The World Which Is

Chapter 34

Brandon laughs. "It's not mine, and you should see the other guy."

She glanced at me. "He looks fine, and not as bloody as you."

Brandon looks over his shoulder, perplexed, then grins. "Not him. Him, I rescued. The one—"

"You, Brandon Hills," she levels a serious glare on him, "rescued this young man?" the tone is utter disbelief.

"I came across some of the local rats mugging him," he says. "What was I going to do?"

She looks at him.

"He did," I say in his defense. "He took on three of them by himself. I tried to help, because it looked like he was trouble there, at the start, but the woman they were going to rape kept me from helping."

She fixes Brandon again.

"It was four against one," he says, with the insistence it should be explanation enough. Then he sags. "I was itching for a fight and they were there."

"There's the Brandon I know and like." She looks at me. "Don't feel bad, kid. But I need to keep him honest, or he's going to start believing all the stuff he likes to say about himself."

"I don't—" Brandon closes his mouth at the glare.

"How about you give me five dollars and you go wash up? The tub's filled and warm. I'll even have a beer and bowl of stew for you once you're done." She looks at me again. "Seeing as you're with him, I'll offer you the same deal if you want."

I look myself over and my armor's mostly blood free. She didn't hit me in the face too much, so I was spared that. I am dusty, but I'd rather— "I'll make do with a washcloth, if you can spare one. I'm actually looking to buy something. I was told I could get a magical repair kit for my armor."

Brandon has the money on the counter and heads to the door on the left of the bar as she looks me over, and eyebrow going up in surprise. I look at myself again. Is my armor dirtier than I think?

"Those aren't exactly cheap," Marygold says, handing me a wet rag, "and unlike what stories want you to believe, they aren't something that'll magically fix everything wrong with it. One of them is basically only good for patch up work. The worse the repair it needs to fix, the fewer times it'll work."

"I'm going to learn how to do the repairs myself, but I need something to help me until my skill's high enough the work's going to be reliable."

"Okay. It's five hundred dollars."

"For how many?" I ask, stunned at how expensive they are. Okay, so they're magical, but it's just to do patching. It can't take that much work, can it?

"One," she replies with an expression that questions why I asked.

That's a lot of money. Yes, I have it, but I have to be careful, otherwise I'm going to be without when I need it the most.

But, the point of this is to get ready for a long journey. I don't think I can count on someone's generosity on the next caravan I'll travel with.

"I'll take two."

She raises an eyebrow again, and a trade window pops up. It lists foods and drinks, along with equipment. The prices for what I bought at the caravan market are slightly cheaper here. The repair kits are highlighted, just under the normal ones, with the price and I select two and agree to the exchange.

I know it doesn't actually weigh anything, but my pockets feel lighter somehow. Not that my money's in them either.

"How about I get you some stew and a beer so you'll stop looking at me like I killed your puppy?"