Pillar

Chapter Twenty-One

By noon, Jack had left with a full stomach and a drunkard’s swagger, patting Vivian on the back with a laugh as she nibbled on slices of buttered bread. She now had her journal open, with Mr. Riley sitting across from her, enjoying his own drink and stew while bartering with her over the various goods he kept tucked away.

“Now Vivian, you know that Shard is worth a good deal to me,” Mr. Riley said condescendingly, “and I know you want it. But really, a paltry handful of silver coins? You’ll have to make a better offer than that.”

“Then let’s check out what other supplies you have!” She exclaimed. “I’m running low on crystals, and could use some Elhim paint for tracing runes. I know you have plenty of Koto venom, and I need at least an ounce of powdered Sand Lily for a ritual I plan on trying.”

“Hold on, hold on!” Mr. Riley laughed, holding his hands up to calm her down. “I’ll send someone out to my cart to gather what you’ve asked for and then we can haggle. No way I’m leaving you alone in here, you’ll order another drink and pass out before I can legally get the coin from your pockets.”

Mr. Riley waved Sera’s sister, Holli, who nodded at his descriptions and smiled brightly when she was promised two silver if everything was brought to the table within ten minutes. She hurried away, leaving Mr. Riley and Vivian to enjoy their fare.

“So… you look like you got into some nasty business,” Mr. Riley said with a hint of a smile.

Vivian glared at him. “Careful…”

Mr. Riley laughed, holding up his hands once more. “Of course, officer, how could I ever press the honored Royal Guard for answers?”

“Spirits… has it really spread to everyone that I work for the Guard?” Vivian groaned, leaning back in her chair, chewing slowly on a lump of amberum butter biscuits.

“Only to everyone that matters,” Mr. Riley answered. “My question is how did you do it? I’ve never heard of this Kingdom recruiting civilians into their military police before. The Holy King is a tad, um, nervous about those who might not be loyal.”

“Herod has reason to be worried, I would hope.” Vivian grumbled. “He left so many people to die in the war, and then opted out in a cowardly fashion by offering up his niece like a sacrificial lamb.”

“It was that or be conquered by a weary leader. Who knows, Rudolf might have just taken the sword to all the men of the kingdom and moved his own down here?” Mr. Riley said, spearing a chunk of dark lamb meat floating in his bowl. “He did that to Metora, the city-state that existed about eight years ago, north of the Red Marshes. Now it’s just a forced labor state, where the people are only now getting back the rights they once had. Rudolf really softened thanks to his son getting injured.”

“Funny how it took his son almost losing a leg to make him see the value in human life,” Vivian muttered darkly, swirling the wine in her glass. She downs the rest of it and motions for another from Sera.

“Slow down now, you’ll be a drunkard before you reach twenty winters if you keep this up!” Mr. Riley exclaimed.

“Hey, I just got out of the hospital after nearly getting killed! I’m allowed a drink or three.”

“That you are, I just have this feeling that were you not here brightening my afternoon you’d be off drinking alone,” Mr. Riley said.

“And what of it?” Vivian grumbled.

“That’s not healthy,” Mr. Riley said.

“Like you care, I’m just a walking coin purse to you!”

Holli arrived with several small cases, crystals arranged within them in a delicate fashion. She set down a large stoppered bottle of translucent purple fluid, along with a tacklebox full of ceramic jars full of colored paints. Finally, she set down a satchel tied off with a velvet sash that seemed to have dust rise from it as it settled on the wooden table. Mr. Riley pressed the silver coins into Holli’s hand and thanked her before turning to Vivian, who was looking over the selection with interest.

“So, you needed crystals first, right?” He asked, opening the long case.

“Yeah, I’m almost out. Down to a few larger pieces and some powdered remnants from my… experiment,” Vivian said, rubbing her tattoo with a delicate touch. The raised skin was irritated and still healing, the earth spirits having only could do so much to aid the arm in its recovery. She reached into the case and selected thirty-odd shards, plopping them down in front of Mr. Riley. “Four silver, six pence plus I cover your meal and drink?”

“Generous…” Mr. Riley said. “For you, I can accept such an offer, and another bowl of stew! Take them, they’re yours.”

Vivian smiled, reaching into her satchel for an empty pouch. It was barely large enough to hold the blue-tinted gems. She turned to regard the large bottle of venom. She knew the Koto were ravenous, and numerous, on the Golden Fields Plateau. They flew in packs, the twenty-pound fanged birds possessing the hind legs of a feline, allowing them to land, latch on, and bite into the nape of a victim’s neck or back of their leg. The paralytic was fast acting but weak, requiring numerous bites to down a full-grown man, even more to drop an auroch, the Koto’s favorite prey.

“Part of me wants to know what you want the venom for,” Mr. Riley said, picking up the bottle to hold in his meaty palm. “Not that hard to get, even around here. Coming to me, you must not want to spread it around you’re buying it.”

“Mr. Riley! I just prefer shopping for everything in one place, that’s all!” Vivian acted scandalized. “Now that is, what, six ounces?”

“Five and a half, per the bottle,” Mr. Riley replied.

“I’ll pay you a silver per ounce, so five silver and eight pence?” Vivian offered.

Mr. Riley set the bottle down. “Now I feel like you know something about this that I don’t. I think I’ll raise the price to seven silver for it all. And no, I won’t be splitting it. All or nothing.”

“Fine, skinflint…” Vivian hiccupped, fishing out seven coins to slide across the wood. She happily took the bottle and tucked it into her satchel, wrapping it in some linen roll to make it safe in case she bumped into anything. Once she finished, she looked at the dusty bag of Desert Lily powder.

“Now, this is a rare good,” Mr. Riley said, “bought it on the Mung Plateau during the New Moons when the flowers were in full bloom. I have enough to keep a, well, a person of your caliber, stocked for years.”

“Except the stuff doesn’t last for years,” Vivian said. “Assuming you got it last time the moons were absent, then this dust is over three months old. It only has two or three months of potency left, if that.”

Mr. Riley looked up from his meal over Vivian’s shoulder, a wide smile spreading over his smooth face. “Ah, Rung! Would you like to join us? We were just in the middle of some business deals and lunch.”

Turning, she regarded a shorter man with a faded Tyrik tattoo over a judging blue eye. He was dressed in silver trimmed leather vestments, his slippers supported by the smooth linen socks going up to his knees. He leaned on a cane as if it were more of an accessory, and his poufy white hair was slicked back by a sweet-smelling oil that Vivian recognized as pressed orchid seeds mixed with amberum. Sliding a chair out with his cane, Rung wordlessly accepted the invitation, all while Vivian glared at Mr. Riley for inviting the old man.

The man lowered into the chair and signaled Sera from across the tavern, who merely nodded and walked into the kitchens to fetch whatever it was she knew he wanted. Vivian chose to ignore the old man, savoring her Bittersweet, the buzz bringing warmth to her cheeks.

“So, the Desert Lily? I only need a bit, though knowing how weak the powder is I might have to get extra. Say two ounces for two silver?” Vivian offered, swirling her wine with feigned disinterest.

“Two silver? You must be joking! I’m the only one who has the stuff for miles. You want it, you’re paying eight silver… an ounce!” Mr. Riley laughed. “Bleak bought it for that price and he’d kill me if I gave you a better deal.”

“Then Master Bleak was desperate for it, whereas I’m not. You want to unload it before it becomes sand, you lower the price. How about three silver an ounce? I know you paid some street urchins to go out to gather the petals Riley, you never hire professionals.”

“In this case I did, and they cost me a silver an hour of labor. Five silver an ounce!” Mr. Riley proclaimed.

“No thanks,” Vivian said, leaning back in her chair. “What I need it for isn’t pressing and with all the merchants coming to town, I’m sure one will have some for a reasonable price.”

“So, you’d shop from some unknown merchant who could just be selling you useless sand when you have a trustworthy ally who carries only the best, all over two measly silver an ounce?” Mr. Riley asked, stirring his stew. “I think you’ve lost your edge Vivian along with your eternal beauty, as those scars seem to have bled out your common sense. Who else would travel from the Mung for grain?”

“Not many,” Vivian countered, “but the River Valleys have a lot more to offer, don’t they Master Rung?”

Rung blinked at being addressed, before slowly nodding. Vivian didn’t know if the man would choose to speak, but she pressed her point.

“Master Rung and the other merchants of Hamlin have much to offer. The town sits on the banks of the Vreba river, it’s a commercial hub for spirit’s sake!” Vivian exclaimed. “All I have to do is wait a week or so and I’ll have another chance at powdered petals.”

“But as you said, they’ll be less potent,” Mr. Riley replied, sipping his drink.

Vivian shrugged before smirking, knowing how horrible it looked. Cheering inwardly at Mr. Riley averting his eyes, she leaned onto the table. “Tell you what, I have a shed Ember Crab shell in good condition. Weighs an even eleven pounds, if my, ahem measures are as accurate as they’ve always been.”

That perked up both merchant’s ears, Rung ignoring the bowl of stew and tankard of hot beer set before him by a cheerful Sera.

“You were able to harvest a whole shell?” Rung asked, his voice light, a mere whisper against the crackling flames of the fire pit in the middle of the tavern.

“Yes, as well as a few smaller ones,” Vivian smiled, knowing she had Mr. Riley over a barrel now. He seemed to sense it and cleared his throat.

“For a specimen, as fine as that, if what you say is true would be sufficient for six ounces of dust, I suppose…” He trailed off, mumbling into his drink.

“I would be willing to barter some goods for all the shells you have. You quoted forty silver for the shop and the belongings within. Deliver me forty pounds of intact shells and the coin, and the deal will be sealed.” Rung said with a decisive nod, his eyes drifting to Mr. Riley. “I’ll buy the entire bag of dust. I trust our bargain is still in place?”

Mr. Riley winced. “Rung, there’s no need for someone without the proper training to gather the dust. Why would you want it?”

“Because she does,” Rung replied as if it were obvious, speaking slowly as he spooned a mouthful of broth up to his lips. “I’ll give you forty silver for it all. That should be sufficient.”

“I… I suppose…” Mr. Riley muttered, looking at the musty sack with longing. “When will you deliver the coin? You know I don’t keep enough silver to break gold down.”

“She’ll pay you the forty she owes me, and I’ll send a runner to gather the shells from her belongings,” Rung said with a soft smile.

“Wait, how do you know I have the shells? And where my belongings are?” Vivian asked, her mind cutting through the buzz as she fished out the proper amount of coin for her purchases.

“Because Lillian spoke with the guards taking your supplies to the meat shop, and stopped them so she could speak with me. When she stressed that you were worth it, I sent a runner to open up the shop and lead the guard to drop off your goods.” Rung said, lowering the spoon to peer into her eyes. “As for how I know you have the shell? You haven’t protested or made an excuse. If you understand good business like I do, you can tell that you know how much shell you have.”

“Am I that transparent?” Vivian asked.

“No,” Rung said as he sipped his beer. “I’m just that good a businessman.”