Realms of Infamy - James Lowder [77]
Spun through with gold and platinum, and strung with tiny bronze beads, it was shaped like an arrowhead, lacking fringe or ruffle-edging to mar the simplicity of its lines. The weaving's antiquity and worth? Beyond comprehension.
I stole it and the incantation from a mountain wizard who used the shawl to capture his enemies. With a little ingenuity, it was possible to trap a person's life-force in the very fibers of the weaving. When I claimed the shawl as my own, I discovered that it had imprisoned many people already. By reversing the spell, I released them whole and complete. They went away thankful for their freedom and the chance to retaliate against the man who had done them wrong. Emptied, the cloak was packed away, though I knew that one day I would have an opportunity to try its magic on someone like Bareen Tykar.
* * * * *
Thieves can be masters of disguise. It helps to deflect the possibility of being recognized when out and about on business, and I, for one, take such things seriously. I move around too much in the towns and cities of the Heartlands to risk being recognized by my many enemies.
This night I walked through Kendil wearing coarse, brown linen. My long blond hair and tight beard were stained dark. I had added the tracks of a false scar along my cheek and an eye patch to balance the look. Sporting a limp, I hoped to distract attention from the filthy bindings wrapping my bad hand.
I entered Bareen Tykar's shop just before closing time, waiting silently by the door until he'd finished with a customer. The old man stared at me, and it looked as though he was going to summon his thugs.
Lowering my voice and wheezing a little, I spoke before he could call them. "You're the owner of this store?"
"Aye. So?"
"I just came to town and there be people here who tell me you like to buy old things."
"Who said that?"
"Some moon elf over at the inn. He was into his cups, but I thought I'd check it out. The year's been hard and funds are down. I'm selling off my personals, you see."
He stared at me-silent, calculating, distrustful. After a moment, his curiosity won over his caution. "What do you have?"
I shuffled up to the counter and grinned, making sure I breathed on him as I leaned close. The smell of onions and brown bread made him flinch. "What I have is a shawl," I said in a conspiratorial tone. "Struck through with powerful mountain magic."
"Let me see it," he said.
I opened my carry sack and gently pulled out the shawl, spreading it on his stone counter. The weaving glistened in the shop's candlelight. Bareen Tykar's eyes grew wide for a moment, then, as if he remembered his bargaining stance, he pasted on a bland expression.
"What does it do?" he asked.
"It'll mint you coins: gold and silver and platinum and copper."
His mouth came open a bit on those words, but after a sputtering inhale, he shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing as this shawl. It's a fake."
"No, it's not. See these filaments in the weaving itself? Look how bright they are with the metals. It's through these fibers that the magic works to make the coins. I can't do much with it anymore, though."
"Why?"
"With each speaking of the incantation, the shawl's power wanes. It'll give up only so much gold, silver, and platinum per owner. I've used my turn, you see, and all I get now are copper pieces and not many of them."
He leaned in again and touched the shawl lightly. "You say this shawl is old? How old and from where does it come?"
"It belonged to a dwarf living in the Sunset Mountains and was made before the first Orcgate Wars in Thay."
"That old, then, is it?" Bareen Tykar asked. "Do you have letters of authenticity?"
I laughed. "From a dwarf? Are you mad?" I smoothed my chuckling into a glaring frown.
He snorted and crossed his arms, propping them on his huge stomach. "I'll require a demonstration. If copper is all you can make, then do it so I can see if this shawl really does what you say."
I counted to ten before