[Drageon, Mist]

Inwardly, Teren swore upon hearing that Repeeknon was part of the group. Outwardly, he displayed the rotted yellowed tooth smile of a lowly servant. However unpleasant a few weeks with a loon may be, Teren actually looked forward to working with Thorsten Stiele. There was something in his manner that bespoke of skill with the blade. By all appearances this job was going to be a straightforward mercenary gig.

Looking at Mirro, he was not surprised to find him studying the two new guards. The gnome habitually watched everything with great care, mentally dissecting every event, every object, and every living thing. Nothing escaped his keen grey eyes. Although the gnome's body appeared to be that of an adolescent human boy, there was something puzzling in Mirro's face as he studied Thorsten Stiele, as if he saw something he didn't quite understand.

Teren didn't really care what it was, at the moment he only wanted to get beyond the city gates so he could ride his beautiful black stallion, see his handsome White Spitz, and to wear his own skin again. Hoping to speed things along, Teren stuck out his hand to introduce himself to Thorsten, momentarily forgetting the guise of his lowly station.

"Pa, don't!" Mirro cried out a boyish warning, starting the pot-bellied man and turning a few heads. Thorsten Stiele's hand passed near the horse's head, momentarily showing an ear's true black color. Teren froze in wonder; he had never seen any of Mirro's illusions fail in such a manner. As Stiele's curious hand closed on his, Teren saw the ugly farmer's paw revert back to his golden appendage.

"Sorry, sir!" The pot-bellied man quickly disengaged from the handshake and his sway-backed nag pranced back a step with uncharacteristic grace and control. Teren cast about, uncertain of what to do until overhearing M'Tago's offer to Repeeknon.

"Pardon me sir, but you'd be better off riding the pack horse. An ass drawn manure cart is no place for a gentleman, an' me boy gets the farts, wicked like." Anxious to distance himself from the loon and Stiele's freakish magic, the scruffy farmer backed his nag to the cart where he began a hushed conversation with his son.

"You just lead on sir, an' we will follow, right quick," he called over his shoulder, giving the entire party a suspicious glance.

[Thorsten]

Thorsten's head turned at the cry of the boy in the cart, so he missed the momentary reversion of both the horse's ear and Teren's hand. He DID notice that the farmer's grip was uncharacteristically strong, but Teren had dropped the handshake by the time Thorsten's eyes returned to him.

[M'Tago]

M'Tago, however, missed nothing. He saw with some interest how the proximity of Stiele's hand caused the gnome's illusion to waiver. Suddenly, Repeeknon's question as to whether or not the swordsman had any magic made much more sense. The question had not come, as M'Tago had first thought, because of Repeeknon's interest in magical theory, but more likely as a result of the disruption of the mage's own magical processes. M'Tago wondered if Stiele could control the effect, or if he was even aware of it. Or perhaps it was generated by some item in his possession? That sword, perhaps? This would bear further study.

[Thorsten]

"No need for that," Thorsten said in response to the farmer's apology. He was sure the man thought his horse had jostled Thorsten's own. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Thorsten noticed that the rest of the group was looking at him strangely. He figured it for impatience.

"Sorry to hold everyone up. We can get started at any time."

[M'Tago]

Seeing the gnome's reluctance to have Repeeknon ride the cart, M'Tago offered the reins of his spare horse to the mage.

"I hope you can ride," he said somewhat doubtfully.

To the gnome and his 'father' he added, "I would be happy to 'lead on' as you say, but if I recall, it was YOU who were to lead ME to my last two guards outside of the city, no? As I have no knowledge of where exactly they might be, we will await your pleasure."

So saying, M'Tago mounted his own bay stallion and sidled over to where Stiele waited.

"I see you found a horse. I hope you got a bargain."

"A real steal. I figure I'll keep her when this is over."

"Excellent. Then we'll call ourselves even on that account," M'Tago said offering his right hand to seal the deal.

The artificer paid close attention as Stiele's hand approached his own. When the hands were but inches apart the blue topaz on his pinky that identified the presence of magic stopped throbbing. It resumed its warning squeeze only after the handclasp had been released and the two hands pulled apart.

Intriguing, he thought. This definitely merits further study.

[Drageon, Mist]

Err, ... yea, right. Well, they ain't hard to find." The scruffy farmer fidgeted in the saddle, unsure of his lies and new developments. Turning from M'Tago, he leaned in close to the boy. "So, what are we to do about this Stiele fella'?"

"There is nothing to do," the boy responded in authority, then continued a bit more amiably and discreetly. "I'm not yet certain how he did it. Let me think on it for a bit. Later, maybe tonight, I will try a few experiments and possibly speak with him. For now, just keep your distance, that goes for your dog too. In fact, get the mu- Have him ride in the cart, and let's get out of this town."

From a whistle and a gesture from his master, the gray dog jumped into thecart and settled into the phantom manure. Teren commanded Ice to stay, thenlead the party towards the western gate. As the gate sentries looked them over, the pot-bellied farmer and his freckle-faced boy hung their heads in quiet servitude. M'Tago did all the talking.

A half league down the road the city walls fell out of sight. A half leaguemore, not a soul could be seen amongst the scattered wood. It was here thatthe illusionist removed his cloaking spell. One moment, father and son rodein guarded silence, the next, they were completely different people. The gnome joyfully watched the party's surprise, even though he thought M'Tago's reaction was less than genuine.

"Forgive our small deceptions," Mirro said with a dramatic flair. "We find it best to avoid the attention of snoops that habitually watch city gates."

"My name is Terentus Drageon, and this is my partner, Mirro Mist, formerly of the Itinerant Melee," Teren said to the other two guardsmen. He appreciatively ran his hand across his muscled stomach instead of offering it to either Thorsten or Repeeknon.

"Master M'Tago, Dragon Mist is at your disposal," Mirro said with a practiced smile. "We are now ready follow your lead."

[Thorsten]

Thorsten was surprised as what must have been an illusion fell away from the final two guards. His practiced eye immediately sized up the two men. The larger of the two, Drageon, looked to be a fighter with his well-muscled form. The gnome was probably the source of the illusion, given his race's propensity for such magic, but Thorsten had long ago learned not to trust stereotypes.

Thorsten was instantly wary of the two. There could be only one reason they would choose to hide their identity from the city guard - they were wanted men. Thorsten was certain he had worked with, and even for, such men in the past, but his lack of memory made it difficult to justify his negative feelings. He resigned himself to keeping an eye on the two and doing his job as best as he could.

[M'Tago]

Grateful that the ruse was finally over, M'Tago feigned surprise at the sudden appearance at his final two guardsmen.

"Well then," he said "let's get down to business then."

M'Tago dismounted and pulled a weathered piece of parchment from a pouch at his waist. He motioned the men to him and as they gathered, he unrolled the parchment to reveal a detailed map of the region surrounding Montfort and the areas northward.

"This is our path," he said, marking a northeasterly trail with a well-manicured finger. "By my calculations, the trip should take us two weeks to reach this point here."

His finger stabbed a location on the map marked only with a red "X".

"I want to travel as quickly as possible. We'll stop briefly each day for lunch and dinner, then camp just before sunset. We'll breakfast just before sunrise and then move on.

"I don't expect trouble, but we'll be traveling through some unpopulated areas and anything could happen. I trust that I've hired competent help that can handle whatever happens."

M'Tago looked at each of his guards in turn.

"Stiele, you take the lead. Repeeknon, you'll ride here next to me. Drageon and Mist, you bring up the rear with the wagon. We still have a few hours of travel before sunset and I want to be well away from Montfort at that time."

M'Tago remounted his horse before throwing a final comment towards Drageon and Mist.

"And keep that mutt away from me. I have an allergy to dogs."

(to be continued...)