By the time they had reached their destination, Ash had managed to fix his little problem. Had his fingers not been red and trembling, one wouldn’t be able to guess that anything had gone wrong. But what worried the young mage more than his pained knuckles was the presence of lovely ladies dressed in even lovelier skirts. He had an urge to take a peek under them, but taking into account that the hems reached the ground and that he was mounted on Guido’s back, such a task seemed impossible.

“Blackbeard, psst! Blackbeard, psst!” he uttered in what he thought was a whisper but was actually a loud shout.

“What is it?” the shield bearer turned. “I’m trying to find the shop we need...”

“Look, look!” Ash insisted and struck the cobblestone with his staff, making several ladies cry out in surprise and horror as they tried to tame their suddenly animated skirts. Despite their efforts, the colorful cloths rose to their hips, revealing slender legs and puffy undergarments.

Blackbeard, blushing a deep red, noisily swallowed a lump that had gotten stuck in his throat. He wanted to look away, he knew that he should, but he couldn’t. In all the thirteen kingdoms, there was no one who could come close to the charm of the elven ladies.

“You sure know some useful Words,” he drawled.

“I can make the tops move, too! Look!”

Blackbeard, eyes bulging, almost broke his horse’s neck in an attempt to turn it around and stop the mage. Luckily for the lovely ladies of Zadastra’s elven quarter, he managed to reach him in time and stop him from hitting the ground with his staff again.

“Do you want to get us both killed?!” he whined; wiping sweat off his forehead. “They’ll turn us into frogs!”

“Really? There are warlocks here then?” Ash whispered, leaning closer to Blackbeard and looking around as if seeking out conspirators.

Glad that Lari wasn’t here to stick a bread bun into his mouth, Blackbeard cursed so hard that he’d make even the seasoned sailors blush. “No! But the guards just might shoot us where we stand!”

The young mage cast a glance at the guards walking around the place and nodded, admitting that he was wrong. But by the Heavens, how badly he wanted to take a peek under the skirt of the lady standing by the temple’s door. Her white skin and rosy cheeks were simply driving him mad.

“A shame,” he sighed, pouting like a child who had his toy taken away. “First they ban me from the Crystal Forest, and now you threaten me with the guards.”

“Banned from the Crystal Forest, you say?” Blackbeard burst out laughing. “I like a good story, lad, but don’t be so obvious about your lies.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Of course, of course. Let’s go, greatest mage that the Continent has ever seen.”

“Damn right I am!”

Blackbeard didn’t say anything. He knew that the Crystal Forest, which was hidden deep among the mountain ranges, was a closed-off area. Those who could find their way to it and live to tell the tale would have songs sang about them and festivals held in their honor. Ash, who had no nickname nor any special achievements tied to his name, could never have gone there.

Behind one of the residential buildings, whose windows were lost in the dense, dark green canopy, was the door of the shop they needed. Grown from a magical oak tree, it attracted the attention of all the passersby. A sign with a scroll and a flask was swaying in the wind, as inviting as that hanging above an inn.

They dismounted and went inside. The bell above the door chimed merrily, and the red-eyed, albino crow perched in the far corner croaked in greeting. Behind the counter, heaving under the weight of many books, scrolls, vials, and flasks, was a tall, green-haired elf with eyes that spoke of hundreds of years of experience in his trade.

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“Aheo,” Ash greeted, making the man wince.

“By the Forest, never speak our language again,” he said in a raspy voice. So much about the rumors that all elves spoke with the elegance of the wind. “Such horrid pronunciation is worthy of a comedy act.”

“Maybe you could teach me how to speak it better?” Ash said, beaming with enthusiasm.

Blackbeard kicked him in the shin and approached the counter.

“What’re you up to, Rhea?” he asked.

“Attending the queen’s royal tea party. Are you blind, Black? I’m running a business!”

“All right, all right...” Blackbeard raised his hands and smirked. “How’s Ogre?”

The three of them turned to the raven. The bird croaked and sank its beak into a chunk of bloody meat.

“And that’s—”

“—beef,” Rhea snapped.

“Just beef,” Ash mumbled to himself but still took a couple of steps back.

“What do you need, you bearded nuisance?”

“Same as always, you pointy-eared twat.” Taking out a long list, Blackbeard ran his gaze over the crossed-out items and stopped at those that they didn’t dare buy in any human kingdom. “I need... Two ounces of the standard solution, four boxes of twenty vials of Living Water, one and a half-ounce each... Six standards, three-ounce vials of the Traveler’s Potion... And one set of mage potions...” He looked at Ash who was making faces in the mirror. “...make those half an ounce.”

Rhea was swiftly taking the needed items off the shelves and from the storage, packing them neatly into marked boxes and placing them on the counter. The vials he’d summon from the further corners of the shop would annoy Ogre whenever they passed by him, making him flutter his wings.

“Anything else?” Rhea asked, writing down the numbers.

“That’d be all.”

“Five times more than usual... Going far, are you?”

Blackbeard waved his hand.

“You know Birch... Always scheming something...”

“Yeah, yeah... Anything else?”

“Eerm... That’s all for potions... I also need... A detailed map of the Lurka Marshes and the Rezaliks mountain chain. And scrolls with spells against poison... I need... Thirty of those.”

“The little Alice still hasn’t mastered these spells?”

“Never had the time,” Blackbeard replied. “It’d be best to send her to a temple to learn, but Mary is against it.”

“Sounds like her,” Rhea responded with a nod. “I’ll sell you the maps at the regular price, but the scrolls will be one silver a piece.”

“By the Gods! Who says such awful things to their friends? Knock it down twenty coppers and we have a deal.”

“How about twenty-one?” Rhea asked with a sly grin.

“Oh, you little weasel, you know that one silver is twenty-one copper. So, no discount?”

“You have to understand that the roads have eroded and that the supply is limited. Demand is growing, but the supply can’t keep up.”

“Fine fine... A silver each.”

Rhea nodded contentedly, moving the beads on the abacus. “Anything else?”

“Enchanted arrows.”

“You’re still with that blind man you call an archer? One who wouldn’t be able to hit a target even if it was in front of him?” the elf asked with a note of poison in his voice. “He’ll ruin you!”

Blackbeard grinned. “What? Do I detect jealousy in your voice? Still haven’t forgiven him from beating you at the tournament?”

“Ha! He got lucky! Our rangers had too much ale that day!”

“Ha! Like it’s our problem that you ninnies can’t handle booze! Now, we need fifty adamantium-tipped arrows.”

The silence that ensued made Ash turn his head to see if the two were alive. The elf’s ears quivered slightly, a sign of surprise among their kin.

“Are you going after demons? Maybe you could spike their tea, too... Fifty adamantium arrows... I’ll give you a bigger discount than usual since I’m sure that you don’t have enough coin to cover all this...”

Staring at the elf, Blackbeard tossed the purse that Mary had given him onto the counter. Golden coins spilled from the loosely tied strings. Rhea had never seen that many gold coins on his counter before. Such a sum belonged in a bank!

“All right... I’ll give you a discount, as I said. Five gold for the arrows. If you pay now then... Let’s see... Another gold for the potions... Thirty gold here... Seven silver there... Twelve copper...”

“Slow down, you pointy-eared maniac...Do you want to bargain? I’ll show you how to bargain!”

Mimicking the father of the bride-to-be haggling for her dowry, Blackbeard spent almost half an hour bargaining with Rhea. The elf responded with figures and words that Ash didn’t understand, but none of that frightened his friend. In the end, Blackbeard managed to reduce the price by one and half gold. The two sealed the deal with a handshake.

With a wave of his staff, Rhea sent the goods flying to the door and out into the street, whishing the two a smooth road. Blackbeard responded with a traditional elven parting phrase that didn’t have a literal translation, making the elf grimace. In his opinion, the way other people pronounced their language sounded worse than the scream of a dying magpie.