Milton looked up from his breakfast with Mari and Gorbo when the front door of his magic shop opened. He was still swallowing his last sip of hot, sweet tea when Mari smiled and greeted their visitors.
"Brax, Doc, welcome. It's nice to see you again. Would you like some tea and croissants? Gorbo made them."
The two adventurers still wore their odd, one-piece blue uniforms with multiple pockets and colorful patches. Brax had the sword Milton brought him strapped around his waist, and Doc carried his magical healing staff. Milton took this as a sign that they appreciated them, despite the less than enthusiastic reception they had initially received. Judging from the intense scrutiny to which the Peacekeepers had subjected the items, he had wondered if they thought them of little value. Commander Chang especially had seemed dismissive of them.
"I would," Brax said eagerly. "Are they as good as his butter cookies?"
"Butter cookies are sweet. Croissants are flaky. It's a different kind of good," the orc explained.
"They're good," Mari said, giving the orc an affectionate pat on his broad shoulder. Milton knew she thought of him as something between a child and a pet. They both did. "There are more in the kitchen. I'll go get them and a couple more cups."
She got up to leave, but Milton stopped her. She had already been here over an hour.
"Mari, shouldn't you be getting home? You know how your father gets, and I don't want you to get into trouble."
She smiled and patted his cheek. "That's sweet, but he probably doesn't even know I'm gone. I can stay a bit longer."
Milton smiled wistfully as he watched her walk away. He knew he stood no chance. Her father would never allow such a match. But, for now, and until her future husband forbad it, they could be friends. Once she was married, she could not have a male friend who wasn't either a close relative or extremely elderly. It would be unseemly. People would talk, and even if she wanted to continue their friendship, he would have to refuse her. He could not allow her be subjected to their whispers and innuendos, not to mention the beatings she would likely get from her husband.
"Something wrong?" Doc asked him.
The question brought him back from his self-involved thoughts of being a martyr for love.
He sighed. "No, well, nothing anyone can do anything about. It's just that Mari's father doesn't like her coming here. And she may be right about him not noticing she's gone. A lot of people were up late last night, fearing the orcs might attack again. Your magic lights must have kept them away. They are quite impressive."
"They should help for a while," Brax said as they took seats at the table.
"The reason we've come," Doc said, "is that we think we may have identified the creature controlling the orcs. It is something called a mind flayer. Are you familiar with them?"
Milton was…in a vague academic sense. "I've never seen one, but I have heard of them. I could look it up in the bestiary, if you'd like." He would need to if they wanted him to tell them anything about it. "I have a copy in the back. I'll get it." He immediately rose to do so.
"No, that's not necessary," Doc said quickly.
Milton settled back into his chair. "Of course. You must have your own books—and the invisible Mr. Sims. Is he some kind of demon?"
Doc looked at Brax. "I think you should handle this one."
Brax seemed to think about it a moment before responding. "The closest spell I can think of that you might be familiar with would be Unseen Servant, although Sims is not exactly like one. It's more of a librarian than a thing that can wash your dishes." He paused a moment, taking in Milton's bemused expression. "Does that help?"
Milton knew about Unseen Servants. He had even managed to cast one once. They were vaporous, vaguely humanoid condensations of magical force that were supposed to be able to do routine chores, although his had dissipated after only a few minutes. It didn't seem very similar to the thing he had heard on the ship, though. If this was the closest common spell to Sims, these people possessed a very strange kind of magic.
"A little, maybe," he said, "but I've never heard of magic like you have. It's much different from the kind I know about. Where do you come from?"
Doc and Brax exchanged bemused looks. "It's difficult to explain," Doc finally said. "We're from somewhere entirely different that may not be far away."
Milton expected enigmatic answers. Any practitioner of the mystical arts needed to be expert at them. You couldn't just tell a customer that a simple concoction of willow bark, for example, would ease their headache. You had to dress it up, mumble a few magical words, and obfuscate the whole thing. For some inexplicable reason, this seemed to make it work better. But the answer Doc provided sparked a memory, which related to a personal recurring question.
"Are you from the Source of Magic?" he asked.
"The what?" Brax said, clearly bewildered.
"Maybe you know it by another name. The ancient philosopher of magic Aripostal wrote that our world began as a tiny rip in another world through which magical particles, which he called magicons, leaked. I've been wondering if this might explain why magic seems to be changing, that perhaps there is something different about the quantity or nature of the magicon flow."
"I'd rather not speculate on that," Doc said, although his face suggested he was giving it some thought.
"I understand," Milton said. "Commander Chang is probably the person I should ask…" This reminded him of something else, and with the commander not here, he would probably never have a better time to ask. "I've been wondering; is Commander Chang, well is she…?"
"What?" Doc asked.
"Is she part elfish?" She looked like she might be, and it could partly explain her strange and exceptional magic.
Brax laughed. "No, she's just short and serious."
"Please don't tell her I asked. It's just that she looks a bit…and her magic…and she looks younger than I know she must be."
"We won't say a word," Brax said, still chuckling.
Milton did not know why the Peacekeeper fighter found his mistake so amusing. Other people must have noticed the resemblance.
"You were telling us about a theory of magic," Doc reminded him.
"Oh, right. Well, you see, Aripostal called the place from which the magicons originate 'the Source of Magic', and he said that other things, bigger things, might be able to come through."
"Did he say how things might get back?" Brax asked.
"Um, not as I recall. I don't think you can get there from here. He spoke of the flow going only one way."
"I hope he's wrong about that."
"So you are from there?"
Brax shrugged. "Well, we're not from here, but I suppose it's possible that here somehow comes from there, if you see what I mean."
Milton pondered yet another enigmatic answer as Mari returned with the croissants and cups. She placed a plate in front of each of his guests.
"Anyway, about the mind flayer," Doc said. "We're working on plan to overcome it, but we need a couple of things from you to make it work."
"I'll do my best to help," he agreed readily. "What do you need? I'll see if I can get it."
"Do you think you can obtain some jars, bottles, or pots that seal tightly but are likely to break if dropped from the height of, oh, about four men?"
Milton thought his fire-pots would be just the thing. "Why, yes. I think I have exactly what you're looking for."
He turned to Gorbo. "Fetch a fire pot from the storeroom, please—an empty one."
The orc rose to follow his instructions and returned promptly, holding one of the terracotta clay orbs.
"Will this do?" Milton asked, handing it to Doc.
The Peacekeeper cleric ran a finger along one of the grooves.
"This looks like it was intended to be broken."
"It was. I designed them myself for use in the catapults. With my special formula inside and a lighted wick, they are effective firebombs."
"How many of these do you have?"
"A
couple hundred empty ones."
Technically, they belonged to the city since the royal treasury had paid for them. They represented Milton's largest single financial success, but after paying the potters, his profits had been far from impressive.
"And each has a threaded cap like the one here?"
"Yes. That's how I store them. I replace it with a wick just prior to use. If you do it earlier, they don't work as well."
"I'll need to put some kind of sealant on it to make sure it's airtight, but these should do nicely. How soon can you have them delivered to the ship?"
Milton was gratified that Doc found them acceptable. It made him feel more worthy than he had in a while.
"Pretty soon, I think. The king has told his people to accommodate my requests, within reason, of course."
"As soon as you can, then."
He thought a moment about what he would need to do to have the orbs delivered. "I could probably have them there by noon." He hesitated to ask more, but he wanted to know. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you going to use them for?"
Brax smiled. "We're going to put the orcs to sleep."
"All of them? With these? How?" He had never heard of anything that could do that.
Doc responded. "We'll put a… I suppose you could call it a very strong sleeping potion inside. It will work, there is no doubt about that, but it won't last long outside. It should be more effective in the caves. But this brings me to the other thing we need from you."
"What's that?"
"Troops, or at least people who can rush in and tie the orcs who have succumbed to the potion. They have to be quick, because, like I said, the effect outside does not last long. The larger orcs may begin to recover in less than half an hour."
"Why not just have the men kill them? That would be quicker." He didn't like the idea especially, but if they were pressed for time, it seemed to make more sense.
Doc lowered his head and spoke over raised eyebrows. "Milton! I'm surprised you would suggest such a thing. Killing a defenseless opponent would be inhumane. You said yourself that orcs are little trouble other than when some misguided leader is causing them to go astray. You of all people should know this. Gorbo is all right, isn't he? I must insist that your men not harm the orcs they find who are not an immediate threat. They will tie and restrain them, but that is all."
"Um, I'll make sure the soldiers know of your wishes."
The Peacekeeper cleric's admonition embarrassed him, but he was glad for it. He did not want to see the orcs harmed either, if it could be avoided. Doc was right. The mind flayer posed the real threat. The orcs were only tools.
"Good," Mari said. "I can't say I'm terribly fond of orcs, except Gorbo, of course." She patted the orc's hand. "But I wouldn't want to think Milton was responsible for killing them. That's just wrong."
"It pleases me to hear you say that," Doc said to her.
"I mean, I know what people say about them, but they're not all evil. They can't be. Gorbo's not. Of course, he's the only one I know. I suppose all the rest could be, but I don't see how that would make sense."
"That is well considered. You are obviously a very thoughtful young lady." Doc said.
"I'll make sure the men who are going know you will be angry if they disobey," Milton said. "That should be enough. Once they see all the orcs down from your spells, they'll know not to cross you."
"Yes, well, if that is what it takes, it will have to do. There is one more thing I should mention. The troops should wear scarves or some kind of cloth over their noses and mouths before going into the orc camp. "
"Why is that?"
"Brax, I think you'd better explain," Doc said.
"Sure, Doc," Brax agreed, turning to address Milton. "It's just that the effect of the potion lingers for a while. Um, covering your mouth and nose disguises you from the magic so it's not as likely to affect you."
"I've never…, well, you know. But I'll make sure they know and are prepared. When should they be there?"
"If you can get those pots to the ship in the next few hours," Doc replied, "I think we can be ready by tomorrow morning. When you see the signal, have your men rush in. Make sure they have an ample supply of rope and that they work as quickly as they can. We'll be there, but you may not see us. You will see the ship, though. The plan calls for moving it."
"What's the signal?"
Doc turned to Brax. "Back to you, I think."
"We'll cast a Spark Shower spell, a red one."
"Ah, yes. That's one I know."