The Unsuspecting Mage - Brian S. Pratt [85]
Taking a close look at the medallion, the man shakes his head, “No sir, I have not.” Then he grabs another one of his amulets that he says will bring great wealth to whoever wears it.
Disappointed, he puts the medallion back inside his shirt. Realizing he’s not likely to get away without buying one, he points to an amulet at random, a plain circular one of metal, bearing three dots forming the points of a triangle with connecting lines.
Seeing the amulet that James has pointed to, the merchant says, “That one is indeed precious. It comes from very far away and is said to have been the property of a powerful sorceress,” he says with conviction as he holds it up for a better view. “It was said that this amulet protected her from harm for as long as she wore it.”
“What happened to her?” James asks.
“Her lover tricked her into taking it off and then killed her,” he explains. “Only two silvers good sir and you too will be protected as she had been.”
“Five coppers,” James counters, “and I’m just buying it to get away from you.”
“Sir,” the merchant exclaims tragically, “you would ruin me, starving my wife and children. Surely an amulet as powerful as this must be worth a silver and twelve coppers.”
“Perhaps, ten coppers,” James offers, “and hopefully it won’t turn my skin green or give me a rash.”
“How can you possibly put a price on such wonderful protection,” the man protests vigorously. “A silver six coppers, and that will bring curses upon my head from my wife for having given it away.”
“Seventeen coppers,” James says, “and I’m getting ready to walk.” Beginning to back away, he spies the man’s face turning frantic at the possible loss of a sale.
“A silver, good sir,” he pleads, practically screeching as he stretches the hand that is holding the amulet across the table as if to keep him from leaving. “Surely the protection must be worth at least a silver!”
Pausing as if to think, he says, “A silver it is then.” Reaching into his pouch, he produces a silver and places it on the table.
Snatching the coin so fast that the eye had a hard time seeing the move, the man hands over the amulet to James. With a friendly grin, the man gives a slight bow and says, “Thank you good sir and may a thousand blessings be upon you.”
James takes the amulet and puts it in his pocket. “You’re welcome,” he tells the merchant as he walks away from the stall.
He hasn’t taken two steps before the voice of the amulet seller once again joins the cacophony of his fellow merchants, each trying to out shout the others in the hopes of enticing those passing by to their stalls.
As he leaves the cacophony of merchants behind, James heads further into the city where the types of businesses gradually begin to change. Where the ones closer to the entrance into the city were noisy and boisterous, the ones further away from the outer gate are calmer. These are the businesses that the people of the city use on a more regular basis.
There are chandlers, butchers, and shops for every need. These do not require a loud spokesman to try to persuade prospective buyers to enter. These are well established, long time businesses known by the locals, so don’t need all the noise to attract customers. Enjoying the more peaceful environment, James strolls down the street, no longer afraid to window shop. Here there is no fear of having someone attach themselves to him like what he experienced back with the amulet merchant.
One sign draws his attention. It depicted a large pie with steam radiating off it. Must be a bakery, he thinks to himself. Maybe they have tarts. Remembering how delicious they had been in Bearn, he walks over and opens the door. His stomach begins to growl as a mouth watering aroma wafts through the open door.
A young man greets him upon entering. “Hello,” he says as he puts down a broom and comes over to the counter. “What can I do for you this evening good sir?”
“I was wondering if you have any tarts?” he asks.
“As a matter of fact we do,” the young man says. “My father makes really