The merchant's shoulders drooped. "Twelve," he said miserably. "I can't go lower, even if you are the sheriff."

"I could throw you in the jail, you know," Gerard suggested genially. "We have quite a nice one. The folks here in Solace are very proud of it. It's got a bunch of gnomes in it right now-"

"Yes, well, if I sell you that scabbard for any less, you might as well lock me up, for I'll not being making any profit off this wretched trip," the man said sourly. "Seems no one in town wants a sword these days. Just frippery for this celebration I hear you've got coming up."

Gerard nodded, paid the man, then, taking pity on the merchant, also bought a cheap but serviceable knife. "But if you're going be staying in town, you'd better get a writ," he admonished.

The merchant was already packing his wares. "Stay in this town? Not a chance! I'm heading for Haven, where I hear a man in my line of business stands to make a little steel."

Gerard walked on, idly perusing the goods for sale at the various booths. He still had the uncomfortable sensation of being followed.

The morning was getting on, so Gerard set out for the crossroads outside town where the gnomes' invention was blocking the way. There he met up with Vercleese and Blair, who had brought the whole passel of gnomes with them, along with quite a few townsfolk, who were evidently expecting some kind of excitement. Well, anything involving gnomes often promised excitement.

The contraption in question was the strangest thing Gerard had ever seen, surpassing all other gnome inventions he had had the misfortune to encounter. A huge boiler stood in the midst of six great, flanged wheels that were riding along some kind of track, the rails for which extended behind the device in the direction from which it had come. At the time they were stopped, the gnomes had been busy installing additional rails on the ground ahead of the device, right through the crossroads that formed a major junction into this end of town. Evidently, they had intended to extend these rails through the center of town, bringing the apparatus chugging along with them.

"Does it work?" Gerard asked dubiously.

Nob huffed and snorted. "Does it work! How do you think we got this far?"

That was exactly what Gerard was wondering. The crowd of townspeople was swelling.

Gerard wished he could give Lord Steppenhost of Que-Kiri a piece of his mind.

The gnomes began clambering into and over their machine, firing up the boiler and dragging more rails forward to extend those already on the ground. At first, the vehicle sounded like a herd of incensed bulls, snorting and pawing the earth. Smoke billowed from a stack above the firebox, carrying so many cinders into the air that Gerard was afraid they might start a fire if they got anywhere near the town's vallenwood trees. The racket mounted, sounding like a talon of angry dragons swooping in for an attack. People began looking around nervously.

And the darned machine wasn't even moving yet, Gerard thought, shaking his head. How much worse was the noise likely to be when the thing actually got going?

Gerard motioned to Nob. "How about a demonstration of how well this invention works?"

"Exactly what I had in mind," Nob said. "Of course it's been working fine-better and better after each repair. Still, it has a few kinks, a number of peculiarities, shall we say."

In the crowd, Gerard saw coins changing hands as people began betting on the outcome of the demonstration.

"Show me," he said, jaw out in stubborn challenge.

"Well, uh…" Nob hemmed and stammered. "Going forwards, we have to take time to lay down more of these rails. That's gonna slow us down some."

Gerard shook his head. "I want to see how fast it goes. Crank up the speed."

"We can go backward," said Nob, pointing. "There's already rails in that direction."

"Hurry up," said Gerard, glancing at the sun. "I'm a busy man. I don't have all day."

"Fine then." Nob gestured to his fellows, and several of the gnomes swarmed aboard the machine. Nob himself climbed on last and made a great show of shifting a huge lever.

Steel ground against steel, and the huge wheels began grinding slowly backward. The machine groaned and squealed. The earth trembled. People in the crowd covered their ears.

The thing lumbered in reverse up a small hill, then, as it hurtled down the far side, it could be heard picking up incredible velocity, spinning faster and faster, raising a deafening cacophony.

Then, from the distance, came a loud explosion, and then another, and another. A cloud of smoke and steam burst above the crest of the next hill, followed by more puffs of smoke and steam. The earth was shaking violently. All this commotion was followed by a long silence.

Gerard went to the top of the small hill and shaded his eyes, peering into the distance. The machine and all the gnomes had vanished in the distance. "Halloooo!" Gerard called out.

No one answered.

He returned to the crossroads, where Vercleese and Blair had already begun pulling up the rails. Soon the crossroads was empty of obstruction. A ripple of applause swept through the crowd of onlookers, many of whom were busy paying off their bets.

Gerard smiled, giving an exaggerated bow. He noticed several familiar faces in the crowd, which made him feel more at home than any time since he had left Daltigoth. Among them was the temple architect, Salamon Beach. In fact, he realized now, Salamon had been among the group he'd noticed at the inn the previous night. Also among the crowd, standing apart, was the cowled figure Gerard remembered seeing on the ship on the way over here. Probably some cleric come for the temple dedication, he thought. Some of those clerics were a pretty strange lot.

He waved to a couple of other citizens he recognized from his short time in Solace. Then, with the gnomes' invention gone, traffic began to flow again, with farm wagons and merchant caravans that had been waiting now free to head into Solace. By day's end, Gerard realized, the town would be even more crammed with people, and his duties would become even more demanding.

He sighed and headed back to town, mentally counting the number of days until the temple dedication. Until then, he had a murderer to find and an increasing amount of work to do.

The incident with the gnomes and the problems their invention caused got Gerard to thinking that, to forestall another such brouhaha, he ought to keep track of all the strangers streaming to town for the temple dedication. To this end, he set up registration checkpoints on the three major roads between Solace and the towns of Haven, Gateway, and Que-Kiri.

The checkpoints did not sit well with many travelers. "You mean I have to present my credentials before I can come into town?" a merchant with a wagon-load of wine barrels demanded when he was stopped on the way in from Gateway. "Why, I've been distributing wine in these parts for nigh on fifteen years, and I've never had to suffer such nonsense before."

"It's just a precautionary measure," Gerard explained, while the town guardsman manning the new, brightly painted booth looked on impassively. "Especially with so many new visitors lately. However, you will have to purchase a merchant's writ to do business in Solace."

"I suppose next you'll be wanting to tell me where I have to stay while I'm in town, and who I can do business with," the merchant groused as he paid for his writ and showed his papers to the guardsman.

The guardsman peered at the merchant's documents i closely, unwilling to be hurried, before stamping the papers and handing them back, along with a fresh merchant's seal and an institutional-grade, formal smile. "Have a good stay while in Solace," the guard said. "Be sure to check in with the appropriate authorities at the time of your departure."