Negotiating prices of solutions and tinctures always tended to bring out the worst in people. Often, it resulted in the raving lunatics who were my customers pressing the muzzle of a gun against my head.
Case in point: Lord Batholemew Alvoneas Montague V, whose revolver trembled only inches away from my forehead. His watery grey eyes were steel in their focus, and his thick black mustache vibrated in rage as the muzzle of his pistol shook inches in front of my face.
My expression frozen, I waited for his lordship to speak. An errant word from me could provoke him into firing the gun. Both my hands were already above the table, shaking a little bit. My tail twitched, and I forced it still as well. Reaching under the table for a weapon would result in that bullet as well.
We had been sitting in a private booth in the Hell’s Own tavern, a place where my kind was expected. Lord Montague’s kind did not publicly visit here. Lord Montague himself preferred not to come here at all, was what I’d gathered from our little chat. The idea of being in a place as seedy as this seemed almost as painful as dealing with an Infernal from his tone preceding the gun.
And that was just the nobles who chose to pay the fees to be brought through the tunnels connected to the cellar instead of walking in through the back door.
The private rooms were soundproofed and hidden from the eyes of the public. Thus, they made for an excellent place for the rich and famous to rub elbows with those whose services they may need but who publicly they could not be seen with. Such as a rather dashing young alchemist with a somewhat sketchy reputation and an evident touch of the Infernal in her ancestry bearing the name Falara Merotien.
Of course that same privacy made them the perfect place to commit a murder. Could a gunshot be heard from in here? Not something I wanted to test.
Finally, his lordship spoke.
“You cannot seriously expect me to even consider what you said,” he snarled.
I sipped some water, the only drink I’d brought into the booth. The surface of the water shook as I tried to force my hand still. I could not betray that my instincts screamed to bite into his lordship’s hand before he could pull the trigger.
“You don’t agree with my price, mi’lord?” I asked.
“Agree with?” His pistol moved forward, the tip now pressing into my crimson skin between my horns. He practically roared his next sentence. “I come here asking for help saving my son’s life, and you set a price that high? Lower it, you shameless creature!”
I set my drink down on the table, eyes fixed on his. Tone casual as much as I could force it, I replied.
“While I am open to negotiations, Lord Montague, I don’t particularly enjoy it with a pistol pressed against my head. Furthermore, what will you do if you pull the trigger? I did not bring the elixir with me, and besides, violating the rules of this establishment is likely to land you in a world of trouble. It will take time to find my body, but how long 'til they find it? How much bribe money will that be to the owners to cover up my death? And do you think you can find a better price in the city? Mayhap the empire but that’s a long distance to travel. Again, please lower your pistol.”
A second passed by, then two, and then the tip of the pistol left my skin.
I resisted the urge to let out a breath. There was no need to let Lord Montague know how concerned I had actually been.
His shoulders slumped and his expression fell as he sat back down across from me. We were now at eye level once again. My current height was much shorter than his lordship’s for now. Craning my neck back to look him in the eyes had begun to feel painful.
Not as painful as being shot would have been, of course.
I could, conceivably, survive a gunshot to the head. The odds were about the same as surviving being stabbed two dozen times. The chances were not good I’d live past the first ten minutes, and even then, it would be likely to leave damage that would take weeks to heal. But the threat was gone.
For now at least. The gun still remained in his hand, which trembled as little as my own had just moments ago.
Since he didn’t seem interested in speaking yet, I filled the silence. “I do have shame, my lord, just not over this. You want an elixir for a particularly rare poison, and you want delivery in utmost secrecy. I can guarantee both and am charging what I consider a fair price for it. Do you know how rare this elixir’s ingredients are? They are rare enough that me already possessing a dose is a rather fortunate coincidence for you.”
I doubted he was that favored by the deities. The elixir he wanted was commissioned by another noble several weeks back. Word would have traveled in those circles, which is why he approached me.
Best not to mention this poison tended to ravage the mind even if cured. Not badly, but cases of changed personalities after fighting it off did happen often enough.
Resentment and resignation colored his lordship’s face, joining an ever-present disgust that had been in his expression since he sat down. “There’s no scenario in which you’ll negotiate the price down?”
“I am willing to negotiate it down, although I will note I’m already not charging high above what this cost me. And threatening me with a gun will make me less inclined to negotiate.”
I was lying about the price. I was charging about four times what it had cost. But he had the money to buy it easily, and considering he lived in the Gilded Quarter while I was scraping by in the bowels of the Infernal Quarter, I didn’t feel much sympathy.
“You charged Lady Kasrin a quarter that price for the same mixture a month ago, you greedy little fork-tongued snake,” he said in a resigned voice. “The only reason I didn’t blow your brains out, is that even if I did how long till you end up with whatever succubus spawned you down in the hells, doing the same work alongside her?”
My saber rested in my coat, as well as pistols and poisoned daggers and flasks. I could have any of them in my hand in a second, and with this little worm’s head opened up. I’d use his brain to concoct a poison to ram down his spawn’s throat myse-
Calm yourself Malvia, I told myself. He wasn’t a threat.
I resisted the urge to flick said forked tongue out at him while I stuffed the rest of my rage far down. I couldn’t let the jab nettle me. If I felt irritation at everyone who slandered my heritage or my mother, I’d barely be able to take a step outside without my skin itching.
“You don’t mean that, your lordship. You’re frustrated, which is understandable, but from my point of view I am only charging a fair price. Also, my mother was a fine young woman of the mortal realms, and wherever her soul resides, I am assured mine will not join it,” I said. “I will let the digs at my heritage pass without raising the price further. I’ll even try not to be insulted at such slander. But let’s leave our respective families out of this matter?”
Partially a lie, implying my mother was not alive still. My mother was alive, well, and as far removed from tonight’s activities as I could make her. 1143 West Endings was as far from this quarter as you could get in terms of class.
“Slander?” His lordship’s face was losing the signs of resignation. Unfortunately it was gaining the signs of anger instead as some fire returned to his voice. That and the ever-present disgust.
“Slander. I am descended of the hells, but it’s no reason to cast aspersions on me. As for your increased price, Lady Karsin may have mentioned her monetary payments, but I doubt she informed you of additional payments she made in things other than gold itself.”
If anything, the disgusted look on his face only got worse.
“I had no idea Lady Karsin had such proclivities.”
This one had a filthy mind, apparently. “Not of that nature. Something else. Would you please put the pistol away?”
“Once you start talking sense on the price,” he insisted.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“If you’ll let me draw mine as well,” I said. “I’d prefer no weapons on the table at all, but if you insist on holding onto it, well I might as well have something to secure my own safety. It only seems fair.”
He considered the pistol, gave me a suspicious look. I gave him my best smile in response. No teeth showing, of course. Universally, most people didn’t like people with fangs grinning at them.
He eventually put the pistol away, then quietly said “I might have stepped out of line. I sincerely hope that it hasn’t given you the wrong impression of me.”
That sounded more sincere than anything else he’d said so far. “Not at all, mi’lord,” I said with a small grin. “If I refused to deal with any client who threatened me with physical violence, I would not have as many. I’ve just learned not to take it personally.”
He sighed, considering the ceiling for a moment. “I can offer you a quarter of your asking price. What did Lady Karsin offer to you?”
“Alchemical ingredients, equipment, and a few other odds and ends of monetary value worth the difference between your two prices.”
He seemed lost in thought for a moment before life came back to his eyes. “I’m not really in the alchemical trade, although I might have something just as useful. Respectability. I have a fourth son, Gregory, who is hale, polite, and a bachelor of some repute. I could arrange you two to court for a time. He’s very good at impressing the ladies, and depending on adjustments on your part, there may even be a chance of a formal engagement.”
I forced a smile. The Lord Montague, besides being incensed over my increased demands for payment, seemed to have his mind mainly focused on sex. I didn’t particularly care for him keeping his mind there, especially in terms of negotiations.
The dating and potential marriage proposal was even more nauseating. This Gregory must not rank among his father’s favorites if Lord Montague entertained the idea of him being seen in public with me. Altogether a different attitude than the eldest he was visiting me in secret to treat. And I had no doubts what the ‘adjustments’ he might be thinking of would be.
I’d already gone through enough of those simply to look more presentable to human eyes, and those were both expensive to maintain and temporary. I knew what kind he’d ask for and the direction they’d take.
And that was all ignoring the fact I didn’t particularly want to go out with someone forced to go with me. It would be unlikely to end well, but was Lord Montague insinuating this was the only way I could have a date with a pure-blood human?
He’d already done enough to make my gut swirl. It was time to get him focused.
“I would have to decline that offer respectfully. I would always accept a favor instead,” I said. “Would that be acceptable?”
I suspected it would not be. The brief paling of face before he recomposed himself confirmed that suspicion.
Figured. One so eager to believe the worst of my heritage would buy into all the rumors of what we did with such things as favors. He probably thought I’d make a tonic out of his intestine or rope him into summoning a demon into the city.
It was tempting. There wouldn’t be a magical hold like he probably imagined, but I’d learned at a young age how much of a motivator fear could be. I was not very good at unlearning it.
He recomposed himself, thinking. “Not a favor. I could recommend you to others for similar situations? I know people far beyond the reach of Lady Karsin who are also interested in an alchemist with access to materials most can’t get and who also knows to keep their mouth shut.”
I frowned. “I prefer payment in material goods, Mi’lord. Much less ambiguity and lower chances of one or both parties feeling cheated. Exposure is…I am trusting your word on that. I have my limits on how much I trust people, especially after what you’ve said and done so far. My inclination is firmly no.”
Exposure would not be much of an additional payment. Anyone much higher than Lord Montague in the ranks of nobility probably already had alchemists they either knew or retained for that purpose. I was lucky that Lord Montague had a son who was poisoned, and that his lordship wanted no one to know he had almost died.
And I wanted, no, needed to break into this rung of society. Despite my earlier thought, his idea might be more worthwhile than my gut reaction had thought. Exposure was a payment for fools, but if it was the limit of his resources, it might be all I could get. I couldn’t say that out loud, of course. Pressuring him on this price might get something additional for my accounts. If I simply played aggressively with the negotiations-
My thoughts were broken by the sound of crying.
To my shock and mild disgust, while I’d been mulling over that in my head, Lord Montague had started weeping. Not the kind employed on the stage either, full-on sniffling and near-bawling.
“Please. I know I said unkind things, but he’s my first son. I can’t let him die. I just don’t have the cash on hand to pay your asking price. Most of my funds are tied up, they take time to make liquid.”
He seemed genuinely upset and desperate, or he was well-practiced enough to hide the insincerity of his attempt to tug on my heartstrings.
I hadn’t had my ability to feel emotions replaced yet, as some actually did, but even so, it wasn’t a particularly moving scene. The man in front of me made more in a day than I did most years. My recent fortune in clients didn’t mean I was willing to be charitable with them yet. And the argument that he didn’t have that much money on hand stank of someone who simply didn’t want to pay.
I was running the risk of alienating him entirely. Lady Karsin’s reach alone wouldn’t be enough. Her and Lord Montague together would be a good stepping stone. I wanted repeat customers. Preferably ones less willing to call me slurs.
At a bare minimum, this would still pay for six months' worth of expenses for me.
“Fine. A quarter of what I suggested, in addition to your recommendation of my services.” I proffered my hand. “I’d also like an advance of two hundred gold sovereigns.”
He eyed my hand with a mixture of revulsion, fear, and hope. Eventually, he shook it.
As soon as he let go, I retrieved a trio of vials from my coat. Each contained purple liquid, a mixture of Frost Tips and the blood of Liondogs I’d found in the Underground.
“Take these. They’ll halt any degeneration your heir may be suffering and give him some strength back. One each night as the sun sets, at most an hour after he’s eaten. He should be able to speak normally and regain control of his body. That does not mean he should be doing anything physically strenuous. He should stay in bed, and don’t let him convince you otherwise. If his condition worsens while on this, send for me immediately.”
Lord Montague frowned, picking up one of the bottles. The only sign of his weeping was a slight puffiness around his eyes. “You can’t give me the cure right away?”
“If he’s as you described, I need him strong enough to survive the cure. Angel’s Sorrow isn’t a common poison, nor is it easy to cure. The cure’s not a pleasant mixture, and if he’s too far in the poison’s grip, the war between it and the elixir will kill him. Don’t feed him anything too rich. Plain foods, three times a day. Chicken, fish, or lizard for protein. Plenty of greens. Also water. It’s going to go straight through at first, but his retention should improve as these take effect. No alcohol or any of those exotic drinks they’ve been marketing around.”
He grimaced, uneasily looking at the preparations “He’s had issues keeping his food down. That’s why I need the cure so desperately, he hasn’t eaten in three days.”
“That might actually help, depending on how the poison got to him. If it’s in his food, it might have lowered the overall dosage. That’ll help some. Have someone you trust prepare his meals. Keep it to small meals, bland foods. Crackers, potatoes, toast with no butter. And keep him well-guarded. It’s a very rare poison your son’s been given. And a second case so soon after Lady Karsin’s.”
Lord Montague’s face shifted, any emotion draining off of it. “We are both aware. And we are withholding that information from you. You are being hired for one purpose, and frankly only because you know to keep your mouth shut.”
I smiled peaceably. “Hardly an issue. Just an observation. You should keep your guard up, though. This elixir isn’t easy to obtain the ingredients for. I have three doses left, then it’s either to another alchemist or hope that adventurers bring back more samples. One second.”
Honestly, it was lucky that I did have these elixirs. I’d hardly expected a drake to die or for their corpse to be so poorly guarded. Whoever had been in charge of funeral preparations for the Honorable Millicent Ferguseous Valicent was probably getting a lashing. Or possibly getting eaten. Some draconic bloodlines still lived in centuries past.
Not that I cared too much. It barely scratched my conscience to extract her brain and carve it up. I’d done much worse in my time.
I looked through my bag, looking for the packet I’d put in here. It always paid to appear generous. I pulled it out, a small bag with perhaps three teaspoons of a dried grey powder.
“Consider this free of charge, your lordship. It’ll react to the poison. Just sprinkle a little in to test food and water. It should be safe for your son’s consumption.”
Lord Montague frowned, eyeing the packet suspiciously. “Should be?”
“Unless he has divine blood in his veins, he should be.”
He sat back, expression contemplative. “My great-grandfather claimed in the past we were descended from an angel, but no one could ever prove it.”
“That far back would be too diluted for an effect to occur. I’ll have the elixir ready at an address I will provide you in three days. Send someone with a message marked by your seal, with the full payment as well.”
“Is the seal necessary?”
“It is.” He was thinking of the risk of dealing with me being traced back to him. I was thinking of my first year of this when a client had sent someone to collect their order, then later claimed I had given it to a stranger and refused to pay me. Since then, I only handed off goods to people who could prove they worked for my customers.
Lord Montague grabbed the vials and packet, withdrawing a small box from within his coat. He secured them in the box.
He didn’t seem entirely happy as he locked the box shut. “If he worsens before this preparation you’ve given me is complete….”
“Then send someone to my address,” I said. “We can risk the cure if there is no time left. If he is unresponsive for more than eighteen hours, send for me. Until then, he should be fine.”
That assuaged him a little, but his gaze focused on mine, suspicion gathering in his expression. “I am risking more than just my heir’s life dealing with you, Infernal. If you are either tricking me or playing with me, I will make you pay. It won’t matter what hole you crawl in, my servants will drag you out and make you beg for a bullet over the tortures I’ll inflict on you. You are sure these will make him better?”
I smiled. “Not to worry, my lord. I can guarantee that they will work wonders, or my name is not Falara.”
It wasn’t, of course, but if I’d said my real name, I was quite sure Lord Montague would put a bullet between my eyes.