Tradewinds 21: Unreal Estate: Interlude: Bargain (II)

The sun hung low and hazy on the shimmering horizon, the ever-shifting sands drifting across baked hardpan, blowing small dust devils into the outskirts of a marketplace of some remote oasis.

Flat, broad adobe buildings radiated out from the deep wells of the commons, forming a ramshackle maze of back alleys, dusky and dingy in the shadow of the setting sun. Moving through the robe- and tunic-clad crowd, a dark-cloaked figure, wearing a conical hat of outland make that drew its share of stares from the locals, made his way through the crowds of people and livestock. Pausing here and there along the way, occasionally consulting a compass otherwise tucked up one sleeve, still leading in a steady direction.

Due to local architecture, it was a rather indirect, labyrinthine path that finally led the traveler to a faded, little-used wood plank door around behind a place of dubious repute. Without the compass, it would have been all too easy to overlook, even to the most discerning eye, but once noticed, there was no mistaking the sign, the only one not printed in the local vernacular.

Obscura Antiques & Curios.

Along with the legend: “…For that is not dead which can eternal lie.”

As well as a plucky scrap of paper tacked to the door: New location! Check us out!

The compass needle pointed directly at the door, so the traveler tucked it back into his cloak and opened it.

Even as his eyes adjusted to the candlelit gloom, this visitor saw little of any personal interest in this enigmatic emporium, and nothing he would be inclined to pay for. Only one thing in this infamous inventory held any interest to him, and his nostrils flared at both the blend of incense and antiques, as well as the certainty of who he was dealing with. The desert village behind him muted and ultimately silenced as the door swung closed behind him, the air hanging untimely still as he strode to the counter.

Where a certain wizened old shopkeep already awaited him, impassive eyes measuring him as the traveler removed his hat, revealing an Oriental countenance of indeterminate age, crowned with raven black hair, and piercing eyes that returned his host’s appraising gaze.

“So… awake, you are now?” The shopkeep’s words were merely phrased as a question; there was none in his expression.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” The visitor’s words were casual, but not their tone. “Why don’t we forego the pleasantries and get down to discussing business. You do still honor the old contracts, do you not?”

“Of course,” the shopkeep replied.

“Then I have come for what is mine,” the visitor told him. “You know what I seek.”

“Found this place, you have.”

“I have my ways.”

“You always did…” The shopkeep weighed his options carefully, concluding that refusing service to this customer could be quite costly. “Have you the finders fee?”

“You tread on thin ice, old man…” The visitor produced and consulted the compass again, finding it now pointed to the shop’s dimly-lit back room. “I will have it, one way or another.”

“I see…” the shopkeep nodded. “Preparations, you have made.”

“For many things.” Both an assurance and a warning. “The only question left is what you get out of this, if anything.”

“Short on funds, are you?”

“You still accept equivalent exchange, do you not?” the visitor asked, trying not to dwell on how much his quest had cost him already.

The shopkeep nodded.

“Then I propose a trade.” The visitor reached under his cloak and shifted a leather shoulder bag around. Among other odds and ends was a bundle of dark cloth that he fished out, unwrapping it to reveal a book. Bound in deep red leather, bearing no title upon its cover.

Only the dragon pentagram symbol also inscribed on the amulets, stamped into that ancient leather in worn gold foil.

He placed it upon the counter, and the shopkeep leafed through this weathered tome with great care, for its thick pages were brittle, bearing inscriptions and diagrams and arcane symbols few in this age could read. Scanning through key passages to appraise its authenticity, all the while struggling to an uncharacteristic degree to conceal his interest in it. Satisfying himself that it was the genuine article, he glanced back up at his guest, one eyebrow raised.

“Willing to part with this, you would be?”

“It contains nothing further for me to learn,” the visitor informed him. “I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to possess the only complete manuscript of my master’s original masterwork, which I refused to leave behind for some ignorant treasure hunter to blunder upon.”

“Powerful you have become, Xiang-hai, to cast aside the wisdom of your master so casually…”

“Do not address me as some lowly conjurer, I was once Court Mage to an Emperor.”

“And you seek to be again?”

“That has yet to be seen.”

“Fair enough.”

“I first knew you back when you were but a no-name wandering peddler, long before you ever had a store of your own.”

“And you, when you were still but an apprentice,” the shopkeep reminded him.

“Perhaps we should just agree that we have both come far in this world, and leave it at that? My offer still stands, but not for long…”

“Very well,” the shopkeep finally answered, “a deal you shall have. Committed to this course, you are, more so than I imagined.”

The visitor nodded, and shopkeep stepped into the back room, returning a couple minutes of rummaging later with the jade disc. After scrutinizing the amulet to his satisfaction, the visitor handed over the tome, sealing the deal.

The shopkeep watched as he opened the face of his compass, revealing a tiny chamber at its heart. He then removed from it a small slice of jade, dropping it into a tiny pouch. From that pouch, he withdrew a white crystalline shard, inserting that into the heart of the compass.

Once the face was back in place, the compass needle spun rapidly in one direction for a moment, then the other, finally settling on pointing to the shop door.

Which he promptly turned back toward, saying, “The Winds of Time have carried them far…”

“Better for you,” the shopkeep conceded, “than the Sands of Time burying them.”

The visitor made no reply as he strode back across the floor and exited without any further delay, leaving the shopkeep wondering who got the better end of that bargain, yet only for a moment before turning his attention to his new book.