Chapter 1 #2
“I’ll give you ten gold, though I really should say eight, since I need to make a profit to keep my business open.”
“I’m trying to find out what it does,” Rylana said, “not sell it.”
“Perhaps your magical assessing tool could discover the nature of the horn’s enchantment in addition to determining its age,” Sylin suggested.
“Yes, it can tell a number of things, but it takes a while for it to run, and, as I said, it requires costly spell components. I charge five silver to cover the time and expense, and you’d need to leave the horn here for a day and night.
” Jhazlor hadn’t released it since he’d picked it up, and he drew it to his chest now, almost cradling it like a baby.
Why was Rylana certain that he believed it to be worth more than he was suggesting?
“I might try researching it on my own.” Rylana reached for the horn. She wouldn’t have minded leaving it if Jhazlor weren’t so eager to get it, but she had a hunch that his store would be mysteriously closed when she returned to collect it the next day.
He stepped back out of reach. The counter in the way kept Rylana from following.
“Where did you say you got the horn?” Jhazlor asked. “It can’t be a family heirloom. Neither of you has the stout and furry look of dwarves.”
“Thank the gods,” Sylin murmured.
“There are less savory species one could belong to.” Rylana glanced at the wall clock, though the goblin figurine hadn’t come out to belch again.
She was glad the baker across the street, Mya, wasn’t with them to be offended by the conversation.
A cute and grandmotherly dwarf, Mya might not have appreciated the suggestion that her people had fur.
She didn’t even have obvious chin hair. Rylana was starting to regret that she hadn’t shown the horn to Mya first, though she doubted a baker spent a lot of time studying antiques unless they had a gastronomical purpose.
“Where did you get it?” Jhazlor asked again. “You’ll excuse my prying, but the peacekeepers request that I report it when someone comes here with illegally acquired antiques.”
“It wasn’t illegally acquired. I found it in the woods, far from the city or anyone’s property. Actually, I didn’t find it. A gnomish peacekeeper and his log-inspecting hound located it. Since we’d hired him to do some work, he gave it to me.”
“This was stuffed in a log?” Jhazlor stepped farther back, his butt bumping against a bookcase full of knickknacks that rattled.
“That thing is definitely worth more than ten gold,” Sylin murmured, watching his actions.
“I know,” Rylana murmured back, “but all I really care about is figuring out what it does.” She raised her voice and added, “The peacekeeper said treasures chanced across in the woods don’t go into their lost-and-found. Anything you stumble across out there is yours.”
Jhazlor huffed but didn’t dispute that. “It may be a touch more rare than I believed at first. I’ll give you twenty gold for it.”
“No, thank you.” Rylana held out her hand.
“What’s that?” Jhazlor called toward a half-open door in the back wall. “I’ll be right there.”
He took three steps in that direction before Sylin sprang effortlessly over the counter and blocked him. Before he could guard against her, she snatched the horn from his grip.
Jhazlor lunged and grabbed it, trying to pull it away, but she drew a knife and held the sharp edge before his eyes. He halted.
The case of specialized blades she used in her trade as an assassin was elsewhere, tied closed by a tranquility ribbon, but her honed athleticism and the deadly look in her eyes promised enemies that she could easily eviscerate them with the utility knife she used for cutting steak.
While Jhazlor stared mesmerized at the blade, Sylin pulled the horn from his grasp. Fingers going limp, he let her.
She walked out from behind the counter, instead of vaulting over it again, and nodded toward the door as the toy train whistled and chugged past again. “If your experience at this shop is complete?”
“Very much so.” Rylana headed for the door with her.
“I’m sorry,” Jhazlor blurted. “The urge was too great. I wanted to run it through my magical tool to see if it’s rarer than I thought.”
“You thought it was rare the moment you saw it,” Rylana said over her shoulder, following Sylin out. “And tried to swindle me.”
“I thought it might be, but it’s also possible it’s not worth much. I was taking a risk in making the offer!”
“An offer I didn’t request.” Rylana shut the door firmly after exiting the shop.
Sylin stopped on the sidewalk and held up the horn, but she arched an eyebrow and didn’t give it to Rylana immediately.
“You’re not having an urge to keep it, too, are you?” Rylana asked.
“I am not. I will give it to you promptly if you cancel my obligation to consume coffee with Zilek.”
“I already tried. I told you. And why does everyone in this town resort to blackmail and bribery?”
“Because violence is forbidden by law, loudly gonging pillars, and golems with stone skin impervious to blades.”
“You haven’t tried to stab one of the golems, have you?”
“Not effectively.” Sylin waved the horn before Rylana’s eyes.
“Look, if you just stay and listen to Zilek say obnoxious things for ten minutes, I’m sure he’ll consider the favor he granted me redeemed.”
Sylin flattened her lips together.
“Do you want me to go along as a chaperone? In case he gets handsy or offensive? I can stab a fork into his wrist.”
“I’m perfectly capable of stabbing a handsy man myself.” Sylin tilted her head toward the antiques shop.
“Zilek is a dragon, not a man.”
“A dragon bound to obey the laws of Tranquility which mandate that he can’t change into his native—and dangerous—form outside of his lair.”
“Yeah, but if you stab him, he might forget that. Unlike Jildarin, he doesn’t have a business he cares about keeping open. He might slay you and fly off to start his next stage of life.”
“Something that wouldn’t hold true if you stabbed him?” Sylin arched her eyebrows.
“Well, he knows Jildarin is fond of me, and we’re…”
Sylin’s eyebrows climbed higher.
“I’m not exactly sure what we are, but I told you that he informed me our kiss wasn’t a mistake, right?”
“It’s true love, then.”
“He did drug an entire diner full of treacherous elves for me.”
“The stuff of fairy tales.” Sylin sighed, looked at the horn, then returned it to Rylana. “I’m only doing this because you keep faithfully warning me about the elves who want me dead.”
“Every chance I get. I’m watching out for your longevity.”
“I’m used to my longevity being in a perilous state.” Shaking her head, Sylin headed into the street. “If not, I wouldn’t be going on a date with a dragon.”