Yala, still holding Zaljan's staff, allows herself to be ordered around by Taddeo and Greenleaf.

The actresses hurry out to the courtyard and hitch their horses to their wagon.

The rain falls harder.

Taddeo, gear in hand, rejoins Greenleaf and Yala.

"Ready to go?"

Greenleaf helps Yala transport any luggage from her room to the cart.

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Let's head for the wagon."

Taddeo follows the two, keeping an eye out for anyone who might try to stop them.

"Ja. City stupid anyway."

Zaljan lopes over to the party's wagon.

"Hey," calls a watchman, coming out into the rain-soaked courtyard, "isn't he supposed to be in custody? Hey, you! Necromancer!"

While waiting for the mages, Greenleaf surveys the damage to the carts. Being not useless when it comes to working with his hands, he may be able to jerry-rig some repairs.

OOG: Not now. After we've left doche. He doesn't like being reliant on magic cart fixes. Actually. I suppose I should have looked at my char sheet before making this post. I will fix the post if it doesn't jive with the char sheet.

Edric follows Zaljan. Since he doesn't know any necromancers, he assumes that the watchman isn't talking to them. He takes a loot at the carts as he approaches. "Oh right, fire damage." He wiggles his fingers and mutters a bit, and the burned-out wood is returned to its original condition.

"See? City stupid."

Zaljan waves a hand at the watchman, then at the dancing water spirits in the rain. Soon, the watchman has his own personal little cyclone to contend with.

Taddeo shakes his head.

"Magic just makes things worse, look at the problems we had with the fairy. You should have let me talk to him."

"Talk to enough watchmen. Stupid city-folk. Could fix problem, don' wanna deal with voodoo mon. So voodoo mon don' deal wit' dem."

Zaljan rubs the back of his neck tiredly. "Oh, ja. Danca - Samara? - she say take care o' yourself. Guess you left impression."

For once, Taddeo is nonplussed.

"You . . . you spoke to her? I . . . well. Anyway, let's get moving before the mages attack, hobble and burn you. We need to move now."

Taddeo gets on the cart, makes sure Yala is also on, and bundled up to protect her from the rain.

"Help!" the watchman cries, struggling to get back inside the inn. "He's escaping!"

The wind has started to whip up, flinging sheets of rain at the party. The storm is coming in from the north, darkening the skies. Thunder growls overhead. Yala scrunches up in the bottom of the cart, bundled to the tip of her nose, and tries to cover both her ears with her one free hand.

Zaljan is apparently in a foul mood. He grabs his fetish stick back from Yala, then uses Uncle Tuljan to whip up a little weather shield around the wagon. No more rain for them.

Of course, magic like that tends to agitate the spirits, and when they have to go around a magic bubble, it tends to make the storm worse outside it.

Taddeo grabs the reins and directs the oxen to get moving. This is going exactly as well as he could have expected.