“That,” she said, “is a very good question, but one we probably should investigate in private, seeing there are probably people who will start looking for it once they realize I'm not spattered over the inside of their very expensive carriage.”

 

They took a circuitous route back to the tower, swinging well wide of the docks to avoid anyone who might be searching, dodging patrols of soldiers as they went. They passed the water filled crater where the magazine of the Imperial gunnery school had been blasted a few days before, and paid a local fisherman a few coppers to take them across the Reik to the small island.

 

Emmaline was keen to continue looting but curiosity regarding the case was getting the better of her. As Neil spread his own considerable haul out across the table Emmaline tried to open the case. To her irritation she found that it resisted her efforts, locked closed with a small keyhole built into the side. Frustrated she tried a spell, but the mechanism stubbornly refused to yield. She was on the verge of simply breaking it open when Neil intervened, thrusting a pair of slender probes into the keyhole. He was silent and focused for perhaps a minute and then there was a snapping sound. Neil jerked his hands away with a curse as a slender needle projected from the lock, its tip glittering with some black fluid. The thief breathed out a sigh of relief, holding up his unwounded hands.

 

“Felt the secondary click as it came unlocked,” he explained. Emmaline frowned and picked up a knife, carefully lifting the lid with the flat of the blade. The interior was black velvet, sconces inside held eight greenish stones, faceted and polished till they were shown. They were arranged in a rough circle around a golden bracelet wrought in an elaborate ouroboros design.

 

“Holy Sigmar,” Neil breathed, reaching for one of the stones.

 

“Stop!” Emmaline snapped, clapping a hand on his wrist to prevent him from touching the stone.

 

“What?” Neil demanded. “What is it.”

 

“It’s wyrdstone,” Emmaline said quietly. Neil frowned, evidently unaware of what the problem was.

 

“Is it valuable?” he asked in puzzlement. Emmaline nodded her head. There were wizards in Altdorf who would pay a thousand gelt for a few ounces of the stuff, and here were several pounds, cut and polished to look like gem stones. Emmaline wasn’t fooled however, she could feel the raw magic radiating off the stuff.

 

“It is valuable because it is pure magic,” she explained, remembering the few lessons Albrecht had bothered to impart on his apprentice.

 

“It is dangerous too, the stuff of Chaos made manifest.” Wyrdstone was incredibly rare, but their were stories that it possessed near miraculous power, able to cure the sick, bring statues to life, even grant immortality. Of course it never worked out for the wizards in those stories and the study and possession of it was strictly forbidden by the colleges. A fact which, of course, did little to prevent the practice.

 

Emmaline reached out with the knife and prized up the black velvet. Beneath the fabric was a layer of dull hammered lead, overwhich brass bands had been laid. They made a complicated eight pointed star with the bracelet in the center. Emmaline spoke slowly in the language of magic and her pale hand began to shimmer and then went dull and metallic. She reached in with her metalized hand and plucked the bracelet free. All eight stones throbbed angrily and she slammed the case shut. Instantly the sense of malevolent magic, like an incipient sunburn was gone.

 

“Love the gold,” Neil said, “but should you be touching that?”

 

“It feels safe, I think the stones were keeping it contained,” Emmaline explained, examining the bracelet closely.

 

“If they were keeping it contained, then by definition it isn’t safe,” Neil pointed out, though it was clear he was as fascinated as she was. What was this thing and why did the Van Gelders have it. Even more to the point why was it in the lock room of the Golden Kettle Company and not in some private family vault. If the Templars of Sigmar ever found out they had so much wyrdstone questions would be asked. Questions that even the wealth of a powerful family wouldn’t be able to make go away.

 

“I’m sure it is perfectly… fuck!” Emmaline squawked as the bracelet blinked both its emerald eyes. She dropped the thing but its formerly solid gold seemed suddenly lithe and animate, it wrapped its tail around her wrist to keep from falling and let out a startled hiss.

 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Emmaline cried, shaking her arm frantically to dislodge it. Hissing in panic the metallic snake curled itself around her wrist and suddenly vanished.

 

“What the actual fuck?!” Emmaline demanded, sighing in relief, then let out a startled scream. A perfectly life-like snake tattoo, complete with shocked look, was curled around her wrist.

 

Neil looked pale.

 

“What a perfectly normal and not at all ominous thing,” he said through tight lips.