<u>17</u>


    There was no such thing as coincidence in a magical realm, and no truly random events. They were searching Jeweler’s Row in light disguise, trying to keep a low profile. Filimar was thinking intensely of Neira the smuggler. Naturally, about sunrise at the turn of the year, as Magister Serrio’s fair opened in Karellon, things happened.


    Val, Cinda and Filimar slipped into “Amur’s Fine Gems”, a colorful tent near the center of the enchanted jewelry zone. Sawyer was present as well, inadequately disguised as a sleek desert hunting cat. The young elves had their features masked and their clothing blurred in exactly the way that three high-born elf brats would do, while slumming a fair. For the most part, their strategy worked.


    Amur’s Fine Gem Shop was dim, cool and hushed inside. Gentle music tinkled. Deep, moss-green carpet and subtle perfume added a sense of opulent luxury. As for the jewelry, most of it was far beyond Filimar’s limited means, even with Val pitching in. Didn’t stop him from looking, though.


    Filno gravitated toward the necklaces, because he fancied himself clasping some sparkling trifle around Neira’s slim neck as she gasped in surprise and delight (no doubt rewarding him lavishly, afterward).


    The necklaces were centrally placed, heavily warded and lit by hovering mage-glows. Visibly enchanted and stunningly beautiful, each shining cascade of gems hung ‘round the slender throat of an animate model head. The models topped individual podiums, with magic displays describing each necklace. No prices were listed, of course. If one needed to ask, one simply could not afford.


    Cinda was grumpy, wanting to head for the weaponry booths. Sawyer kept stopping to sit and scratch an annoying, persistent itch. Valerian consulted a map of the fair, searching for the constantly moving main tent. Seemed the most likely place to find Magister Serrio, he reasoned. Only Filimar bothered to examine that overpriced jewelry.


    And then, the young elf spotted Neira. She was one of those animate modeling busts; bald, very shiny and smiling. Just a head, neck and shoulders, but unmistakably Neira, with a sea-elf’s mighty allure. The necklace that hung at her throat was a dwarf-crafted river of glittering starshine and mithral. The raven-haired lordling gaped for a moment, then rushed across to her rock-crystal podium. ‘Brisingamen’ proclaimed its hovering placard.


    “Neira! What are you doing here?!” Filimar demanded, dispelling his mask. The question began as a shout, dropping to an urgent whisper when a fey shop-clerk turned to regard the source of that sudden clamor. Meanwhile,


    “I think he’s allergic to disguise spells,” murmured Val.


    “Who, your idiot friend?” asked Cinda, still looking blurry and very high-end.


    “No. Sawyer. He keeps scratching,” explained Valerian, thrusting the end of the griffin cub’s lead at the ranger. “Here, keep him from eating anything expensive. I’ll go save Filno.”


    …Who was now arguing fiercely with one of the modeling heads, and probably not about its staggering price (he’d have had to mortgage Ilirian and sell half of his family, put it that way). Val got there in time to hear,


    “I had to escape from Milardin, and after the mess you lot made in Averna, no pirate crew would accept me for fear of the queen!” snapped that beautiful porcelain model, looking a great deal like Filimar’s erstwhile lady. “What else was I supposed to do?”You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    “You could have come to me!” answered Filno, almost wailing. A golden-skinned clerk fluttered over as Filimar said, “I would have helped you get out, Neira! There was no need to sell yourself at the market!”


    “Are the young masters interested in this lovely piece?” inquired that shimmering sylph (a bit doubtfully).


    Val tried on a smile, working to look like he’d the treasure-house of an imperial heir at his whim.


    “It is rather attractive,” he admitted, adding, “Milady might find it amusing. What is its enchantment, if you please, good clerk?”


    “Ahh…” breathed the airy sylph, sketching a bow in mid-air. “My lord has excellent taste and a discerning eye! Brisingamen imparts divine beauty and springlike youth to its wearer, providing irresistible allure. Wearing this piece, one would launch a thousand ships and fell kingdoms.”


    “How much?!” demanded Filimar, whirling to face the startled shop-clerk, as a crowd began gathering. The sylph’s hide turned from fallow gold to dull brown. Its shifting features fixed themselves in a sideways scowl.


    “Brisingamen’s cost is not measured in c…”


    “Scrad the necklace! Drop it in a midden, for all I care!” raged Filno, his blue eyes flaring as bright as those gems. “How much to buy out my lady’s contract and free her from service?!”


    The clerk fluttered backward, making a noise like a hive of angry assemblers. Then, after a swift calculation,


    “Five thousand gold. The price of instant transfer from a locked-down city to Magister Serrio’s fair, young master. She is a seasonal hire, brought in for the First Night rush. Five thousand gold would release her from bondage, but she will receive no wages, having quit her post without notice.”


    “Five thous…” Filimar went spectral-pale, then turned all at once to face Valerian. Didn’t ask. Didn’t have to.


    Val heaved a bored sigh, acting the jaded aristocrat.


    “So much for a night on the town, I suppose,” he complained, idly flicking a finger to transfer coin (literally all that he had) to Filimar. “I told you not to waste so much cash in the gambling parlor.”


    Filno clasped Valerian’s shoulder. Gave his friend a rough shake, and then paid up. A magical contract appeared in the air. It looked like a scroll, signed in blood by Neira’s own hand. Money changed ownership yet again; from Filimar to Amur’s Fine Gems, this time. Once the transaction concluded, Neira’s contract dissolved, burning away at both ends until only her “X” and the printed name “Neira Lostdottir” remained. Then that, too, flickered out. Half of a thudding heartbeat later, the modeling head vanished, along with its podium and Brisingamen. Then Neira appeared in a flash of light.


    The smuggler stood blinking back tears, taking a deep breath for the first time in weeks, feeling over her body with both returned hands. Next, the beautiful sea-elf threw herself at Filno and Val, sweeping them into a crushing embrace. Kissed Filimar first and then Valerian, almost as deeply.


    Val was salt-whirled, pulled in and disoriented, until Cinda punched him, hard. Her fist broke the merwoman’s glamourie and brought the young elf-lord back to his senses. The watching crowd applauded the show, gone suddenly misty and tender. (Eager to buy, too, which greatly improved the clerk’s mood.)


    “Ouch!” grunted Val, rubbing his jaw. “I probably needed that, but you enjoyed it!”


    Cinda actually grinned at him, her expression clear even through his disguise spell.


    “Maybe a little… but you looked like an utter mooncalf, Valerian… and I had to break that witch’s spell.”


    Not over Filimar, obviously. The young lordling hadn’t yet come up for air. Val inclined his head to the busy sylph, then seized enough of Filno and Neira to steer them out of that very expensive tent.


    “I want to go home, Cin,” he said to the ranger, as they returned to the noisy midway. That kiss had triggered a sudden return of buried emotion. “I miss my wife. I’ve hardly gotten to know my daughter… and I’m tired. Good gods alone know how long it will take to find Sheraza, but I’m stuck until we do.”


    Cinda gave him back the end of Sawyer’s lead.


    “Here you go,” she said, not being good at emotion. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll figure out where to look next. You’re probably broke, now, but won’t admit it, so…”


    That’s when a shockwave tore through the fair, rattling pennants and blowing down tents, as everyone, all at once, felt the bloody end of Vernax the Golden.