Realms of the Arcane - Brian M. Thomsen [29]
"It's alive!" said Sam, clapping Wiglaf on the back. "It's good!"
Sam poured water into another bowl, then expertly mixed some honey, salt, and flour. Then, so gradually it was almost painful, he added the dough-water. It dissolved into the flour mixture easily, almost as if it knew its function.
When he was satisfied by the consistency, Sam upended the bowl, and a large cream-colored blob plopped nicely on the table. He rolled it flat, then began to knead it into a loaf; pressing, folding, bunching, turning, with graceful flowing movements that entranced his audience as effectively as any spellcasting.
"Fine dough, young Wiglaf," he said as he massaged the mixture. "I don't know how it will taste, but it works in the hand like a tender young maiden."
"So, too, shall it work for the Grand Exalted One!" came a shrill voice from the doorway.
All heads turned to behold a mousy, balding little man carrying a worn ledger before him like a tome of holy writ. His brilliant red raiment was offset by an ornate, nearly shield-sized golden pendant hanging from his neck, which may have been at least partially responsible for a perpetually stooped posture. Thorin let out a barely audible groan as the visitor stutter-stepped like a dying ghoul through the front counter area, frightening Piewacket into a far corner.
"Wiglaf, I have the honor to present the official countenance of the honorable Has'san Hairsplitter," Thorin said in a barely disguised singsong voice.
"Hars'plittar," the weasel corrected.
"Anyway," Thorin said with a roll of his eyes, "this is the tax collector."
"Underassistant domestic economic redistribution specialist," the little man remonstrated, "for the west-northwest semi-urban trade zone, city of Calimport, kingdom of Calimshan, in service to the Mightiest of Mighties, His Majestic Royal Benevolence."
"We've made our graft payments," said Thorin.
"Ah, but this is a special command visit," said the bureaucrat. "It has come to the attention of His Mammoth Munificence that a discovery has been made on his lands, in his kingdom, of certain items of arcana that may have significant historical… mm, significance."
"Your customers have been talking, Wiglaf," Thorin said with a rueful glance at his son.
"It's nothing but a bloody loaf of bread," said Sam, still absently kneading the dough.
"Nevertheless, under footnote eleven, subsection double-T, paragraph thirty-four, of His Unutterable Awesomeness's five hundred twenty-fifth royal decree, historical artifacts are subject to a special levy."
"This bread is definitely unlevied at the moment," said Thorin, as the bakers stifled chuckles. "Has'san, how are you going to valuate a pile of dough?"
"His Magnanimous Puissance understands the problem, and has instructed me to receive the tribute in kind. I fall to my knees and weep over his glorious generosity toward you."
"What did he say?" asked Wiglaf.
"His boss wants dough," Thorin sighed.
Hars'plittar slinked to Sam's table and reached for a knife. "The special levy for arcana is satisfied… so." He lopped off two thirds of the dough, draped it in a piece of Thorin's cloth, and hobbled for the door.
"On behalf of the artisans in His Fearsome Omnivorousness's kitchens, and all of Calimshan, we salute your patriotic initiative in this matter and wish you a sincere and pleasant good evening."
The foul residue of his visit lingered for many moments after he was out of the door.
"Can he do that? How can he do that?" pleaded Wiglaf.
"It could be worse, laddie," Sam said as he rolled the fractional piece again and kneaded it into shape. "At least he left us with something. And that jar over there never made it up the chain of command. The bean counters forgot all about it. Better take it away before that ferret decides to come back."
"I'd love to pour this over his head," Wiglaf said as he stashed the jar in a pocket of his robe.
"Never mind that," Thorin said. "Let's get ready to close up. We'll have to leave it out overnight to let it rise." Sam placed the pitiful little measure into a greased