One-Eye made a sound like a cawing crow.

We rolled the wagon at midnight. The stablekeeper called us madmen. One-Eye gave him one of his famous grins. He drove. The rest of us walked, surrounding the wagon.

There had been changes. Something had been added. Someone had incised the stone with a message. One Eye, probably, during one of his unexplained forays out of headquarters.

Bulky leather sacks and a stout plank table had joined the stone. The table looked capable of bearing the block. Its legs were of a dark, polished wood. Inlaid in them were symbols in silver and ivory, very complex, hieroglyphical, mystical.

“Where did you get the table?” I asked. Goblin squeaked, laughed. I growled, “Why the hell can’t you tell me now?”

“Okay,” One-Eye said, chuckling nastily. “We made it.”

“What for?”

“To sit our rock on.”

“You’re not telling me anything.”

“Patience, Croaker. AH in due time.” Bastard.

There was a strangeness about our square. It was foggy. There had been no fog anywhere else.

One-Eye stopped the wagon in the square’s center. “Out with that table, boys.”

“Out with you,” Goblin squawked. “Think you can malinger your way through this?” He wheeled on Elmo. “Damned old cripple’s always got an excuse.”

“He’s got a point, One-Eye.” One-Eye protested. Elmo snapped, “Get your butt down off there.”

One-Eye glared at Goblin. “Going to get you someday, Chubbo. Curse of impotence. How does that sound?”

Goblin was not impressed. “I’d put a curse of stupidity on you if I could improve on Nature.”

“Get the damned table down,” Elmo snapped.

“You nervous?” I asked. He never gets riled at their fussing. Treats it as part of the entertainment.

“Yeah. You and Raven get up there and push.”

That table was heavier than it looked. It took all of us to get it off the wagon. One-Eye’s faked grunts and curses did not help. I asked him how he got it on.

“Built it there, dummy,” he said, then fussed at us, wanting it moved a half inch this way, then a half inch that.

“Let it be,” Soulcatcher said. “We don’t have time for this.” His displeasure had a salutory effect. Neither Goblin nor One-Eye said another word.

We slid the stone onto the table. I stepped back, wiped sweat from my face, I was soaked. In the middle of winter. That rock radiated heat.

“The bags,” Soulcatcher said. That voice sounded like a woman I would not mind meeting.

I grabbed one, grunted. It was heavy. “Hey. This is money.”

One-Eye snickered. I heaved the sack into the pile under the table. A damned fortune there. I had never seen so much in one place, in fact.

“Cut the bags,” Soulcatcher ordered. “Hurry it up!”

Raven slashed the sacks. Treasure dribbled onto the cobblestones. We stared, lusting in our hearts.

Soulcatcher caught One-Eye’s shoulder, took Goblin’s arm. Both wizards seemed to shrink. They faced table and stone. Soulcatcher said, “Move the wagon.”

I still had not read the immortal message they had carved on the rock. I darted in for a look.

Ah. Aha. Plain-spoken. Straightforward. Simple. Just our style. Ha.

I stepped back, tried to guess the magnitude of Soul-catcher’s investment. I spied gold amidst the hill of silver. One bag leaked uncut gems.

“The hair,” Soulcatcher demanded. One-Eye produced the strands. Soulcatcher thumbed them into the walls of the head-sized cavity. He stepped back, joined hands with One-Eye and Goblin.

They made magic.

Treasure, table, and stone began to shed a golden glow.

Our archfoe was a dead man. Half the world would try to collect this bounty. It was too big to resist. His own people would turn on him.

I saw one slim chance for him. He could steal the treasure himself. Tough job, though. No Rebel Prophet could out-magic one of the Taken.

They completed their spell-casting. “Somebody test it,” One-Eye said-There was a vicious crackle when Raven’s daggertip pricked the plane of the tablelegs. He cursed, scowled at his weapon. Elmo thrust with his sword. Crackle! The tip of his blade glowed white.

“Excellent,” Soulcatcher said. “Take the wagon away.”

Elmo detailed a man. The rest of us fled to the room Goblin had rented.

At first we crowded the window, willing something to happen. That palled fast. Roses did not discover the doom we had set for Raker till sunrise.

Cautious entrepreneurs found a hundred ways to go after that money. Crowds came just to see. One enterprising band started tearing up the street to dig under. Police ran them off.

Soulcatcher took a seat beside the window and never moved. Once he told me, “Have to modify the spells. I didn’t anticipate this much ingenuity,”

Surprised at my own audacity, I asked, “What’s the Lady like?” I had just finished one of my fantasy sketches.

He turned slowly, stared briefly. “Something that will bite steel.” His voice was female and catty. An odd answer. Then, “Have to keep them from using tools.”

So much for getting an eyewitness report. I should have known better. We mortals are mere objects to the Taken. Our curiosities are of supreme indifference. I retreated to my secret kingdom and its spectrum of imaginary Ladies.

Soulcatcher modified the ward sorceries that night. Next morning there were corpses in the square.

One-Eye wakened me the third night. “Got a customer.”

“Hunh?”

“A guy with a head.” He was pleased.

I stumbled to the window. Goblin and Raven were there already. We crowded one side. Nobody wanted to get too close to Soulcatcher.

A man stole across the square below. A head dangled from his left hand. He carried it by its hair. I said, “I wondered how long it would be before this started.”

“Silence,” Soulcatcher hissed. “He’s out there.”

“Who?”

He was patient. Remarkably patient. Another of the Taken would have struck me down. “Raker. Don’t give us away.”

I do not know how he knew. Maybe I would not want to find out. Those things scare me.

“A sneak visit was in the scenario,” Goblin whispered, squeaking. How can he squeak when he whispers? “Raker has to find out what he’s up against. He can’t do that from anywhere else.” The fat little man seemed proud.

The Captain calls human nature our sharpest blade. Curiosity and a will to survive drew Raker into our cauldron.

Maybe he would turn it on us. We have a lot of handles sticking out ourselves.

Weeks passed. Raker came again and again, apparently content to observe. Soulcatcher told us to let him be, no matter how easy a target he made of himself.

Our mentor might be considerate of us, but he has his cruel streak. It seemed he wanted to torment Raker with the uncertainty of his fate.

“This berg is going bounty-crazy,” Goblin squealed. He danced one of his jigs. “You ought to get out more, Croaker. They’re turning Raker into an industry.” He beckoned me into the corner farthest from Soulcatcher, opened a wallet. “Look here,” he whispered.

He had a double fistful of coins. Some were gold. I observed, “You’re going to be walking tilted to one side.”

He grinned. Goblin grinning is a sight to behold. “Made this selling tips on where to find Raker,” he whispered. With a glance toward Soulcatcher, “Bogus tips.” He put a hand on my shoulder. He had to stretch up to do it. “You can get rich out there.”

“I didn’t know we were in this to get rich.”

He scowled, his round, pale face becoming all wrinkles. “What are you? Some kind of?...”

Soulcatcher turned. Goblin croaked, “Just an argument about a bet, sir. Just a bet.”

I laughed aloud. “Really convincing, Chubbo. Why not just hang yourself?”

He pouted, but not for long. Goblin is irrepressible. His humor breaks through in the most depressing situations. He whispered, “Shit, Croaker,, you should see what One-Eye is doing. Selling amulets. Guaranteed to tell if there’s a Rebel close by.” A glance toward Soulcatcher. “They really work, too. Sort of.”