Harpyn peered at the dried husks of bat wings laid out on the vendor’s table, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Can I help you?” the man asked, his voice thin and whiny.
Harpyn grimaced, but held out the list that Geor had scrawled for him, careful not to let the sleeves of his robe brush the foul smelling husks laid out on the table.
The man behind the table sniffled and then took the list, adjusting his glasses to better read Geor’s atrocious writing. As he scanned each line, his eyebrows rose higher and higher toward his hairline, but by the time he was done, he looked quite satisfied.
“Yes, yes, I’ve been expecting just such an order for some time now. Wait here.”
Harpyn looked around, curious where the man meant to go, but when he looked back, the man was rummaging under his table, tossing things aside and mumbling to himself as he searched. Soon, his head reappeared over the tabletop and he grinned with satisfaction, plunking a large paper-wrapped parcel down right in front of Harpyn.
“Now, tell your master that I’ve got everything he asked for save the ivory and the whale bones. He’ll have to find another source for them as it seems my supplier has run into some trouble lately. I hope he’ll understand. We’ve had such a good working relationship all this time, and I don’t want him to be disappointed.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Harpyn answered, eager to get away from the smell and the strange man.
Reaching into a pouch at his side, Harpyn pulled out a smaller bundle and handed it across the table, scooping the parcel up in one quick move. The vendor gave him an understanding smile and thanked him for his business before shooing him away.
Shaking his head, Harpyn moved along the stalls, browsing aimlessly. He certainly wasn’t going to find any powdered ivory or whale bones laying about in the open, but he had a few contacts he could call upon who might be able to point him in the right direction. Plus, he was still ahead of schedule, and he wanted to stop for one of Dahlia’s meat pies while he still had the chance. Living in the tower with Geor often meant eating tasteless mush three meals a day, and Harpyn found himself craving real food on the rare occasions that he was permitted to go back to Torg Uyen.
He hadn’t made it very far when a familiar voice cut through the crowd and sent a shiver of dread down his spine.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Harpyn Freeble. I didn’t realize you were allowed out without your nanny these days.”
Harpyn barely had time to locate the source of the voice before its owner was upon him. Thilix Rymon stood with his hands planted on his hips, staring down at Harpyn expectantly.
“Good afternoon, Thilix. So good to see you,”Harpyn answered unhappily, shifting the parcel in his arms so as to protect it from his old rival. “I can’t help but notice you’re here without your goons. Did they finally outgrow your bullying?”
Thilix’s eyes flicked to the parcel instantly, and his expression turned dangerous. “They’re here. I just wanted to come see you myself. What have you got there?”
“Just a package for the Mage Consul, nothing important,” Harpyn said, shuffling uneasily on his feet.
Thilix grinned devilishly. “Nothing important? Why would the Mage Consul be getting unimportant deliveries?”
Harpyn swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted to take a step backward, but Thilix was reaching for him in an instant, grabbing at the parcel tucked under his armpit. He lunged forward, stepping on the hem of Harpyn’s black robe, tripping him so that he fell backward and the package bounce loose of his hands.
A crow of laughter erupted from Thilix at his victory and he scooped the bundle up into his arms, standing over Harpyn as he tugged at the twine holding it closed.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Harpyn warned, his voice squeaking out much quieter than he had hoped.
It didn’t matter, anyway. As the first bit of twine loosened and Thilix tore away the corner of the paper wrapping, the package came to life in his hands. A burst of color exploded in Thilix’s face and two more streams of green fire shot high up into the air over the marketplace. Thilix screamed and threw his arms up defensively, dropping the package at Harpyn’s feet.
Instinctively, Harpyn dove on the parcel, grappling with the paper to cover the exposed elements, and fighting to tie it shut again while the crowd around them screamed in fear and began to stampede. Over the sound of the crowd’s terror, Harpyn could hear the shouts of the city guard coming straight toward them. He had to get out of town immediately. Geor would kill him if he was detained by the guard. Then again, Geor would likely kill him for nearly losing the package and letting some of the precious minerals escape.
Shoving that thought out of his mind, Harpyn struggled to his feet and held the package tight to his chest as he pushed between the press of bodies, desperate to reach the edge of town, cursing Thilix all the way.
“There he goes!” A man shouted, and Harpyn grumbled, extending a hand and whispering a word that choked the words off before the man could say any more.
Then he was running again, ducking and weaving as best he could until he could hardly breathe and he was sure he would pass out. But there, the market street opened onto a wide corridor that led to Torg Uyen’s grand gates, and Harpyn freed himself, gathering the front of his robe up in a big handful so he wouldn’t trip as he ran.
The guards at the gates started toward him as he tried to run past, but he held up a hand and shouted a random string of nonsense syllables, and the two men slowed their approach, afraid of what kind of magic the little mage might be summoning.