The Crossover Read Online Free PDF Page A

After a minute, carriages slowed and stopped in front of a white line crossing the street, then the red pictogram winked out and was replaced with a green one of a person, legs outstretched. The other pedestrians immediately stepped into the street, and Chelinn and Lodrán followed.
    Across the street, they retraced their steps back to the promising shop window. They took a minute to study the weapons on display—up close, Chelinn’s assessment of their utility proved obviously true. Beyond the window were rows of shelves, too dim to make anything out. Colorful flyers hung in the window below the weapons.
    “Shall we try this, then?” asked Lodrán.
    “We’ve come this far,” Chelinn grumbled, “and we have nowhere better to go.” They walked through the door.
    • • •
    The door made a strange piercing chime noise as they entered, making Lodrán flinch. Behind a desk in the middle of the shop stood a soft-looking man. Merchants are the same here, too , he thought. His hair was somewhat darker than Chelinn’s, and streaked with grey; both hair and beard were unruly.
    “Great outfits!” He gave them an enthusiastic grin. “You’re ready for the con this weekend, huh?”
    “Con?” Lodrán considered the word. At home, the word meant either deceiver or opposed . The accents were strange and varied here, but most of the words made sense. Most of them.
    “Fantasy South Con?” The merchant pushed a flyer across the desk. “You have to know about it.”
    Lodrán picked up the flyer. He could not read the writing, but the artwork depicted a man—whose appearance reminded him of Chelinn, except this man was bare-chested—facing something that looked like a stylized dragon. Next to the man was a woman whose huge breasts threatened to burst through her armor. Both of them swung massive swords. The style was a little garish, but not unfamiliar. He looked up, remembering a word. “Fantasy?”
    Chelinn stepped forward. “You know about magic, right?”
    “Sure,” the merchant said. “We have the Bloodstorm decks and booster packs over there.” He pointed to a shelf nearby. “If you want individual cards, they’re in the display case around this side.”
    Chelinn and Lodrán looked at each other. The individual words made sense, but put together? This merchant could have been speaking South Sea Islander.
    “Uh, you guys look a little confused,” said the merchant. “Is there something I can help you with? I’d guess you’re in the right place, but… well, if you’re druggies, I’d just as soon you leave. I’ve got enough trouble right now.”
    “That’s a good word,” said Chelinn. “We’re confused. We’ve had a rough day, and we’re new in town. We need someone who can help us out.”
    “You here with the con, then? Advance publicity or something? I’d love to help you with that, especially if there’s a quid pro quo .”
    “Just tell him, Chelinn,” Lodrán sighed. “I doubt it can make things any worse.”
    “True.” The big man addressed the merchant. “We got blown here by a priest. I think he was trying to curse us to Hell, but my friend here disrupted the curse and we ended up here instead. Wherever here is. We were hoping to reach the rainbow before it dissipated, because I could use it to get us back home, but it’s gone. We saw the weapons in your window—even if they’re not really weapons—and we thought you might understand our situation.”
    The merchant laughed. “Good one! Is that some kind of theme for the con? Makes sense—everyone goes home when it’s done.” He laughed again.
    Before they could respond, the door made its strange noise again. Four young men stepped in, looking like they owned the place. The merchant’s laughter turned to a fearful anxiety. “Bad news.”
    One of the four veered away into the shelves; the other three ignored Chelinn and faced the merchant. “What’s shakin’, nerd-boy?” one of them asked.
    “Can I help you with