by Jenner, M
“Look, there’s the Bucket of Blood Inn. Let’s head in.” Bok tugged on the horse’s reins and gently kicked his horse in the direction of the Inn.
After an uneventful but enjoyable evening of ale and food, the pair paid for a room and bedded down for the night. In the morning over breakfast, Joli was thoughtful.
“If there are a few platinum pieces in these boxes, are you still going to look for Ty?” He wiped his plate with a chunk of bread.
“No, I’ll put a platinum piece on his head and let others fight over him,” Bok answered.
“I’ll double it,” Joli said, laughing.
“To be honest, I think he’s dead already,” Bok continued.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because of his cloak on the other man. Why would he give it up?”
“True. Maybe that fellow stole it?”
“Maybe. Whatever the truth may be, he’ll either turn up or he won’t.” Bok said, standing up. “Let’s go see Xioven.”
“Can our horses stay here until later, good man?” Joli shouted across the bar to the innkeeper. The innkeeper nodded his approval, and Bok and Joli left the Bucket of Blood Inn headed for Xioven’s shop. The streets were busy with people scurrying about on their morning business. After walking aimlessly for ten minutes, Bok stopped a young man walking past. “Excuse me, could you tell me where I could find a magic shop around here?”
“There’s only a couple. You have Fire and Water and The Quarterstaff. Just carry on along this road and you’ll walk right by both, one on either side of the road.”
“Thank you.”
“No worries,” the man said and went on his way.
After only a couple of minutes Bok saw the hanging sign, rocking gently in the breeze, “There it is,” he said, pointing across the street. “The Quarterstaff.”
They crossed to the shop, pausing outside the window to look in. Potion bottles bubbled, jars and vials of ingredients lined shelves, and boxes of books were stacked everywhere. The place looked more like a jumble sale than a shop.
When Bok pushed the door open, it brushed against a bell hanging just above and set it to jangling. A voice from the back of the shop shouted, “Two seconds,” as they closed the door behind them.
Before long a short bearded man walked through from the back room and through a curtain made of long strings of beads.
“What can I—” Xioven stopped short and stared at the customers. Then he placed his fists on his hips. “Well, well! I hope you’ve come to pay me what you owe?” he said sharply.
“Yes, old friend! You didn’t think we would forget about it, did you?” Bok answered with a smile.
“Would we do that to you?” Joli quickly added.
“Well, you’re here now. Let’s see it,” Xioven answered. Bok quickly took off his backpack and reached in, pulling out the two bundles of cloth. He placed them onto the counter and slowly removed the coverings; the two little chests looked as shiny as new.
“This is your payment?” Xioven asked, bending down to examine the chests.
“Well, not exactly. We need you to open them,” Bok said, smiling ear to ear.
“I see. You’ve stolen these and think there is something of value inside, so you want me to open them. If there is, you will pay me back, and if there isn’t, you will make some excuse and leave town again. Is that about right?” Xioven said with a wry smile on his face. Bok looked at Xioven and frowned with a disbelieving look.
“I’m hurt,” Bok answered, shaking his head.
“So I’m right then?” Xioven replied, folding his arms.
“Hmm, yes – sort of,” Bok admitted. “But even if they are empty, the gems on each box should be enough to cover our little debt,” he added quickly.
“Considering that you probably won’t pay me otherwise, the boxes will do as payment,” Xioven admitted, picking up one of the boxes. “Looks finely made, for sure, and the mithril hinges alone should be worth a good bit.” He picked up the other chest and gave them both a gentle shake.
“Let me get a spell for these,” Xioven said, slipping through the hanging beads to the back room.
“See! I told you he could do it,” Bok said, turning to Joli.
“I hope you’re right. We’ll be rich!” Joli answered
Xioven returned with a scroll, then placed one of the boxes onto the counter, clearing off a space around it. He unravelled the scroll and began reading aloud, in a language that neither Bok nor Joli had ever heard. As he finished reading the scroll, it vanished in a tiny puff of red smoke; a circle of red light seemed to spin and whirl around the box before it also disappeared.
“That, my friends, is open sesame!” Xioven said, spinning the box around towards him. He rested his hands on the chest for a moment, as if to draw out the suspense. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, and attempted to lift the lid.
The lid wouldn’t budge. Xioven lifted the box for a closer examination.
“Strange,” he muttered. “Must be a higher level than that – probably a magical lock. Hold on,” he said, walking to the back again. This time he returned with a hollowed-out elephant’s foot containing dozens of wands. Some were wooden, twisted like the fingers of old trees; others were metal, sleek and shiny with pointed ends. There were thick wands and thin ones, long and short, fancy and plain – each one different from the next.
Xioven rummaged through the wands. “Magic missile, wand of wonder, identification, fireball, teleportation… Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed. “A high-level open-locks.” He pointed the wand at the chest on the counter.
“Cori porrt flal,” Xioven shouted, and a green flash of light erupted from the wand. It engulfed the box, spinning around it in all directions before suddenly disappearing. Xioven tucked the wand into his belt and, with a grunt, tried to lift the lid – but to no avail. It was still locked tight.
“Damn, this lock is more powerful than I thought,” Xioven said. “I’ll need to go see my old friend Donovan. He will have something that will open this.” He placed the two chests on the shelf behind him. “Come back tonight just before dark fall and I’ll have them open,” he said.
Bok reached across and grabbed the shopkeeper by the collar of his robe, dragging him halfway over the counter. “Don’t even think about cheating us, mage,” Bok said, nose to nose to Xioven. “You know what will happen if you cross me.”
“Don’t judge everybody by your standards, rogue,” Xioven answered with a splutter.
“Just as long as we are perfectly clear,” Bok said through gritted teeth, and released his hold on Xioven’s robe.
“As I said, be here tonight just before dark fall and you can have the contents of your precious chests. And the next time you lay hands on a shopkeeper, remember what sort of shop you are in,” Xioven said darkly as he straightened his robe.
“See you later,” Bok answered, walking to the door of the shop. The bell jingled again as they left.
Xioven stood at the counter for a long while, until he was sure the two thieves were long gone. Then he turned and picked up a chest.
“What’s in you?” he whispered, studying the chest thoughtfully before placing it back on the shelf.
Ty walked through the town’s marketplace, looking at all the trinkets and bric-a-brac the market sellers had to offer, but nothing really took his eye. Keeping his coin pouch hidden away from the town’s pick-pockets, he wandered around looking in shops and at stalls. He saw many different items but nothing was of particular interest until one of the stall-keepers shouted, “Blow pipe and darts! For you, sir, only a few silver coins.” The dirty market seller waved a bamboo blowpipe.
“Let’s have a look at that,” Ty said, taking the pipe and looking through it.
“I will even throw in these ten darts!” the market seller said eagerly, scenting a sale, and rolled the darts out onto the table.
“This couldn’t kill a cat!” Ty scoffed, dropping the pipe next to the darts and turning
away from the stall.
“But the darts are coated in the finest mandrake money can buy! They would drop a dragon,” the seller exclaimed. Ty stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder, then turned back and picked up a dart.
“If these can penetrate dragonscale, then my name isn’t Ty the Rat,” the thief said, scoffing.
“Dragonscale, no – but a cloth shirt they would,” the seller replied.
Ty picked up the pipe again. “Ok, how much?” he asked.
“For you, only five silver pieces, with the darts,” the trader stated.
“Three and we’ve got a deal,” Ty said, holding the pipe out to the trader.
The stall-keeper continued to barter. “Four and I will throw in a bag for the darts. Shall we shake on it, my friend?”
With a smile, Ty agreed. “You got yourself a deal.” He shook the trader’s hand and paid him, then tucked the pipe into his belt.
“Thanks and good day,” Ty said nodding to the trader.
“May the gods bring you luck this very day.”
“I need some,” Ty smiled. He wandered around the market a bit longer, and eventually decided to head to the bath house for a clean-up. He had to ask another trader for directions, and wound up having to buy a cooked lizard on a stick for the information.
Ty leisurely made his way along the street, pausing often to look into the windows of all the different shops. They boasted armour, weapons, fine clothes, and everything else that might tempt a person with money to spend. As he carried on towards the bath house, he glanced in the window of a magic shop, a sign that read ‘The Quarterstaff’ hanging above its doorway. He had stopped to gaze through the window when his heart jumped into his mouth. He couldn’t believe it: Bok and Joli stood inside the shop.
Ty ducked slightly to conceal himself and looked closer. They were talking to a little shopkeeper with a long grey beard. Then Bok shifted to the side and Ty’s heart stopped beating completely. His jaw dropped – the shopkeeper was holding two chests that looked identical to the ones Solomon had shown him.
“It can’t be possible,” Ty whispered to himself. He saw the shopkeeper place the chests on a shelf behind him and turn back to the pair of thieves, when suddenly Bok grabbed the shopkeeper and dragged him partway over the counter. Ty ducked down even further and watched as Bok let the shopkeeper go with a shove, then turned towards the shop door. Ty quickly backtracked a few steps and disappeared into a shadowy alcove. He watched from his hiding place as Bok and Joli left the shop and walked off down the street.
Pulling his hood up over his face, he quickly crossed to the other side of the road and followed the pair until they entered the Bucket of Blood Inn, then he watched through the window as they sat at the bar and called for two flagons of ale. Ty turned and ran back to the Quarterstaff.
Entering the shop he heard the bell ring and the shopkeeper shout “One second!” Ty approached the counter and spied the two chests on the shelf. They were definitely the ones Solomon had shown him. His head was spinning – how had Bok and Joli gotten their hands on the chests, and how could he possibly get them back? He knew he couldn’t attack a mage in his own shop – that would be suicidal. He had nowhere near enough gold to buy them, and stealing them would prove difficult to say the least. Then the mage stepped through a beaded curtain. Without even looking at Ty, he went straight to the chests and placed them into a sack before he finally turned to face Ty.
“How may I help you, good sir?” Xioven said, smiling at Ty and placing the sack with the chests on the counter.
For a split second Ty thought about grabbing the chests and running, but he knew he wouldn’t even make it to the door. He tried to think of something the mage would have to go into the back room to fetch, giving him time to snatch the chests and run.
“Have you any… ah… rings of invisibility, good sir?” Ty asked with an innocent smile.
“I do indeed! As it happens, someone came in just yesterday and sold one with five charges left.” The mage turned around to look through the clutter and mess. “Now, where did I put the damn thing?” he said, scratching his white beard. “Oh, I remember!”
To Ty’s disappointment, the mage reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He unfolded it and let the contents fall into his cupped hand, then extended his arm to Ty; in his palm sat a shiny gold ring.
“Lovely!” Ty said, reaching to take the ring.
The shopkeeper closed his hand quickly. “Pay to touch, my friend, pay to touch, especially with invisibility rings,” he said with a smile.
“Of course, of course. How much would you like, my good sir?” Ty asked.
“That will be fifty gold coins for every charge,” the shopkeeper said, rewrapping the ring and placing it back into his pocket.
“So that will be… two hundred gold, then. It’s a deal – I’ll just go get the money from my friend and pop back tomorrow,” Ty replied.
“Very well,” the mage replied. “I will be here, and so will the ring – and by the way, it’s two hundred fifty gold,” he chuckled.
“Oh yes, so it is,” Ty smiled and bowed. “My math was never that hot,” he said as he made his way to the door. The bell rang as Ty left the shop; he headed straight across the road to a weapons-shop called The Golden Axe. He paused in front of the weapons-shop’s window, not looking through the glass at the display, but watching the shopkeeper behind him, reflected in the window-glass. Just my luck – the one item that he didn’t keep in the back of the shop was in his damn pocket! Ty thought.
He watched as the mage locked the door and headed off up the street, leaning on a walking-stick. After a few moments, Ty put his hood up to cover his face, then turned and followed the mage at a cautious distance.
Every imaginable thought was going through Ty’s mind: Should he mug the mage? Try to render him unconscious? Maybe just explain the situation, that the chests were actually his? His heartbeat had gone crazy. Usually he was calm in these situations and his training took over, but right now he felt more alive than ever before. With a thrill, he remembered the blow pipe he’d purchased. Not wanting to risk pricking his finger on a mandrake-coated dart, he quickly slipped on his light leather gloves. He fumbled for the leather bag and pulled out two darts, then pulled the pipe from his belt. He dropped one into the pipe and held it ready, carefully holding the other dart in his other hand.
The mage walked on and on through the streets until he turned and walked down a small alleyway. Ty waited, then stepped into the alley behind the mage.
Seeing that the end of the alley was getting closer, Ty quickened his pace; he knew he had only seconds, and might not get another chance as good as this. As his pace quickened, so did his carelessness – he stepped on a small twig, which broke under his weight with a faint crack. The tiny noise was enough to alert the mage, who instantly turned round to look back down the alley at the thief. With a shrewd gaze, the mage quickened his own pace.
Ty cursed himself silently for the schoolboy error. Moving silently was bread and butter to any practicing thief, and Ty took pride in the fact that he was a master at the technique. Just not today, he thought ruefully. Even so, he was quicker than the limping mage and quickly made valuable ground. When he was within shooting distance, he quickly squatted for stability, raised the pipe to his lips, and blew.
The dart struck Xioven in the back of his right leg, stopping the mage in his tracks. He spun around with surprising speed and agility, and lifted his walking-stick to point at Ty. A bolt of white lightning burst from the end of the stick, hurtling down the alley towards him. With nowhere to go, Ty flattened himself against the wall in an attempt to dodge the magical blast.
He was almost successful. The bolt of light glanced off his shoulder, shredding his skin and sending pain flashing down his arm. Ty released his daggers into his palms and sprinted towards the mage. Xioven, now bracing himself on one knee and one hand in the dirt of the alley, aimed his staff again. Another lightning bolt
flew towards Ty, striking him in the leg just above the knee and ripping straight through his light leather leggings. The smell of burning flesh filled the alleyway, and the blow sent Ty spinning through the air. He landed on the ground in a heap, and knew that one more bolt would kill him.
Ty struggled to get back to his feet, but the pain in his leg was crippling. He fell onto one knee and looked hopelessly at the mage.
“Make that five hundred gold!” Xioven said, raising his staff once more. Ty shut his eyes, one hand out as if he could block the oncoming blast of lightning – but it never came.
He opened his eyes and saw the mage lying facedown in the muck of the alleyway. Slowly Ty got to his feet and hobbled towards Xioven, blood coursing down his leg with every step. He knew his wounds badly needed treatment. Bending over the mage’s body, he retrieved the chests and placed them into his own pack. He rifled through Xioven’s pockets until he found the handkerchief with the ring.
Xioven groaned and tried to lift his head. Ty grabbed the mage’s staff. “Here’s a down payment,” he said, and struck the mage on the back of the head, silencing him.
At that precise moment, three men – sellers from the marketplace, by the looks of them – walked around the corner into the alley. They froze at the sight of Ty bent over the mage, but their hesitation was brief.
“Stop, thief!” one shouted, and they began running towards Ty and Xioven. Ty tried to run in the opposite direction but fell to the ground. The pain in his leg was too much for him.
The men were halfway down the alley by now, shouting ‘Murderer!’ and ‘Thief!’ Just in time, Ty remembered the ring in his hand. Even in such a dangerous moment, the potential for drama tempted him. He dragged himself to his feet, faced the oncoming men, and shouted “Be gone!” With that, he slipped the ring onto his finger and disappeared.
The onrushing men stopped in confused amazement. Ty turned and hobbled away down the alley with as much speed as he could muster, leaving the puzzled fruit-sellers and fishmongers behind him.