Winter was not a season Manu ever looked forward to.
Though it was only early November, the first snow of the year had fallen only three days prior; the drifts melted away and disappeared by dawn, but they would be back. And that spelled a lot less traffic and perhaps a complete stop if things got too bad. It happened last year, and that cost him quite the sum.
Tonight they were back by the secluded wharf to wait for Rogoz to come in again, lacking the usual cheer this time. There was an odd sense of trepidation that came with not knowing exactly what goods Rogoz would be bringing in, especially given how he had mentioned his very special item the last time.
Let’s hope he doesn’t mean people, thought Manu. If it turned out that the old knave was trying to sell him on buying women or kids, then any negotiation would be off the table. Manu didn’t think of himself as a particularly good man, and he was many things, but a pimp and flesh-trader wasn’t one of them.
“There it is,” said Danil. “It’s coming.”
So it is, thought Manu bleakly.
As the ship approached, he could see the orc silhouetted against the night sky and its ominous appearance sent a chill up his spine. The orc disembarked first this time, and the sound of its snarls got all three gypsies to stand back warily. “No to worry, friend,” said Rogoz from the deck, still shrouded in darkness. “He won’t attack you without warning. Or better said, without my say so.”
Once Rogoz joined them on land, Manu noticed the scoundrel was looking rather pleased with himself. There was even a strangely pleasant scent accompanying him, as if he had just walked out of a whorehouse. “You remember what we spoke of last time?”
“I could hardly forget,” said Manu. “I’ve got it all back there.”
Rogoz turned towards his ship and began to walk. “Come with me.”
Manu watched him advance up the gangplank but made no moves of his own. It was one thing to meet them here under the cover of dark at the risk of becoming prey. It was quite another to get into this rogue’s ship only to get kidnapped, murdered, or worse.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” said Rogoz.
Reluctant to lose face, Manu glanced at each one of his companions, then at the orc that stood by, watching him silently. The crewmen also stopped unloading, waiting for the gangplank to free up. “Well?” said Rogoz.
At length, Manu took a step forwards and padded over against his better judgment. Rogoz smiled and led the way inside the ship. The interior was more roomy than it looked from the outside, though a rancid odor permeated the whole place. Rogoz led the way to his lonesome cabin. He unlocked the door, ushered Manu inside, and locked it back.
“No need to be so frightened, master gypsy.”
“I’m not.” Though he was. At least a little.
Rogoz took out a chest from under his bed, made of some hard, dark type of metal, and opened the strange lock with a quick combination. There was nothing within except a rusting piece of iron set upon a woolen bed. The thief winked, put the chest aside, then opened the lowest drawer near the table where he kept some tools. From it, he plucked out a small package covered up in dirty rags.
“Here,” he said, and threw it across the room.
Manu was surprised at the heft of what he caught. He unwound the rags and stared down at the sleek white orb left in his palm. Surprisingly heavy given that it was only egg-sized. The orb was milky white, almost like a poorly painted imitation of an oversized pearl or an eyeball, with inscriptions etched across its shiny body.
“I’m not sure what I can do with this,” he said.
“Sell it,” said Rogoz. “What else? These orbs are full of enough magick to last a master enchanted a decade or more. Mages kill for them. Look at the inscription with the number. That was made over 200 years ago.”
“Why don’t you keep it?”
“I’m no sorcerer, gypsy!” snapped Rogoz. “My people and I have no need of it. We disdain magic anyway. But I’m sure you can find some filth to sell it to for a small fortune.”
Given all the insults, Manu was tempted to shove the thing right down the rogue’s throat. Nevertheless, Rogoz may have been right. A magick infused object like this would be difficult to sell locally, but if Manu did find a buyer in the spring or summer, he would double or triple what he paid now. Just gotta find the right person…
“Why don’t we split the costs and the profit?” Manu suggested.
Rogoz laughed grimly. “I don’t think so. It’s yours now. You’ll pay me. Then, whatever you get for it, you keep it. Come. Let’s see about the payment,” said Rogoz. “Store the orb away somewhere safely and hidden, and take the chest as a distraction. If anyone will be tempted to steal from you, they’ll make a beginner mistake.”
About an hour later, the crew finished up unloading everything, and Manu painfully handed in the chests of gold. Some of that had been acquired in less than savory ways, and some of it had been lended temporarily.
This better work out, he thought, feeling up the egg-sized orb resting in his pocket.