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Green Magic Mountain
ca4118
Getting an idea, I pace to the edges of the cavern, trying to gauge the falloff in strength of the strange magic. I can't see a clear edge to it, so if this, this stuff permeates solid rock, there's some effect even in the tunnels surrounding us. That's eerie. Things are... relatively normal in the farthest corner, though. A little further chat with the guards assures me that they are the warning system.
"That's stupid!" I cry out. "Are the others supposed to listen for the sound of screaming to tell them something is wrong?"
One of the guards looks unnerved, and earns a dirty look from the other who then shares it with me. "Look, we've got a job to do. We may not like it, but the Duke said to cooperate and we get paid to watch dirt. Having you scare the new guy isn't helping."
"Can't you rig up something better, though? Say... One of those magic-strength measuring tools, rigged to a bell?"
The guard looks ready to object, then puts his hand down. "That's actually a good idea. Ought to run that by the big cheese wizard." The other guard grins.
Oh. Velesian equals rat equals cheese-eater. That's weak. I try to stay professional. "And they ought to have one of those meters anyway to compare the Weave strength before and after."
"It's right here." The new guard reveals a gadget behind some boxes, resembling one of Miles' experimental clockworks. They let me heft the heavy thing and try carrying it around the room. I reluctantly measure thirty vels right in the middle of the scary dirt patch, twenty-five in the corners, and vaguely recall twenty being considered a normal level back home. (And home is above average, but then... gah, there are technical details I don't really grasp.) I'm not sure there's even a limit to the number in the real Madlands. Maybe... a hundred is some measurement one of the knights once took while flying there, I think?
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The Society holds what Henri calls an emergency meeting at the Star and Spar. For an emergency, we're certainly well fed there. I tell the group everything. Not surprisingly, Henri's not pleased. "A fifty percent rise from one little experiment? Yet they persist. This is not good, gentlemen. The Duke is being coerced into this foolishness."
"Leaned on through taxes, yes," I say. "But he's getting favorable treatment from cooperating, and that helps everyone here."
"Until some horror crawls out of the ground there. Miles, you should be the one to go there and insist on installing your own measuring gear. Anything you can make. We have a week before the second shipment, as I understand things, and two before the third if we're still alive then."
Most of the other Lunatics are less concerned, thanks to my report. One of them elbows me. "So, was she cute?"
I wave my tail dismissively. "Not especially. Not very friendly, either."
"But that note!"
I take it out again. "Two lines on a big sheet of paper doesn't mean much. Maybe we'll meet up after they finish this project, maybe not. I don't think she much liked my meddling either."
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Rumors start the next day. According to my customers at the shop, a friend of a friend heard that someone was mysteriously killed in the mines. Gwenivere, a kindly woman who I once rescued from a bandit, says she heard there was an explosion. I don't think I believe either, and nobody knows details.
Also, we're not allowed back down there. Henri asked. That, I'm more troubled by. I'm wondering if I should even stay involved. Only reason we were given is that there's work to do and it's not our business now that we've seen nothing horrible is going on. Next shipment goes in soon...
Ugh, out of practice and missing my blue sketch pencil.
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