by P. G. Thomas
Not understanding everything, Lauren turned to him, “Why is everybody walking? I haven’t seen many horses?”
“Rich folks and shopkeepers still own some. When the butchers ran out of fresh meat, they slaughtered the horses, but most of their shops are closed now. The only option left in town: rats, which they are unable to breed fast enough although a few are trying.”
Lauren covered her mouth in horror.
Danex looked at the malnourished thief, “You eat rats?”
“Things changed, old friend.”
Ten minutes later, the carriage stopped, and Meeovad stepped out, holding the door open for the others, “Are first stop, Thaxsons. Master elf ‘ealer, ingrown toenails to baldness, ‘ure em all he can.”
Logan and Eric stayed in the carriage, with the gold, while the others entered the shop. John spent twenty minutes explaining the various conditions of Mirtza to the elf shopkeeper, advising that he wanted six months of medicine. The elf behind the counter explained that it would take several hours to prepare such a large order, and he wanted payment up front. While John considered the prices high, his first thought was of helping Mirtza.
Even though Steve also heard the same, he had different issues. This John’s an odd character, commanding one moment, oblivious the next, but there seems to be something unique about him. How can he have that much focus, yet still be unaware of the rest? Steve had seen the various elements that walked the streets in this particular section of town. Knowing about the front gate to let the paying customers in, he assumed there was a back door as well. For those who were more interested in a quick, unseen withdrawal from the unsuspecting paying customers. Walking out to the carriage, he leaned inside it, determining John needed half a bag of gold, but also added ten percent. Information has its price. He looked at Eric, “The medicine is expensive, so take off your boot and pour just over half into it. When I pay the clerk, I’ll bring it back.” Eric, hearing John’s name, accepted the cheque at face value that Steve was cashing and did as instructed. Tucking the boot inside his coat, Steve turned and headed back to the shop. While a cautious man may have stopped to examine the people on the street, that would also draw attention to him. Steve kept moving until in front of the door, and opening it, he quickly reached inside the boot, pulling out a handful of coins. The motion so fast, the pickpockets who watched would have been envious, if they had seen it happen. At the counter, he dumped the gold out, counting it into five piles, and pushed the remainder back into the boot. When the clerk nodded, he pulled back two, handing them to John, “Pay the rest when we pick up the order.” The clerk never questioned the action and instead, considered it a regular part of any large purchase.
A shelf beside the counter held unusual looking cloth bags, which had a graphic showing a knife trying to cut them. Steve called out, “What’re these?”
John looked at the sign. Cut proof purses. He turned to the clerk, “Elf fabric?”
He nodded, “They are made from a special materiall, and not any knife can cut the fabric or drawstring.”
Understanding Steve’s point, John selected one large and five of the medium sized, and after paying, he placed the remaining gold into two.
Returning to the carriage, Steve handed Eric’s boot back and turned to Meeovad, “Go check on the horses.” While unsure why, he did as asked. Steve turned back to John, “Okay, when I was in college I admit it, I smoked pot, Lady Jane, which was sweet, and I may have sampled a few other substances, which one might call illegal. The store clerk in there. Describe his ears to me.”
“Did they look like deer ears?” asked John.
“Not saying.”
“He was an elf and had deer ears. Before you ask, yes, he talked differently. John then went on to explain the speech differences on the languages.
Steve shook his head, “You’re kidding me.”
Lauren smiled, “Trust me, it grows on you.”
After the guide had returned to the carriage, John asked, “We have a few hours to kill. Meeovad, you look like you can use a good meal. Can you recommend a decent place?”
“Goldmain’s.”
“Dwarf?” asked John.
“Best beer tis side of da Key.”
“Ever been north of the river?” asked John.
He lowered his head, “Ain’t Darkpaye borne. Calicon I be.”
“Lunch and then visit a few shops?” John suggested and then added, “Danex, is there anything we can purchase for you?”
She looked around, “A passage back in time when I was not afraid to visit this magnificent town, but for today, lunch will be sufficient.”
After everybody had boarded the carriage, Meeovad called out the next destination to the driver. Before exiting, Steve asked Meeovad to wait for them outside the carriage, as he had seen the greedy eyes glance at the gold. Then he told John to divide the remaining gold up amongst themselves, and so they could take it all, he gave Steve one of the bags. Once outside, pulling two tables together on the patio, John noticed the carriage drivers and hired escorts, looking towards him from the street.
“It is customary,” began Meeovad, “if you eat, you also feed the hired.”
Figuring it was the guide’s way of getting a kickback, John called to the dwarf waiter, asking to have the six escorted to a table, and then ordered a selection of dwarven beverages.
Steve looked at Meeovad. “If their bill is more than ours, we’ll be paying it with your wages, so you had better tell them to eat light.” After the guide had left, Steve looked at John, “The waiter. Four feet tall. Had a beard two feet long?
“That’s right,” Lauren replied.
“Just checking. He also talks differently?”
Logan smiled, “Yes, they do.”
“Just checking. Does anybody understand what’s written on this menu?”
“Only John,” replied Lauren.
“He would be a dwarf, and yes,” began Eric, “the longer you’re around them, the easier they are to understand.”
“Rodger that.”
The waiter returned with a tray holding eight mugs of various beverages, and John ordered the house special: a dwarven clan platter of mixed meats, vegetables, and such.
Steve picked up the closest mug of beer, tasted it, and smiled, “Shit, this is the best beer I’ve ever had.”
“Dwarves living in rocks, and they don’t even grow grains,” advised Lauren. “Even Mother doesn’t understand how they can turn simple plants into such delightful fluids.”
Meeovad turned to her with his eyes wide open.
She saw his glance, “What?”
“It is nothing. I have not heard anybody mention Mother in—It has been a long time.”
Lauren, confused by the comment, started to form a question, but Ryan grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Looking at him, she realized that it might not be the place for such.
John set his mug down, “Meeovad, how large is your family?”
“The wife, me, and three children.”
As a waiter walked by, John called to him, ordering a takeout clan platter for five and more pitchers of beer, and asked if the eatery had kegs for takeout, which they did. After a short wait, several dwarf waiters carried over a large platter for the eight and more fresh pitchers of beer. In addition, the carriage drivers and escorts also received their food.
As they enjoyed their meal, Steve noticed the hired men were doing more drinking than eating. Seeing them ordering more beer, he excused himself and went over. While he may have been in a new world, he was still an old cop, who had a gaze that could make a weak suspect piss their pants. He looked at the waiter, “They ordered water? Right? Because they’re on the job!” The waiter turned to the six, who all nodded in agreement, and then he returned to his chair. After sitting, he turned his gaze back to watching the streets, or more accurately, watching the streets watch them. It was like the second-hand children’s book from his youth, Where’s Waldo. In this case, Waldo was the innocent man,
and the remaining cast resembled the world’s largest lineup of respectable criminals. If this is the safe part of town, I don’t want to visit the rest.
When done, the waiter advised John how much was owed. Reaching into his pocket to get the purse of gold, somebody kicked him under the table.
Whispering, Steve began, “Keep your eyes on me. Count out fifteen percent of the total, but leave the gold out of sight, and everybody else should do the same. People with bad intent are watching, and if anybody sees what we’re carrying, you’ll become very popular…in a bad way.”
John knew they were in Steve’s element, having seen some of the characters on the street, but he had not paid close attention to them. He looked to Meeovad who just nodded in agreement. In turn, each began to count out the desired amount of coins, except for one.
“Fifteen percent of what?” asked Logan.
“Seriously, we did percentages like eight and three-quarter times,” and then John told him how many coins to put on the table. When everybody had paid, he checked the amount to make sure there was a decent tip. Standing to leave, five dwarves followed them to the carriage: four carrying the kegs, and one carrying the takeout clan dinner.
Ryan looked around, “We still have a couple of hours to kill. What would you suggest?”
Steve scanned the street, “Traveling as eight with four guards, we draw too much attention.”
“If it is all right with everybody,” Danex turned back to the patio, “I will stay here to keep an eye on the coach. Walking on these hard streets is uncomfortable for my old legs.”
Reaching into his pocket, John pulled out a few coins. Keeping them hidden, he grasped Danex’s hands and passed them to her. “Thank you for your help today. We shouldn’t be too long.” Then he turned to Steve, “Any other thoughts?”
“Leave two guards here, one on each side of the carriage. Send one with Ryan, Logan, and Lauren. Meeovad can escort them.” Steve looked at their guide, “Because he’ll make sure that nobody robs or hurts them! Right?” The pickpocket nodded, acknowledging his surrender. “Eric and I’ll go with you John, taking the other guard. The street is long, so stay on it. If somebody tries to encourage you to go down a side alley, don’t. Keep track of the stores you pass, and don’t go past the fortieth. If you see a shop on the other side, which you want to visit, walk back to this side when you come out and continue on. When you see store forty, head back this way.”
“It’s better than anything I can think of,” advised John.
“Why stay on this side of the street?” asked Ryan.
“There’re too many shadows on the other side. Places for people to blend in unseen.”
The two groups separated and began walking in opposite directions.
“So where to first?” asked Eric.
“A short distance back, there was one place that I think we should visit first,” replied Steve. “It was a weapons shop. Out here, everybody’s either concealing or displaying an edged weapon, and we’re the only unarmed people around. They might be able to judge your proficiency by how you walk and move. Calculate their risk on that, but without a weapon, we’re an easy mark. At least with one, it might make them hesitate for a second.”
After crossing the street, walking past the guard at the door, they entered the shop, but once inside, Steve told their guard to wait in the street. There was a long counter with a glass top displaying hundreds of different daggers, knives, and miniature swords. On the wall behind the display were dozens of various swords, axes, war hammers, and other longer weapons.
The midlander clerk walked behind the counter, “I will need to see your license for the purchase of weapons.”
With the shop being empty of other customers, Steve pulled out the purse of gold, placing it on the counter.
“Everything seems to be in order. How can I help you?”
“Six swords,” replied Steve, “The best quality.”
The merchant reached for a weapon on display at the back, pulling down one. “This is a very fashionable model and reasonably priced.”
Steve grasped the sword, handling it for balance, but when he smacked it against the floor, the blade snapped in two. He handed the broken hilt back to the shop keeper. “It must have been defective. Now, show me the good stuff.”
Even though the clerk was about to protest, the steely gaze from Steve suggested it would be futile. Walking down to the far end of the counter, he pulled down another that was highly polished with an incredibly sharp blade.
After examining it carefully, Steve looked back at the shopkeeper, “I did say your best quality, right?”
“Sir, I forged this myself. The best metal and sharpened it as well.”
Steve pointed to the sword, “What’s this?”
“It is the finish on all of my swords,” stammered the clerk.
“Porosity,” advised John, “air bubbles in the metal. Don’t you have any dwarf-forged weapons for sale?”
Returning the sword, the shopkeeper whispered, “They are illegal to sell.”
Steve smiled, “That’s what I wanted to hear. I imagine they’re in the back room?”
The shopkeeper called to his son, who came down a set of stairs to watch the store. Taking them to the back, he unlocked a door, entered, and lit several oil lamps. Going over to a wall, he silently pulled a shelving unit out, exposing the hidden three foot long swords. Picking up one, he handed it to Steve, who examined it carefully. To check the forging, he tapped the end on the floor, and it vibrated like a tuning fork, so he nodded to John.
The shopkeeper, knowing he had a sale stated his price.
“They’re magical?” asked Steve. “We can fly with them?”
“No, why would you think that?”
“Your prices are so high! If we can’t fly with them, let’s see if we can get them a little closer to the ground.”
“You have no idea on how much trouble I go to get these. The price is fair.”
“Fairly high! If we were only buying one, your price might be reasonable, but we need six. It could take you months to sell that many.” The shopkeeper named a new price, but Steve shook his head. “If we buy them at that price, we won’t need them because we’ll have nothing left to steal. Does the guild know how you rob people?” In frustration, the shopkeeper looked up at the ceiling, stating his final price. He turned to John, “We need them. Is it okay to purchase them?”
The price seemed high to John, but since they did appear to be dwarf-forged, he nodded. All three began counting out gold coins in their pockets, placing them on a table. Advising he would wrap them up, the shopkeeper tried to escort them all to the front of the store. However, Steve asked Eric to stay and help, but his eyes said to watch. As Steve and John entered the front, he pointed to the knives under the glass counter, “Do you mind if I purchase a few more things?”
The last time, divine preparation had provided them with protection, and John thought about Alron and Panry, all of the rest, including his own elf Earth Guards. If they were unable to find the same, Steve was the next best thing.
“Knock yourself out.”
He began looking at the various knives as the shopkeeper’s son explained the differences, but every few feet, Steve would circle back out to the center of the shop. Heading back to the counter, he would scan the street outside, seeing who was still watching. When sure that nobody was observing the store, he walked back up to the shopkeeper son, and in quick succession, pointed out the four objects that had initially captured his attention.
When he returned, the shopkeeper examined the selected goods on the counter. “I imagine your proficiency is as good as your eye for choosing them.”
“I just hope nobody ever has to find out.”
The storekeeper named his price, which he considered fair, knowing this customer would barter until both were blue in the face. After receiving payment, the store owner advised that he would wrap them up, but Steve declined. Handing John his coat, he grasped the firs
t item; a set of metal plates with cloth fabric attached to them, one sheathing a dagger. Attaching the ordinary one to his right forearm, he secured the second with the hidden blade to his left. The next item was too big to be a dagger and too small to be a short sword. It was an oversized, thick knife twenty inches long with a sheath and belt. Instead of placing the belt around his waist, wrapping it across his back, he pulled one side out from his left armpit, pulling the other end over his right shoulder. Then fastened the belt, so the obscenely huge weapon was suspended under his left armpit. After putting his coat back on, Steve placed the brass knuckles in a pocket. Picking up the leather packet, he checked to make sure all six throwing knives were inside, and after pulling out one to check the balance, he placed them all in his top pocket. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped, “I missed that one. Can I see it?”
The shopkeeper retrieved the item from the display, handing Steve a seven inch long, rectangular, one-inch thick metal handle, “My own design. It operates like—”
Steve, with one smooth motion, both opened the butterfly knife and closed the handle.
“It operates like that.”
John asked how much, paid, and then the three left the store with Eric carrying a box just over three feet long.
Heading down the street, their guard following, Steve took a deep breath, “I feel better now.”
“Shouldn’t we put…them on?” asked John.
“Not right now, they’re illegal. We’ll need to check Gayne’s house for long coats to hide the scabbards,” and they continued walking down the street.
John’s eyes opened wide, “We need to visit that store.” As they began to cross the street, the other’s followed closely behind not understanding, but once inside, that changed. Maps hung from the walls between shelves lined with books, which he was examining. While some of the maps were of the Bright Coast, others had limited extents into the Newlands. There was also a large one that extended to the central mountain range, but it was over six feet tall and twelve feet long. He looked at it in amazement, “Do you have anything smaller?”
The clerk nodded, pulling out a rolled-up tube, and stated his price. “Three feet by six, sir.”