Page 39 of Sword & Shadow
The clerk drew his shoulders back. “Morty ain’t got all I got.”
“But I’ll bet that Morty would be downright chuffed if we’d do business with him rather than you.”
The clerk tapped the list. “He can’ give yeh the deal I’m givin’ yeh.”
“You’re not giving us a deal,” Deckard countered. “You’re cheating us.”
Offense colored his face red, and Auden set a hand on Deckard’s shoulder, but he waved the Mage off.
“This triplet has been here quite a while.” Deckard brushed a finger over the vignette’s frame, revealing a streak of now-clean wood. “No one has even glanced at it but me, leaving a thick layer of dust to accumulate. Wouldn’t that be damaging to such a valuable heirloom?”
The clerk’s lips pursed at his lie uncovered.
“So,” Deckard held his stare, “how’s that seventeen gold sound?”
They left the shop with their bags full and their list complete. All they had left to find were horses for purchase.
“That cost us nearly twice what it should have,” Auden grumbled.
“It only cost us seven gold,” Deckard corrected as they wound through the streets toward the sound of metal on metal and the smell of manure. “The other ten were my own expense.”
“We share the same Alliance-funded purse, Jonn.”
“Should I live through this, I’m sure I can find some way to pay them back.”
Auden shook his head, unsatisfied. “Why did you want it so badly anyway? Ten gold for any painting so small is theft.”
Reasoning there was no point in hiding his intent, Deckard tightened the strap on his pack. “Evylin’s birthday is in a couple of weeks.”
His copper eyebrows drew low. “You’re buying gifts while on a mission to save the world?”
“She’ll appreciate it.”
“A painting? Evylin doesn’t strike me as a purveyor of the arts.”
“It’s the subject of the painting that she’ll appreciate.”
“I suppose you’d know better than I.”
The conversation ended as they entered the farrier’s stables. Gentle nickers filled the air from the paddock and stalls. The owner was a stout man, tall with arms toned by pounding steel into horseshoes. His accent was even thicker than the shop clerk’s, and Deckard settled for understanding only one side ofthe conversation. The one word he regularly picked up from the farrier was “mucker,” the same term the clerk had used.
“Yes, very well,” Auden finally concluded. “That will have to do.”
With that, the farrier grunted and headed toward the paddock, yelling at his stable boy while gesticulating wildly.
“I take it we’re getting our horses,” Deckard said.
Auden sighed. “Five of them. We’re short on the funds for the other two.” He said the last bit with a disgruntled glare.
“Ah.” Deckard made sure his expression was adequately penitent. They’d only brought enough coins with them to procure what they absolutely needed, not wanting to risk drawing the eye of a back-alley thief by flashing around too much gold. “We could retrieve more and come back for the others.”
“We can’t return,” he said. “Best not to give them a reason to remember us.”
“Right.”
The fire crackled in the small forge, bars of steel sticking out of a barrel beside it. Despite the cultural differences, the stables looked the same as any in Ephria. Granted, the prices were higher, and he couldn’t understand the owner well enough to attempt lowering the price.
Deckard turned back to Auden, brow furrowed. “What was that he kept calling you?”
