Chapter 41: Fleas, Legs, and Seahorses

“You guys ready to go antiquing?” I finished the last of my iced tea, which I didn’t even have to ask for anymore. Nowadays, when I walked into Karlinne’s cafe our usual server, Milsy, waved us to what had become our usual table, in the corner by the large front window. There she brought gooseberry scones, a large pot of hot tea, and my cold tea with lemon and sugar. Maybe I could get it officially put on the menu. It was nice, having a ‘usual’. I had even tried the scones, but the gooseberries were too alien for me. They were not truly alien; obviously, they existed back home. I still needed to look into finding some chocolate on this world, then I could confound Milsy and Karlinne with the idea of a chocolate chip scone.

“Antique what?” Paytin was the first to bite on my ‘unusual’ terminology. Magali and Tak knew better by now.

“It’s when you shop around second-hand stores or flea markets…”

“Don’t ask,” Magali told Paytin as she opened her mouth in question again. I grinned.

“…flea markets are when people gather at a place together and set up stalls to sell their own stuff that they don’t want anymore, kind of like a yard sale…no, you don’t sell the yard. Anyway, you search these places for good deals, looking for high-quality items that the owners mistakenly think aren’t worth much.”

“Let me see if I understand,” Tak said. “Shop for deals at a market? Wow, Book. Very original. Not like people have been doing that since the invention of money.”

“Ouch, guess I deserved that for mansplaining. You see, mansplaining is…”

(No, you don’t!)

“…never mind. Here, one of you finish this scone and we can go.” I pushed my plate with the offending gooseberries on it across the table, putting it up for grabs.

“Mine.” Tak certainly had the reflexes to be an adventurer, I’ll give her that. The others hadn't even started reaching before she had it in hand. She took a big bite, mumbling around the dry mouthful. “Who doesn’t like gooseberry?”

“Me, and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Tak stuck her crumb-coated tongue out at me. She had changed, for the better in my eyes. After the incident in the attic last week, she had finally allowed us in. We’d proved that we were real friends and would be there for her. She had started taking meals with Tess and me at our apartment, often indulging in a shower, too, with hot water courtesy of my little hack. She agreed we needed to figure out a way to market the idea. With her as the point person, of course.

Once we’d split the check, leaving Milsy a good tip, we headed out into the city. Paytin led us to an open-air market she frequented with her mom, thriftiness running in the family. Both Magali and Tak came from semi-wealthy families, ones with long-established businesses, thus not being much into second-hand items. The markets they were used to resembled outdoor malls more than a flea market.

We wandered the haphazard setup, wares displayed on everything from semi-permanent stalls to makeshift tables—like the one I used in the attic—with some resting on no more than a frayed blanket spread on the dirt. I knew enough to stay away from the first type and check the last ones very carefully.

“Are there any certain areas with furniture?” My main concern was giving my aching back some relief. A nine day week of churning out scrolls takes its toll. On the plus side, we had a nice stockpile to peddle ourselves. That reminded me, I needed to talk with Kolin and see about making a sales trip to see his Team leader, Rolf.

“Not officially, no,” Paytin told me. “But similar sellers do tend to group together.”

“Doesn’t the competition make sales harder?” As smart as he was, Magali was more of a back-of-the-house type than direct sales.

“Better than if nobody can find your wares,” said Tak, the salesperson.

While we idly chatted, something out of the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. Following my gut, I peeled off our meandering path and made my way over to one of the middling setups. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It wasn’t the items displayed on the table, it was the table itself. The surface was nothing special, just a slab of hardwood with a multitude of ring-shaped stains and shallow gouges. There were three sturdy enough looking legs, but the fourth… Mother’s Bark, the fourth!

It was a very familiar-looking mannequin leg. And, yep, on closer inspection it had a right foot and was screwed to the front left of the table. My worktable at Alric’s place was left-footed and on the back right. Jackpot!

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“Can I help you, young sir?”

“Um, yeah, the table?”

“Yes?”

“Is it for sale?”

“Everything has a price,” The vendor couldn’t keep the confusion off her face, but wasn’t ready to turn down a sale.

“Book, there you are!” Tak sauntered up to us, taking my arm in her hand.”Don’t run away on me like that.”

Tak gave me a pout-smile, cuteness radiating off her. What the ever-loving…?

(She is in ‘sales’ mode, you dolt. Go with it.)

I snapped my jaw shut. “I’m sorry, dear.” To her credit, Tak didn’t flinch at the endearment. But her fingernails on my arm felt like they were digging for bone.

“Oh, that is cute! Look, dear, a porcelain seahorse, like the one I had as a kid.”

She held up the shape, the gaudy paint covering it assaulting my eyes in a riot of colors: neon purple, pastel yellow, and—I’m not even sure what to call the last color. Coffee with expired oat milk? Root beer and fertilizer?

(Shit brown.)

‘Nailed it.’

“Uh, yes?”

“You remember, the one you knocked off the wobbly table the first time you came over? Then I made you take the whole table out and break it down for scrap. I’m sure you remember!”

“Sure do. I was picking out splinters for days from that crappy table.” I could play, too.

“Buy the figure for me, please? Even if you have to pay double.” Tak put her palm against the edge of the table, pushing it to see if it would wobble. “Hmm. Sturdy table, even with that obnoxious leg. I’ll tell you what—what was your name?”

“Tabita,” replied the vendor.

“Tabita. If Book pays you double for the figurine...it’s what, three coppers? So six, no, eight coppers, and how about you throw in the table so I have a steady place to display it? Then I could get the rest of my collection out of storage, and put them all together! Perfect, just do it, Book, alright? Please!”

“Al-alright, sweetie.” Youch! Blood trickled down my arm for that one. We needed to finish this before it dripped on my hand and colored it red. I just hoped I actually had eight coppers on me; Paytin had our business funds with her.

The vendor, Tabita looked either confused or hesitant, or both. It quickly cleared though, and firm determination smoothed her features.

“Ten coppers. Firm.”

“The table?” Tak asked sweetly.

“Help me pack up the rest of this cra…my things, and you have a deal. I’ve had enough of crowds for the day.”

“Boy, I feel that, too,” I said, trying to keep the fact off my face that I only felt nine coppers before my fingers brushed the cloth bottom of my purse. Might have been a bit too generous with Milsy's tip.

“Oh, gimme,” Tak…giggled?! She playfully grabbed the bag from my hand, held it to her face, and started rummaging in it. “Let me see, eight, nine, and ten. Here you go.”

But? She must have slipped one of her own coppers in. Sleight of hand magic, in a world of…wait for it…Magic!

Somehow, I ended up packing the vendor's sundries (crap) by myself while the two women watched, with Tak holding her new seahorse close to her face, turning it this way and that. It didn’t take long—I wasn’t all that careful and Tabita didn’t seem to care all that much—and then Magali, who had shown up with Paytin and a beat-up stool with a curved back, and I lugged them across half the town and up the stairs to our workshop. But not before I casually dropped that if Tabita came across any more...unique...furniture then I'd be interested in it. Tak rolled her eyes at my so-called subtlety.

We were barely inside the door when we had to drop it all, panting in exhaustion. I checked my HUD, the thought of exhaustion peaking my interest. The green bar graph was more than half empty, with the shading stopping at 38%. No surprise, and did I really need to quantify it? I didn’t need a number to know my muscles were weak and wobbly—like Tak’s imaginary table—and I had no motivation. Welcome to any day of the week that ended in a ‘Y’. Still, there was just something satisfying about seeing an actual number.

Damn, I was out of shape. What happened to my genetically enhanced body?

(You happened. Even a Ferrari will rust if you fill it with cheap gas and leave it outside in the alley, up on cinder blocks.)

‘Hey, I walk to work every day! It’s not my fault I work at a desk.’

(How about the sticky buns? Are they your fault?)

‘A body needs fuel, and I wish they were cheap. Besides, Ferrari’s don’t rust, the body is fiberglass.’

(Your body is fiberglass.)

‘Nice comeback. What does that even mean?’

(Whatever.)

‘OK, now you’ve been around Tak too long. Hmpf, “whatever.” But you’re not wrong.’

(Say that again.)

‘No. Maybe I’ll start working out with Tess.’

“Looks like he is lost in his head, again,” I heard Tak say.

Oh, right, real people.

(Hey!)

‘And I stand by it.’ “Whadda ya wan’?” Now I sounded like Magali when he was excited. Although, I haven’t seen much excitement in him for a while. Was something up? First Tak, and now Magali. I wondered if there was a [Therapist] [Class].

“First, you owe me a copper.”

“Take it out of the business fund.”

“Second, how about instead of waiting for Kolin to talk to Rolf, we go talk to him ourselves? Now.”

“Now?” I couldn’t help the whine in my voice. I was tired.

“Yes. I got a taste, now I want to do some more dealing.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve never been to Guilded Row,” Paytin said, way too much energy in her voice. She hadn't been the one carrying furniture. OK, she did carry the chair, but it wasn't as heavy as the table. And, she switched on and off with Tak.

(Give it a rest, wimp.)

'That's what I'm trying to do, rest!'

“I’m good to go,” said Magali, standing up.

So much for bros.

“Fine,” I grunted. “Someone give me a hand up.”

I held out my hand, and Tak grabbed it and yanked me to my feet.

‘Am I honestly the weakest one here?’

(Yes.)

Shit.

“Alright, let’s go.”