A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 32

Valethalassa did not enjoy spending time in cities, and this one was no exception. The crowds, the closeness, the noise; all of it set her on edge. However, her duties as a ranger did not always allow her to work in the comfort of the wilderness.

She had lost count of the number of criminals she'd had to track down in one of these urban jungles. The Dark Market had an insatiable hunger for stolen Elvish goods. There were exotic plants and animals that poachers stole and sold for their rumored medicinal uses. Elven wine that aged for centuries, and swords and armor that only someone with hundreds of years of experience could create. She'd broken up more than her fair share of smuggling rings during her tenure as a Ranger. Some in this very market, which compounded her discomfort.

She spent twenty minutes adrift in the chaotic crowd until at last she came upon a weapon vendor's stall that had some potential. She pushed through the crowd, Mal helping a considerable bit, and arrived at the proprietor's stall. She was an older looking half-dragon with thick yellow scales running over her reptilian head and elongated neck. Dull amber eyes with slits for pupils watched the crowd while her clawed hand polished a broadsword with an oilcloth. Their eyes met, and she waved Valethalassa over, putting on her best attempt at a charming smile. Valethalassa doubted the woman would have what she needed. However, she might be able to point her towards someone who could provide a suitable replacement bow.

"Greetings, I find myself in need of a bow," Valethalassa said, letting her green eyes roam around the stall, "Though I do not see anything on display here that would accommodate my needs. Do you have any other stock, perhaps imported?"

The half-dragon snorted, licks of lightning playing about her snout. With a shake of her head, she answered, "Sorry miss, but I'm afraid what you see is what I have," She indicated towards the counter with her polishing rag. "I assure you that these are some of the finest bows in the Bizarre Bazaar. Human-made by expert-"

"Do not," Valethalassa said, bringing up her hand in a stopping motion to cut off the sales pitch, "You should know better than to try and sell such wares to an elf." She jerked her chin towards the nearest bow, "That bow there has a fracture in the upper limb that will not withstand more than a few shots." Moving her hand and pointing to another bow, "And that one there has a fraying string of ordinary wool that you'd try to pass off as genuine wispvine, judging by the tag."

The vendor made hushing motions as Valethalassa's voice rose in pitch.

Seeing her point was made she acquiesced, "As I said, I do not see anything here that would suit my needs." She reached into her belt pouch and produced a thick gold til, holding it out before the half-dragon whose eyes locked onto it in hunger. Full or half all dragons love gold, Vale's mind chimed the beginnings of the child's rhyme. She spun the coin idly between her fingers. "Do you think you could direct me to a stall that possesses what I need?"

The dragoness was irate, not because an elf was misjudging her products as inferior, but because she was right. Tearing her gaze away from the coin the shopkeeper set down the sword she'd been polishing. She jutted her chin off to the left, "Head that way and make a left at the first fork. You'll find an outfit exclusively for bows, many of which will cost more than my entire shop. They'll have something for you." Her eyes drifted back to the coin.

"My thanks," Valethalassa said as she flicked the til in the air.

She headed in the indicated direction her long ears twitched. They weren't for show; they allowed her to eavesdrop on the surrounding conversations. Now and again there was a mention of last night's fires, but no mention of suspects. Their hasty retreat had gone unnoticed, and the High Cavaliers weren't out looking for them. Small miracles keep us alive, Valethalassa thought. She hadn't understood the saying when her parents recited it to her in her youth, but it made more sense every passing day.