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Shortly after sunrise, Coleen Sammae arrived and cast her Ascertain Enchantment Spell, verifying that the adventuring party had indeed secured the Wand of Foe Detection.
Higslaff hadn’t gotten much sleep, having to prepare the ransom item after departing the Blue Bugle. Why spend what might be all of his last hours sleeping? Several hours, so that he’d be on top of his negotiating game, was enough.
He secured the ransom item in a padded steel box. Sturdy but not fancy. That, he carried in a satchel.
The pawnshop owner climbed the steps to Josiah’s barbershop and knocked on the door.
The muffled sound of the gray parrot saying, “Customer. Early customer,” confirmed what he already knew. Josiah was awake.
The lay healer barber opened the door and let his friend in. The smell of mint tea and honey filled the shop.
“When are you to meet Sill Rochelle?” Josiah asked, heading to the back room to get the tea.
The shop was dark. The shutters remained closed, along with the door. Only a lantern lit the room. Higslaff sat down on one of the customer chairs.
“I have about fifteen minutes to spend with you, my friend. Then a brisk walk out of this unsavory neighborhood to her fancy gated and guarded apartment.” Higslaff wasn’t jealous. He expected an accomplished spellcaster to live in protective luxury.
Josiah returned with a tray bearing two cups of tea, and two small plates with sliced bread and honey. Higslaff took his cup and plate. His friend knew how he preferred his tea and bread, and thanked him.
The two men ate and drank in silence. Helga flew down and got her small piece of bread, and a few grapes as well. The parrot was silent, which was odd for her.
Higslaff set his empty plate and cup on the chair next to him and pulled a leather scroll case from his satchel. “Wand’s inside. Will you see that the guild gets it?”
Josiah, seated in his barber chair said, “I will do that.”
The barber examined his friend. “Going armed with a mundane short sword?”
“The guards will disarm me before I go inside.” Higslaff shrugged. “If not, I’ll lose a fight no matter the sword I carry.”
Josiah tipped his head from side to side, weighing the statement. “True, a fancy sword won’t impress him.”
Higslaff laughed grimly. “Why leave him a fancy gift?” He also carried a Healing Elixir and a Gem of Spell Absorption in his pocket. It was enchanted to negate one Mystic Missile Spell. Like many magic users and, as evidenced on the rat, that was probably Chi’s “go to” spell to end an annoyance. It wouldn’t alter the ultimate result if it came to a fight, but might allow Higslaff another moment to negotiate.
Josiah leaned forward in his chair and appraised his friend. “It’s not required that you go.”
“That’s true, Josiah. It’s not. But I think I have the negotiating edge in this one.” The pawnshop owner got to his feet. “Thanks for the tea.”
“Just angling.” The barber stood and clasped his friend on the shoulder. “You did leave your shop to me in your will.”
“Ha! Like Black Venom would allow that to happen.” Both men recognized the joke. Handing such a business off to a blood relative would be acceptable—if he had one ready.
“Lunch here tomorrow?” the barber asked.
“Yep.” Higslaff headed for the door. “Your turn to buy.”
Sill Rochelle was both prim and grim, with narrow eyes and lips. She preferred faded blue and grays. Her heavy cotton blouse and wool dress reflected that.
As she led Higslaff around to the small, secluded flower garden beneath her apartment’s window, Higslaff said, “You know, it’s midsummer.” He gestured at her outfit.
“Do I comment on your ridiculous hat collection—all the same style?”
“Actually, at least once a month.”
She took in a deep breath, enjoying the fragrance of her yellow and orange day lilies, and climbing purple and pink morning glories. “Then I shall strive to double that frequency.”
He pulled the leather case containing a Transport scroll from his satchel and handed it to her. He’d already given her the substantial coin for her services.
She carefully placed the scroll case in her own satchel. “Are you prepared?”
After Higslaff nodded, she took his hand and began her spell.
Higslaff hated the way Transport Spells made his ears pop. Besides the cost, another reason he rarely had one cast upon him. He shook his head and looked around. They were in an apple orchard, just off the main road, a half mile from Shorn Spearhead.
They approached the city together, in silence. Sill Rochelle wasn’t a great conversationalist, but they often talked shop. Today Higslaff had too many thoughts running through his head to carry the conversation. Instead he mentally rehearsed phrasing and potential branches the negotiation might take.
After they walked through the main gate, Sill Rochelle said, “I shall be at the Aviary Inn. If you do not contact me there by midmorning tomorrow, I shall depart.”
That was their agreement. She was experienced and professional enough not to ask for any details.
“Hopefully, we can return before then.” He glanced at the sun, risen at least an hour. “Maybe noon, with any luck.”
Sill Rochelle must’ve recognized that Higslaff’s business offered risk to his health, or worse, because she said, “I hope you do have luck. I’d be pleased for you to share a late lunch at the Crow’s Gullet with me.”
Higslaff smiled. Subconsciously he rested a hand on his sword’s pommel. “I’ll see what I can do to make that happen, Sill.”