That one is a fast cat

As the dawn throws its first rays of pink light through your windows you feel a mental tug. A check of the magic crystal you've kept in your pocket the last several days confirms that Patrick is calling. You gave him three such crystals to signal various things - concentrating on this one while squeezing it tightly means that he has reached the meeting point and all has gone well. Which means you've got to meet him. Patrick has done well to make it back in such a short time.

You make some apologies to your wives, particularly Alice, who was next in line for a consummation. The business of the kingdom never waits, etc. But you promise to bring back something special for them all. Some quick kisses from everyone, some sexy hugs that make you wish the timing could have been different, and then you're off to the stables.

Perhaps stables is not the right term, since what you're about to ride is only horse-like in terms of it's shape. Your predecessors long ago learned of ways to create 'horses' far more suited to mages. Lifeworked creations that don't jump or startle when someone lobs a spell. Animals that don't tire or require the usual maintenance of a good, well trained riding horse. And right this minute you're going to make use of the last attribute worked into these creations - an ability to gallop at full speed for longer than any normal animal.

Three hours of hard riding later and you find Patrick and the 'featherwagon' parked at a less commonly used caravan stopover point. It's the last place where major roads diverge before it would be clear that the wagon was headed to the capital. After easing yourself from the saddle (and using a little magic to soothe your seized thigh muscles) you give Patrick a greeting.

"Couldn't you have picked a smaller group of mercenaries?" he asks. You note the two fresh bruises and a cut on his arm. "Or maybe some slightly less vicious noblewomen?"

"Whatever short term pain there has been on both our parts I think it will be worthwhile in the end."

Patrick doesn't argue, but hefts a black censor, one of the items you gave him to knock out the girls. "I just gave them another dose, all of them should be out cold."

You thank him and check inside the wagon. Past the illusion of bundles of feathers stacked to the roof the wagon is a simple wooden construction, quite long and fully enclosed by wooden slats that are heavy enough to prevent escape. The women, a larger number than you expected, are packed in tight, with barely enough space to breathe. Among them you see the selection of noblewomen and nuns meant to draw attention to you and Count Velcorrin. There are the mercenaries too, of course. Then there are a few more.

Squeezing into the wagon you begin to do what you came here to do. Carefully you examine each woman to make sure they do not have some form of magical locator or scrying point or any other device that might be used to seek them out. Here and there you find them - an ornate hair comb, an understated buckle for one woman's sword belt, a tiny wooden chest with some gambling pieces inside. All in all you locate eight items, five among the noblewomen, two among the mercenaries and one with the woman you presume to be the most senior nun. As you do all this you notice that there are a pair of young children, a girl and a boy, tucked in beside a woman.

"Very good," you say, "now I need to hold on to these for a while to give them the right 'flavor'. Do you mind telling me what happened while we wait?"

Patrick nods and sits on the edge of the wagon. "Everything went fine on the way there. The prisoners were all in the old abandoned church, the mercenaries were camped out in the grounds and in the house next to it, just like you thought. I sneaked up and hit the house first - managed to take out ten of them there without a fight. When I went closer to the church I managed five more before someone raised the alarm."

"With fifteen down I thought there were five more, but it looks like they hired on two new members with all the money for the job. Those two" - he jerks his thumb toward a pair of young, strong looking girls - "were a real pain. One of them tackled my feet when I went past, this one nearly knocked me out cold. Kept aiming for my nose but I got lucky. Good thing they're both archers and only had bows.

"Hmmm, must be very new. Mercenaries always make sure their archers have some backup weapons."

"Yeah, the big one back there was probably supposed to be their 'backup weapon'. Lucky I knocked her out with one of those puff balls. I bet she'll give your Yvonne a run for her money for sheer size and stubbornness. Anyway, I used a lot more magic after that - no more taking chances."

"Yes, I felt it. But how did you get that cut?"

He grumbles. "Knocked out the rest of the mercs without running into any more problems. The prisoners were nice and secure so I just shot a few wand blasts through the doors to the inner church. Then I brought up the wagon and started dragging all the mercenaries over to it. Took a few hours to make sure they were disarmed, pack all of their other stuff up and so on. Then I finally went after the prisoners."

He shakes his head. "That one" - he point to a woman in a deep red gown you know of as Lady Emira - "somehow she managed to avoid the gas. Pretended to be asleep until I got close and then WHAM. If I weren't so fast the pommel would have nailed me right in the head. When she saw that she'd missed she flipped it around and cut my arm before I could even point the wand and say the word."

"She always was supposed to be a wild child" you say. Then you chuckle. "Our whole plan almost destroyed by the disgraced second daughter of a minor lord."

"How did she manage to stay conscious?"

"We'll have to ask her. But first, what about the others?"

"Oh, right. Well the first stop I made after picking them up was Galenbrug."

You nod, that stop had been planned and was impossible to avoid.

He points at the young girl, probably about five or six. "She just runs up out of nowhere and says 'fethars!' then she jumps from a barrel into the wagon." He throws his arms up. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that? She cracked her head on the floor - out cold. Her mother and brother come running up looking for her. They heard what she said, so they were sure she'd 'done it again' and clambered up."

"At which point they saw past the illusion, saw the **** women, the girl passed out on the floor..."

"Yeah. Lucky I was able to crack off a shot with the wand and take them down fast. I heard the mother suck in a big breath of air for a good scream just before their legs gave out and they dropped."

"As for the last two, my arm was hurting and I decided to check in the local bar to see if they had any really strong liquor that I could use to wash the cut. They did, but I was sore and I wasn't thinking, so I dropped gold on the counter. These last two offered to help me tend my wounds and 'help in other ways'." He shakes his head and asks "What do you think are the chances of finding a set of smoking hot twin barmaids while out on a trip like this? You did say that we always need more twins, so..."

You take a look at the identically beautiful twin girls and nod. "Can't fault your logic or your choice of girls. I'll bet it was responsible for one of my headaches, but a pair like this is well worth it."

"And you said people's personalities shine through after the memories are gone. These two will fit right in."

"I think we're all set then" you say, stuffing all the scrying items into a burlap sack. "These should now have a 'flavor' that will make just about anyone with divination abilities link them to me. I'll bury them a little ways off in the forest and I'm sure they'll be found soon enough by agents working for one or more nobles."

"Great, but why is that going to direct attention toward the Count?"

"Because anyone in the know about items like this would also know that if I actually found these I would destroy them, not save them for later sale. Also, I'm not a great diviner, but I'm still pretty good. I would definitely be able to tell that they've become infused with a scent that leads back to me. Burying them just about guarantees that they will be found and will lead back to me. But it's the kind of thing a less magically inclined person would do if they were trying to frame me."

"Lovely" says Patrick. "Alright, I'll make sure the tracks lead toward the capital for a little bit, then I'll double back. Then I'll put the ivory mushroom in the sunlight and double back again." He pauses and then asks "Why an ivory mushroom for an item that hides you?"

"Every magical artifact and device has some reason for being as it is. In the case of that mushroom I think the reason is that the mage who made it was awfully strange."

"Fair enough. See you, mmmm, probably tomorrow then. Go enjoy your honeymoon, you lucky bugger!"