Valethalassa did not enjoy spending time in cities, and this one was no exception. The crowds, the closeness, the noise; all of it set her on edge. However, her duties as a ranger did not always allow her to work in the comfort of the wilderness.
She had lost count of the number of criminals she’d had to track down in one of these urban jungles. The Dark Market had an insatiable hunger for stolen Elvish goods. There were exotic plants and animals that poachers stole and sold for their rumored medicinal uses. Elven wine that aged for centuries, and swords and armor that only someone with hundreds of years of experience could create. She’d broken up more than her fair share of smuggling rings during her tenure as a Ranger. Some in this very market, which compounded her discomfort.
She spent twenty minutes adrift in the chaotic crowd until at last, she came upon a weapon vendor’s stall that had some potential. She pushed through the crowd, Mal helping a considerable bit, and arrived at the proprietor’s stall. She was an older looking half-dragon with thick yellow scales running over her reptilian head and elongated neck. Dull amber eyes with slits for pupils watched the crowd while her clawed hand polished a broadsword with an oilcloth. Their eyes met, and she waved Valethalassa over, putting on her best attempt at a charming smile. Valethalassa doubted the woman would have what she needed. However, she might be able to point her towards someone who could provide a suitable replacement bow.
“Greetings, I find myself in need of a bow,” Valethalassa said, letting her green eyes roam around the stall, “Though I do not see anything on display here that would accommodate my needs. Do you have any other stock, perhaps imported?”
The half-dragon snorted, licks of lightning playing about her snout. With a shake of her head, she answered, “Sorry miss, but I’m afraid what you see is what I have,” She indicated towards the counter with her polishing rag. “I assure you that these are some of the finest bows in the Bizarre Bazaar. Human-made by expert-”
“Do not," Valethalassa said, bringing up her hand in a stopping motion to cut off the sales pitch, “You should know better than to try and sell such wares to an elf.” She jerked her chin towards the nearest bow, “That bow there has a fracture in the upper limb that will not withstand more than a few shots,” moving her hand and pointing to another bow, “and that one there has a fraying string of ordinary wool that you’d try to pass off as genuine wispvine, judging by the tag.”
The vendor made hushing motions as Valethalassa’s voice rose in pitch.
Seeing her point was made she acquiesced, “As I said, I do not see anything here that would suit my needs.” She reached into her belt pouch and produced a thick gold til, holding it out before the half-dragon whose eyes locked onto it in hunger. Full or half all dragons love gold, Vale’s mind chimed the beginnings of the child's rhyme. She spun the coin idly between her fingers. “Do you think you could direct me to a stall that possesses what I need?”
The dragoness was irate, not because an elf was misjudging her products as inferior, but because she was right. Tearing her gaze away from the coin the shopkeeper set down the sword she’d been polishing. She jutted her chin off to the left, “Head that way and make a left at the first fork. You’ll find an outfit exclusively for bows, many of which will cost more than my entire shop. They’ll have something for you.” Her eyes drifted back to the coin.
“My thanks,” Valethalassa said as she flicked the til in the air.
She headed in the indicated direction her long ears twitched. They weren’t for show; they allowed her to eavesdrop on the surrounding conversations. Now and again there was a mention of last night’s fires, but no mention of suspects. Their hasty retreat had gone unnoticed, and the High Cavaliers weren’t out looking for them. Small miracles keep us alive, Valethalassa thought. She hadn’t understood the saying when her parents recited it to her in her youth, but it made more sense every passing day.
The stall she was looking for was impossible to miss. Bows, arrows, quivers, and everything in-between hung on custom racks behind the counter. From the look of it, some were even elven craftsmanship. Others were of equal quality but clunkier, dwarven and human-made. Their shapes more angular and the bow too thick or rigid for her slight frame.
Behind the counter leaned a human man. He straightened up at her approach and his face lit up with a flawless smile. “Greeting and welcome to Fletcher’s humble shop. What can I help you with today?” He reeked of salesmen.
“Greetings, Gent. I am in the market for a new bow,” Valethalassa replied, politely dipping her head. “I’ve had the same one for over a century, but it was lost to me recently. I’ll need to find a suitable replacement.” Her eyes going from the shopkeep to the weapons on display. She spotted a crossbow that was heavy with bells and whistles. Gnomes, they will “improve” anything, Vale thought. She pointed to an ornately carved elven bow that was molded from one solid piece, grip and all. Tiny depictions of woodland life were carved into the ash-colored wood. The string was a finely spun silver. It was beautiful, but that didn’t mean it was practical. “How about that one?”
“Ahh yes, the Ironwood bow," The vendor said following Valethalssa’s finger with a smile. “I can tell you that it’s a popular bow among your southern cousins. The desert elves tend to like them because they are sturdy and more resistant to the heat.” He pulled the bow down and handed it to her for her to inspect. Turning over his shoulder he called into the tent. “Melisande, you have a customer!”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Mal, distracted by the crowd, hunched even lower at the shouting. He laid down by Valethalassa’s side, tucking his sizeable head in between her feet and the counter.
An elven woman stepped out from inside the tent. She was dark-skinned with silver hair and soft lilac eyes. A desert elf if ever there was one. A leather apron draped over her front to protect the fitted dress beneath.
“Sorry dears, I was putting the finishing touches on the newest longbow. You’ll have to forgive my husband he tends to think that elves will more readily buy from other elves,” She said, giving the man a gentle shove. “You should know better! Now please go and find a place for my latest piece.”
The man shied away with a sheepish look on his face, heading into the back of the tent to do as he was bidden.
She gave Valethalassa a critical eye, “Though now that I’m here, I can tell you that you certainly don’t want that bow.” She held up a finger before ducking back inside she came back out with a bow and set it on the counter. “No, you’ll want this one.”
Valethalassa gazed at the bow in admiration. Smooth did not do it justice, it was like looking at flowing water. The gray bow had been lovingly crafted for function over frills. A simple grip, perfectly straight, with just the right bend in the limbs. And when she picked it up and curled her arm it was much lighter than she’d expected. She scarcely felt its weight as her fingers trailed along the string, tugging now and again to test its strength. She yanked on it hard and found the draw was smooth and easy. A faint magical hum emanated from the bow as the string twanged from her pull.
“Unicorn tail. And before you ask, the beast in question donated it as a gift. He and I are very old friends,” Melisande said.
Valethalassa had to have it. Knowing she had already given herself away with her reaction she inquired, “I am hesitant to ask, but how much will this cost?” She bit off the word cost as though it were something foul.
The woman considered Valethalassa for a long moment. A hand came up to idly play with her silver hair as she thought it over. Her eyes eventually shifting over to Mal who was too big to hide under the counter. “How about a trade? I’ll let you have the bow for one hundred til, if I can have some fur from your shadow wolf. If he is willing of course. I’ve never worked with it and would love the chance.”
“That seems a bit too reasonable. I will ask him, but what am I missing?” She asked.
“I can see the bow is a perfect fit for you. That is why I became a crafter. I wanted to make things that people would use and use well. You would do that,” Melisande replied.
Valethalassa squinted, still not buying it.
“And… it doesn’t hurt that shadow wolf fur is used in quite a few advanced alchemical creations that I’ve been wanting to try my hand at. It is incredibly hard to come by though, as you can imagine,” Melisande relented.
It was true that those fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to see a shadow wolf generally didn’t walk away with a gift. If at all. Mal tentatively lifted his face to look into Valethalassa’s eyes. He was not thrilled about an impromptu haircut, but he would not even make her ask. He huffed in acquiescence and Valethalassa promised him an entire bogkin steak later.
The shopkeeper gave Valethalassa a set of scissors and she, in turn, clipped a pouchful of fur from Mal’s hind leg. It was hardly noticeable. Valethalassa gave his head a thorough scratching by way of thanks. She paid Melisande the remaining sum for her new bow with her exchange crystal. With the transaction finished Valethalassa collected her new bow and offered a formal thanks.
“Sun’dorlei du banno,” Valethalassa said with a small bow.
“Nor durin mos Kaelia,” The shopkeeper countered with her a blessing of good fortune.
Valethalassa set off through the crowds once more, this time feeling much more comfortable. The same could not be said for Mal, who was pouting about his part in the trade.
“The mighty shadow wolf, done in by a trim of his fur. You and I both know you will be spoiled for weeks to come for your troubles,” Valethalassa said, leaning down to give him an affectionate pat.
Mal’s claws clicked a bit louder on the street as his pace livened and his mood improved. The pair headed towards the exit, hoping that Ian and Ban were having some luck themselves.
Valethalassa tuned her ears back to the crowd as they walked. She came to a halt at an intersection when she overheard mention of a minotaur, elf, and wolf. The source of the conversation, she was unhappy to find, came from a pair of High Cavaliers.
“…wanted in questioning about last night’s disturbance. One of them has a strange weapon a few citizens reported it belched fire and made a horrible noise. Be on the lookout for them. The wolf should make them easy enough to spot though since shadow wolves are rarely domesticated.”
The crowd of twenty or so High Cavaliers began to disperse into the Bazaar and Valethalassa ducked into a nearby tent with Mal. She knelt next to him ran a reassuring hand over his head.
“They haven’t seen us yet. Do you recall the way to Ban'Koliath’s house?” She asked.
Mal huffed out in response looking offended.
“Don’t give me that. They are looking specifically for you as a marker for me,” she said defensively, bringing up her hand as though cutting off a response, “Head back there and wait for us. And make haste my friend. Remind us all why you are called a wolf of shadows.” She lowered her hand and kissed his forehead before pointing him off towards the exit of the tent.
Mal gave a low bark in reply and then took off. He kept low and employed the shadows from the numerous stalls. It was like watching smoke on the wind. Mal was soon lost in the fold of the crowd without so much as disturbing a tent flap.
Despite blending in easily, now that her companion had left her side, her pragmatic reason for sending Mal away did little to ease the feelings of exposure. She shook the anxiety out of her head and set her focus on the task at hand. She needed to find the others and apprise them. For a few minutes, she followed a group of the High Cavaliers that were heading towards the back of the Bazaar. She knew that was where Ban and Ian were looking for the mage, so she waited for an opportunity to slip past them. When the pair of guards she’d been tailing stopped at a stall she made her move, sliding past them undetected.
“High Yebara, I know that we do not speak often, but please allow me to reach them first.” She whispered.