Chapter 20
The Tower Square Market was the largest in the city with a mix of permanent wooden booths around the exterior and tents and wagons making haphazard rows in the interior.
Intelligent beings from many species visited it to find the common and the rare, even those who didn’t get along well enough with others to live full-time in Tranquility.
As she passed through, Rylana had to dodge everyone from ogres to trolls to gnomes to horses and donkeys pulling carts.
A wyvern even flew in to land next to a tent selling rare meats.
With a pillar at every corner of the square and the omnipresent peacekeepers in the crowd with their golem enforcers, none of the visitors started fights. Even so, Rylana kept a hand on the pouch of magical sand, always wary about pickpockets.
Determined to learn what the goblin arsonist had been prepared to deploy, she walked toward a corner where herbalists sold their wares and alchemists mixed custom formulas for people.
She diverted around a fountain to avoid a pair of female elves, though the half-filled baskets hooked over their arms suggested they were there to shop, not hunt down pointy-eared assassins.
A taller-than-average gnome peacekeeper walked through the crowd with two floppy-eared hounds on leashes, their noses twitching and their tails wagging as they sampled the air.
One paused to sniff at Rylana's pocket. Since they were trained to find magical items, she drew out the pouch, curious to see if whatever reaction they had could provide a clue about the contents. One sniffed it briefly, then turned its nose toward her pocket again and licked it. Oh, was that a grease spatter? She’d had some of Jildarin's bacon for breakfast that morning.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the gnome said and clucked at the dogs to move them along.
“Whatever this is, it must not be that interesting.” Rylana eyed the bag again, then walked up to the first alchemist’s stand she spotted.
An elf stepped into view, a beaker in one hand and measuring utensils in the other.
Rylana almost veered away. But the silver-and-green-haired male had sharp eyes and spotted her and her pouch immediately and waved for her to come closer.
He wore an apron, the pockets bulging with tools, and didn’t look that menacing, so she approached.
His gaze skimmed the crowd behind her. As if he expected someone else to be with her? Sylin?
“Hello.” Rylana told herself it was unlikely that all the elves in the city were looking for her comrade. “How much do you charge to identify a substance?” She set the pouch on the counter.
“It depends on how long it takes to run the tests to do so. If you’ve brought nothing more than a bag of nutmeg or sand, I could identify it quickly.”
“I’d like to think I could identify such substances.”
“Humans aren’t very apt at using their senses.”
Since she needed his help, Rylana made herself smile instead of baring her teeth. “So, you’ve an hourly rate? Of what?”
“Two gold.”
“That’s steep.”
“There are others you may seek out if you desire mediocre service. As an elf, I have keen senses, extensive knowledge, and decades of experience, thus ensuring a high rate is fair.” He looked past her shoulder again. “You have come to the market alone?”
“Yeah, I don’t like chitchat to get in the way of my shopping experience.” Rylana didn’t mention that Sylin didn’t care for crowded places and wouldn’t come to a market unless it was an emergency. So far, Rylana didn’t know for certain that the elf was looking for Sylin.
“I see.” The alchemist opened the pouch, dipped a measuring spoon in to extract a sample of the granular substance, and spread it on a square of paper. He sniffed it, eyed it, then rubbed it between his fingers. “It is magical.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you acquire it?”
“A goblin arsonist.”
His eyebrows rose, and he picked up the pouch, turning it all around. There wasn’t a label or mark that might have suggested its origins; Rylana had already checked.
“I can run tests on this sample if you wish.” The elf waved at equipment on a counter behind him. “But a goblin alchemist might recognize it immediately if it is something their kind makes.”
“Are there goblin alchemists? I thought their people are mostly herbalists and foragers who sell what they find to the alchemists of other species.”
“There are some with a passion for making concoctions that give their kind advantages—or at least make them less disadvantaged—when dealing with taller and stronger species.”
“Are there any in the market?”
“Hegimok sometimes brings a wagon and parks down there.” The elf pointed. “If you leave this sample with me, I will also test it. Even learned goblins aren’t the most reliable of resources.”
“Can you figure out what it is in an hour?” Rylana wasn’t swimming in gold coins, especially since she’d spent all of Rolf’s earnings on pantry supplies that morning. The money hadn’t gone as far as she’d hoped. She hadn’t even done an inventory of what in the storeroom had been destroyed yet.
“Impossible to say.” The alchemist took the paper with the sample and turned toward his equipment, but he paused to look back over his shoulder. “Were you to inform me of the location of the dark-green-haired elf assassin, I might do the work for free.”
Unease swept down Rylana's spine. Maybe all the elves in the city were looking for Sylin.
“I don’t know where she’s staying. I can only pay for up to an hour of work.”
“Yes, the assassin is a she.” He smiled triumphantly. “I suspected you were the one I’d heard about who travels with her.”
Rylana clenched her jaw, irritated to realize he’d been fishing, that he hadn’t known she was Sylin’s friend, and she’d confirmed that for him.
“I only have two gold,” she said, “so don’t spend more time with it than that buys.”
“Perhaps if I need more time, you’ll remember where your dubious comrade is staying.”
“Perhaps I’ll just go find that goblin alchemist.” Rylana reached across the counter, wanting to take back the sample, but he drew it out of reach.
With peacekeepers and golems all over the square, she decided not to vault into his stand to try to forcibly take it back.
“Keep it,” she said, and took the pouch and headed down the line.
When she glanced back, the elf was gazing thoughtfully at her.
“I’m starting to have fewer regrets about shooting at their kind during the war,” Rylana muttered.
At the end of the stalls rested a small wagon harnessed to a donkey eating from a bucket.
A bald, chubby goblin dozed on his back on the driver’s bench.
There wasn’t a written sign anywhere on the side of the wagon, but a painting showed a goblin stirring a cauldron over a fire in a cave.
Was he making soup or alchemical concoctions?
Rylana couldn’t tell but petted the donkey and cleared her throat. The goblin started snoring.
Rylana poked him on the side. “Hello? Are you an alchemist?”
The snoring grew louder.
“If you are, I have a business proposition for you.”
The goblin sat up, his yellow eyes opening. “Money, did you say?”
“Not exactly.” Rylana held up the pouch.
The goblin held up his hands. “Strictly no returns. Sorry.”
“I’m not— Wait, do you recognize this? Is it something you sold?”
“That’s one of my sacks. I trade fire salts to my weaver friend for them.”
“Well, I didn’t buy this from you.”
“Aren’t you working for the snooty human who came by yesterday?” The goblin took the pouch and peered inside. “Yes, this is my anti-magic powder.”
“Anti-magic? It’s magical, as far as everyone can tell.”
“Well, of course anti-magical powder would have to be magical itself to succeed in nullifying magic.”
“I… see. Did you say it was a goblin who purchased it?”
“No. I— Are we engaged in the business proposition you mentioned?”
“I think we might be.” Rylana wondered if Yerin would qualify as a snooty human to a goblin. She wished she knew for certain that he had been behind the arson and other affronts to the diner. Jildarin might have more than one rival out to get him. He wasn’t exactly warm and friendly with people.
“Then you should be paying me for the information I offer, yes?” The goblin smiled and rubbed his hands together.
“I have two silver.” If she could get answers from him, it would save her from having to pay the elf’s exorbitant fees.
“Let’s see it.” The goblin stood on his bench and leaned forward.
Rylana fished coins from her purse to show him, holding them in the air as a promise. “Describe the snooty human who purchased from you. Are you sure it was this pouch and this substance?”
The goblin leaned forward to peer inside and inhaled deeply. “Yes, that is my anti-magic powder. You can try it for yourself if you wish.”
“What does it do? If I tossed it into magical spices, could it diminish or nullify their effects?”
“I… suppose that’s possible. Usually, my people throw it at powerful shape-shifted enemies like kitsune or selkies to force them to change into their less dangerous native forms.”
“Interesting. Could it force a dragon that was shape-shifted into a human to change back into his native form?”
“Yes, but that would be foolish. In the case of a dragon, its native form is much more dangerous.” The goblin chuckled. “Who would want to change such a being from a human or an elf into a dragon?”
“Someone who wants to see that dragon kicked out of Tranquility,” Rylana said with certainty. She placed the two coins in the goblin’s hand, then pulled out two more. “Describe the snooty human, please.”
“He called my assistant a fleshy shrub, said my prices were ludicrous, and wore spectacles on his beaky nose.”
A lot of people wore spectacles, and Yerin was only one of them, but this gave Rylana enough to believe he was likely the culprit. Nodding to herself, she paid the goblin another two coins.
“Thank you for your time.” She turned and almost ran into the elf alchemist. Though alarmed that he’d sneaked up on her, she made herself return his gaze calmly. “I won’t need your services, after all.”
“Our kind keep an eye on the dragons here,” he warned her, his expression cool. “Especially Jildarin-grozanarav.”
He must have been listening in on her conversation but misconstrued her mutterings.
“Good. I’m looking out for him too.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he plucked the pouch out of her hand. She hadn’t expected that and reacted too slowly to stop him. He secreted it inside a pocket in his apron.
“You will not use this on Lord Jildarin,” he stated. “He makes fine food and has broken no laws.”
“I hadn’t intended to use it on him. I work for him. Someone else intended to use it, I think.”
Maybe, when the goblin had come to set his fires, he hadn’t known that Jildarin would be away with his brother, and he’d planned to force a shape-shifting at the diner.
“Then you will not mind if I take it.” The elf turned and walked away, though he again perused the crowd. He also gave her a long look over his shoulder before stepping out of sight into his stand.
Rylana passed a couple more elves on the way out of the market and was glad Sylin hadn’t come with her.
The next time she saw her comrade, she would have to tell her to leave the city, for her own safety.
In the meantime, she would make sure Jildarin knew to avoid anyone running toward him with sacks of anti-magic powder.