Allisse caught Lupin’s arm on the way out of the Inn’s front door. “Thomas, the swordsman, he gave me the money for his room and his companions’.” She held out the platinum coins.

Lupin held one up briefly. “This inn is a friend to all platinum, and yet my eyes have never graced this particular specimen of coin. The money changers in the market plaza will be able to give you a better reckoning of its provenance and character.”

“I’m actually headed to the market now,” said Allisse, “I was supposed to pick up some magical components for Aeriav.” She proffered the list. “You went to magical college; where would you buy your spell components?”

“My spell components are the passion in my heart, the songs that I sing, and my prized violin. But as someone who dances to a fey dirge, the warlock will need… let me see.” He tapped the bow of his violin to his cheek. “Kuman’s Esoterics, a small shop off of Cane Street. Simply search for the last place you’d want to enter and there it will be.” And with that he returned the list and hummed his way back to his post.

Allisse jogged out the door, and made it about a block before her full stomach threatened a revolt. She compromised and slowed to a steady walk.

Allisse looked at the signs as she traveled. Meliandre’s Fineries. The Gilded Cockerel. Thurm’s Armory. Wait a minute, a weapons shop? An idea struck her and she walked into that last one.

She walked to the orc manning the counter, barely noticing the assembled weapons, armor, and battle gear. “Are you Thurm?” she asked.

“I’m his apprentice,” he said. “Thurm is in the back.” He gestured to the door behind him from which leaked a stream of hammering sounds.

Allise proffered her stiletto. “How much can I get for this?”

The orc squinted and held it in his hand. “Two silver pennies.”

“Two pennies? The iron in it alone is worth twice that.”

The orc nodded. “Yes, but it takes more work. We need to melt it down, turn it into a real weapon.”

“A real weapon? This is a real weapon. Feel the weight. That’s a full-tang knife, with a perfect balance and a finely hardened edge. And check the maker’s mark; it’s Flintspire Craftsmanship. I shouldn’t be walking out of here with anything less than a full gold piece.” Allisse was shocked at the words that were coming out of her mouth. Yesterday she wouldn’t have even known half of that meant. Even now, she wasn’t entirely sure, but these were the sorts of descriptions that dwarf had given for his merchandise, and they seemed like they’d be important.

The orc gestured around the room. “This is a shop for warriors. We sell swords, axes, shields, plate armor. Your ‘knife’ is just a letter opener putting on airs. Two silver.” He held up two fingers, emphasizing the point.

Allisse took her stiletto and walked out. Two silver pennies? She could get three times that somewhere else. Her stomach was more upset about the raw deal than it was about its contents, and she managed to set a good pace all the way to the money changers’ booths. Here, there was no shouting or beckoning; passersby either needed their services or they didn’t.

Allisse walked up to an empty booth and held out the five platinum pieces. “I got these coins from a patron, and wanted to get them appraised and changed.” The merchant held one up to his eye. “I’ve not seen this variety before.” He considered it for a moment. “I’ll trade it one-to-one for regular platinum crowns.”

Allisse handed over the other four coins and took his five, when something seemed off. The coins she’d given up were heavier, and they seemed… shinier. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I think I’d like to keep my original coins. The money changer shrugged, returned her coins and took back his own and went to help the next customer.

Allisse waited in line for the next booth. This merchant didn’t recognize them either, but gave them a weighing and offered her one platinum crown and two gold marks each. Allisse almost took it, but if that was the difference between two vendors, she wondered what a third would give her.

The third wouldn’t even give her the time of day, even implied she was trying to pass off bad counterfeits. And the fourth offered to trade them for regular platinum crowns for a small fee. Allisse was starting to get tired by the time she got to the fifth booth.

The proprietor of this stall was a dwarf woman. She eyed the coins quizzically, “Those can’t be what I think they arre. May I take a closerr look?” Allisse handed it over and the dwarf weighed it then immersed it in water and watched the amount that overflowed, then weighed it again. She put it to her ear and flicked it with her finger. Then she studied the markings carefully. “I can’t believe it. Rrecilian soverreigns. Wherre did you get them?”

“An adventurer had them.”

“You worrk at the Alabasterr Inn. Of courrse.”

“So what are they worth?” Allisse asked.

The dwarf paused and considered for a moment. “I could give you one platinum crrown and eight gold marks for each.”

Allisse pondered. That was the best deal so far, but was it a fair deal? Or did this woman know something Allisse didn’t. She examined her coin, but didn’t know the ruler. W000000000.hile she could recognize some of the letters, it didn’t seem to be in a language she knew. It had to be from a far off land. No, wait, if it was from far off, she wouldn’t recognize any of the letters. It had to be old. Allisse half-remembered some of the older men complaining about the city debasing its currency, saying this never would have happened in the old days. If this coin was pure platinum, it’d be worth a lot more than a crown.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Allisse looked at the dwarf’s scales. “Can you weigh these against an equal weight of platinum crowns?” asked Allisse.

“I could, I suppose. Why?”

“I just want to test something,” said Allisse. The dwarf complied and Allisse’s five coins weighed more than seven platinum crowns, but less than eight.

“You can see I’m being more than fairr,” said the dwarf.

“My coins are pure platinum, yours aren’t.” Allisse said, hoping she was guessing right. “Fair would be closer to two crowns and eight gold marks.”

“Lass, when I sell these to the mint, they won’t give me a penny over two and five. Trruth or may Zarrkan strike me down. But I have a shop to rrun and a commission to earrn. Two crowns and fourr gold each.”

This was more money than Allisse had earned in the entirety of her life, and if she made a mistake here she’d be missing out on enough to feed her and her grandmother for months. Was the dwarf bluffing? If Allisse pushed too hard would she ruin the best deal she was likely to get? She felt like that lunch from earlier was about to go to waste all over the dwarf’s shop. She finally said, “I have some shopping to do, and I could use money I can actually spend. Throw in two silver pennies and three copper shims and we have a deal.”

The dwarf flicked some beads on her abacus. “That’ll just barrely be worrth my time.” She began counting out the coins and Allisse made the exchange and began walking away. When the dwarf greeted her next customer terser than proper service would dictate, Allisse felt like she’d gotten a good deal.

The market grew noisier again as various peddlers and tradesmen plied their wares. They ignored her, of course, because she obviously had no money. Wait a minute! She probably had enough platinum on her to buy an entire stall’s worth of goods, why were they ignoring her? Granted, the money wasn’t hers, and they didn’t necessarily know she was carrying it, but she wasn’t dressed in rags now was she? It must be the livery. They saw a servant, someone who was there to work not shop.

She rounded the corner and came to Cane Street. Lupin had said the place she was looking for was small and the last place she’d want to enter. Now what could that mean? And then she saw it: a dark building on stilts that reminded her of a painting she’d seen of the Farlands. A cyclops skull hung over the lintel, and a glowing script on its forehead read “Kumon’s Esoterics.” Lupin was right; she did not want to go in. And yet she pushed through the curtain on the front and went in anyway.

The inside smelled of sour incense, and was illuminated by various jars full of motes of glowing energy. One shone purple, another green, and a third blue, and they cast an eerie light over the collection of materials within. And what materials! There were bins of various herbs and mushrooms, preserved animal parts, pots of strange liquids, and vials full of assorted powders. She saw a dried hand in a class case with wicks coming out of its fingertips, and below it was a writ of execution. In the corners were cages with rodents in them.

“Are you here for supplies or merely curious?” asked a low voice from the back of the store.

“Um,” stuttered Allisse, “I have a list of supplies… magical components I’m here to buy.”

“Of course,” said the man. He was older, with leathery skin, and while his clothing was more or less in the local fashion it also incorporated bits of fur and feathers in odd places. At his side was an ornate curved dagger wrought from some black metal. He’s killed someone with that knife. She didn’t know where the thought came from, but she was still certain it was true.

She realized she hadn’t said anything for what seemed like several minutes, and began fumbling for the list. The man looked at her and said, “The person for whom you’re buying these components, what magical tradition do they hail from?”

“Uh, warlock, I think,” said Allisse.

“Warlock encompasses a broad variety of traditions and many casters lay claim to the title even when it ill fits them. Did the one on whose behalf you come happen to mention the name of their patron? A moniker will suffice, I don’t need the true name of course.”

“No, she didn’t. I think she’s tied to the fey.”

The man gingerly took the list and began reading over it. “Indeed. And one of the shadowcalled lords by the look of it. Which one I’m not sure, but the differences in requirements should be negligible.” He pulled out a small burlap sack and began wandering his shop, putting items into it: a tiny eyeball in a vial, three spined walnut shells, two packets of emerald dust, a bit of fleece, five pearls carved to resemble skulls. He took a mouse out of its cage and Allisse had to look away when he cut it open and removed its intestines and put them in a jar. He flung the body to a caged grubwump, and it began eating immediately. Several more items went into the bag and Allisse decided she didn’t want to see what they were. Finally, the man produced the finished sack. “That comes to five gold, two silver, and a copper piece.” Allisse handed him the money and hesitated about taking the burlap bag from him. But in the end, her desire to leave won out and she grabbed it and darted out the door.

Allisse tried to keep her pace below a dead sprint back to the inn when she saw a store that made her stop in her tracks. Cane Street seemed to be a center for magical goods, and here was a potion shop specializing in cures and medicines. The swordsman said she could keep any leftover change from the platinum. She was inside the door even before she realized she’d taken a step.

There was a line of people and so she waited. Would they have it? They had to have it. This was a respectable place, why wouldn’t they?

“How can I help you, miss?” the chemist said.

“Um, do you sell potions to cure Cooper’s malady?” she asked.

“We do, are you sure that’s what you have?” the elf asked skeptically.

“That’s what the healer said she had. My grandmother, I mean. We didn’t have the money then, but now…” She held out two gold coins.

The chemist reached to the shelf behind him and selected a vial. “That will be three gold and one silver, miss.”

“In Skinner’s Row I could get it for a lot less,” said Allisse.

The elf said nothing, but his face conveyed an entire lecture on the merits of the quality of potions in Skinner’s Row versus his own wares. Allisse pulled out the extra coinage and handed it over, getting the vial in return. She’s done it! She expected it to take weeks, months to save up for the cure and here it was! “Miss,” said the elf, “can I help the next customer?”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly and strode out of the store, then began running gleefully back to the Alabaster Inn.