"I am weary, that is all," Morhion said, and Tyveris nodded in agreement.

"It's been a while since I asked my god for that much power," the big loremaster said with a wan grin.

"What was that thing?" Caledan asked the mage.

Morhion shook his head. "I cannot truly say. Some beast of magic created by sorcerers long ago, I would imagine. Mages often took part in the battles fought here in the Fields, sending creatures of dark magic to ravage an enemy's army. This was one such creature, I would guess, bound and buried by a victorious mage."

But not dead," Caledan said.

"No. It is a thing of magic," Morhion said, his breathing still rapid. "It will never die."

"Then we had better leave a marker here, so no one makes the same mistake we did," Caledan said. He paused then, as if he was struggling with something. "Thanks, mage," he said gruffly after a moment of silence, then he turned to mount Mista. "Let's put some distance between us and this barrow."

They rode to the north edge of the valley, then broke for a meal at midday, The distant sound of thunder echoed over the valley. The wind rattled through the tall grass, and the clouds looked as heavy and dark as lead.

Tyveris looked forlornly at the rather pitiful array of foodstuffs Estah had pulled from the saddlebags. There was a little dried fruit left, a few bits of cheese, and barely enough stale bread for each of them to have a piece.

"I really hate to ask this question," the big monk said, "but what exactly are the rest of you going to eat?"

“Tyveris!" Estah said chidingly.

"It was a joke, Estah," the loremaster protested lamely.

"I'm not laughing," the halfling healer said, her eyes flashing fire. She watched carefully over the food to make certain each of them got a fair share.

"What do you have there, thief?" Morhion asked as they were readying themselves to set out again after lunch. Ferret was performing tricks with a dull, tarnished coin, sending it dancing over his knuckles and leaping into the air.

"It's just some old coin," Ferret said, flipping it deftly toward the mage. "I found it on the ground when I was scouting maybe a half-league back."

Morhion snatched it precisely out of the air. He studied the coin intently, turning it over in his hand. "You may wish to see this," he said to Caledan and Mari.

"What is it?" Mari asked.

"I'm no expert, but it just looks like some old copper coin to me," Caledan said with a shrug. "And a badly stamped one at that."

"That is true," Morhion said, holding up the crudely made coin. Its edges were rough and uneven and seemed to be thicker on one edge than the other. "I cannot even say what the symbol it is embossed with is intended to represent, but there are words beneath it. I can still make them out. They read, Altaro'eb'Telkadra."

"What does it mean?" asked Mari.

"It is written in the tongue called Talfir," Morhion said, his blue eyes glittering. "It means, The Year of the Lion.'"

"The Year of the Lion,'" Mari repeated, then her eyes widened in realization. 'That was the year Talek Talembar was slain."

Caledan took the antique coin from the mage. "Ferret, I think you'd better show us where you found this."

"Sure," Ferret said. "But I'll tell you one thing. If the barrow I found it by was Talembar's, he didn't have many friends when he died. It's not much to speak of."

The thief was not exaggerating. The barrow he led them to was little more than an irregular heap of dirt about six paces across and knee high at its center. "I found the coin sticking out of the dirt near the base of the mound," Ferret explained. "The barrow looks fairly eroded. I suppose the coin was washed out."

“This barrow isn't shaped like any of the others," Mari noticed. "All of the Calimshite barrows are almost perfectly round. Whoever built this mound seems to have just tossed the dirt on haphazardly, probably just enough to cover whoever fell here. I can't imagine it holds anyone who was very important."

Let's find out," Caledan said, taking the spade and sinking it deep into the soft turf covering the barrow.

He had dug down barely a foot when the spade ground against something hard. He knelt down and brushed away the dirt from the hole. He pulled out the object that had caught the spade. It was a bone, yellowed and cracked with age, gnarled and knotty-looking.

"What sort of bone is this?" Caledan asked.

"Let me see," Ferret said, taking the bone from Caledan's grip. He turned it over in his hands, studying it carefully with his beady eyes. "It's a thighbone," he said after a moment. "But it's not human." The others stared at him in amazement.

"How do you know that?" Man asked him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ferret rasped. "Whoever this bone belonged to, he wasn't all that good at walking upright. See these small bumps here? They'd be much bigger on a human, or a halfling for that matter. And look at the shape of the knee joint. It's all wrong. No, whoever this was, he had dreadful posture. I imagine his arms dragged the ground when he walked."

"Like a goblin?" Caledan asked, and the thief nodded.

"That's a good bet. Goblins have never been very good at standing up straight. What's more, this bone has knife marks all over it"

"You mean from a battle?" Man asked.

The thief shook his head. "No, more like from a butchering. I'd say that, after he died, our friend here was the guest of honor at a big feast-and the main course as well."

Mari gagged in revulsion.

"Goblins!" Tyveris spat like a curse.

"Ferret, how did you come to have so much knowledge concerning anatomy?" Morhion asked. If Mari hadn't known better, she would have thought she saw a flicker of amusement dancing in the mage's eyes.

"A good thief needs to know how the human body is built, Morhion," Ferret explained cheerfully. "How else would you know just where to slip the dagger in when you need to kill someone quickly and silently?" The companions regarded the thief with vaguely disgusted expressions, all except for Morhion.

"Interesting," the mage mused. "Very interesting."

Caledan's spade turned up more gnarled, knobby bones and flakes of rusted metal that might have belonged to weapons of some sort. It was clear from the number of bones that there were at least a dozen individuals buried in the mound.

Finally Caledan unearthed a low-browed skull with two nubby horns and a protruding snout. Its thick jawbone was lined with sharp, yellowed teeth.

"That's a goblin, all right," Caledan said. He had seen enough of the foul, twisted creatures in his lifetime to recognize that, given a little hairy, warty flesh, this skull would suit a goblin quite well.

"You don't suppose these are some of the goblins that killed Talek Talembar?" Estah asked.

"It's possible," Caledan mused. "But even if they were, I'm at a loss for how that could help us."

"Give me the skull," Morhion said. Caledan looked at the mage questioningly, but handed over the goblin skull.

"What are you going to do with it?" Mari asked.

"I'm going to speak with it," Morhion replied.

"No offense, Morhion," Ferret said, "but I've found that you tend to have more luck interrogating subjects when they're a little, er, fresher than this. I think you're a few centuries too late with this fellow."

"We shall see," the mage replied. He set the skull on a flat stone along with several items he drew from the small, mysterious pouch he always kept hidden in a fold of his robe: a bit of silver thread, a small chunk of yellow sulfur, and six pomegranate seeds. He held his hand over the skull and spoke several guttural words in the tongue of magic. The items the mage had set on the rock flared brightly with a deep purple light, then suddenly they dimmed and vanished. Mari gasped in shock, but before she could say anything a rough voice interrupted her.