by Rosie Scott
Less than an hour later, a pile of clothing sat on the counter, all of it black. Maude sat on her stool so she could see the belongings I'd put up for trade. She twisted her lips to the side as she compared the clothing I wanted to the things I offered. I kept the Celd's trading advice from the Seran Forest at the forefront of my mind, prepared to haggle.
“I gotta be honest,” Maude began, “I got a thing for jewelry, and these are some fine pieces.” One stubby finger moved a few rings around but lingered on one in particular that had an arcanic design. “But I can't give ya as much for 'em as the jeweler down the street could. If ya trade 'em there and come back with gold, that'd be the better deal for ya.”
“This ring alone is worth a great deal,” I commented, pointing at the one she seemed to like most. It was the same ring the Celd told me was dwarven.
“Aye,” Maude agreed. “Worth more than everythin' yer wantin', if I'm honest. You'd be better off tradin' it to Beshil for the sheath yer wantin' to commission. I'd reckon that'd cover most yer expense there.”
Remembering Maude's earlier admittance that she'd been intimate with the armorer, I asked, “If I do that, is there a chance it could make it back to you?”
Maude raised an eyebrow. “...Aye.”
“We could trade for other things now, and when I see Beshil I can casually mention you loved this ring but couldn't give me enough for it,” I suggested.
A mischievous grin brightened her features. “What are ya, a messenger of Amora?” she questioned, speaking of the goddess of love.
“No, just someone who appreciates the power love holds over people,” I commented, thinking of the relationship between my parents before the echo of one of Kai's husky laughs rose from a favored memory. I rolled my head to the side until a sharp crack sounded from my neck, trying to urge such thoughts from my mind. “It's a rare phenomenon that often ends in tragedy. You are lucky.”
Maude's smile faded as she sensed the pain behind my words, but she said nothing of it. “Well, if ya would do that, not only would I appreciate it, I'll give ya a deal.” She tapped on her favorite ring. “Trade this to Beshil. Tell 'im I got teary eyed over seein' it go and tug on his heartstrings a bit. Make him think it's his idea, like.” She pulled two other rings toward her. “I'll take these two for the trade. It's a deal for ya, but I'm happy to see that cloak go to somebody who'll use it.”
After settling the details and gathering all my belongings, I thanked Maude again and turned to the door.
“Wait,” she called out just as my hand grabbed the door knob to leave. I glanced back. Thousands of thoughts flashed through Maude's hazel eyes before she said, “Good luck to ya if I don't see ya again. And be wary of travelin' alone. A group of miners was just murdered up the path a ways. People are arguin' over whether it was the work of a man or a beast.”
Both, I mused to myself. I thanked Maude for her concern and left the shop in a cloud of sad introspection. As wonderful as socializing was, our conversation had been truly meaningless. It was amazing how two people could speak like friends and yet not know each other well at all. I was a criminal necromancer and murderer of Seran soldiers, but such a reality never crossed Maude's mind. She'd only seen me as a hard-working teenager who spoke of love like it was an unobtainable tragic concept. Similarly, the friendly shopkeeper could have been any number of awful things and I would never know.
There was a tragic side to having such secrets. Kai came to mind a second time in too short of a period, and I didn't bother pushing her from my thoughts again. It was futile. I was still in love with her, and I could only hope that feeling would dull with time and take this pain with it. Even back when I'd seen her often, our growing friendship was one-sided. Kai hadn't known who I truly was. I hadn't allowed her to.
Secrets were a necessity of life for me now. Not revealing my true identity to Maude allowed her to think I was a decent person, and that proved beneficial to me. I just had to stop thinking I could grow close to people without consequences. I often treated my corpses like friends I could protect in battle, and they were always loyal, carried no secrets, and had no underlying intentions. I needed no one else. I could raise an army of dedicated followers in mere seconds with a single spell.
...But how attractive was loyalty, really, when one isn't given a choice? Corpses were loyal because they had to be. My mastery of the magic that reanimated them demanded it. My parents had been loyal to me due to their love and our relation. Kai had relentlessly sought out my friendship because despite all reason, she'd found something in me she liked and could relate to.
“Who died?” a coarse voice barged into my thoughts as I entered Brognel's tunnel connecting its upper district to the underground. Only when I realized the dwarf who'd spoken glared at me did I understand my depressing thoughts came through my expression. I almost replied to the callous question with a proper sarcastic retort but decided against it and kept walking. The less attention I drew, the better.
Brognel's tunnel was about a city block wide and multiple stories tall, yet the temperature considerably warmed within seconds of walking within its shadow as the wind surrendered. Glistening swirls of snow dust danced over the stone floor before collecting in crevasses and against the walls. Sconces perched on either side of the wide tunnel, flickering flames rising from a black alchemical sludge. I assumed the concoction was a flame accelerant, for even the most persistent blizzard winds couldn't dull the fires.
The tunnel didn't wait long to reveal Brognel's underground secrets. It opened to a massive cavern overlooking layers of neighborhoods and elaborate architecture that descended ever farther beneath the mountain. An uncharacteristic feeling of excitement and discovery rose in my chest as I realized just how large Brognel was despite its seclusion. I glimpsed signs for inns and taverns and felt elated. Even if it could only be a temporary pleasure, I might sleep in a bed for the first time in over half a year if I gained enough gold through trading.
Exploring Brognel would have to wait, however. Just to my left and a block away was Rock Hard Weapons and Gear, settled at the crest of the path leading down into the depths. I crossed over the road, getting to the shop just in time to take the door from a human mercenary leaving with a new sword.
The building was far wider than it was deep, stretching far to my left as I entered. Weapons of many varieties hung on racks along the exterior wall, while a long counter ran down the center of the entire building. Mannequins displayed complete armor sets behind it, steel and leather glowing in the firelight of oil lamps and chandeliers. The shop smelled of leather, oil, ale, and body odor. Six dwarven employees scrambled around behind the counter, and given their heights and that of the furniture surrounding them, I assumed they elevated the employee area. Sympathy flowed through me as I tried to imagine having to alter architecture just to be tall enough to face potential customers. Such alterations hadn't been common in Sera; the shortest dwarves were simply out of luck when it came to utilizing human furniture and buildings. Though Brognel had a mostly dwarven populace, they seemed to cater to other races by building their architecture to support humans and adding features of convenience for themselves.
Two customers were being helped farther down the counter, so I wandered up to an empty spot. As I waited for an employee to approach me, my gaze fell to the glassy countertop. Beneath the glass, small weapons shone in the chandelier's light. Throwing stars, blades small enough to hide in boots, and even an odd weapon I'd never seen before with four holes beside a folded paper sign that read brass knuckles.
A breeze of bitter body odor pulled my attention up to the dwarf who stopped before me on the other side of the counter. She tilted her head, glanced at my human ears, and said, “Ya waitin' for a parent?”
“No,” I said, trying my best not to be annoyed by her dismissive tone. “I'm waiting to trade and put in a special order.”
“For toys?” she retorted with a snort.
“Brunhild,” snapped a man who'd been conv
ersing with the next customer down. He glared at the woman before me and gave a quick disapproving shake of his head, causing the brown and gray strands of his long beard to swish across his broad chest.
“I need to speak with Beshil,” I went on, and Brunhild lifted an eyebrow and glanced back at the man who'd scolded her.
“Boss?” she mused. “The kid wants you. I told ya to always wrap it before ya tap it, and this is what ya get for not listenin' to me.”
“I should fire ya,” Beshil replied with a sigh, scribbling some words on a bill before him as the customer waited patiently.
Brunhild ignored the comment and looked me over. “'Course, he's too pretty to be yer kid. I expected fields'a body hair. Lotsa fat, like. More expressions of scorn.”
“I can't help the first two,” I began dryly, “but keep talking and the scorn will come naturally.”
Beshil burst into laughter at my jest, and the customer he dealt with and Brunhild both grinned despite themselves. “Kid,” Beshil began, “ya just became my favorite customer, and I don't even know yet why yer here.”
“To kill ya,” a male employee piped up as he dusted a set of steel armor. “Then he'll be our favorite customer as we all fight each other for the deed to this gods forsaken place so we never have to work another day of our lives.”
“I got the deed,” Beshil retorted playfully, tearing the bill before handing one half of it to the customer. “And here I am, workin'.”
“Ya call that workin'?” another called over.
Beshil sighed with faux exasperation and said a friendly goodbye to his customer before waddling over to me. “All right, kid. Who sent ya?”
“Maude.”
Two employees chuckled and exchanged lowered whispers. I glanced over at the noise to see one of them quickly flick up their pointer finger as if mimicking a sudden erection. Beshil snorted in response and ignored his employees as he asked, “Recommendation?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I need something specially made to carry a unique weapon.”
Beshil lifted his bushy eyebrows with intrigue. “Let's see it, then.”
I hefted the scythe up onto the counter and the dwarves went quiet. Finally, Brunhild chortled. “What the hell are ya gonna do with that thing?”
“Evidently, he's already done a lot with it,” Beshil answered for me, lifting the blade and eyeing its edge. “This is a beautiful weapon, kid, and if yer lucky enough to know how to use it, ya gotta take care of it. How often do ya sharpen the blade?”
“I haven't,” I replied. “I recently acquired this. I know little about taking care of a weapon and could use some advice.”
Beshil nodded slowly and seemed to appreciate my honesty. “Have ya fought with it yet?”
“Yes,” I replied hesitantly, hoping my answer couldn't connect me to the campsite.
“If it were any of my business, I'd ask what ya fought,” Beshil mused. “Yer not that built, but I can tell this scythe has done some damage.” He glanced up to look at my ears. “If ya were elven, it'd make sense. Pretty bastards can get twice the strength outta a single muscle, I've always said.”
“I need something with which to carry this,” I replied, uncomfortable with his prodding ponderings.
“Aye, I'd imagine so,” Beshil agreed, wrinkling up his nose as he thought. “Yer best bet would be a weapon's belt.” He lifted up the scythe and held the handle just below the tang. “It'd hang from here on yer waist. I'll have to take some measurements. Of you so I could get the belt size right, and of the blade so I could make ya a sheath.”
“A separate sheath?” I asked for clarification.
“Aye,” Beshil said. “Ain't no way yer gonna hang this from the blade without making things inconvenient for yerself. Now...” he trailed off and glanced at the bow behind my back and the satchel strap over my shoulder. “An order like this is gonna take some time, and it ain't gonna be cheap.”
“Then I'd like to make more requests before I show you what I have to trade,” I replied. When Beshil appeared open to hear them, I went on, “I like the idea for the weapon's belt, but I'd like to be able to carry multiple weapons. I need the holder for the scythe first and foremost, but I come across other weapons from time to time and need a way to carry them.” As if to prove it, I pulled the bow out of its scabbard to put it on the counter between us and put the other side weapons I'd looted from the Twelve beside it.
“That'll be a heavy duty belt,” Beshil warned me. “What kinda armor do ya wear?”
“None. Not yet.” As a few of the employees murmured to one another, I pulled out the various rings I'd collected and put them in a line on the countertop. “I need to be fitted for armor, too, and I need it specially made. I carry everything I own on me and need extra compartments, rings for hanging, and buckles for readjustment. I'd also like someone to teach me how to take care of my gear when it's inevitably damaged and I need all corresponding supplies.”
“That's a big order,” Beshil mused softly, though he eyed my trade offer on the counter before him.
“I have a quality-made dwarven ring here that should make up a good deal of our trade,” I commented nonchalantly, lifting the ring Maude had been fond of. “Offered it to Maude for all the clothing I picked up there, but the deal was just too far out of my favor. She was teary-eyed over seeing it leave, but I knew this would be a hell of an order. I can't be too careful.” Beshil's face sobered as he stared at the ring in question. I pretended not to notice and added, “Of course, I have plenty here to barter with and I have more in my bag—”
“Wait.” Beshil's eyes flicked up to mine. “Did ya say Maude was in tears?”
“Oh, she tried to hide them,” I mused, waving him off. “She said she had a thing for jewelry. Something about this ring caught her eye.”
“Aye,” Beshil murmured, fingering it. “How'd ya get it?”
“By beautifully random circumstance,” I replied vaguely.
Beshil stood back from the counter and pulled offerings to one side. He then grabbed parchment and itemized my things with the values he placed on them. When he wrote 400 next to the bow, I remembered the Celd's words on its value and commented, “This bow is worth at least five.”
Beshil hesitated, looked over the bow again, and nodded. “Aye, I'll give ya that.” As if my bartering impressed him, he moved his quill to a previously listed item, crossed out the number, and put a higher value beside it.
Before long, everything I offered other than two final rings and a short sword were to one side, but considering what I'd asked of him I felt it was a good deal. Beshil stood back, exhaled heavily, and said, “I'll accept your order if ya trade me all a'this. Ya might wanna think about it before ya answer me for sure. I'm takin' near everythin' ya own.”
“Why don't you help me out by taking this as well?” I asked, tapping the handle of the short sword. “I'm assuming you take trade and offer gold for quality goods.”
“That's the last weapon you'll have other than yer scythe,” Beshil commented.
“Yes, and it's a pain to carry,” I replied.
Beshil chuckled and moved the sword over with the other items. “All right, then. We'll get ya outfitted and you'll even get a handful a'gold.” He reached a hand over the counter to seal the deal, and I took it for a brief shake.
Beshil motioned for me to follow him and said, “Now, let's get yer measurements.”
Fifteen
The scythe hung heavily at my side as I descended the central road into underground Brognel, causing a few passersby to stare. Beshil took all measurements and garnered more detail about what materials and colors I preferred for my armor before giving me an estimation of a fortnight for the order's completion. After stopping by a jewelry store to trade my last two rings for gold, I had nothing else to sell. I ignored all manner of jewels, baubles, and dwarven inventions, determined to secure lodging with what little I had left.
Ridding myself of the weight of extra weapons and loot made me r
ealize just how much stronger I'd gotten over my travels because walking suddenly felt like floating. When Beshil measured me he commented that I had an elven build more than once, for he found hardy muscle in my upper back, arms, and legs in particular. Elves could be weak or strong like any other race, but even the most muscular among them looked deceptively lean. Battling the vampire left me sore and stiff for days, but the aftermath wasn't nearly as bad as it was after fighting the Twelve a season ago. It seemed I'd grown stronger than it looked, and the power from leeching helped wonders with my training. Because I masqueraded as only human and had been surrounded by humans my whole life, this aspect of my elven half came as a welcome surprise to me.
Beshil offered to train me himself in caring for my gear, but he told me to come in the mornings and after he completed my armor so we could get it done all at once and during his shop's calmest hours. For now, I had nothing but time, and Brognel pleaded for me to explore it.
Brognel was set-up like a city on the side of a mountain, but its location within the landmark instead meant that the main road only angled farther underground. The high cavern walls ensured the town didn't feel cramped. Despite being underground Brognel appeared like any other settlement, with spacious roads meeting side streets through descending neighborhoods of stone multi-story businesses and homes. Signs for mine entrances stood on street corners with higher traffic than normal, proving that mining was a lucrative business here.
Firelight and non-dwarven mercenaries were rarer in the mid-tier of Brognel. As the temperature grew cooler with depth, the caverns became damper and alight with the cool tones of bioluminescent fungi. Between shadows, dark stone glowed turquoise and lavender from clusters of mushrooms that grew out of cracks and thrived in the new humidity. A bright turquoise glow glimmered like a halo over buildings in the deepest neighborhoods, but I couldn't yet see what emitted it.
It was in Brognel's lowest depths that I noticed their guard force grew greater. Chairel soldiers clad in green and black traveled in packs toward the left wall of the giant cavern; others loitered on street corners or headed to pubs and brothels on their breaks. Non-dwarven mercenaries were suddenly commonplace as well; it was like humans and Celds didn't exist in the middle tier of the city, only at either end. Such a force would only be here for a good reason; curious about the threat to Brognel's lower district, I decided to spend time there first.
