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She studied the merchant as he took the stone, nodding his head while he rummaged in his cloth sack. His dark hair was streaked with gray, tied behind his head with a piece of braided leather. Deep green eyes were accented with bushy eyebrows, like two great, furry worms clinging to his forehead. Intricate stitching decorated his tunic, one of many indications of his wealth. His boots and leathers were also of fine quality, as was the ornate carved table. He kept his shop neat and tidy, from the cobweb-free ceiling to the polished wooden planks of the floor.
Well known for his pottery, of which some fifty o
r more cooking pots of various shapes and sizes sat in orderly array on the shelves, he must have had an abundance of patrons. Yet he seemed nervous that no one else was buying his wares, constantly checking the door in anticipation of another customer’s arrival.
Placing the stone on the table, he withdrew a cloth from his bag.
“So Alora and Kaevin are back in Laegenshire?” he asked in a casual voice as he spit on the stone and buffed it with the cloth.
“Who told you that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious, since the pair’s retrieval had only taken place the previous day.
He cocked his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders. “I hear things...”
She held her tongue, and he turned his attention back to the stone, scratching the surface with a fingernail, chewed so short it looked like it could bleed.
“Let me sand the surface to allow the essence of the stone to emerge again. I’ll have it back to you within a hand.”
“Actually, Blaggard, I thought I might simply ask for the return of my coins.”
His thick brows flew up as his eyes widened. “No! Please, give the stone another chance. After the sanding, I’m certain you’ll be happy with it.”
Strange he should be so concerned. He appears to have luxuries aplenty. Why would he panic over a few coppers?
She explained. “I also find the stone bothersome when I practice at battle. It distracts me, bouncing about on my chest. Yet you say it must contact my skin to be effective.”
“You could take it off when you fight,” he suggested, drumming his fingers on the table.
“But battle is when I would need it most.”
“What if I could secure the stone to a belt? Would you not be willing to try it again? Think what you could accomplish with your gifting amplified.”
“I don’t believe the stone enhances my agility. However, I did feel more alert... perhaps slightly quicker. But no more benefit than using Roseroot oil.”
He winced.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Blaggard.”
“You must give me another opportunity to demonstrate the stone’s benefits. Come back this evening, and I’ll have the belt ready. Try it for a few days, and if you aren’t pleased, I’ll return your coppers, plus half again as many.”
“Why me? Why not simply try it out for yourself?”
“I truly believe the stone enhances agility, and I know no other more gifted than you.”
Screeching hinges announced the opening door as a woman entered with a small child in tow. She looked familiar, though Thalaena couldn’t recall her name. Thalaena’s constant weapons training left little time for friendships outside her group of fellow warriors.
“Remember, Thalaena.” He lowered his voice, eyeing the new arrival. “Tell no one of the stone. For I only found the one and have yet to retrieve the rest. If word spreads of the stone’s powers, I fear others will steal the un-mined stones, though they rightfully belong to me.”
“Very well, Blaggard. I’ll return this evening and try the belted stone for a few more days.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Thalaena.”
**************
Vindrake held his temper, but only by a gossamer thread. “Have I not told you I do not wish to be contacted without consent?” Unspoken was the admission that his barrier was not strong enough to keep the voice from entering his head unbidden. Vindrake would never have abided one with a stronger gift of farsight than his own if the man were not operating as an immensely valuable spy inside the walls of Laegenshire. But the arrogant man made a habit of surprising Vindrake, intruding into his mind outside the arranged time, undoubtedly to prove the magnitude of his farsight gift. Imagining the man’s smug expression, Vindrake tamped down the urge to kill him and use his life force to create a wendt, though Vindrake’s mouth salivated in anticipation of performing the act in the future.
I wish I were using him to create my wendt tomorrow rather than Yaeben. Though an unbonded warrior, Yaeben had done nothing to deserve his fate. No, Yaeben had simply been hit in the head too many times to consistently make intelligent decisions. A mindless killer, however, needed no intelligence.
The farseer’s voice intruded once again on his reverie. “My sincerest apologies, Master Vindrake. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
