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A weathered grey cart slowly rumbled up the muddy road, its lone horse and driver fighting the dismal weather. Wheels squeaked unwillingly, threatening at every moment to become mired in the rain carved ruts in the path. The driver, however, was safe from the showers, having tied a thick canvas between poles that rose on either side of his seat. His freight was likewise protected from the elements; the covering continued to drape over the rear of the wagon, into which he continually shot concerned glances.
Once too often, for during one of his checks, the cart struck a large stone, and one of the front wheels was torn from its axle. The cart ground to a halt, listing precariously to the damaged left side, and the driver reined in his horse with a muttered curse. His head snapped around again in panic, and he shouted something to the back of the cart. The muffled answer, perhaps the echo of his own voice against the cart’s tall sides, seemed to reassure him, and he dismounted to look at the results of his accident.
The collision had splintered a spoke where it joined the base of one of the wheels and broken the bolt attaching it to the cart. But the damage wasn't as bad as expected. The man smiled grimly. "There, Garstan," he mumbled. "Not too bad at all. A few bolts, and we'll be on our way, though any work isn’t like to be pleasant in this soup." He worked furiously in the rain, binding the splintered wood with bits of metal, until the cart at last stood level. The wheel would do, for a little while, but Garstan would need to find a new one. His fragile repair would never last on the rough journey ahead.
The cart rolled on hesitantly while Garstan's eyes darted ahead in search of a place to rest. A half-hour's journey brought him to what appeared to be an inn. He stopped, then stared and laughed. This inn, if it was an inn, appeared to be in worse condition than his cart, with walls tumbled down into piles of rubble and people scattered throughout the yard. Garstan nearly left then and there, but an ominous creak from the hastily mended wheel stopped him. He could go no further. Besides, a pile of stones in the rubble called to his stoneshaper's hands. Perhaps he could be of use.
Garstan climbed down from the cart and shouted into the yard. "Hello! Are there any about who might aid a weary traveler?"
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