A Spatial Ring shared a mental bond with its owner, its seal unlockable only by them. External force would shatter the ring. Its loss meant only one thing: the beggar boy had distracted him with the bump, deftly slipping the ring from his finger during the brief contact.
For the first time since leaving the Emerald Canopy, true anger ignited within Evan. Kindness repaid with theft! He was a Lute Magus! Without his zithers, he couldn't wield his magic! And those five instruments were the Zither Sect's treasures, companions for sixteen years! Gone!
At that very moment, in a secluded corner of Roll City, the young beggar sealed a small lead box. He murmured to himself, "A Spatial Ring... pity I can't access what's inside. Ah well, a keepsake. A fool like that, so naive... serves him right." He patted the box containing the ring. "These gold coins... enough for travel and tuition. Father... no... that man... wait for me. I will reclaim what is mine!" His eyes, large and surprisingly bright, held none of Evan's innocence. They burned with hatred and complex bitterness. A faint green light pulsed around his clenched fist clutching the box as his small frame vanished into the shadows.
"Gone. The link is broken." Evan's face was deathly pale as he withdrew his mental probe. The loss meant more than instruments. It meant losing his Sect's treasures, his travel funds, his path to the Institute. Stranded in Poland, trapped between destinations. Continue to Milan? No money, no letter. Return to Arcadia? No money, and how could he face Quentin without the five zithers?
Garth and Hart exchanged concerned glances, their earlier annoyance replaced by surprise. Garth ventured cautiously, "Lad? Are you alright?"
Evan looked up, despair heavy in his voice. "Sir... I... I can't buy a Riding Lizard. My Spatial Ring is lost. Everything was inside."
Garth glanced at Evan's empty hands, understanding dawning. "The slave market... thieves lurk everywhere, especially near the pens. Best report it to the City Guard, though..." He trailed off, knowing the likelihood of recovery was slim.
Evan shook his head numbly. The vibrant chaos of the slave market faded into a blur of noise and indifferent faces. He was utterly alone, bereft of possessions, purpose, and his only companion. Holding the map Zander had given him – his sole guide – Evan Young turned and walked slowly back towards Roll City's North Gate, the path leading north to Milan, and an uncertain future.