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“Turn around,” the half-goblin guard said. “Only business you’ve got here is if you’re looking to die.”
Higslaff could see in the two guards’ eyes that they had no qualms about killing. While those types could bring trouble from authorities, they generally were the most effective type of guards.
The path up to the apartment door was short and narrow. One guard had his hand on his scimitar’s grip and the other had nocked an arrow and began to draw it back.
Higslaff said, “The magic user within requested my presence.”
“Your name?”
Higslaff maintained a relaxed stance with his sword hand gripping the satchel’s leather strap. “He’ll know me as Higslaff, the pawnshop owner.”
The guard with the scimitar signaled for his partner to check. The other guard lowered his bow and knocked twice on the thick wooden door.
Higslaff suspected they were in for a long wait. After only a minute the door cracked open. The bow-wielding guard relayed that Higslaff the Pawnshop Owner was there to see the boss.
The door closed, and the two guards returned to their “ready to attack” stance.
“Might I make two suggestions, that’ll improve your already effectiveness at warding your boss’s residence. And make your job easier?”
“Ha!” The scimitar wielding goblin drew his weapon and sneered. “What does a pawnshop owner know about guarding important men?”
“Hear me out, sirs.” Higslaff stood his ground. “If what I suggest makes sense, you can benefit from it. If not, what have you lost by listening?”
The second guard raised his bow and drew back the arrow further. “I’ll have lost peace and quiet listening to your garbage.” He showed his pointed teeth in a snarling grin. “I’d rather listen to you squeal with my arrow in your gut.”
“Your boss may enjoy that sound too.” Higslaff shrugged. “Then again, since he requested my presence, maybe not.” It was possible the magic user had a familiar listening. Chisisuschugerganteramoski might even be seated near one of the apartment’s shuttered windows himself. On the off chance he was overheard, sounding relaxed, confident, and willing to offer sound professional advice could only help.
A quiet moment passed. Higslaff watched a large grackle with iridescent head feathers land and snap up a small insect beneath a nearby thorny bush.
The guards eventually lowered their weapons.
“What’s your idea for making our job easier?” the scimitar guard asked.
“Only two things.” He gestured toward the scimitar. “Get a spear to go with your scimitar. Point it at people like me when they approach. More intimidating having the sharp point angled at their heart, or face. Makes them keep their distance, and will give your partner a better chance of shooting, should the individual be so foolish as to close.
“Gives you something to throw at troublemakers, besides insults. Lean it against the wall until you need it.”
The scimitar guard curled his lip, but didn’t dismiss the suggestion.
“You said, two.” The other guard sneered. “What about me?”
Higslaff said, “Get a crossbow, with a goat’s foot lever. It appears that you have to wait before guests are admitted. Easier to hold a crossbow on a man.
“Doesn’t have to be big or too strong of a draw, since you don’t have far to shoot. The close-quarters accuracy and mechanics of a crossbow are more intimidating.”
The half-goblin lifted his bow and drew back, pointing the nocked arrow at Higslaff’s face. “You sayin’ I ain’t intimidating?”
“I said more intimidating.”
Higslaff glanced back at the scimitar guard. “Spent my share of years standing guard. Clerics and merchants. Never fortunate enough for magic users.”
The scimitar guard grunted. The bow guard lowered his arrow’s aim.
The door behind the guards cracked open. “The boss’ll see him.”
The scimitar guard said, “Gimme your sword.”
Higslaff pulled it from the scabbard. He handed it grip first to the guard and stepped through the threshold, following the third half-goblin guard.
The apartment’s entry room was dark and unadorned, as was the hallway leading to the ancient magic user’s study. No art or furniture, or even a rug. It was possible the magic user didn’t value such things. If so, that was troubling for Higslaff’s plan. It might also reflect the man had just moved in, or didn’t intend to stay. Or he lacked sufficient coin.
Shorn Spearhead wasn’t a large town, and the number of residences suitable to a powerful individual were limited. New arrival and temporary accommodations would be the assumption he’d work under. Of course, evil and cruel individuals sometimes shunned art and nature’s beauty. That sort of shunning eliminated a third of his ransom item’s appeal.
The last possibility, lack of coin didn’t fit. Powerful magic users, even ones prone to gambling debts, could always secure coin. And this man had guards. They were not elite. Nor were they incompetent.
A weak Light Spell lit the narrow hallway. They passed one door on the right on the way to the one at the end of the hallway. The guard knocked twice, waited several seconds, and then opened the door a crack.
“Admit the merchant.” Chisisuschugerganteramoski’s voice was dry with age, but carried strength and self-assurance.
Sunlight filtering through two narrow windows lit the small study. Chisisuschugerganteramoski sat at a table facing away from the door. The guard led Higslaff around to stand between the table and the windows. A flick of the ancient magic user’s age-spotted hand dismissed the half-goblin guard.
Before the door closed the magic user, who hadn’t lifted his head from reading a large, leather-bound tome, said, “Tell the maid to prepare a cup of hot tea. Have it to me in five minutes.”
Higslaff shrugged to himself. A less than subtle signal that he didn’t merit much time. It was better than being wounded through his homunculus, which he’d been expecting. Less predictable than Higslaff hoped for.
Besides the book on the table, on the end to the magic user’s left, rested the cage. A folded tablecloth covered it. Even this close, Higslaff couldn’t sense his homunculus’s presence. The enchanted creature might smell his master. A magical cage that barred sense of smell didn’t seem necessary. Depriving humans of light for sight, sounds to hear, and smells for days and weeks was a form of coercion his guild used. But that wouldn’t work on an enchanted creature like a homunculus. Their brains were different, just like their needs and desires.
Higslaff stood quietly, taking in the contents of the sparse room while the magic user ran a finger across the text that covered a page in the book. It was part of the negotiation game. Usually, however, it was he who made people wait. It sparked a bit of anger, but he quickly doused it. He needed to keep a clear head. Not show any anger or frustration.
The ancient magic user eventually looked up. “Merchant, you are here to regain control of your homunculus.” From beneath his robes, the magic user lifted a dagger and placed it on the table. “You have until my tea arrives, or neither of you will leave this room.”
Higslaff believed any servant working for this man would be prompt, so he had fewer than two minutes. He reached into his satchel and withdrew the box. “May I place what I have brought to exchange for my homunculus on your table?”
When the ancient magic user didn’t reply one way or the other, Higslaff proceeded. He opened the box and placed the item on the table. It was a bottle carved from rare blue quartz crystal to resemble a stalagmite.
Higslaff saw a slight size increase in the ancient magic user’s pupils. He witnessed the same when poker players drew a favorable hand.
“The crystal bottle is from the now destroyed palace in Blue Harbor. It contained perfume used by Emperor Xaggcer’s eldest daughter.” Higslaff shrugged. “That is what I was told, however, I do not believe its origin can be traced that precisely.
“It no longer holds perfume. It contains a Minor Elixir of Summers.”
“You disturb my study, to offer a perfume vial holding a potion that will return two to seven summers to the one that imbibes it?” Indignation and impatience filled his voice.
A breath later the magic user completed a spell. A flurry of brown Mystic Missiles flew from his pointed finger and into the pawnshop owner.
They veered slightly from their intended point of impact, and instead struck into Higslaff’s shirt pocket, where he’d placed his Gem of Mystic Missile Absorption. The abruptness and magnitude of the spell attack caught Higslaff off guard. He stepped back, almost losing his balance. He managed to steady himself against the wall behind him.
The spell’s failure didn’t appear to fluster the powerful magic user. He reached over and pulled the cloth from atop the cage. “Your familiar is not adorned with enchanted trinkets.”
Higslaff gathered his courage, and kept his voice even. “Am I to take it you’ve reneged upon your promise that I had until your tea arrived?”
Chisisuschugerganteramoski picked up his dagger and said, “Your offer was made, and rejected.”
“I was not finished.” Higslaff returned to where he’d been standing.
The ancient magic user shoved the dagger’s tip into the cage, drawing blood from both Snix’s and Higslaff’s leg. “Finish, then. But be quick.” He stabbed the same leg a second time.
The homunculus hissed and showed his teeth. Higslaff bit his lower lip and leaned on his good, right leg.
“You are new to the region,” Higslaff said, keeping his voice level, almost monotone. “If you are simply passing through, the results of this negotiation and my fate will be unimportant to you. However, if you intend to establish yourself, then what happens in the next minute will have long-term repercussions.”
The magic user laughed a dry cackle. “You threaten me?”
“I do not.” Higslaff reached down and felt the blood on his thigh. “You threaten your ability to establish trust and agreements for years to come.” He struggled to keep his voice even. “You are skilled, powerful and knowledgeable. The most powerful spellcaster I have met face to face. For right or wrong, if word were to get out that you’re an unreliable client, those with connections, and access to resources you desire—”
“And I suppose you are a person with connections and resources I desire.”
Rather than wasting what time he had left, debating that point, Higslaff said, “You could certainly summon enchanted creatures far more fierce, impressive and effective as guards than those you’ve hired. Although you could, your energy and resources are better spent, and those you’ve hired suffice.
“If you were to mistreat or slay those guards, recruiting replacements would be more difficult, and more costly.”
The ancient magic user cut in, saying, “And your death, merchant, will cost me coin, and tarnish my reputation.” His dry cackle returned. “What is one more twig cast into a furnace?”
“If it’s a new fire, one twig at a strategic moment may affect the course of the furnace’s flame.” It wasn’t a great analogy but, under the circumstances, it best Higslaff could come up with.
There was a knock at the door. After a few seconds, an elderly woman with gray hair tied up in a bun entered. She may have been attractive in her youth. She wore a gray, sackcloth dress and carried a small steaming pot of tea along with a cup and saucer on a tray. As if she’d completed the task a thousand times, she pulled a tall table from its place against the wall to within the magic user’s reach. She set the tray and its contents on the table without making eye contact.
After pouring a partial cup, she lifted it to her lips and drank. Without a word or facial expression, she poured a full cup and departed the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Higslaff waited, as did Snix. Higslaff was pretty sure the magic user wouldn’t use fire, or lightning. But another Mystic Missile or a myriad of other spells, such as Crystal Encasement, could do him in.
The magic user drank his tea and stared at the blue crystal bottle.
The old magic user sat down his empty cup and picked up his dagger. “Tell me, merchant, where did you get the crystal vial and the elixir?”
“I own a pawnshop, in Three Hills City. From my inventory. The crystal was pawned by a young noblewoman. She did not pay for its return within the allotted time. The elixir, traded for from an elf warrior.”
“Are you so driven by coin that you didn’t drink it yourself?”
Higslaff gave the honest answer. “The elven adventurer sold it to me over a decade ago. If I still had it when it came time to retire, I planned on drinking it.”
“So you can extend your life as a merchant.”
“No. So that I could relive those years with some health, doing something else.”
The ancient magic user laughed. “You’re lying. If not to me, then to yourself.”
Maybe Chisisuschugerganteramoski was right. His shop was his life. “You asked, and I told you my plan. The vial and the elixir it holds are yours now.”
A mischievous look crossed the ancient magic user’s face. It was a disturbing look.
“I shall see that the elixir is added to the drink on the wedding night of one of a newly wedded couple. The husband’s cup, I think.” The ancient magic user grinned, showing perfectly strait, white teeth. “With luck, it will ruin that evening, and many to come.”
That seemed like a spiteful, if not trifling use. There must be a reason the magic user wouldn’t drink it himself, but it wasn’t Higslaff’s place to ask. He could be lying, or trying to be humorous. All Higslaff cared about was that the magic user had plans for the elixir. It could mean he’d accepted it in trade, and Higslaff might see another day.
“I am preparing to build a new residence,” Chisisuschugerganteramoski said. “Do you have anything else from Blue Harbor? Furniture, paintings?” He gestured toward the blue quartz crystal bottle. “Sculptures?”
“I have a single saucer for a tea service bearing a picture of Emperor Montremain wielding the Chaos Sword. The quality is far less than exceptional.” He held forward his hand. “If we are working towards an equitable exchange, for my homunculus, and my life, I would like to use the Minor Elixir of Curing, I also brought.”
Chisisuschugerganteramoski seemed to notice, for the first time, the blood seeping from the wound, staining the pawnshop owner’s pants. “No.”
Higslaff wasn’t surprised by the answer. He nodded and continued. “Items from Blue Harbor, especially the destroyed palace, are difficult to come by. With effort, and some luck, I could secure some for you. Delivery to Shorn Spearhead would be easy to arrange.”
The magic user shook his head. “The Dark Heart Swamp. I have laid claim to an abandoned outpost shrine of Hades.”
“The Dark Heart Swamp,” Higslaff said, no enthusiasm in his voice. “Goblins, lizard men.” He shook his head, and made eye contact with the old wizard. “There’s a dragon and a lich that also live in the swamp.”
“The dragon’s lair is far to the north. Malthia the Cursed is consumed with finding some enchanted item. By the time she turns her attention to me, I shall be established. Challenging me then will prove the end of her existence.”
That sounded overly self-assured to Higslaff, especially when facing the wrath of a lich. None of his business. He knew he wasn’t out of danger yet. Chisisuschugerganteramoski’s mind could change in an instant. If he’d even guessed the malicious cruelty of the magic user, Higslaff wouldn’t have sought his homunculus’s release. The adventuring party had been lucky to secure his services without somehow suffering. Possibly Marigold’s beauty and charm carried more influence than she thought?
Higslaff settled on demonstrating knowledge to further his cause. “I have heard of the outpost you’ve claimed. My understanding is that the lich recently searched the water-filled dungeon. She will be familiar with the layout of your claim.”
The ancient magic user’s wispy eyebrows rose briefly. He brought his index finger to his lips and tapped. “Are you certain of Malthia’s search of my outpost?”
“As certain as one can be about a lich’s actions.” He held his hands out, palms up. “An adventuring party talked about seeing the lich leading a band of goblins that direction. And I heard tell from a source within the Church of Apollo about the exploring of the Hades outpost.”
“Higslaff, you are more than a merchant.”
“I’m competent with a sword. Knowledge about things of value and common enchanted items are important to running a successful pawnshop. I’ve learned and heard a lot along the way, and still do.”
“Take your homunculus and don’t cross me again, merchant.” The last word uttered dripped sarcasm. He unlocked the cage and knocked it to the floor.
Snix scrambled out of the cage and up his master’s good leg, and climbed to perch on his shoulder.
“Verify or disprove Malthia’s visit to my claim in the swamp, and anyone else who’d visited it.” He poured himself a second cup of tea and pulled the shawl tight around his shoulders. “Use your connections to find art and relics from Blue Harbor.
“I’ll visit your pawnshop in Three Hills City in the fall. You’ll tell me what you learned. If I like the art and relics you’ve gathered, I’ll pay fair coin and arrange for delivery.”
Higslaff tipped his head and smiled, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. “I look forward to it.”
Chisisuschugerganteramoski pointed a crooked finger at the pawnshop owner. “Don’t lie to me, merchant.” With a remarkably steady hand for someone so old, he sipped his tea. “No one looks forward to a visit from me.”