A Price Paid Ch. 02

"I feel as though someone should."

"I practiced. I can only rightfully strut if I display perfection, after all." He took a moment to concentrate and pull the necessary energy around him while shaping it just so. He was certain of his control. He had rehearsed the spell on all sorts of granular matter in order to teach himself how to move it in the air that his power would drive. He needed to move those grains as he wished so they would go where he wanted them to and he could be nowhere near it them when they were finally released.

Even so, when his magic touched the dust and light rushed over it in the space of an eye's blink, he reflexively clamped down on his own breath even though he was certain they were contained within his own gifts. They were funneled from the pouch and floated in a stream outward, disappearing to the naked eye almost at once. He could see them as reflective sparkles as they fanned outward, driven by a current of magic towards the market. Sylanna, her given name that few knew, watched the magic move, float, and then descend upon the market.

And they both waited for the results.

* * *

It was business as usual in the market for Polan, an amiable baker that had bakeries all over the city and looked as though he sampled his own products quite a bit. As a professional of note, he did not rest on his laurels or leave his work to others. He was active in all aspects of his businesses and he still woke up well before dawn just as he just when it was just him with a single shop. The difference now was that he was awake early to get to special orders from people who now sought his skill or to teach new workers how to do it all right the first time.

He came to the poorer markets here because the denizens here were among the first to meet the trade ships as they came in, and the market owners here often made their own little side deals with merchant sailors for extra of this spice or sizable extra coin for that rare game meat if they took a side trip when they were on their journeys. He could usually make far better deals here than for the same things in the fancier parts of town. Sometimes they even had things they kept from those fancier vendors to give some added incentive for those in the know to shop here first.

Polan took the small crate of fruit from the vendor and placed it in the push cart next to two others just like it. The cart had plenty of room yet as he had a few more stops to make.

The vendor, Nika, counted his silver and mirrored Polan by putting the small pouch into the lock box with his other money. It was already setting up to be a good day. "Pleasure doing business with you, Polan, as always."

"We're not done yet, Nik."

"Oh?" Nik said in a tone that said it wasn't a shock, but the game was the game. "What else can I do for you, my friend?"

Polan placed his bulky arms on the counter between them so he could lean closer. "I hear you have some Koln spice."

He played coy. "Who told you that? That's especially rare right now. With the drought south it's going to take a few weeks to get it from elsewhere."

He nodded. "I know, and that's all fine, well, and good, but there are few better sources of sweet and heat to be had and I have need."

"Every baker, pastry chef, and cook in the city has need for it, but you just said there are other sources for that mix of flavors."

"Substitutions are fine for general customers. Most of them won't notice and, even if they did, will simply take 'necessary substitution' for an answer, but I have commitments for parties and such to the higher houses, and if their child's birthday cake or the pastries for their tea parties doesn't taste exactly as they expect, I'll pay for it by having them yell me deaf or worse, lost business. So it's just easier to pay you a premium now and save my business and my hearing."

"The nobles can be quite a trial, can't they?" The words of sympathy were especially syrupy.

"They can," Polan agreed, meeting the tone with his most disarming smile. "So how much do you have?"

Nika leaned over the counter, looking left and right to see who might be watching before coming back to look behind himself in the one man kiosk. Judging the coast clear, he reached beneath the counter and retrieved an opaque glass jar. "Two pounds of the best Koln anywhere."

Polan's eyes looked over at the jar and back at Nik who knew that was the cue to open the jar. He unscrewed the lid quickly, lifted it, then brought it down just as fast before resealing it so the rush of air couldn't carry the scent far.

That was all the baker needed to know it was real and high quality, as that hint was enough to clear his sinuses. Saved for the nobles, the quantity would be more than enough to ride out the shortage. "Fifty gold," he said quietly.

His eyes twinkled. "That's a good start."

Polan snorted, but there was little annoyance to be had. The game was the game. "Start? How long does it take you to get fifty gold, Nik? And I've got it here and now."

"And how much do you think I could get if I took this sweet little jar to Kriss?"

Now there was annoyance. "Kriss? That woman makes pastry so excellent you could shingle a roof with it, and it'd last twenty years."

"Or what if I just take it up to the kitchens of one of the grand houses myself? They could afford to drop ten times that. By the depths, some of them might like doing that just to show off. But, you know, we're friends, so I'm willing to take a loss on this to," he groped for a second before adding a smile to, "maintain goodwill."

"How much?"

"Two hundred seventy-five."

He stiffened. "Robbery."

"And fifty is theft, Polan, so let's figure it out."

He took a breath, but that only seemed to ratchet up his annoyance at the whole affair. The game was over. Standing with this man going back and forth about something that should be his after offering what it would take months, if not longer for this little merchant to cobble together stuck in his belly and gnawed at his insides like a little animal trying to get out. His voice grew cold. "Seventy-five. Take it, be happy with it, and give me what's mine."

Nika's eyes suddenly lost the twinkle that always accompanied the potential for profit. Who was this man to come down here and behave like he could come down here, take advantage of people trying to make an honest living, and then expect the abused to kiss his ass? He wasn't the only one, he was just the latest and the anger in simply contemplating that burned in his chest "Take your seventy-five and go fuck yourself with it, Polan."

"Give me what's mine,you sniveling fucking dock rat!" Polan leaped over the counter between them, oblivious to the sound of the jar hitting the ground and shattering. They were now both oblivious to the sound, the pungent scent of the spice, why the spice once mattered at all, or the fact that similar fights were breaking out all around them.

All that mattered was sating the rage within.

* * *

From their safe place at the table, Nax and Sylanna watched. They watched the grains sparkle as they floated, using their sense of magic that only those that truly understood the scope of its capabilities could manage. They watched the milling throngs meld together in piles, then they watched smoke rise as cooking fires were used to set the colorful canopies ablaze.

"Excellent control, Nax," she admitted grudgingly, watching with a growing smile at the increasing bedlam below.

"Nice work yourself, Syl. How long will it last?"

"More than long enough to get the job done," she assured him. They'll spread it for a while once they take it in and, even when the...help finally dissipates," she continued matter-of-factly, "there will be enough people who'll want to settle scores or just cause anarchy to keep it going." She was equally satisfied with her work. "More than long enough."

They rose together, slipping easily through the crowd that was gathering to watch the show before anyone might have bothered to take note.

While the lower markets burned.

To Be Continued...