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“BISON, stop!”
That was all the old man was able to shout at the hulk coming toward me. As Bison walked, he rolled up his sleeves, revealing wide interwoven knots of forearm muscle.
“Looks like somebody’s overdue to get his ears boxed in!” he boomed in a deep bass, paying no attention to his master’s hysterical shivering. “Next time, you’ll know how to talk to men of esteem.”
“No, Bison! No!” the old man started wheezing. I was sure he was going to have a heart attack.
Abyss! What an idiot. All brawn, no brains. I’ll have to cool his jets.
A semitransparent hazy brown sphere appeared in my hand as if from thin air. That trick made the old man shut his mouth. He stood with his eyes wide open just staring at the sphere in my hand.
An instant later, I threw it at the hulking man’s feet, activating the trap. Naturally, I was the only one who could see the magical trap, so the sight of the sphere breaking on the ground had absolutely no effect on Bison. It just made him madder.
“What?!” he bared his teeth, bulging his fish-like eyes out even further. “You think some broken glass is gonna stop me?”
He wanted to say more but couldn’t. His right foot came down in the middle of the magic spot. Based on how the fury scrolls worked on the local fauna, I had an approximate idea of how Bison would be affected by the Blot, but the result surpassed all my expectations. Bison, like a puppet cut from his strings, fell to the ground with all his limbs splayed out.
Fortified Blots temporarily took thirty-five percent of a creature’s energy, but that was for beings from my world. On natives of this world, they seemed to be several times more effective.
Accompanied by Gravedigger’s dumbfounded gaze, I walked at a brisk pace over to Bison’s incapacitated body. I saw animalistic terror in his fish-like eyes. I took out Dragonfly, squatted next to his head and calmly said:
“You wanted my respect but, for some reason unbeknownst to me, you failed to heed the words of the man you call your master. Beyond that, you threatened to box my ears in. But now your ears are in my hands. You attacked me and lost. Now I have the right not only to take your ears, but your life as well.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark spot appear on Bison’s gray pants in the crotch area. He wet himself. I felt no pity for him, but no hate either. I was completely at ease. Despite the fact that everyone who had tried to attack me in the last few days was dead, I was not planning to kill Bison. Just teach him a lesson perhaps.
“Milord, I beg you!” Gravedigger prayed. “Have mercy on him!”
Without standing up, I turned my head in his direction:
“Your underling could stand to learn some discipline.”
“Trust me!” the old man started making excuses in a shaky voice. “He didn’t mean anything by it... He just gets a bit overly protective of me sometimes. I found him on the street when he was just a boy, raised him and gave him employment. This is just his way of trying to show gratitude...”
“By threatening to knock your clients around?” I asked in surprise.
The old man gave a loud gulp with his dry throat.
“The Great Mother blessed him with strength and a fiery temper but, alas, she did not see fit to endow him with a strong mind. I promise I will punish him as severely as I can.”
I pretended to consider it. Bison and I met eyes. I could read fear and hope. I didn’t see any hostility or anger.
“Alright,” I said.
The old man, not hiding his relief, exhaled loudly. Bison’s eyes lit up with glee.
“But,” I looked at the ground. “I will cut something off your big-mouthed bodyguard just to make sure.”
The old man twitched, but Dragonfly had already taken its toll. I quickly stood up and came over to Gravedigger, who was breathing heavily.
“Here,” I said. “Next time your assistant acts up, show him this.”
The old man lowered his eyes spellbound and stared at a lock of dark brown hair in my hand.
“Take it,” I repeated.
The old man immediately extended a hand and mechanically stashed the lock in his apron pocket. Catching an anxious look from him, I said:
“You needn’t worry about your ward. He’ll be back on his feet in no time. Now, I say we do some negotiating. My buddy outside is probably starting to get impatient...”
“Y-yes, of course...” Gravedigger muttered and rubbed his throat with a shivering hand.
I turned to the chest and took out five items.
“I’ll take these and the raincoat.”
“Just that?” disappointment flickered in the old man’s voice. “Nothing else caught your eye?”
I tilted my head to the side and stared firmly at Gravedigger. He seemed to wither under my gaze. The thing was that, once I got a handle on all the new languages, I skimmed through every item in the chest. Unfortunately, almost all of them were affixed with a glowing tag saying the artifact was either “damaged” or “irreparable.”
I could have held my tongue. Just bought the artifacts and went on my merry way. But I had questions this old man might have been able to answer.
“Are you trying to swindle me?” I asked coldly.
Gravedigger shuddered and took a step back.
“Come now!” he sputtered. “Of course not... I... Wasn’t even thinking...”
He isn’t lying. Just look how scared he is. He almost certainly doesn’t know his wares are defective... Neither he nor his loudmouth assistant can see the items’ information. Nevertheless, nearly every artifact in the chest had been selected, so to speak, hm... properly.
“So then why are you trying to get me to buy broken junk?”
It pained me to look at the old man. It was like his backbone had been pulled out. He gave a slight wobble, sat down on the chair, and placed his thin arms on his knees.
“Allow me to come clean,” I continued. “I was told that you make your living digging through ancient ruins and graveyards. To my eye, that’s a load of crap. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one spreading those rumors. In order to get people off the scent of your main source of income.”
The old man lowered his head fatedly.
“After all, for a man selling dried mutant innards and blood, there’s no reason to go digging through old scrap heaps.”
My words made him shudder. Yes, I had guessed what the phials and bits of dry flesh in the middle section of the chest were.
Time to turn down the pressure, otherwise he was going to have a heart attack.
“And your collection...” I continued. “Let me guess... You obtained all these artifacts wholesale from one man who turned out to be a fraud.”
“The scoundrel! He assured me everything was fine...”
“Who was he?”
“I met him a few years ago,” the old man started. “In the north. At the Northolm fair. He called himself a wanderer.”
“Was there anything unusual about his appearance?” It was hard for me to hide the tension in my voice.
“I don’t suppose so,” the old man answered unconfidently. “Just a normal guy. Although... His eyes... They were bright blue like pieces of ice.”
Definitely a mage.
“And the shape of his ears,” the old man added.
“Ears?” I asked.
“Yes,” Gravedigger nodded. “He kept them hidden under his hair or a hat. But I caught a glimpse. They were very long. Slightly pointed at the tips. At first I thought he was altered, but then he explained he was born that way.”
An elven mage? Why not? I wonder why he sold all these artifacts to the old man.
“He was so welcoming and open,” Gravedigger continued. “He was very easy to talk to. I felt like I’d known him my whole life.”
Got it. The elf had tricked this naive otherworlder with Charisma or something like it, and he fell for it.
“At first, I didn’t want to buy his stuff...”
“And did he show you how any of these items work?”
“Yes,” the old man responded, nodding at the raincoat.
“I see,” I chuckled. “And what did he want in return? Surely it wasn’t gold.”
“You’re right,” Gravedigger frowned. “He was interested in my rubies.”
Hm... Interesting. What did the elf see in them? They were probably something very valuable.
As if having read my thoughts, the old man said:
“Back then, I wondered what made them so special that a man such as he would want them, and in fact be willing to give up all his artifacts to get them. So I decided to hold onto one of the rubies... Just in case.”
I strained not to show any emotion.
“I suppose this is just the time for it,” the man said, taking a bag from his pocket.
It was a small pouch made of soft leather. Carefully pouring its contents onto his hand, Gravedigger said:
“Here, have a look.”
It was a blood red crystal the size of a thumbnail. All flustered, I read its scant description.
― Large life crystal:
― Life: 0/2000.
“Many years ago, I bought these rubies in the south,” Gravedigger continued. “Who could have thought that this chance acquisition would cause me so much trouble. How do you feel about adding a seventh item to your purchase?”
“That all depends on how much you’re asking,” I shrugged. Try as I might, I was just not able to pull off looking casual.
“Five hundred gold coins,” Gravedigger shot out.
This was one of those times when self-preservation instinct was completely drowned out by greed. I of course understood that five hundred gold was not even real money. After all, for the cloak alone, any trader in my world would be happy to pay several thousand gold. And I wasn’t even talking about the life crystal which, for the record, was something I’d never heard of before. And after all, I had another five artifacts I still hadn’t even looked at. But now I wasn’t thinking about money. It was the principle of the matter. The old man was clearly trying to compensate his losses on my account. So I started negotiating.
Then a few minutes later, I counted out two hundred and fifty gold and handed it to Gravedigger.
Right then, I heard a muted bleating from behind me. The old man looked unsettled as he watched Bison coming back to his senses.
“See, just like I told you,” I said and smiled. “Your ward will be just fine.”
“I swear by the Great Mother’s benediction he will remember this day for the rest of his life,” Gravedigger smiled back.
Then he cast a gaze at the open chest and turned serious.
“Here’s what I have to say to you,” I started reassuringly when I saw his mood. “Don’t beat yourself up. All is not yet lost. I’ll help you tell the damaged items apart from those which cannot be repaired.”
I couldn’t just leave so easily. I hadn’t asked all my questions yet.
“So, what’s the difference between them?” Gravedigger asked with hope in his voice, his head raised.
“The first kind can be fixed,” I answered and got out in front of the question on the old man’s lips, saying: “But, alas, I cannot assist you with the repair.”
The old man nodded and got up heavily from the chair.
“I’m touched by your concern,” he said and extended a hand to shake mine.
I can see in his eyes that he’s being sincere.
The old man wanted to say more, but Bison gave another bleat and coughed loudly.
“Your protection is coming back to his senses,” I said. “While you help him, I’ll look through your artifacts.”
As the old man groaned and tried to turn Bison on his side, I took the remaining items out of the chest.
“If I’m not mistaken, trading in these wares is forbidden by law here,” I said, nodding at the phials of mutant blood. “But as experience has taught me, the law is written only for commoners. How long has the local Chief been altered?”
Seeing the old man’s perplexed look, I added:
“Listen, I don’t give a damn about your dealings with the altered. I am just like you. I try to avoid attention. Most likely, I’ll leave this village today and we will never see each other again. But I’m not asking just because. I need to know. I promise I will keep everything you say a secret. As will you, I hope.”
The last sentence I said with particular emphasis. Gravedigger shuddered and nodded understandingly.
“He’s on phase two,” he said.
“And when did he move up from phase one?” I asked haphazardly.
“Last winter,” Gravedigger answered quietly, almost at a whisper, constantly looking askance at the door. “He had to take a four-month break. The southern folk know how to prepare the ingredients, but even they are not almighty. Blood-based potions need to steep. Innards have to dry thoroughly. Otherwise the alterations are harder to control.”
Got it. So the rumors Badger mentioned had some truth to them. The people of the south knew special methods of preparing the flesh and blood of mutants. The locals here were seemingly cut off from the Great System. But that didn’t stop them from finding ways of filling the gap.
“So what would happen if a person consumed the flesh or blood of a recently dead mutant?”
“That all depends on how much they eat or drink,” he responded. “And the type of mutant. Most of them have toxic meat and blood. In any case, the alteration process must be kept in check.”
“I was told that you are also altered,” I chuckled.
“And you believe that?”
“No,” I answered. “Neither you or your assistant are altered. I can see that perfectly well.”
Gravedigger gave a slight shudder. He must have forgotten who he was talking to for a moment.
Bison, showing how he earned his nickname, started bleating again. He could now slightly move his limbs. That trap really did a number on him. Too bad I had to waste a Blot on him. Although, if not for that show of force, Gravedigger wouldn’t be quite so talkative now.
“By the way, how is business?” I asked, nodding at the artifacts from the chest.
“I’ll be frank, you’re the first person to ever show an interest in my collection,” Gravedigger answered, his voice trembling in anxiety.
That bad?
“Hey, Highlander! You gonna be in there for long?” Badger’s voice from outside made me shudder.
Exhaling in disappointment, I stood up.
“Well, I’ve gotta go.”
Identical looks of relief dawned on Gravedigger and Bison’s faces.
“Too bad we couldn’t talk longer,” I said with pity. “What say we meet tonight in the local tavern and share a mug?”
“Yes, of course,” the old man agreed quickly.
“Okay then, see you later!” I said, smiling predatorily, and walked over to the door. “Ah, by the way, I almost forgot...”
I stopped halfway and turned around. Gravedigger and Bison both tensed up.
“What do you know about so-called Places of Power?” I asked, staring into the old man’s eyes.
“Absolutely nothing,” he replied. “As a matter of fact, I’ve never even heard of them...”
No. He doesn’t know. I can see in his eyes that he’s not lying. Too bad...
Tossing a final gaze over the inside of the tent, I went outside. Behind me came a collective sigh of relief.
“What took you so long?!” Badger greeted me indignantly.
Walking around the stall, I came up to my new pal.
“Okay then, take me to Goose!” I said with a smile and walked between the stalls out of the market.
Badger caught up to me a moment later and, looking around cautiously, asked:
“How’d it go?”
“You know, what you said about Gravedigger wasn’t true,” I told him with a chuckle. “He proved to be quite a sweet old man. It’s just too bad he’s leaving now. I’d like to talk with him more. I get the feeling there’s a lot he didn’t tell me.”
“Well, he just got here yesterday,” Badger said in surprise.
“He said he had some urgent business to attend to,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders and turning around.
As if confirming what I said, Gravedigger popped out of the tent and started hurriedly packing up all his junk.
I just chuckled. The old man must not care for taverns.
