Prologue

[The Narrator]

The night was moonless and the lone figure hiding in the shadows smiled slowly as he watched the last of the market's shops being closed. The bookstore was the last to close on the three preceding nights that he watched the streets. He knew that as soon as the lights went out in the scribe's storefront the lights would go on upstairs and then off again a few minutes later as the shop keep settled into bed.

The streets here would be quiet and dark then. This being the street housing the more expensive shops, there was no disturbances. All of the noise and celebrations of the late night revelers could be heard three streets over at the local watering hole.

"Yes, soon I'll have them, and the sooner I do, the better," he thought. If it wasn't for the recent spree of kidnappings he wouldn't be in this position at all, but something had to be done. His wife was frantic that one of her own offspring would turn up missing. Several of the tribe's children had disappeared without a trace in the past months. The evidence showed that some of the humans from Psychotopia City were behind the disappearances, but no one had been caught yet. The mystics of his tribe had dream flown and found a way to, hopefully, prevent any more disappearances, but the seeds were the key. As leader of the tribe it was left to him to procure them.

As he sat in thought, the scribe's bedroom light had come on, and then gone out. It was time to venture out and down to the alley near the shop two doors down. He peered out in both directions to check again whether someone might be coming. All he saw was the farrier’s old dog sleeping in front of the large stable in the direction he was headed. Good, the dog was so old as to be blind and deaf and wasn't likely to be a trouble for him. He quickly pulled the hood of the ragged cloak around him. He then hunched over and feigned a limp, dragging his right foot behind him. He made his way slowly in the direction of the shop over which hung a shingle portraying an owl grasping a large clay cauldron filled with a variety of scrolls, jewels, and strange baubles.

As he limped past Owl's Oddities to the next alley he took time to look and ensure that the store was indeed closed. The low candlelight that normally lit the shop during the late evening hours, which were the only time it was open for business, were out. He then looked upward and saw that the roof hatch was propped open indicating that the owl had gone on his nightly prowl. All was as he expected, and he turned down the alley with a smirk anticipating his sure success.

Stealthily he crept down the alley to the back of the shop where he pulled up the farrier's wagon so that he could climb more easily to the roof of the owl's roost. After a few minor slips he managed to leap onto the roof and land quietly on the tiles. He spared a glance upward to ensure the owl wasn't circling nearby, and then seeing the skies clear scooted to the roof hatch to peer inward. He looked and listened for a full minute, and seeing nothing to give him pause he lowered himself nimbly into the hole. When he landed his heart nearly stopped because he heard the snapping crunch of bones, but in a mere moment he realized that it was the snapping of small dried bones that were the remainder of the owl's meals, rather than his own. He nearly laughed at the realization, but he was brought up quickly by the now present urge to sneeze. "Damn him! This owl is filthy!" he thought, as he endeavored not to sneeze and possibly alert the neighboring shopkeepers to his presence.

After the dry dust of old bones settled, and his urge to sneeze had passed, he turned and headed down the stairs to the shop where he would find the seeds. He quickly made his way to the ornate wooden cabinet in which the owl kept his most precious artifacts. There he deftly picked the lock and found the one foot square pouch. He opened it to ensure this was indeed the prize he sought and found the bag full of pumpkin seeds. "Yes! Now to get this to the elders!"

He hurried back upstairs and climbed deftly out the roof hatch, and then slid down the roofing tiles to land square on the back of the farrier who, upon feeling a nighttime urge, had come out to find his wagon mysteriously moved. The farrier shouted in surprise, and then seeing a thief in his shop alley called loudly for both the watch, and his dog. The mysterious thief squawked a loud cry and then quickly ran down the alley headed for the city wall and the safety of the farmland beyond.

He was hounded every step of the way by both the farrier's cur and the night watch. He would have been farther ahead had he not snagged his cloak on something as he leapt over the wall and out into the farmland surrounding the city. Knowing he had no other choice to make good his get-away he threw off the ragged cloak, and kicked off spreading his wings and beating desperately to get lift. In so doing he managed to get up and over several farmhouses before he was forced to touch down again and repeat the process. Along the way the small bag containing the pumpkin seeds was lost, snagged on the branches of an apple tree in a non-descript run down farm.

One month later...
The poor farmer and his wife stood surveying the large field full of plump pumpkins ripening in the sun. The pumpkins, unlike the wheat crops he normally planted had done fairly well. This despite the lack of the expensive Plexiglas all his successful neighbors used to protect their crops from the somewhat... unique… weather of Psychotopia. The pouch they had found had been a sign from the gods, they believed, and in the fullness of summer they would reap the rewards of their labors.

Elsewhere...
She winced as she grasped at the torn spot on her body to check how bad the wound was. She found it deep, but not so deep as to be fatal... if she was allowed some rest to heal. Croatan had reneged on the treaty so long held in the Netherworld, and she was sure that not only had she finally caught him at it, but also that she would see him dead.

To her surprise and disgust he was waiting for her, and had managed, for now, to get the better of her. She knew she had to retreat to another realm and rest, but where? Where could she go that he wouldn't think to look for her? As she retreated down the tunnel towards the palace she ran through a list of worlds that might be suitable. Her mind flitted over The Grove for a moment and she remembered the filthy little cleric's ward that kept her out. As she thought on the ward, she felt it... Yes! There! It was a tingling similar to the ward made by the cleric's pumpkins, but this one... this was different; It called to her rather than pushing her back. It called offering a safe haven for her to rest. Yes, this would be a proper place. The realm of the Au'Marui. She smiled cunningly, and reached out slowly tracing an opening in the air, tearing the fabric of space.