by Travis Kerr
His thoughts couldn’t have been far from the truth, for in only a few seconds she pulled a garment from the rack and brought it over to them.
"There's a small changing room over there where you can try it on," the woman informed them, gesturing toward the back of the building. "There's a small mirror inside so that you can see yourself." She eyed Ocean's Hand critically. "I’m afraid you'll have to leave your sword out here. You won't have enough room to take it off inside."
He did as she asked, handing the massive blade over to Malik. Even using both arms to hold the blade it was still heavy to the smaller man, who leaned it up against his side, the pummel on the ground. Roland disappeared behind the curtain that covered the small doorway. The room was tiny, barely large enough for him to carefully to take off the travel-worn clothes he had worn during their journey here.
He had never owned much clothing. He had never had need of more than a two or three pairs of breeches and a few extra tunics. Now it seemed that Malik planned on him having several different sets to choose from.
It’s no wonder, considering how often the man changes his identity, Roland thought.
He pulled the fine silk tunic over his head, and looked at himself in the shiny steel mirror. The new suit was a shining, solid black, with a deep, rich blue along the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves.
Well, I do look good in it, he decided, moving the mirror several times and twisting this way and that so that he could see all of his reflection.
Or good for me at least.
He wondered what the cost of the clothing might have been, hoping he had enough left. He had spent another three gold pieces at the leather shop, and two copper pieces at the bakery. That left him with plenty of money, but certainly this rich cloth had to be expensive. Finally satisfied that everything was in place he stepped back out into the main shop.
"You look wonderful," the shopkeeper stated gleefully.
She would probably have said the same thing if it looked horrendous, as long as she could get a sale, he suspected. Of course, what else could she say when she’s confronted by a mug like mine?
"It doesn't appear to need any adjustments at all,” she continued, oblivious to his thoughts. “I think that silk suits you quite well."
"Is it very expensive?" Roland asked tentatively. “I need to get quite a few things today."
"Yes it is," she replied sincerely. "I’m sure you'll find that it's worth every copper. It's strong and durable, as well as being fashionable. I took the liberty of getting together the other clothes your friend had mentioned. They are a cheaper material and won't look as good, but they are pretty durable as well. At your friend's suggestion I went more for functionality than style, and only picked out earth-tones. They will all fit you well, I'm sure."
"How much money are we talking about?"
"Well, what you're wearing alone will cost you fifteen silver pieces," the Fawnling said. Her eyes looked away for a moment, as if she was looking inside her own head as she figured out the tally with the other clothing she had picked out for him. "With everything altogether, which is what you are wearing now and the six sets of clothing I pulled out for you, the total would come to one gold and three silver pieces. Since you are buying so much at once I can give you a bit of a discount I suppose. I couldn't possibly take less than one gold piece for everything. Do you think that would be within your budget?"
Roland nodded. In truth he had expected the price to be much higher, closer to five or six gold pieces just for the fine tunic he wore alone. Of course, he certainly wasn't going to tell her that. He still needed to purchase supplies, he knew, and he wasn't sure when he would get paid again. It would be best if he put some of his money away in case he needed it sometime later.
"Here, change into these for right now," Malik told him, handing him the bundle that held the leather tunic and breeches he had purchased in the previous shop. "Once we leave here we'll head back to the inn to drop off your new clothes. There's one other stop we should make along the way."
"What should I do with my old clothes?" Roland asked.
"You could always burn them," Malik suggested jokingly. "I’m just kidding you. I would just stow them away in your bag for now. Just don't store them with the new clothes you just bought. The things you were wearing need to be cleaned a bit better than you did the other day, and we don't want to ruin any of the things you just bought before you get the chance to wear them."
Roland went into the dressing room and changed into the leather suit as Malik suggested. As outlandish as the thick, shiny leather was, he wondered why his companion wanted him to wear it. He knew better than to ask. Malik would not tell him anything more than he wanted to at any given moment. He had not tried on the suit of leather yet. He had just eyed the size, expecting it to be a little bigger than his regular clothes, as he figured that the thick leather had less give to it.
He had certainly been right about how much give it had, and it was just a little tighter than he had hoped it would be. The new leather seemed stiff to Roland, who had only ever worn cloth on his body. He assumed that the rigid leather would soften given enough time, just as a new travel bag would. Had he worn armor before he would have found the leather quite comfortable.
He finished putting it on with only minor difficulty and looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection that stared back at him through the polished steel was someone he almost didn't recognize.
Not even the new suit I was just wearing changed my looks this much this much!
He had lost quite a bit of weight during his month-long trek across the peninsula. Like all sorvinians he had always been muscular, but now the thick layer of fat he had once carried had turned to hard, chiseled muscle as well. His slightly thinner frame however was only a small change compared to the rest.
He had seen his reflection in the lakes and ponds along the way, but the rippling image in the water was not as clear as the polished metal he looked into now. He had gotten somewhat used to the difference in his face during their time traveling, but always before he had been wearing either the Thane uniform or his own clothing. He looked different, but he was always at least able to see himself hidden within. Even with the fancy silk cloth that he had been wearing only a moment before he could still see himself in it.
Now his human-looking face, together with the outfit he was now wearing, he could no longer recognize anything of the sorvinian farm boy he had once been. The reflection staring back at him was someone who appeared both powerful and frightening. He imagined how Ocean's Hand would look on his back with everything else, and shivered involuntarily.
No wonder Malik suggested the outlandish clothing, he thought with a slight chuckle. No one was likely to question if he was really the guard he pretended to be while he was wearing it.
"Impressive," Malik commented as he walked out, handing him Ocean's Hand. Roland strapped the weapon onto his back as it had been before. Now that he knew how it fit on his back it was much easier to put on than it had been the first time he had put it on, only a little while earlier.
He shouldered his new pack, now filled with the clothing he had bought from the fawnling woman, and followed Malik back out into the marketplace. Roland was so preoccupied with the stares he was getting on the way back to the inn that he completely forgot that Malik had mentioned that he had to make one other stop. His companion suddenly turned into a shop with a sign that read Gordan's Alchemy and Apothecary.
The shop was not at all what Roland had expected an apothecary to look like. Not in the slightest. He would have thought that it would have simply been a room full of herbs and such, similar to what they had picked in the forest a few days before, but the room before him was completely different.
There were herbs, to be sure. In fact there was an entire counter of them along one wall, with six or seven rows that stood one above another like a stairway. Each level of the shelving boasted multiple jars, each carefully marked with the herb that it carried. R
oland couldn't read any of the labels in the dim light, but he knew that the alchemist would have been able to. Those, however, were only a small part of the shop's wares. Nearly every open space available in the room was filled with some unknown powder or liquid.
Bottles and beakers of different sizes and shapes sat along one wall. Roland wasn't certain if they were for sale or simply for use by the small man who sat behind a tiny pine desk, carefully mixing several chemicals that crowded around him.
The diminutive man held up one hand when they walked in, gesturing for them to wait until he was finished with whatever he was working on. Once his chemicals were mixed he said something under his breath, and the mixture in the glass bottle in front of him glowed faintly from the use of some magical art. Roland had only seen magic performed on a few rare occasions in his life, but he didn't recognize the type of magic that this man was using.
"Sorry about that," the man said in a nasally voice. "The properties of the bloodroot diminish quickly if I don't cast the preservation spell right away. What can I help you gentlemen with today?"
"My friend and bodyguard here just recently met a new woman he would like to impress," Malik stated, getting right to the point. "However, he discovered that the girl prefers less hair on her men than what he has. I thought perhaps you might have something that could remove unwanted hair safely and easily."
And here I was starting to think that the jokes from last night were done and over with, Roland groaned inwardly.
"Of course. Nothing to worry about young man. I get this sort of request more often than you might think," the small man replied sagely. Roland realized suddenly that the man was not a human at all like he had thought, but was in fact a brindle, a small, gnome-like race known for their short lifespans and poor eyesight. They were one of the few non-humans that could use magic, though only in small amounts. The brindles were exceptional diggers, and generally lived underground where their weak vision made little difference.
Obviously their nimble fingers have other uses, Roland realized.
"I'm assuming from your vague description that the part of the body you wish to remove hair from would require something that's gentle as well? I think I know just the thing. I often have women come in who want to remove hair from their eyebrows or a thin mustache, anything that they think of as a blemish to their perceived perfection."
He took a small jar off of one of the various shelves and handed it to Roland. Inside was a white cream that gave off a faint almond scent. Malik apparently noticed the smell too. He quickly grabbed the jar and placed the lid back on, holding it as far away from himself as he could.
"A man who knows his poisons I see," the alchemist chuckled. "No need to worry. It's not what you thought it was. Some of the women I've sold this to complained about the original smell of the cream. I found that by adding a little bit of almond extract I can hide the chemical smell without diminishing its properties. Had it been what you thought we would all be dead soon anyway, but you're perfectly safe.
“I'm not going to ask where you gained your noxious knowledge from. Bad for business and all that. You can use this cream on any part of your body you want to remove hair from. Just let it sit for five minutes, then wipe it off with a damp cloth. As long as you don't ingest it, it's perfectly safe. It won't leave any marks and it's completely painless."
"What happens if he does ingest any?" Malik asked.
"I wouldn't recommend it," the alchemist answered. "You'll be vomiting for the better part of two days. It won't kill you or anything, but you might wish it had."
"What if I accidentally get any in my eyes?" Roland asked, thinking of the hair that grew on the back of his eyelids. If it was safe enough he would feel far better about using the cream than a razor. Tara had yet to cut him, and he was fairly certain that she never would, but it still made him nervous to have a blade that close to his eyes.
"That was a consideration when I created it actually," the brindle replied. "Women are often using it for eyebrow hair and such. It shouldn't affect you at all in small amounts, such as rubbing your eyes after using it without properly cleaning your hands. If it starts to burn your eyes, then flush them with water. Any hair you remove with this won't come back for two months. I charge twelve silver for a jar of this size. I have one double this amount that you can purchase for twenty silver. Like all my products it's guaranteed for one month after purchase, so if you have any issues with it feel free to bring it back and I'll give you a full refund."
"I'll take the larger amount for twenty," Roland decided. "My work will have me traveling a lot, so it might not be a bad idea to keep a ready supply."
"I'll go get you one of the larger jars then sir. Like most of my products it's magically preserved, so you won't have to worry about it losing its effectiveness. There are directions for use on the bottom of the jar. Do you need me to read them to you?"
Roland shook his head. He wasn't going to tell the man that he could read himself. Most guards wouldn't have been able to. However, it was not too unusual for someone like Malik, who for all intents appeared to be a simple merchant, to be able to read. Even if he couldn't the man had already told him how to use the cream, so there wasn't any point in having him repeat the directions a second time.
Before they left Malik offered to sell the man some of the herbs he still had with him. In the unlikely event that someone should try to follow where the two men had gone sometime later on, they would appear to be nothing more than the merchant and guard they claimed they were. With enough time someone might come to question how they had gotten into the city in the first place, but by the time a curious individual might have gotten that far they would have been long gone.
After selling most of his remaining herbs to the shrewd alchemist, who paid them slightly less than what he could have gotten elsewhere but bought herbs that could only be used for poisons as well, the two men left and headed straight back to the inn without further stops. Roland was, for the most part, already lost in the large city. Everything looked the same to him. Malik, however, had no trouble finding his way. In no time at all they were back in front of the Gatortooth Inn.
Tammie was already hard at work when the two went inside, which surprised Roland somewhat. He knew that she had worked until the bar closed late the night before, and it was only early afternoon. She hadn't been working when they had left that morning, though the inn had already begun serving breakfast.
"Hey you," she exclaimed happily when he came in. "I almost didn't recognize you in that new outfit. And that sword! I've never seen a blade that big before! It's very scary looking, but of course I would imagine that scary is pretty much what you were going for."
"You're starting early," he said awkwardly, not entirely certain what to say to her. With the cream he had purchased at the alchemist he wouldn't have any trouble spending time with her that night, he knew. Still, even with that knowledge he found he was nervous around her.
"Just started my shift about ten minutes ago," she informed him. "You'll still be here later tonight, right?"
"As far as I know," he answered.
"We're just dropping off a few things that Roland bought today and then heading back out," Malik cut in quickly. "Whether we can stay or not depends on what happens with the merchant we have to go and meet with next. Do you know if our companion has returned yet? We were supposed to meet her here."
"I haven't seen her, though I only just started. I can ask John if you like. He's been here all day, and would have seen her if she came in."
"That's alright. If she's here she'll either be waiting in our room or here in the barroom. She's clearly not in here, and if she's in our room we'll know it soon enough. We only have time to drop these things off right now. Come on Roland. Say goodbye to your lady friend for now."
"Until tonight then," Tammie said before he could reply. The hidden meaning in her statement was fairly obvious. She gave him a quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.
&
nbsp; The two men went up to the room. It took an extra second before they could get in, since Tara had the key with her. Malik had to pick the lock before they could enter. It only took him a moment.
If he hadn't become an assassin he could have certainly made a living as a burglar, Roland thought.
"Leave your bag here," Malik instructed. "Tara will be back before we return again."
"Where do you think Trick might have gone to?" Roland asked, noticing that the dragonling wasn't in the room as he was supposed to be.
"Right there," Malik answered, pointing out the window. Sure enough, there was Trick, curled up next to the chimney of a neighboring building. The little creature appeared to be sleeping, however Roland knew him well enough to know that if Malik called for him he would be there in a moment's notice.
"Where is it we're going?" He asked finally. The question had been bothering him since Malik had mentioned it the night before.
He certainly has something planned.
"To correct something that should have been dealt with a long time ago," he answered vaguely, and refused to say anything else on the subject. Without another word the two men headed back out into the city.
Chapter Nine
Half an hour later the two men were walking up to a huge building, different from any of the places Roland had visited before. Unlike the plain wood that the homes and merchants shops along all the main roads were made of, this building appeared to be made of polished grey marble. Roland would have believed that perhaps it was the domicile of one of the rich members of the city, but it didn't have the feel of a home to him.
Could this be a government building of some sort? he wondered.
"I'm here to see Thorin Sloan," Malik said loudly to the guard who stood by the door, baring their way. Gone was the carefree tone in his voice that Roland had been used to hearing, as was the accent he had been using since he had changed his appearance and became the merchant Malik. Instead, his voice rang with the distinct sound of superiority usually reserved for the rich and powerful; men that expected to be given what they asked for without waiting. Roland, who had never spent time with powerful people before, did not recognize it for what it truly was, though by his reaction the guard at the door certainly seemed to.