Book 2: Chapter 11: A Forced Bargain

Book 2: Chapter 11: A Forced Bargain

Good men plant seeds of trees whose fruit they shall never taste.

- A Quassian Aphorism

I realized now that it was only on a whim that I had chosen to visit the Alchemist's first. After a long day's weary march, making my way back to a familiar place brought a rare and welcome calmness, as this day had been just another incredibly long one. I took off my gloves and hung them on my belt before removing my helm and tucking it in the crook of my arm.

Instead of feeling disgusted by the rank smell wafting from the tent that served as his abode and place of business, I felt a slight sense of relief. A grin found its way to my face, despite the stench hitting me like a brick as I entered. My companions had, perhaps rather wisely, chosen to stay outside to watch over Patches and our belongings.

"Hamsa!" I half-shouted in the smoky gloom, my eyes searching for the alchemist as my nose crinkled in response to the caustic smell.

Soon enough, a wheezing cough signaled his approach, and a figure coalesced, seemingly from out of nowhere. In the dim light, I could see him squint behind his dirty spectacles as he came closer.

"No need to shout! I swear, young people are getting so hasty these days. Always rushing off this way and that! And LOUD!" reproached the hunched man, his gray eyes roaming over me before recognition lit across his pale, sickly features.

"Ah, it is you! The welcome and most honored customer has returned! The young master Gilgamesh of Uruk himself!” he exclaimed.

The man took a moment to dust himself off from his latest experiment before wiping his hands with a dirty rag. Putting the ratty piece of cloth into a pocket of his leather apron, he smiled somberly at me.

“You have it, don't you, outlander?" the Alchemist said tersely in his cultured voice and held out his hand commandingly, like a noble awaiting his tithe.

"Yes, we were able to find some," I answered as politely as I could, though something in his choice of words struck a small part of me.

"I have friends among the merchant folk; they will give you safe passage far away from here. A place where those looking for you can never reach. Their route will take them across the grass sea and the great sands of the Whispering Wastes to the city of Al-Lazal. A place where a man can truly be free. There, even a hasty man such as yourself can find what he seeks," he said knowingly, in an almost comically annoying sage voice, filled with enunciated portent.

The man had piqued my interest, a fact that was clearly displayed on my countenance and etched into my posture. Like a man lost and thirsty in the desert, I craved deliverance, and he proffered a draft of water. He had his hooks in me now, and he knew it. I was growing tired of his song and dance, but it was a tune that I could not afford to ignore.

"All that I ask," he paused for an almost dramatic effect, "First, is that you do not go back to the Adventurer's Guild. I can afford no delays in this. I will pay you now whatever they have promised you and deliver whatever it is they sought from you. So fear not for your reputation with the Guild. I believe this will be to your advantage, considering your current circumstances. And of course, if you are in need of coin right away, I would be willing to buy anything you have of value at a good price," he continued, his tone even and leveled, with none of its earlier playfulness. "Second, you will take something with you. Something I hold very dear; this part is non-negotiable. Larynda!" he barked the name in a forceful voice.

There was a scurrying from somewhere in the back. A creature of some sort made its way toward the Alchemist’s, summoned by his voice. As it came into the light, the grubby and small shape revealed itself to actually be a scruffy child, clad in locally roughspun clothes of poor weave. Green eyes peeked curiously from behind a mop of dirty yellow hair. However, what caught my eye were its ears, longer than any human's had a right to be. I almost hissed once I recognized them for what they were.

"Nah, I ain't going," a small childish voice answered. The small thing, having seen my reaction, quivered behind Hamsa’s leg. Small hands made small fists, clenched tightly at the child’s sides.

"For the last time, Lynda, dear. Yes, girl, you are. We talked about this before. Please, do not make this more difficult than it has to be," Hamsa replied with a certain parental authority.

Like a loosed arrow, the child made to run back to the comfortable safety of the back of the shop, but the Alchemist's hand shot out like a viper, catching the waif by the collar. Gently, yet firmly, the bald man drew her slight, sobbing form into his embrace. He whispered something into her ear that seemed to comfort her. Releasing her, he stood to his full height, and now that he was no longer stooped and hunched, he cut a more impressive form.

He turned and looked me squarely in the eyes. "You will take my good-for-nothing apprentice with you. She wouldn't know the difference between Stain-root or a Bitterburn, but still, you will take her with you. This is my price, the only real price for my help," said Hamsa hoarsely, his eyes dampening from more than just the sordid vapors in the air.

New Quest: Escort Larynda to Al-Lazal

It had been such a long time. The new quest notification filled my vision, and I could only mentally accept it before giving voice to my decision.

"Very well, I agree to those terms," I accepted resignedly, a new feeling of tiredness seeping into my weary bones.

Despite everything seeming to be to my benefit. Something rankled me, and my words were filled with bitterness and frustration. Inwardly, I railed against the manipulation of the fates. Everything seemed too convenient, the stars in perfect alignment. What were the chances that something I needed would fall into my lap like this? It stank of a higher intervention. It all felt that something had led me to this choice, which was truly no choice at all. I felt as if I had been played once again by the gods and the simple machinations of man.