Spirits

Chapter 17

The pawn shop was located just beyond the town's red district with brothels and pubs circling it, closing in on anyone who ventured in. The narrow streets and cobbled street mirrors those of Intutum but lacked the warmth in the stone and magic in the air. Here, the only magic was the smell of tobacco and rot in the air.

"Of all the shops, why choose one here?" I hissed as we passed a pile of sewage that made me regret heightened senses. "Are there not one's in more respectable, cleaner districts?"

"Probably," Jax looked down on me, something close to satisfaction in his eyes, "but no one will recognize you here, contrary to well-established shops. No one would expect a noble's daughter to walk around the red light district."

"I can see why." My nose wrinkled as we stopped in front of a shop that looked tilted like one half of the foundation was sinking into the earth.

Bert's Trades was painted on the smudged glass in front of the shop in faded white paint. Behind it, I could see a row of tables and chairs stacked for display with dresses and suits that were long out of style hanging over them.

"No use delaying the inevitable," Jax pressed his hand to my upper shoulder, steering me to the door.

The bell hung above the door chimed in the eerie silence. There were piles of clothes displayed in one corner, across from a moth-eaten sofa. A long table was covered with trinkets: brushes, hairpins, jewelry, and accessories. I noted a few, small pieces I wanted, hidden under other, flashier objects.

"Can I help you?" Came a voice from a room in the back where a small, squat man was studying us.

"Hello," Jax grinned, moving to greet the man with wide arms. "My sister and I recently inherited some nicknacks from our late aunt. We have no use for it, but thought it might be worth some money."

I let Jax talk, knowing he was in his element. There was no better companion to have in deals than a man who could sense a lie and return one of his own as easy as breathing.

"I can take a look," the man offered, pulling down a pair of spectacles. "Let me see," he reached out, fingers snapping.

I handed my bag of finds to him rather reluctantly. I trust Jax, not this man. He was grouchy, a scowl fixed on his face like it was a permanent feature, as interchangeable as the wrinkles that hugged his eyes.

"These appear to be in good quality," he said, pulling out the twin candelabras. They were simple, two coils of silver reaching up to a twin holder that matches. There were at least six on the ship I had pillaged them from, noting unique, but valuable nonetheless.

"I can offer you just over fifty-cents. This material is cheap, interchangeable but I can't see any damage." He put them on the counter, looking to Jax, jaw set. "Is this reasonable for you?"

"For good silver?" Jax scoffed. "You know they're worth at least three euros respectively."

"That's preposterous," the shop owner roared. "I can't pay such a price."

Jax lifted his hand to silence the uproar. "We'll accept four for both with the assurance you will treat the rest of our items fairly."

The little man's eyes darted from the candles to Jax, hands intertwined. It was a beautiful deal for him.

"Oh," Jax brightened, "and no questions about us or their origin. I can promise no one will come looking for them."

"Deal," the little man stuffed them under the counter. "I'm curious to see what other objects you've acquired."

He dumped the sack out, spilling the contents across his station. A few gems flashed in the light, sending rainbow specks around the shop.

Hair ornaments, buckles, and earnings had survived the waters better than any necklaces I had found and there had been a surplus. The captain's quarters were always decorated finely and several high-class passengers had assorted accessories.