leaves the city without my word! We have matters to tend to here.”

“Malcolm!” Tessa yelled from across the room. He turned in time to see her knee a heavy set man in the groin. The man doubled over, and Malcolm could tell by the handle-bar mustache that he was the city’s wisest librarian.

“What is going on here?” Malcolm scrambled to his feet.

“Nothing you need to know,” Thornton said and drew a bent wand from a cord around his waist. He pointed it at Malcolm.

“Woah!” Malcolm said a word and turned aside a bolt of lightning, which blew a hole in the wall behind him.

“Fluke, get over here, it’s Anth!”

Malcolm followed the voice to the pile of rubble at the center of the warehouse. Anth was bent over on the ground, and it looked as though the crystals had been grafted onto his skin. Parts of his forearms glowed a dim blue where they protruded.

“What’s happening to him?”

“Crystal exposure,” Minerva said.

“Very dangerous,” Malcolm added. He looked back to the robed figures that were quickly surrounding them. “We need to run. Can you move, Anth?”

“Tenegal is moving along the Tallasy river, north by east,” Anth said as he staggered to his feet. He grabbed his head and nearly fell. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll clear the way. Meet me by the east gate,” Malcolm pointed Tessa and Anth to the hole in the wall.

“What are you going to—“

“Go!”

As they started to run, Malcolm raised his hands in the air and began to chant. The figures all turned towards him. Minerva landed on his shoulder.

“Are you sure this is wise?”

“Shh, I’m working.” Malcolm shut his eyes against the warm light that glowed between his fingers. The light swelled and filled the building.

“Bind him, kill him!” the mayor stuttered, his wand poised to fire again. “Just stop him!”

The robed figures formed a ring around Malcolm. One drew a sword, another a tome he began to read from. The mayor shrieked and all the others stopped. He jerked his arm backwards and a bird erupted from his sleeve. The man with the sword opened his mouth to yell and coughed instead. A bird wriggled wetly from between his lips, stretching its wings and taking flight.

“Truly, birds?” Minerva clucked.

“You are my greatest inspiration,” Malcolm said, his knees giving way so that he almost fell. He whispered a last word and the room was filled with birds. They crept from underneath shoes, inside pants, appearing as if they had always been there. The figures began to wave their arms to bat them away.

“I suggest we make our escape now.”

#

Malcolm ran through the alleyways and bystreets, keeping to the shadows. He found Tessa and Anth slumped in an alley looking out over the gate that was slowly lowering. He could still hear the sound of hundreds of birds leaving the warehouse.

“What did you do back there?” Anth asked, his words slurred. “Birdboy. You look like your stupid pet.”

“I am no pet,” Minerva squawked.

“I took care of things. The birds won’t keep them busy forever, though.” Malcolm dusted himself off, sending scatterings of black feathers everywhere.

“Malcolm, Anth has a fever…” She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

“It’s the crystal exposure. It will only get worse,” Minerva said.

“Is there anything you can do about it, Malcolm?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Malcolm smacked his forehead repeatedly. “Agh. How could this happen? A doctor would be better. Master Dellicas in town.” Malcolm kneeled in front of Anth. “How do you feel?”

“I know where Tenegal is,” Anth began, and then his voice turned into a fit of laughter. “It kind of… tickles.”

“We can’t go back, Malcolm. The mayor was there, and the constable too. Something is going on, I… I thought I knew them,” Tessa said. “What are we going to do? The gate is closing. They’re going to be looking for us.”

Malcolm heard the guard’s bells ringing through the city as he watched the gates descend.

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“Is this really the best choice?” Minerva squawked.

“It will be just—ahh,” Malcolm stammered and stepped sideways as he left the tower. An elephant labored by, putting its foot where Malcolm had been only a moment ago. A cloud of dust and grime settled over him. The elephant and the cart it pulled trundled off down the hill towards the lower town.

“Watch where you’re going!” the man shouted from the back of his elephant, his face a contorted mess of wrinkles.

“Fine. It will be just fine, Minerva.” Malcolm straightened his cloak and patted the dust out of it as he crossed the street. “I have a reputation around town. I help people, so they’ll be more than happy to tell us where Master Tenegal went.”

“If you say so.”

“And if this is a test I’ll definitely find someone at the pub. Maybe a young boy looking for his father?”

“You think Master Tenegal has fathered a child?”

“What? No,” Malcolm scoffed. “But that’s the way it always works in stories. Students are given a test that incorporates a tale of morality. Help the boy find his father and Master Tenegal will appear and give me my Master’s Cap.” Malcolm clapped his hands together, beaming.

“That sounds…” Minerva perched on Malcolm’s shoulder, beating a clump of dirt from his hair with a wing. “Simple.”

“Ow, cut it out. No, not simple. No doubt there will be some kind of sacrifice. I may have to give you away to the poor boy.” Malcolm waved absently at Minerva as he crossed through the town square. Musicians begged coins and street peddlers offered wares, but Malcolm had eyes only for the pub ahead.

“I think not.” Minerva sniffed and clicked her beak testily.

Malcolm shouldered open the door to the pub. The air was musty with spilled ale and boiled meats. The light in the room was poorly filtered through a window that was mostly shuttered with wooden planks. Malcolm squinted to make out what patrons were there. Old Tom sat at the counter shuffling cards beside a stranger with a wide brimmed cap, and James Well sat at a table with a red haired lady.

“I do not see this young boy–” Minerva began.

“People of Three Horns Pub,” Malcolm said, folding his arms across his chest in a way he imagined gave him an air of both dignity and scholarly knowledge. “I am in search of Master Tenegal.”

“He’s not here,” James said, “and you owe my father for the better of three flower pots you broke last week.”

“Well, l-let’s not be hasty.” Malcolm’s shoulders fell. He held his hands up pleadingly. “He asked for a growing formula. It’s not my fault they grew right out of their pots.”

“Well handled,” Minerva said.

“What about you two?” Malcolm straightened again, crossing quickly to the bar while his cheeks still burned. “Do you have news of Master Tenegal?”

“That old man who’s always causing a fuss in old town about the cosmic alignment of the…” Old Tom waved his hand through the air searchingly. “Platypus star?”

“It’s the Platypostar, Tom, and it is a very real concern,” Malcolm said. “Where is he?”

“Last time I saw him, he was headed for the east gate with his cart and that old donkey of his.”

“With Castamere?” Malcolm gaped. “He would have told me if he was going on a trip.”

“Yes, it’s very sad. Now would you let me drink my ale in peace?” Old Tom turned his back to Malcolm and tipped his mug to his lips.

“What manners,” Minerva said. “This plan is coming together nicely. Perhaps a gentler tact is in order?”

“Be quiet, you—“ Malcolm froze; a glint of sapphire caught his eye from the counter. He squeezed in between Old Tom and the stranger, his backpack knocking into something hard. He didn’t have time to bother checking what it had been. “Hey, what is that?”

A glass hit the floor and shattered.

“Nothing for you to mind,” the stranger said, folding his hands over the gems.

“Those are Master Tenegal’s! They’re magical health signets, I’d bet my life on it. He wouldn’t leave those behind. Where did you get them?”

“I said it’s nothing for you to mind.” The stranger stood, a good head taller than Malcolm. “I found them, now get before I find my boot in your craw.”

“Malcolm,” Old Tom shouted, slamming his hand on the counter.

It was only then that Malcolm noticed the ale dripping down the man’s beard, the shattered glass on the counter. He tried to check his backpack but ended up doing an awkward spin instead. Old Tom cocked his arm back. Malcolm tried to retreat but Old Tom’s fist was faster and caught him in the jaw.

Malcolm flew backwards, hit a chair. He would have been fine had he not got caught up in his cloak, which sent him sprawling backwards onto the floor. His head hit first, and stars danced in front of his eyes. His legs propped over the chair he’d fallen over.

“I wore two different pairs of socks today. Isn’t that funny, Minerva?” Malcolm squeaked, his one blue and one red striped sock hanging above his head. Old Tom appeared above them, his face red.

“I believe your considerable charm has run out.” Minerva’s beak clicked at Malcolm’s hand. “Time to get up.”

“I see that.” Malcolm got to his feet unsteadily, just in time to see the stranger disappear out the back. “I think my jaw is loose.”

“More will be loose soon. I suggest you do something.”

“Yes, Fluke. Do something.” Old Tom glowered down at him, balling his hand into a fist.

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