by M J Sweeney
“Do you want a single room or dormitory?” Marcus asked. “I’ll be staying in the inner courtyard and have to report in, but can catch up with you later this afternoon.”
“Single room, thanks. I’m freakin’ dying to wash my hair.” I was fingering it, and feeling the greasy fibres. Washing in the lake had been good, but as we’d run out of proper soap some time ago, I was dying for some real cleanliness. “I’ll clean up, settle in, and get some lunch. Maybe meet you back at the stables around mid-afternoon?”
“Sounds good.”
We checked my name with their quartermaster once Marcus had vouched for me, who then allocated me a single room. I paid him three jeb per night for one week in advance, with a slight discount for bulk, which came to nineteen jeb. Wow, if this was an inexpensive place, I would hate to stay in something really plush. It was already about three times more expensive than a room in Ell’Escow. At least I could eat for free in the mess-hall, where the church novitiates and squires ate.
My quarters were a simple single bed, thin mattress, desk, chair, and small meditation area, including a little shrine to Aras complete with miniature statue, this one wielding a two-handed sword. The wash facilities were communal, and no bathhouse, but plenty of water and soap. So I spent a good hour in there cleaning every little inch of my skin and hair, and then took all my spare clothes to the quartermaster to be washed. I put on my only clean pair of clothes, made by Menisme, that were still in good condition, and not something I wore out in the wild. It was nice to have my armour shucked off, though I did feel a little naked.
I had lunch in the mess-hall. There was a mix of races in here—elf, half-elf, human, and a few dwarfs. It was noisy, but somehow companionable. I didn’t wander far after that, waiting for Marcus.
He looked pleased with himself as he returned. “I received a new rank increase. I’m now a Deacon of Aras. I get a better room, and it also entitles me to some perks with the church. I also got a couple new quests and have access to the Knight-Templar arms-master—he should be able to get us a good deal from the weapons we looted. For the magic gear, I’ve got something else in mind.” He was now clean-shaven, his curly black hair still damp from a recent shower, looking younger and smaller without all his gear. Though still bigger than me. He still had his hammer, as I had my spear, but otherwise mostly armour free while in the city.
I nodded acceptance. I had decided that we would just split all the loot fifty-fifty, even though I had collected more stash prior to his arrival. As I had also promised on group invite that I would pay for his travel expenses, it worked out more or less.
We dropped the extra weapons with the arms-master; as they were olde elven and not standard, he would have to see what they were worth first. He told us it would be minimum four jeb each, maximum eight for the swords and between one and three jeb for each dagger.
Marcus then took me back onto one of the main thoroughfares, a little closer to the centre of the city and main markets. I could see the granddaddy willow getting closer. It was a bit ominous, like a looming shadow, though that was probably just my current mood speaking. I was feeling a little anxious for some reason. Maybe it was the absence of armour.
We entered a shop with a sign that read Anzan’s Exotics.
Inside looked to be a whole bunch of adventuring gear—hooded lanterns, poles, rods, fishing gear, hunting traps, tents, tarpaulins, hammers, nails, picks, shoves, hoes, plus stuff like mummified hands, eyes in glass jars, lock picks, and lastly, locked cabinets with rings and other magic devices, and a few magic weapons behind the counter and stacked in rows on the back wall.
Anzan was a half-elf dressed exotically in a brown suit, white shirt and bracers, spats, and a brown bow-tie. Odd combination. He had an assistant, a sad-looking female dwarf called Bedge (no second name). Marcus also told me Anzan was from Earth, which was why he was so popular with many players.
We shook hands. “I’m Cordaen of-the-Forest,” I said.
“Anzan Estair.” He smiled back.
He looked mostly human, except when he smiled. His teeth were all sharp and pointy, like a shark. It was a little disturbing, but he seemed nice enough.
“Hi Anzan,” said Marcus.
“Hello… Marcus.” He seemed to be remembering his name. “What can I do for you?”
“We have some items to be identified. Standard fee?”
“Very good. You want some privacy?”
Marcus looked at me and I nodded. “Yes, thanks.”
“Bedge?” he called.
“Yes, boss?” she replied. Her voice was fairly deep, but still sounded female.
“Man the back counter for me, so to speak.”
“Sure boss, I’ll dwarf it for you.”
He grimaced. “Old joke, not even funny anymore.”
He led us to a back room, also with more clutter, and cleared a space on a large table. “Okay, show me what you got.”
2 magic short swords (unidentified)
3 magic daggers (unidentified)
1 leather armour doublet (unidentified)
1 reinforced silk slippers (unidentified)
“They’re all interesting. The silk slippers are elite, and have a nice increase to spell casting speed, which is rare, and two of the daggers are elite. The others are all uncommon magic, but should still be worth something. Do you want any of it, or just sell?”
Marcus and I shared a look and nodded simultaneously.
“Sell them. Basically everything we have is to sell, except for the alchemical gear.”
“We’ll be rich!” Marcus whispered, and I laughed.
In the end, we got two zorb and twenty-three dran for the five magic items. I also brought out a rather large sack of rings and spilled a few onto the table top. Anzan grinned.
“Nice haul,” he said, “Looks like you’ve been farming?” Marcus and I looked at each other. Better to stay mute on the details.
Some of the rings were gold, most were silver, but a few had pretty stones. “Not really worth a lot individually, but all together this will add up. A few have the potential to be crafted into magic rings.” Anzan sorted the rings into categories, adding up quickly. He didn’t seem to need a calculator or abacus or pencil and paper. “Comes to two zorb, two dran, six jeb, and seven oll.” I didn’t bother arguing. Wow, that was almost as much as the magic items—more than I expected.
Lastly, we showed him the two gold candlesticks and olde elven coins. “Interesting. I’ve seen these before.” He held up the small silver piece. “These aren’t too uncommon. But the gold… that’s rarer. The silver has to be recast into common coin, so its value goes down by half. The nineteen elven gold coins will also need to be recast, so normally that would be about ten zorb total. But these are really rare. I can sell them to a dealer I know. I’ll give you twenty-one zorb, twenty dran for those and the gold-plated candlesticks.” Anzan looked at us shrewdly. I already knew he was a hard bargainer, and as an Earther, it was harder to get the upper hand with this kind of thing.
Marcus clapped excitedly, but I did some quick calculations. The olde elven gold coins Anzan was buying off us at a one-to-one value, which was good. But as a collector’s item, it was highly likely they would sell to an antiquarian for three or four times that amount or more. That would be seventy or eighty zorb—a small fortune. But finding that collector might be impossible. I accepted the deal.
After Anzan’s fee for the identification of the magic items, all in all we hauled in twenty-seven zorb, twenty-six dran, and seven oll. We divided that up right then and there. We each got thirteen zorb, thirty-three dran, three oll, and I gave the last oll to Marcus for good luck. This was a rather good start to the day, I thought—Marcus was literally dancing on the spot. And we still had the weapons and the alchemical jars to sell.
I also asked him about the auction house.
“It’s fairly simple,” Anzan replied. “Like most features in this world, if you want to do any real interactions, you’ve
got to do it in person. For buying and selling, you need a registered dealer. Me.” He pointed at himself. “Basically you can’t browse for items out in the wilderness, so most people come to a store to check what’s available… but as most stores are linked, you can check items that might be traded from Asadeena Bay, for example, without having to make the long trip. That’s basically it. You want to browse?”
I thought it was interesting that you couldn’t browse when out in the wilderness. Another kind of ‘reality check,’ I guessed.
“Not right now, but I’ll come back in a day or so to have a look. I’ve got one more question.” By this point, Marcus was chomping at the bit to leave, but relented when I glared at him.
“Go ahead.”
“I need to find a friend. A traveling merchant. Are there markets or trade stalls in one area?” I had asked Marcus this, but he’d spent most of his time buying stuff from his church and doing quests for them. Other than a few local stores and taverns close to his home, he didn’t know the greater city that well.
“You could try the local markets down the road. But there are probably over fifteen or so big markets in the city; he could be in any one of them.”
“Damn,” I said, “that’s no good.”
“What race is he?” Anzan asked.
“Gnome.”
“You could try the gnome Lawgiver Enclave, they might know.”
“That might work. Oh, what about elvish markets? I mean, upmarket kind of thing, elven ladies, high class.”
“There’s only maybe three high class markets, all under the Great Tree. One of those is a boutique market in the tree itself, on the third level or so, but you won’t get into that.”
“So two markets under the tree itself?”
“Yes, you want directions?”
“Yes, can I buy a map of Geras?”
We traded for that, and he marked the markets on my map. My world map then updated to match.
We exited, wishing Anzan a good day. “Why do you think your friend will be in Upmarket?” Marcus asked.
“You’ll see,” was all I said.
We made good time amidst pedestrians, patrols, and adventurers. There were plenty of those, but I had absolutely no way of telling if they were from Earth or Memory or somewhere else. I liked it that way too. The day was clear, if cold. Winter was more than halfway done, but it still rained fairly frequently, so Marcus explained the traffic was not so bad as usual. In summer, he explained, most of the cafes and restaurants had their tables and chairs outside and traffic and tourists increased exponentially. Apparently, during the last weeks of winter and the Festival of Lights, the High King had the Great Tree lit up with fairy lights—“The biggest damn Christmas tree you ever saw.” Tourists at that time would increase also, with many adventurers coming to see the sight.
The giant willow was actually perched somewhat on the side of High Hill, at the very centre of the city. Buildings were interspersed gracefully along the side of the hill, kind of like terraces, each with a decent view. The markets themselves were on the top of the hill, but still under the Great Tree’s shadow.
We got lucky and found Drognad in one of the first little booths, tucked to the back of Upmarket in the southern “Shadow of the Tree.” Most of the streets were named like this—“Shadow of the Tree,” “Northwind Whispers,” “Roots of Envy,” and other such names. Upmarket wasn’t so crowded, and had stalls for clothing, mostly female, some jewellers, and fruit and vegetables and other consumables. Most looked of good quality. Drognad’s stall had a small queue of well-dressed elven ladies, the last of which stood in a small group, chatting with each other amiably. When Drognad saw me, he jumped up from his stool and gave me a hug.
I patted his back awkwardly. He also looked a bit embarrassed at the rather un-gnomish display of affection.
“Ach, lad, it be grand to see yer!”
“You too, Drognad, you too. Business looks good,” I commented.
“I can’t complain, can’t complain.” He shrugged, looking at the ladies, but there was a glint in his eye. The elves, meanwhile, stared a moment at Marcus and then at me, a kind of mixed reaction. Some were trying not to stare, but others were tittering and whispering. “One moment, ladies,” Drognad said, “I’ll be with you shortly.”
Marcus was shuffling next to me, so I said, “Drognad Zahngoracksenn, this is Marcus Pollonius, a good friend. Helped me out of a few tight spots.”
“Greetings,” they both said, nodding at each other.
“We have business, actually,” I said to Drognad. “Perhaps after you see to the ladies, you can serve us?”
“Business? Like last time?” He rubbed his hands, glancing at my pack.
I smiled. “You’ll see.”
We waited in the queue for a little, while I glanced around at the different stalls.
Marcus was looking at the elven women a little anxiously, though maybe it was just nerves. He was also pulling at the hem of his shirt, and tucking away the stained section. They seemed to be giving me a bit of an eyeful also. How did high elves manage to do that, with nothing said? Certainly a kind of art; disdain, pride, and censure all in a glance.
Though perhaps a couple were looking at me with some interest, or at least less disdain. Hard to tell, as I was certainly no expert on elves or women, though perhaps I could learn… I was sure I cut a better figure than Marcus, as unkempt as he looked, despite his shower and shave. My dark green and grey shirt, cloak, and pants all matched, and had a certain country elegance, I thought. By comparison Marcus just looked ruffled, stained, and travel-worn.
“I’ll wait here,” said Marcus, his eyes hopeful. “Why don’t you go look around?”
“Sure, thanks.” I nodded. Give him a bit of breathing room.
I wandered around for a little, enjoying looking up at the massive overhanging willow. Did I mention how great it was to be clean and wearing decent clothes for a change? I got a crick in the neck as my eyes were constantly drawn up and up. I noticed most other people on foot did the same. It was so huge, this tree, that it constantly drew the eye whether you wanted it to or not. I also noticed my mood had lifted—probably because we’d sold our stash and I was feeling lighter and richer.
The granddaddy willow tree cast a big shadow, but it wasn’t dark or oppressive in any way. Just shadow. The tree trunk itself from this distance was massive—a calm, solid presence. The upper branches reached to the clouds, sometimes literally, and the shaggy green hair-like fronds that hung down gave it a sense of wisdom and mystery. I felt myself reach out to him and started to lose awareness in his depths. So vast. So slow. I pulled myself out of that hole, as pleasant as it was. Not the time. I really wanted to touch him physically and climb his branches, but looking at the Unity and elven templars that patrolled its perimeter and up in the heights—those did look a bit like ants from this distance—I thought that unwise.
When I got back to Marcus, he was trying to chat with the pretty elven maids, but not having much luck of it. He turned back to me with some relief, and tried to explain. It turned out most were here on behalf of a mistress or lady, as elven royalty didn’t often deign to walk in the city. So the servants were come to purchase Drognad’s exotic skin-care.
The last of them continued to chat, glancing at us occasionally—their lyrical voices were hypnotic, and a bit distracting.
When they finally finished with Drognad and exited, and we approached, Marcus sighed. “If only I was an elf, or maybe a half-elf, then I might have a small chance.” He groaned. “I’m doomed.”
I clapped him on the back. “Maybe. But you’ll survive.”
“So, what do you have for me?” Drognad asked.
We set up the jars in neat little rows. They were all labelled, but in old alfar, which none of us could read.
“A shame about the labels. Would save a lot of time if we could identify this lot. I can do tests on some of it, but it will take time.”
“Yeah, I know. But I migh
t be able to help with that.”
“Really?”
“I will need to consult with a few people, but as I’m on another project already to get some old alfar translated, I can do this at the same time.”
“Sounds good,” Drognad said.
“But I also have a proposition.”
“I think I heard something like that before,” he said a bit gruffly, but he was smiling. “All right, let’s ’ear it.”
“So, what if you became my sole, ah… beneficiary? And I became a shareholder in the business?”
“You mean like a business partner?”
“Not exactly. More like a silent partner, who just gets a few items quid pro quo.”
“No, I don’t understand the old human tongue.”
“Just a couple basic benefits.”
“Explain further.” He waved at me to go on.
“All right. Any ingredients or items that I find of an alchemical nature, I promise to bring to you. No one else. You would be my sole beneficiary. You would get all of them for free. Lifetime obligation. And believe me, if I’m out there”—I waved at the forest—“that’s a lot of stuff I can find. And in return, I ask for a certain amount of free items each year, and a discount on luxury items. You, or your da rather, makes the items, but I get the use of some of each.”
“A shareholder?” Drognad said. “I’m not familiar with the term.”
“It means I have a share in the business, but no rights to make any business decisions. If the business fails, I get nothing. But if the business succeeds, I get a few side benefits.”
“What kind of stuff do they have?” Marcus asked. I had not told him of my plans for this; I wanted to see if Drognad would be willing first.
“So far just the health-balm and health-cakes you’ve been happily consuming from my personal supply.”
“Oh, yeah. The ones that taste like burnt socks.”
“So what do you say, Drognad?”
“I don’t know. Although it sounds feasible… Never really considered something like this before, not from someone not in the clan.”