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Josiah adjusted his position on the stool. Upgrading the spell at no cost? He didn’t really know Sill Rochelle, except through secondhand information. It didn’t match what he’d heard. She didn’t rattle easily, was confident, and not one to extend charity. Maybe it had to do with the fact that a goblin shaman once owned the dagger?
The enchantress whispered the first spell and a gossamer silver light covered her hands and spindled its way up her arms, stopping a few inches past her elbows. She exhaled, inhaled and then whispered more arcane words, casting the Ascertain Enchantment Spell.
With a look of determination, one accenting her already grim expression, Sill Rochelle grasped the hilt of the curved dagger. Seconds later her eyes widened. She pursed her lips, and her body convulsed slightly, like she was trying to hold back from vomiting.
Josiah had seen spells cast to block curses from taking effect. He’d seen such spells succeed in blocking. Or fail. In the former case, the silver light of the spell flared in opposition and remained active. In the latter, the light was snuffed out as the curse overwhelmed the spell, leaving the item’s holder vulnerable.
The gossamer silver light neither flared, nor disappeared. It did ripple across the fingers and the back of Sill Rochelle’s right hand. The enchantress stiffened and sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to suppress whatever effect the dagger exerted.
The room remained silent with everyone’s attention locked on the enchantress. After a moment she released a hissing breath between clenched teeth. Carefully she held the weapon close to her eyes and began examining the blade with the magical sight her spell afforded.
She waved the dagger left and right, mimicking slashing attacks. Then she made a short thrust. Gurk, who was in direct line, didn’t flinch. Even though the thrust stopped far short of the half-goblin, Josiah couldn’t imagine himself not flinching.
The enchantress gripped the hilt with both hands and held it outstretched before her. She closed her eyes. Even so, her eyes moved, like they would if she were deep asleep, dreaming.
Without warning, Sill Rochelle’s narrow eyes snapped open and she slapped the curved dagger down on the table. Like someone who’d touched a red-hot pan, she yanked back her hand.
Perspiration permeated the enchantress’s blue blouse, causing it to cling to her body. That revealed how fast she was breathing—panting. The gossamer glow of her Curse Barrier Spell faded, and her eyes remained closed.
Gurk broke the silence. “Hey, Enchantress, you okay?”
Between gritted teeth, she said, “I am working to retain my lunch.”
Gurk moved the dagger away from her and turned to Higslaff. “Dude, you got a bucket?”
Marigold slapped the young thief on the shoulder. “Gurk!”
Exasperated, he asked, “You see any windows besides that skinny one?”
Lysine said, “The enchantress has succeeded in her endeavor.”
Sill Rochelle’s eyes opened and what little color her face normally held returned. She wiped a damp sleeve across her forehead.
Josiah found himself leaning closer, interested in what she’d learned. He wasn’t the only one.
“The weapon isn’t cursed,” she blurted out. “It is enchanted to slay humans.”
That statement shot unease through Josiah. It also explained why the half-goblin prevailed over Stosh. Why Gurk was alive and the big warrior’s corpse lay in a dark tunnel.
Faces of those around the table held a variety of expressions. Marigold looked confused, Lysine held a satisfied smile, like the final pieces of a puzzle just fell into place, and Gurk’s wide eyes held both surprise and anticipation.
“That is unfortunate,” Higslaff announced.
Gurk spun on his stool to face the pawn shop owner. “Why?”
“Duke Hulmer’s late father, Duke Orrsage, outlawed possession of weapons holding such enchantments within his lands. It is a death sentence to create, or to wield such a weapon. To my knowledge, the current duke has never rescinded the law.”
Skepticism tinged Lysine’s voice when he asked, “You possess such knowledge, prepared to share within seconds of the enchantress uttering details of the dagger’s enchantment?”
Higslaff strode over to the end of the table, his eyes on the dagger resting next to its sheath. “I frequently purchase, sell and trade enchanted items. Knowledge of what I might house within my shop that can lead to imprisonment, or worse, is...well, is vital not only to my business, but to the wellbeing of myself and my employees.”
“Well, I ain’t just throwing it away,” Gurk said.
“Or,” Lysine said, eyebrows drawn together, “relinquishing the weapon in question to you for the purpose of disposal on our behalf.”
“Right!” Marigold added, standing up from her stool. Intentional or not, despite her beauty, her immense height and presence, the way she suddenly towered over everyone, gave all pause. “Gurk’s had it all this time with nobody knowing.” Marigold’s hands rested on her hips. “Or coming to arrest him.” Her gaze shot from the enchantress, over to Josiah, and ended on the pawn shop owner.
“Marigold,” Higslaff said, his voice steady and reassuring. He’d dealt with many volatile situations and customers over the years. “Despite local laws that may impact the dagger’s value, that does not mean it should be confiscated by the authorities.” He turned to Josiah. “If you would get a stool from the storage room for me.” He turned to face Sill Rochelle. “While he’s doing that, would you share any additional information you might have garnered through your spellcraft?”
Marigold wasn’t having any of it. Distrust remained in her eyes until Gurk tugged on her cloak, urging her to sit back down. “It’s okay. This dude’s a lot like pawnbrokers at home. He’s more buddies with people like me than he is with magistrates and city guards.”
Josiah brought his stool over to Higslaff and went into the other room to retrieve one for himself. Why he was allowed to remain, he wasn’t sure. Maybe because the three adventurers were more comfortable with him there, because Gurk fought with him and he’d earned some measure of trust. Plus, he’d recommended Higslaff. And the pawn shop owner might want him there to balance the numbers, so that he and the enchantress weren’t outnumbered.
Until someone complained, he’d stay. Interest in the dagger, what it’d go for, and where it’d end up loomed large in his thoughts.
From the storage room he heard the enchantress explain, “The dagger’s enchantment is not powerful enough to slay a human outright. Its enchantment is exceptional for both striking and wounding.”
The young thief started to say something, but the druid interjected, “Allow her to finish.”
Josiah found a stool, shorter, with a square seat. He grabbed it and headed back into Higslaff’s office, not wanting to miss anything.