Curses!
Ah, the best laid schemes of mice and men… something something. It’s from an ancient book, although I don’t know why the Old Americans thought mice schemed. Maybe it’s a mnemonic?
Anyway, the next morning we discovered that every travel bike in Dorim Iduinath had been thoroughly cursed. We only discovered this after a pre-dawn breakfast, which in retrospect had probably been a little too leisurely. Then again, I don’t like getting up early nearly as much as I do staying up late, so it takes a bit to get me going in the morning.
These bikes weren’t going anywhere, though: each bike looked utterly still, magically shimmering with immobility. Mahota bent over one of the ones we had rented, touching it carefully. “The gears feel like they’re all one piece of metal,” she observed. “Can you disrupt the curse?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how to undo immobility spells on things. They’re different than spells for people. You could undo it by physically taking the bike apart, but you’ll just snap bits off the bike anyway. This is an elvish town, though.” I waved a hand at the crowd. “Somebody here probably knows a counterspell that’ll work. Eventually, at least.”
“Hrm. If ‘eventually’ means ‘more time than it will take us to walk south,’ Ms. Deckard, then I am afraid that we will be walking.” She flicked a smile at my rueful nod of agreement. “I am reluctant to assume the worst of someone on first meeting,” she went on, “but I find myself wondering if Ms. Sisk was involved in this sabotage.”
“If she was, it didn’t go the way she expected,” I responded, pointing at a stone statue. “That’s her, over there.”