In Uncommon Coin
Eighteenth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
City of Brass
Carrying someone as beaten up as Silas through the twisting alleyways of the Lower City made navigating the tunnels bellow seem a treat. At least down there you could be mostly sure that anything that moved was hostile. Here, by contrast, every thug was eyeing them up to see if they were easy meat, and every beggar and pickpocket looked like they were about to run off and sell the information so to someone inclined to make the same calculus. More than once Sarell had to glare some enterprising bridge 'owner' into standing aside when they demanded a toll to pass. It was something of a relief to get to
Khardu Melir, the Pauper's Gate, whose fire giant guards may be considering how tender Silas' flesh might be roasted if he expired, but their oaths to the Brazen Throne kept them from trying to find out how accurate their guess might be.
By the time they had made it to the shop the mage had begun to wake faintly from his drug induced stupor, thankfully he was lucid enough not to struggle, though he did try to warn them several times about the trap they had foiled by simply making an unbreakable dome and letting it slide off when the trap failed.
Useful scroll that... Maelor caught himself considering if he should charge Silas for all the scrolls they had to use.
Maybe I've been in the merchant business for too long, he admitted to himself. Still, he would pay, and in coin more valuable than brass.
***
With the poison flushed from his system and wearing one of Malarys' spare robes the only mark of the mage's captivity remaining as he sat on the lion-footed divan in the back of the shop was the missing magic eye, which unlike his horns he had insisted not be healed, perhaps hoping he would be able to find it again. "Good to see my guess was right about you, boy, I thought there was something odd about someone so young in a position of authority and I hoped you would be inclined to take risks."
"Funny way of giving thanks you have there," Bronn snorted, though his words might as well have been the creaking of a rusty hinge moving the wind as far as the sorcerer was concerned.
"The fellow who was... how did Ashia put it? Ah right, 'planning to scoop up your brains with a brass spoon' got away, though we looted the place we found you in of more than just your humble self," Maelor pointed out. "Seems to me you might need help dealing with the bastard and it just so happens we are in the business of helping our customers, for the right price of course."
The girl gave a sort of half-cough-half-squeak at the words, but her master for a wonder gave her a reassuring look."I don't suppose there is a free sample in that policy, like a shun smokehouse?" he asked wryly.
"'Fraid not," the younger mage replied with a smile. "On the other hand there's no risk in ending up addicted and selling your own blood to back-alley alchemists just to get one more draw, so I'd call it a better deal."
"Alright then, name your price, merchant," Silas said, though he did not seem displeased at the notion.
"Knowledge, first of all. What were you doing down there, who is she and where does she get her powers?" Maelor asked motioning to Ashia.
"Quite a long story that, it began not far from here in the Bazaar of a Thousand Sins when I came upon a tablet written in an uncommon tongue that sorcery alone could not translate..."
Maelor settled down to listen, knowing it would take a while. Storytelling was a treasured art in the City of Brass, from the beggar reciting for scraps of bread to the palace of the efreeti lords.
OOC: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but as I got here I realized I would never have the time for a third update if I did the full account here. Probably best to just have Maelor present it to Viserys IC.
I've got high hopes for all the Lovecraft references, 