+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
   | The Olympia Times                                      times@pbm.com |
   | July 20, 1994                                             issue g1-4 |
   |                                                                      |
   | turn 4  104 players                              "Squirrely hijinks" |
   +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

               Questions, comments, to play:  info@pbm.com

			     Olympia PBEM

				*  *  *

		Person man, person man
		Hit on head with a frying pan
		Lives his life in a garbage can
		Person man.

		Is he depressed, or is he a mess?
		Does he feel totally worthless?
		Who came up with person man?
		Degraded man, person man.

				-- They Might be Giants

				*  *  *


The reminder messages are only sent if orders haven't been received
by you.  If you don't want to get the reminders, have your orders in
by Monday.




			Player-contributed press




                        WANTED

                  Vitalstatistix [w5z]
                         and
                  his band of thieves

Vitalstatistix is wanted for the mass murder of 15 peasants
in Aethelarn, when these solid citizens resisted being
robbed of their money.  Vitalstatistix is also wanted
for looting, and petty theft performed during month 3, year
1. The wanted "noble", and his henchmen is considered to be
armed and dangerous. An award of 1000 gold is available upon
 receipt of the noble's head. Body is optional.

             The city council of Aethelarn



	Are all allies welcome?
	======================

Anthony Benn leaped nimbly onto his soapbox and began his harangue, quickly
attracting a curious crowd. 'In Olympia, the entire world revolves around
nobles: they decide what you should do, ruthlessly exploit your labour, and
take all the profits for themselves! And how often do you read of ordinary
folk in the press?'
   'Youse a noble yourself!' sneered a gnarled figure in the crowd.
   'True,' conceded Anthony apologetically. 'But I have founded THE
LEVELLERS: in the Olypmia of the future, none shall be favored, and the
lowest person shall earn the same as the highest person in the land.'
   The crowd shifted uneasily, and started to disperse. A cowled figure
lingered, and approached Anthony. 'It may be that some associates of mine
might be interested in thy cause...'



Question: Why did the Noble cross the road?
Answer: To get away from all the pots on this side!

Question: What do Nobles serve at their parties?
Answer: Pot luck!

Question: How does one track a Noble?
Answer: Follow the trail of pot shards!

Question: How can you identify a Noble?
Answer: Look for the potter's clay under the fingernails!

Question: What do you call a Noble who doesn't make pots?
Answer: A basket case!

(A few pot shots from the Normandy faction.)



	Who would like to give us names and details of the noble-upon-
noble attacks in the Newleaf area? I myself would be very interested
to know which players are preying upon others without any warning or
provocation and I think the rest of the players in Olympia would like
to know too. So if one or more of you know the truth of things, give
us your case. Perhaps you can convince us. 
	Myself, I'll be joining some friends in Newleaf in a couple
months and I, at least, am eager to meet the brutes. Not as eager as
my troops, though. They've been marching without combat. They're tense
and tired and the good thing about fighting nobles is that you most
often take them alive. What they really need are a few perfumed,
limp-wristed, overeducated noble prisoners to help them relax in their
own special way.



Journal Entry, Blossom Bloom - Gonzo Greybeard

     Finally! Away from the city and the masses packed therein.  Clay pots 
everywhere!  It was rumored that the nearby sources of material from which 
the ubiquitous pots were being made was just about exhausted.  Rumor 
also had it that the roads leading into the city were significantly lower, the 
clay material that was used to form the road bed was being dug up and 
used in the creation of yet more clay pots.  The Emperor had posted Imperial 
Guards along the roadways to prevent further erosion of the roadbeds.
     Another disconcerting movement was that which appeared to be 
denuding the forest immediately surrounding the Imperial City.  It was as 
though a horde of crazed beavers had been released upon the countryside.
     It was so peaceful being out here away from the din of the crowds, the 
thunks of the axes and the rasps of the saws, not to mention the crash of the 
clay pots breaking on the streets of the city.  Surprising as it may seem, we 
have only seen one other faction in this province, and they seem intent upon 
traveling elsewhere.  Earlier today we saw a small band of wild men running 
through the trees.  It appears the squad of pikemen and the six heavily armed 
nobles was sufficient to keep them away.
     A young man wandered into camp and indicated a desire to join our band 
(perhaps the three bottles of wine had something to do with his enthusiasm).  
He seemed to be interested in the crossbow that I had fashioned and showed a 
certain aptitude with it before we began the ritual recruitment drinking.  He 
should make a good squad leader of the crossbowmen. He also indicated that 
there were a number of his friends who would be interested in joining our band.

This would be most fortuitous.
     We will spend some time here exploring and studying.  Unless it gets to 
crowded, we will determine what is here before moving on.  Now where did I put 
those instructions for making those fascinating baskets...?



Those seamen, they call themselves explorers?

Why, He Wanderer was an explorer, facing the dangers of the wilderness 
with nothing save a fast horse to protect him.  Since he left the 
Imperial city two months ago he had travelled long and fast, yet those 
ships had covered more space, and faster.  Whats more they did it in 
luxury.

Leaving behind NewLeaf and Cykarth he could see the spires of the Silver 
city rising just above the horizon.  What wonders would that hold he 
wondered?  It was the last city marked on his map.  He hoped there would 
be another further east but he had heard nothing of it up til now.  Still 
the people of the Silver city  might know of one...



Olympia land rush! Can you get there first? Can you hold it? Actually,
when you look at the size of the map and consider that it takes one noble
per location to exploit resources, there's plenty of land to go around.
Relax everybody! We're all in for a long haul.



Things seemed to be going well for Bogodon. The wood had arrived and the ship 
was well underway. Nearly half finished, it looked beautiful in the setting 
sun as the workers swarmed over it. He was just sweating on the arrival of the 
peasants that where needed to sail the ship. Soon, so soon and they would be 
off!



Greetings & salutations, fellow Olympians;

In the interests of holding my gaming costs down (I'm sure you can -all- relate!
- grin), please send me future Email via "DAZCapn@aol.com". My CIS ID can still
be used by those on CompuServe, since I do not get an extra charge for them.

I thank you for your cooperation...!

Tony Baldacci
(Varangian Freeholders, faction sb0) 



So the bloodbath has already begun.  Noble attacking noble, brother pitted
against brother.  One would think that these lands would be large enough for
each to establish himself before such conflicts would inevitably take place.
 Alas, this does not seem to be the case.  Why can't we just get along?



Sludge peered through the spyglass at the island in the distance. 
Half a dozen or more cyclops stood on the shore, yelling at the ship
and tossing boulder sized rocks into the sea.  Probably hoping to
capsize the ship and force the crew to swim to shore.

And we thought the mainland was dangerous, Sludge thought.  He'd
hooked up with some other adventurous folks and set off to sea in a
galley.  At least, they thought they'd set off to sea.  

Instead, after rowing out of the Imperial City, they'd found
themselves in the Atnos Channel, a one region wide sea lane stretching
east and west.  

What we need, Sludge thought, is a good atlas of Olympia.  His
forehead wrinkled slightly as he thought further to himself.   



He woke with a start in the middle of a filthy street, crowded
with many a vendor of clay pots.  "Where am I?" he moaned as he
struggled to remember his identity.  Then he looked across the
street: "A magic academy!"  He ran across the street, followed
by a few curious peasants.



Financial Planning (or lack thereof)

Cousins, I have just discovered that, hard as this is to believe,
our peasants do not practice sound (or for that matter, any) 
financial planning!!! No IRA's, Keoghs, mutual funds, bearer bonds,
saving certificates, nor even savings accounts. Of course you don't
believe me, but I assure that this is true.
Last week, I was busy with typical upper class business (nudge,
nudge, wink, wink, say no more) when I returned home much the 
worse for wear and stumbled over the carcass of one of my peasants
which had the audicity to starve to death exactly where I wished
to stagger...er walk. Imagine my suprise to discover that merely
because I was too busy to attend to the boring task of payroll
maintenance, that they up and starved to death! 
Of course it was their own fault for not practicing sound financial
planning, but it is still terribly inconvient for moi!
So, cousins, be warned...pay 'em or bury 'em.

 The Dagda [s4b]



The Olympia Atlas is now accepting contributions.  

In the tradition of Oleg's Map (tm), the Atlas will be a compilation
of geographical information useful for explorers, traders, and
adventurers.  Best of all, it's absolutely free!

To contribute to the Atlas, simply send turn excerpts (cut out all the
incriminating parts) that contain the following information:

	o) Mapping data
	o) City market reports
	o) City skills lists
	o) Inner locations

and send it to sx6@g1.pbm.com.  We'll include it into the next version
of the Atlas.

The Atlas is available by ftp on ftp.cp.tn.tudelft.nl, in the
directory /pbm/olympia.  The file name is atlas.x, where x is the turn
of the last update.  

(Note that the first installment of the atlas will likely be atlas.4,
and should be available soon).

Brought to you by the Skulking Vermin (sx6)   



The Royal Geographer Emeritus watched the approaching galley.  Some of
best weeks of his life, sailing down the west coast of Atnos, had been
rudely interrupted by the sight of the galley approaching on a stern
chase.  Then the lookout shouted that the galley was flying the royal
ensign.  The Geographer stared - the galley _did_ resemble the old
Royal Survey galley 'Sonta'.

The Geographer and the Captain conferred, then the Captain ordered
battle stations and  came about to await the galley.  It _was_ the
RSG 'Sonta'.  The crew stood down from battle stations.  Apparently
the Emperor himself had become concerned about the many and conflicting
claims being made to various regions of the world.  He had had the
RGS 'Sonta' hurriedly recommissioned and sent out to determine the
actual state of the world.  So far, the 'Sonta' had seen many travelers
but few large parties, and no castles under construction.  There had
been some activity that might presage castle construction,  but only
the earliest stages.  On what had been seen so far, the report would be
that the claims filed so far were unlikely to be enforced for many
years.

Later, the two ships having parted to continue on their respective
voyages,  the old Geographer rethought his decision to establish his
family on Krussos.  Were all the other claims misdirection?  Could
hordes of claimants be sailing to Krussos?  At this point, it seemed
nothing could be trusted about any claim.  Best to sail on and see
what actual conditions were on Krussos.  In the meantime, he would
keep his sons busy with their swordplay and archery practice.



     Fellow Sea Captains! Anyone interested in exchanging information on
Coasts, Cities, Zones of Fearful Dangers, or other items. Anyone interested
in an informal Captain's union for our general, mutual wellbeing. Adventurers
interested in transit.... contact   Curtius at: tonys@cs.berkeley.edu

     You never know when that ship sailing by could but be your friend.



On the 24th day of the Third month of the First year, the
disciples of the faction MooPlague Jihad began their holy
crusade against the corrupting influence of Necromancy in
earnest.

A graveyard was discovered near the Imperial City, haunted
by six spirits.  Brother MoonPlague, accompanied by the 
Hero Twins and fearless pikemen, engaged the foul undead
and dispatched them.

Hereafter, the ranks of Jihaddi pledge their swords to ending 
the undead menace.  Those requiring assistance should 
contact Brother MoonPlague [b5l].



Gaulish Soccer Fans Loot Aethelarn

OP - A drunken mob of Gaulish tourists ran amok in Aethelarn yesterday,
pillaging several downtown pepper warehouses before an angry band of locals
took the law into their own hands and attempted to terminate the rowdy
celebration.  The Gauls, apparently unaware that their soccer team was
not even in World Cup contention this year, had been spotted earlier in
Moe's Tavern drinking kodva, a beverage fermented locally from fish oil. 

Gaulish chief Vitalstatistix delivered a bleary-eyed apology this morning
asking for forgivenness and "to please not talk quite so loudly."  He
promised to make restitution to the families of locals slain in yesterday's
set-to "absolutely immediately after I take a very brief nap."  He went
on to sing the praises of Aethelarn's brewmasters and vowed to lay in a
large stock of kodva for the journey back to Gaul.



Rumors of war in Mt. Olympus may be premature.
But to avoid the rush, buy your souvenir
"Raga Rock" now.  Rumor has it that there are
only 50 of these puppies available.



Ralph was pleased with how well things had gone so far.
Lugging aroung all this wood was a pain, but Ralph was
being well paid for it.  Sure beat life as a peasant!
He laughed a bit to himself: near as he could figure, the
bloke in charge had delusions of grandure, and actually
thought he could take over the whole ruddy island!  On
the other hand, Ralph had to admit that those pikemen
looked pretty determined.  "Just so long as they keep
paying, and don't expect me to be on the front lines!"
he thought.  The sergeant gave the order to move out;
evidently they'd foraged all they could get out of this
area, and were looking for more.  He hefted his load
and got in line, wondering how long "The Master's" purse
would hold out.



Things are *MUCH* more crowded out there
than we expected.  Anyone interested in
forming some bigger stacks to travel in?



The Trien Company has arrived!  We are seekers of adventure and
knowlege, recently transported to this wonderous new world.
Once we have become accustomed to this new world, we will be available
for hire to find and do things others wouldn't dare.  
                Until then Good Luck!

Val, spokesperson for the Trien Company



The old peasant woman wailed hysterically as she related her tale of woe.
 "We was walking throught the forest, real peaceful like, me and my Bob
behind John Doe, when all a sudden the trees trembled and out sprung these
horrible rats.  They had huge slavering teeth and fur as black as the night.
John went straight at them and flailed away with his gleaming broadsword
"Invincible".  The rats stopped at first, but then closed on John, driven by
some satanic force, all the while shrieking like the banshees of Hades
themselves.  John continued to slice at the rats, his sinewy muscles
straining in the hot humid day.  Blow after blow rang out, but the rats
divided and attacked from both sides.  One of them jumped on his back and
sank its razor sharp claws in John's head.  John grabbed it and squeezed the
life out of it with his bare hands.  Suddenly the remaining rats leaped onto
John's face.  His feet buckled and he fell, blindly screaming as the rats
dragged his badly scarred body back into--"

"Just the facts, Ma'am" cut in Sgt. Joe Friday of the local garrison.

The old peasant composed herself, collected her thoughts and said:

"11: Horde of rats [db2v] comes out of hiding.
 12: Horde of rats [db2v] attacks John Doe [id]!
 12:
 12:    Horde of rats [db2v], rats, number: 6
 12:
 12:    John Doe [id], with two peasants
 12:
 12: Horde of rats [db2v] is victorious!
 12:
 12:    Horde of rats lost one rat.
 12:
 12:    John Doe [id] lost two peasants.
 12:    John Doe [id] was taken prisoner."

Dum-da-dump-dump. Dum-da-dump-dump-daaaaa.



Tales From Typographic Hells

The headache was excrutiating.  

Ok, so it was stupid to go our drinking wildly before heading out of the city,
early in the morning.  No wonder Allah forbid the unholy stuff. 

For god's sake, did the damned innkeeper have to send someone with a battering
ram to deliver the requested wakeup?

"Yes, yes, I hear you.  Go away!"  Wincing at his own raised voice he sat on
the lumpy mattress and held his head, checking for the pieces that must be
missing to hurt so bad.

Someone was yelling at the door, probably one of the maids checking that he'd
not fallen back asleep.  Why so loud?  Merciful god, she must have woken the
entire place--next door!  

"Yes, I hear you.  Go _away_!"  He paused, listening to the blessed silence for
a moment.  Then the voice started again.  Had he gotten married?  No, no, he
could remember last night, only too well.  He shuddered, and tried to pay some
attention to the woman with the incredibly loud voice.  What was she asking? 
What?  His brow furrowed, painfully, in puzzlement.  Did everyone know how vile
he felt?  Why was the woman asking if wanted to barf?  He considered it, and
while the idea was not without some merit... he decided against it.

"Damn it, no!  Go, away!!"

Silence.  And more silence.  He breathed out slowly and rose carefully, leaning
against the wall, making his way to the pitcher of water.  He took a mouthful,
washed his hands, and poured the rest over his head to clear it.  As the water
cascaded over his head, the woman with bellows for lungs returned, yelling.  He
tried to hear this the first time, hoping that she would accept a single
response, and go away, and stop (please, O Merciful Allah!) yelling.

Something... the woman was clearly mad.  He felt horrible, he admitted freely
to himself, and perhaps dying was not unthinkable, but why was she asking him
if he wanted to be buried.  Insane.  Should he simply climb out the window? 
No, there were people meeting him... probably at any moment.

"No, damn it!  Go away!"

Painfully, he hurried his few things together, and listened at the door.  No
sound.  Maybe the lunatic was gone.  He'd have to risk it.  He unlatched the
door and peered into the hall.  Clear....

Downstairs, he sat in the darkest corner he could find, and prayed for a dark,
gloomy day.  As people entered, he squinted at them, trying to see if they
might be Ulf and Buri.  Both of them were late.  He waited, and waited, and
after drinking much water, and even managing to gag down some dry toast, he
decided that his companions were clearly not going to show up. 

He'd have to climb Mount Olympus himself.

--to be continued--



Oleg the Pleasant's Lore Archive remains open for business!

Sure, you're new to Olympia, but you say to yourself, hey, maybe the
folks who played in the Alphatest learned a bit of lore or two? Yes,
it may be shocking, but it's true. Fortunately, some nice folks among
the Alpha-testers gave me all that lore, and I'll give it to you, for
the mere price of a piece of email. Act now! Don't delay!

-- Oleg the Pleasant [b2q]



OP News - Aethelarn - City pillaged. The citizens of Aethelarn's
worst fears were confirmed when Vitalstatistix [w5z] pillaged the
city and made off with an estimated 68 gold. An angry mob formed
within a week to recover the stolen gold. Sixteen angry peasants
attacked Vitalstatistix. In the ensuing battle, Vitalstatistix won
but lost six soldiers and one pikeman leaving the battered noble
with three soldiers and one swordsman. Vitalstatistix is known to
associate with Oelix [c4b], Asterix [h5u], Getafix [q4t], Bashar
Teykanik [l7x] and Unhygenix [d1b]. City officials are discussing
whether to offer a reward to the arrest of Vitalstatistix and his
henchmen.



RECEIVED FROM WEST CAMARIS EXPEDITIONARY FORCE(en route):
   Ships are on course, outbound for West Camaris.  Timetable may need to
be delayed 2 weeks due to bad weather.   Foodstuffs and water are holding
out well, due to a easy supply of fish.

OLYMPIA TIMES FINANCIAL ANALYSIS:
   Share prices are holding steady, as the rampant speculation of the last 
few months has settled into a waiting period.  Analysts predict that we
will see heavy share activity in a few months, when reports of the West
Camaris landing are received.  This stock is still listed as highly 
volatile.



I have overheard quarrels, oaths flying, tempers flaring,
threats hissing like crossbow bolts.  Indeed I have participated in
some, but the matter was settled without need for blows.
But there comes a time when honor demands nothing less than
satisfaction on the field of honor -- a duel.  I suggest the following 
conventions for dueling, call them the Kingsbury rules.

* A Challenger calls out an entire faction -- there is no loss of
  honor if the challenged brings forth a champion.

* A Challenger should issue a Challenge in the Times.  The Challenge
  should name the offending party and mention the grievance. Please be 
  brief, we aren't that interested in your petty quarrels.

* Dueling should take place between two nobles with no other assistance
  in the form of peasants, soldiers, beasties, undead, other nobles,
  etc.

* Swords, armor, and magic items are permitted in general.  The
  challenged has the right to choose what weapons are permitted and the
  obligation to provide them should the challenger not have such.

* Duels should take place on Mt.Olympus on the first day of the month,
  if at all possible.  The Challenged names the month, allowing ample
  time for both parties to travel to the site of the duel.

* Duelists will be allowed free passage for their own persons to
  travel to the site of the duel by reasonable people.  This does not
  obligate people to go out of their way to take them their however.

* To the victor goes the spoils:  the vanquished noble, should he
  survive will be sworn to the victor, along with all his possesions at
  the time of the duel.

* It is advisable for both parties to appoint seconds from differing
  factions to work out details of the duel.  It is the duty of the
  seconds to ensure that no other satisfaction is possible.

* Dueling is a last resort.  Polite society looks askance on those who
  duel frivolously.  There is no loss of honor in refusing a frivolous
  challenge.

Taira Yoshinawa



Dearest Miyuki,

   I miss you already and I have only been gone these two weeks!
How I hope that I will be able to send for you soon.
   Thank you so much for your help making the pikes for the pikemen.
You did a wonderful job.  You should be able to train the 5 peasants
I left with you into able-bodied pikemen in no time using the wood
we have left..
   Travelling has gone well so far.  We arrived where we wanted to be
by the end of the month but we have stumbled into an incredibly thick
fog.  Touchstone thinks he hears drums from wild men in the distance
but we can't see to know how many there are or what they are doing
here.  
   We hope to cover much more ground before the end of next month.
I shall write you again then.

						- Kovaq'nu



The blue-eyed thief sized up his latest mark.  An old man, wearing bright new
clothes, with a fat purse jingling at his belt.  "Piece of cake," he thought.
As he sidled up behind the old man, the ancient suddenly stopped, turned on 
one heel and caught his hand.

"You want my money, do you?   Hmmm.  Yes.  You'll do.  Follow me, and you can 
have half of what is in here."

They arrived at a small villa just outside the city, fit for minor nobility.
The elder fixed the vagabond with a steely gaze.

"You'll have to work for your money, but you shouldn't find it too hard.  The
Hand is already upon you.  I've arranged for tutors.  You'll spend the next
few weeks learning, and then you will leave this place."

			"I don't think so, old man.  I kind of like it here 
			in the city.  Lots of opportunities."  

The young man turned to go, but the ancient stopped him with a word.

"Carellin."

			"What do you know of her!"  The bravo whirled, 
			drawing two knives.

"The Wanderer has sent me a vision.  She was taken from here on a ship, and
is now far from this land.  I don't know who took her, but you must trust in
me now if you ever want to be by her side again.  You must find her, wherever
she is."

			"And how will I know where she's been taken?"

"You must wander until you are ready.  Only then will she be found."

The blue-eyed scoundrel frowned at this religious nonsense, but followed the 
old man, determined to once again be with his wife. 



"You talkin' to me?"

The dark figure in the corner stands ands moves towards the fire, but the
shadows appear to follow and swirl around him.

"The Dark Rangers are in another time, another place. They do not walk the
world of Olympia. Those who have cause to fear them should not call upon
their name, or that which they most fear may be summoned to walk this world
as well.

"I know nothing of your petty squabblings, and have attacked noone. But I
shall mark the names of those who accuse me without provocation or proof,
those who want an enemy are welcome to my best services to that end."

There is a swirl of darkness, then only the flicker of sparks from the
fire, drifting upwards.



Horses for sale.

Announcing the pre grand opening of our Imperial city horse market.

We will be delivering the finest quality horses to your home in the
Imperial city next month. Priced at only 100 gold apiece!!

Be sure to have your orders ready.

- the dark riders



     They passed through a marketplace, its sounds and smells at once familiar
and disorienting to Covenant.  He recognized none of the foreign tongues he
heard spoken in the market, and the smells that drifted by mostly surpassed
him, hinting of foods cooked in unknown spices and of arcane perfumes gathered
in places he would never see.  Some of it was familiar- the ordure of too much 
humanity packed with too much urgency into too small a space.  Beneath the
strange words, he heard familiar cadences, tones, and implications, bearing the
message of civilization and civilzed men.
     He pulled his robe tighter about him.  The crush of people made him more
keenly aware of his ostracism, the openness of the marketplace a parody of the
way human society had closed ranks against him, in those long-ago days when he
when he was first diagnosed.  Leper outcast unclean, he thought, and a grimace 
fleeted over his features.
     Shouting back over his shoulder, a man slammed heavily into Covenant,
dropping a load of textiles he had been carrying.  Covenant recoiled, waiting
for the expression of dismay and horror that he had seen many, many times.  The
man cursed vehemently, but looked up into Covenant's face with no revulsion as
he apologised.  "I'm sorry, I was careless to walk without warding my way."
     Covenant stared mutely at the man for a moment.  Mhoram, who had been
standing nearby, oblivious to Covenant's daze, interceded.  "There has been no
harm but to you and your burden, citizen.  I'm sure that I speak for my
companion when I say that no offense was taken."  Mhoram looked significantly
at Covenant.
     "No- no offense.  I'm all right."  Covenant waved his hand vaguely.  He
caught himself too late.  His half-hand was exposed, and the white gold of his
ring flashed in the light.  A moment passed, as wonder and dread warred in the
face of the merchant.  Covenant collected himself, and bent to help the man
collect his burden.  "Here, let me give you--"
     The man scrabbled backwards, away from Covenant, scooping some of the
fallen textiles into his arms as he retreated.  "White gold!" He croaked.  "You
bear the white gold- the signs--"  He caught himself, and looked at Mhoram, who
was moving between the man and Covenant.
     "The ring is not--"
     Dread renewed itself, doubled itself, in the man's face.  "A Lord!"  He
hissed.  "One of the Lords of Revelstone!  The propheses are proving
themselves.  The doom is coming!"
     "What doom?"  grated Covenant.  "What are you talking about?"
     "We come with no harm, citizen, and our fate is ours alone."  Mhoram spoke
soothingly, but his words had no effect.  The man's eyes slitted.
     "I know you.  Others would not, but I have studied much.  I know you,
Mhoram son of Variol!"
     "If you know me, then you know we mean you and your city no ill.  We are
passing through on a quest that will take us far from here--"
     "You will get no further!  The Reaver must be told!"  The man threw his
armload at Mhoram and Covenant, and ran off to melt into the crowd and
disappear.
     Mhoram appeared shocked by the man's behavior and reaction, and rubbed the
bridge of his nose, deep in thought.  "Well, we certainly handled that well,"
Covenant grated sardonically.
     "There is some force at work here," muttered Mhoram.
     "Shall I bring him back?"  Bannor appeared, poised for action.
     "There you are!" exploded Covenant.  "Where the hell where you when we
needed you?"
     "There was no need," Bannor said placidly.  "That man was no threat to
either of you.  Had there been any danger, I would have"-
- he trailed off a moment --"intervened."
     "Well, there's need now," Covenant cried, frustrated, "bring him back!
There's some sort of scheme at work here.  We've got to find out what it is."
     "No."  Mhoram spoke with finality.  "There is no need."
     "We've got to find out--"
     "That man was under a compulsion.  We will find out nothing from him."  He
steadied himself, regripping his staff.  "The trap has been laid.  It boots
nothing to avoid his snares."
     "Damn it, Mhoram!  You always say that, but just for once I would like to
try!  Why does it--"  
     Covenant was interrupted by the return of Foamfollower, who held a small,
grey globe in his hand.  The giant was clearly enthralled with it, and his
enthusiasm distracted the others in the party.  "Ho, friends!  This town is
truly a place of wonders unlike any in the land!"
     "What do you have, Rock-brother?"
     "A most amazing thing, one whose wonder surpasses my ability to set it
forth in hut beneath the threshold of hearing, a chiming sounded, lingered, and
died away.
     "It is indeed a very precious thing."  Mhoram nodded to Foamfollower, then
held the globe out to Covenant, who regarded it skeptically.  Covenant lifted
it to his ear, but its balance shifted, and his riven hand, missing two
fingers, could not hold it.
     It fell from his grasp, and landed on a paving stone where it cracked,
opened, and flew apart.  Smoothly polished beads spilled out, some attached to
a complex weaving of threads.
     "It's a machine," blared Covenant.  "The thing was a fake!  There was no
forest spirit in there!"  He felt angry at the broken toy, as though the land
and its magic had itself betrayed him.
     "I do not know what you mean by fake machine, but I am glad to learn there
was no spirit trapped in there.  I was concerned for it to be held in such a
thing."  Mhoram bent down and examined the device.  "It is good that such
things do not change the natural place of things in the land."
     "It was a fraud, Mhoram!  Somebody made that thing to fool people into
thinking it had magic."  Covenant looked up accusingly at Foamfollower.  "You
were cheated."
     "It did have magic, my friend.  It made me believe a thing of metal and
clay was alive, and that is magic indeed.  I admire the man who can take such a
dead, plain thing and make it live enough to treasure.  That is a tale worth
telling."  The giant beamed, as though a greater gift had been given him than
he had been promised.
     "You bought this thing thinking it had a forest spirit, but it was a
trick!  How can you be pleased by that?"
     "It did have a forest spirit, as far as I knew.  It would still have one,
if someone had not. . . exposed it."
     "It was just some beads in a shell!  It only sounded like a spirit, like a
spirit might sound."  Covenant was defeated by Foamfollower's lack of outrage,
at his equanimity.
     "Joy is in the ears that hear," Mhoram chided Covenant.  "We know that the
spirits are free in the forest, but a piece of their wonder is brought to the
city.  Is that not wonderful?"
     "I will never understand you people," said Covenant.  Hellfire, he
thought.  The group moved out of the market.

---------------------
(Apologies to Steven Donaldson, author of the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant.
The above is an original, derivative work written in the style of those books,
and intended as a compliment.  If you have not yet done so, read the books.)