Great, thought Ralph. Now everybody’s calling me that. “Yes, gold is very valuable here. We should be able to find a way of exchanging it.”
Torgrim held out one of his large hairy hands. “Give me the coin, Rogue. And may the curse of Mora be upon you if you pull something like this again.”
Bram carefully took the black-handled knife from its sheath and cut the threads on the lining of his vest. A gold piece tumbled out onto the dwarf’s outstretched palm.
Ralph stared at the treasure. He had never seen anything like it in person. It reminded him of the chocolate coins wrapped in golden foil he would get at Chanukah, but this wasn’t chocolate. At least, he hoped it wasn’t.
“So where do we bring it?” asked Persephone in a worried voice. “A bank would ask too many questions.”
“You think?” Noel smirked. “A bunch of kids trying to get money for a gold coin?”
“Robinov’s!” Ralph exclaimed. He was greeted with blank faces. “You know,” he said, “that jewelry store right off Court Street!”
Jojo made a face. “That dusty old place? Is it still in business?”
“I thought it closed years ago,” said Noel.
“No, it’s still there,” insisted Ralph. “My dad always looks in the window when we go by. He likes the vintage watches.”
They had reached the corner. The traffic light was against them, and cars were streaming across the intersection.
Gerontius stroked his chin and observed. “It seems we have reached a puzzle. How to get across this path? They will not stop.”
Mirak indicated the red hand on the sign under the light. “The hand prevents us from safe passage.”
“Perhaps we need to climb the pole and leap over,” said Bram, who had already hopped up to the light pole.
“No!” yelled Ralph. “Just wait.”
There was a pause.
“Why do we wait?” asked Torgrim with impatience. “They will not stop.”
“We wait for the light to change,” explained Cammi.
The adventurers looked around, confused.
“We must wait for the sun to lower in the sky—is that what you mean?” said Mirak.
“No! Just the little light—you see?” said Jojo, pointing to the red light.
Sensing that the light was about the change, Noel decided to have a little fun. He held up his hands. “Oh merciful gods of traffic, allow us to pass!” he intoned.
To the astonishment of the adventurers, the light changed to green, the red hand turned into a white image of a walking man, and the cars stopped.
The five travelers nodded to one another.
“He has great power,” Bram whispered to Torgrim.
“So I see,” said Torgrim. “We have much to learn from this young mage.”
Ralph and the others ushered them across the street.
This was Court Street, the hub of downtown Brooklyn. Unlike on the side streets, there were plenty of people here.
“You know, I thought they would be getting a lot more attention,” said Jojo.
“Are you kidding?” Persephone rolled her eyes, gesturing around her. “This is Brooklyn. Look at these people.”
She had a point. Across the street, there was a skinny man in black leather shorts with no shirt and multiple tattoos. Passing him was a young girl with bright pink hair, pushing a stroller with a ferret in it.
“I guess you’re right.” Jojo shrugged as they walked up to the dusty window of the old jewelry shop.
Downtown Brooklyn had changed throughout the years, and not always for the better. Up until the seventies, it had been filled with local bookstores, family-owned bakeries, and butcher shops. Then came the bad times during the economic downturn in the 1980s, when no one would shop there, when the area was filled with disreputable bargain stores and even a betting parlor where sad little men lost their meager pension money on horse races. Some of the older shops held on by their fingernails, waiting for the times to change.
But when they did, the businesses that came in were gleaming cell phone stores, drugstore chains, and places selling high-priced running shoes. The rents had simply gotten too high for the mom-and-pop stores to last.
True, there was still the occasional old-school pizzeria or fast-food store that catered to office workers on their lunch hours. Otherwise, Robinov’s was a legacy of that earlier time. Who knew how it had managed to stay put? Perhaps Mr. Robinov had had the foresight decades ago to buy the property. Or maybe he had signed a lease of a hundred years, on the chance that his children would take over the store when he retired.
It certainly didn’t look like anyone had changed the sign since it had opened. ROBINOV’S FINE JEWELRY FOR ALL OCCASIONS, it said in neon script behind a window that hadn’t been cleaned since its opening. Past all the dust and grime, boxes and boxes of old watches were partially visible, stacked haphazardly. Not really a display so much as a hoard.
Bram’s eyes brightened at the sight of so many shiny baubles. “Look, Gerontius! They seem to be tiny clocks! Small enough to wear!”
Gerontius nodded. It appeared to Ralph that the wizard had long since given up trying to make sense of this strange new world and was just taking it in, processing it as best he could. Or perhaps there was a plan forming in that mysterious elven head. Even in the game, when Cammi played him, Gerontius was something of a cipher. Cammi didn’t always let on everything he was thinking to the others, loving secrets as much as he did.
Ralph turned to Torgrim. “You and I should probably go in. I don’t think there’s room for all of us.”
“Wise words, Arpy,” Mirak said. “Shall we meet at the tavern?”
Persephone turned to Ralph. “That might not be a bad idea. It’s just up the block, and it’s awfully hot out here.” She looked over at the others, clad in leather and heavy cloth. “Especially for them.”
“Good plan. We’ll meet you there,” said Ralph.
Persephone led the others away, toward the blue sign of the Beanery, the local coffee shop chain.
Ralph pushed open the door to the jewelry store. To his dismay, it wasn’t air-conditioned. Torgrim came in behind him, clanking in his chain mail. An old-fashioned fan wheezed on top of the glass counter. The inside of the tiny shop was just as inviting as the outside, dusty and cramped, with boxes everywhere. There were posters clinging to the wall with yellowed tape, proclaiming names like Waltham and Tissot.
Other than the coughing fan, there was no noise in the shop. It was as if time had stopped, and not just on the faces of so many unwound watches.
Ralph gazed down into another glass case, where diamond rings were neatly lined up in velvet boxes. Torgrim leaned in, his eyes locked on the treasure. If a dwarf loves anything more than gold, it is precious jewels.
“Perhaps…we can trade this gold for…” Torgrim gestured hopefully.
Ralph shook his head. “We’re not here for that. Your belly is empty and you’re thinking of diamonds.”
Torgrim sighed. “Your words are true, young Arpy Gee. But even in this dark dungeon of a shop, see how they shine!”
A voice called from the back. “Someone there? Listen, I have a gun. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“We’re customers!” Ralph called back.
“That’s different!” the voice said. There was a groan as if someone were raising themselves from a chair with great difficulty. Then a shuffling noise, and finally a head appeared around the doorway.
It occurred to Ralph that if he didn’t know any better, he might have thought Mr. Robinov was Torgrim’s long lost cousin. About the same size, with a broad chest under a dirty white apron, he had a thick white beard and small glasses perched on his bulbous nose. He peered at the two of them on the other side of the counter.
“Yes? So what is it you want? Watches? I have
watches. Rings? A nice necklace, perhaps?”
“No thank you,” said Ralph. “We’re here to sell you something.”
Mr. Robinov’s expression changed to one of disgust. “Not interested.”
“But—” Ralph protested.
The old man gestured around him. “Does it look like I need to buy anything? I have enough stock as it is. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Torgrim cleared his throat. “You have an impressive stock, Jeweler, but surely you will buy something of value.”
“What? An old ring? I got plenty of old rings. A vintage watch? I got hundreds of ’em. I tell you, I’m not interested.”
Torgrim held out his closed hand. “You haven’t one of these, I warrant.” He opened it to reveal the gleaming gold coin within.
Robinov stopped and leaned in. He shrugged. “All right, I’m interested. Is it solid gold?”
Torgrim bristled. “Do you dare to question the work of my people?”
Robinov looked at Ralph. “Just asking a simple question. No need to get so touchy.”
“He’s a little sensitive about that kind of thing,” Ralph said, taking the coin from Torgrim, who was muttering a curse of some kind under his breath. He handed the coin to Robinov, who took a jeweler’s loupe and peered at the object with fascination.
“Never seen one like this before,” murmured the old man. “May I ask where you got it?”
“It was taken from the mines of Ramgash and coined by the dwarves of the Western Woods,” Torgrim said in a hushed voice.
Robinov stared at him for a moment. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. I just need to know where you got it. I mean, I don’t take stolen goods, you understand.”
“Stolen! These have been in the Din-Mora family for a thousand years! Dwarven blood has been spilled protecting them from the dragons of the Black Skies!” bellowed Torgrim indignantly.
“No need to shout,” said Robinov. “I have to ask.” He turned to Ralph. “So what do I write down on the form? If it’s real gold, I have to say something.”
Ralph sighed. “Just say it’s a family heirloom.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” said Robinov. “Let’s see what we have.”
He reached under the counter and brought out a small vial. He was about to open it when he paused. “You know, I was going to do the acid test, but I think this calls for something else.”
“There is one true test, the only way to truly judge if gold is pure,” said Torgrim.
Robinov smiled. It was the first time Ralph had seen him look happy. He seemed to recognize a soul mate in the cleric. “Yes, of course. The ring of truth.”
“That is it precisely,” said Torgrim, who nodded.
“Young man, perhaps you’ve heard that expression. Well, this is where it comes from. Listen closely. Perhaps you’ll learn something today,” said Robinov to Ralph as he reached under the counter once more and pulled out a small wooden box. It was beautifully made, and the surface was rubbed smooth, as if it had been stroked and loved by generations of Robinovs.
The jeweler pulled something out of his pocket. It appeared to be another gold coin.
“You see this?” he asked Ralph. “Is it gold or only gold-plated?”
Ralph inspected the coin. It looked real. It felt heavy in his hand. “It could be real, I guess.”
Torgrim grinned. “It could be, at that. Or just base metal plated with a covering of gold, enough to fool a stupid merchant.”
Robinov bowed to Torgrim. “Your friend here is quite an expert. Nice beard, by the way.”
Torgrim smoothed his braided beard. “Where I come from, men are proud of their beards and treat them with respect.”
“You were showing me something,” Ralph persisted.
“Yes, of course. Well, let’s see.” Robinov opened the wooden box. A small trove of gold coins could be seen inside. He selected one. “Here. If I hold the coin in question between my fingers like so and strike it with the genuine gold coin, let us see what happens.”
He held the coin from his pocket between his thumb and forefinger and hit it with the gold coin from the box. A dull thunk could be heard.
Robinov looked over his glasses at Ralph. “That’s gold plate. Dull. Nothing. Maybe worth twenty bucks. Now let’s see your coin.”
Gently, he picked up the dwarven-mined coin. A ray of sunlight passed through the dusty window and gleamed off the coin as the jeweler held it aloft. He paused for a moment, and then struck it with the other coin.
There was an unmistakable peal, a ringing, reverberating sound. It lasted a good ten seconds, getting deeper and then slowly fading away in the silence of the shop.
“The ring of truth,” Robinov said quietly. He met Torgrim’s gaze and bowed his head.
“Forgive me for doubting you, sir.” His tone had changed.
“The world is full of cheats and liars,” Torgrim replied. “You have met your fair share, I would not doubt.”
“You can say that again, fella,” Robinov said. He took out a scale and carefully balanced the counterweights on one side and the coin on the other. He let out a low whistle.
“One ounce of pure gold.” He turned to Torgrim. “The market is up today. You’re lucky. I can give you a thousand dollars in cash for it.”
Torgrim looked at Ralph. “Arpy, is this a good price?”
“Y-yes! This is a very good price!” Ralph stammered.
The old man shuffled off to the back office to get the money from his safe. He returned with an envelope. “Count it. I only have hundreds.”
Ralph opened the envelope and almost dropped it. He carefully counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills. That would be plenty of money for now.
Robinov reached out and shook Torgrim’s hand. “A pleasure doing business with you. If you ever want to sell some more, you know where to come.”
“Excellent, my good man. You are an honorable jeweler and shall have our custom if ever we are in need again,” Torgrim said.
He and Ralph headed out onto the sunny Brooklyn sidewalk. Ralph turned to look at the dusty, decrepit store once more. “If we do, I hope he’s still here.”
Robinov clearly had overheard him. “Of course I’ll be here! I’ll always be here!” he called, laughing. “Where else would I go?”
Cammi gingerly pushed open the door to the Brooklyn Beanery and gestured for the others to come in. “There’s some space in the back,” he said, threading his way through the tables filled with earnest young people. They found a table and sat down. Almost no one looked up from their work, or whatever they were engrossed in.
“Now what?” asked Jojo.
Bram scanned the room with a practiced eye. “We need money, that is certain. And why wait for that grumbler of a dwarf and your friend, who seems a wee bit boring, if I may say so.”
“RPG’s not boring,” Persephone protested. “He just…likes to do things the right way.”
“Well now, what’s the fun in that?” Bram asked, looking around. “We can get plenty of money right here.” He spied what he was looking for, and somehow, without anyone even noticing, he leapt from his chair and retrieved three coffee mugs and a paper napkin from behind the bar. He reached back and wet the napkin with a bit of water and wadded it up. “This should do nicely.” He squeezed it between his hands, making a small ball.
The halfling looked from one of the kids to the next. “Now, you really haven’t any money?” he asked.
Noel reached into his pocket. “Well, I do have five dollars. But it’s my allowance, and it’s not enough to buy stuff for everyone.”
Jandia looked confused. “But that is paper. How is that used to acquire what you need?”
“Look, it’s kind of hard to explain our monetary system right now,” Noel said with a sigh. “Just understand that we use both coin
s and paper. The five on the paper tells the merchant its worth.”
Jandia snorted. “If you say so. So we should just take some paper and write numbers on it!”
“Forget it,” said Noel. “We also use coins, if that makes more sense to you.”
Bram’s face lit up. “Coins! Anyone have any coins?”
Jojo dug into her warm-up jacket and came up with a pair of quarters. “This is all I have.”
Bram examined the coins with great curiosity. “Why, aren’t they lovely! And these are worth more than that paper, I assume?”
Noel put his palm up to his face. “You explain, Persephone.”
“Actually, you would need twenty of these to make one of these,” she explained, “as four of these coins make one dollar and this is a five-dollar bill.”
“I’ve got it now!” said Bram. “We’re all set.”
“Set for what?” asked Cammi nervously.
“Oh, let him do what he will,” said Jandia sourly. “He’ll do it anyway, so you might as well save your breath.”
“All I need is someone to be my little helper,” Bram said with a grin.
Noel leapt out of his chair like he did in class. “Me! Me!”
Bram gently pushed him down. “No, Noel, my lad. I think not. You’ve an honest face. And a tongue to match.” His eyes settled on Persephone. “Now, Miss Likes to Pretend, I think you’re the one for this job.”
Persephone glanced at the others. “Me? But I’m no liar.”
“It’s not exactly lying, lassie,” said Bram. “More like a performance.”
Persephone immediately perked up. “That’s different! Who do I play?”
Bram rubbed his hands together. “You’ll see! Now come sit by me and I’ll explain!” Persephone scampered over and Bram whispered in her ear. She listened for a moment, giggled, and then nodded. “I can do that!”
Cammi turned to Gerontius to see what he made of all this. He found the wizard staring in fascination at the other tables. At last he turned to Cammi.
“These poor people. Who has enchanted them in this way?”
The Game Masters of Garden Place Page 12
