The Story of a Lifetime Ch. 06

"You were overcharging me because you thought I was human?" I asked indignantly, my knuckles going white in their tight grip on my bag.

His only answer was a shrug, and I forced myself to relax as I felt my nails starting to dig into my palm. With a facade of composure I fished out a few coins, told him the address, and settled into the back.

With a sharp word in elvish from his master, the horse started a slow trot up the street. At this rate it would have been just as quick to walk, but I reasoned that I needed the time to collect myself anyway.

I fished out a small mirror, comb, and a half-empty bottle of oil and set about fixing my hair. The oil had light tones of lavender and something a little spicier that I couldn't quite place, and by the time I was done brushing out and fixing my hair I felt almost like myself again. A soft cloth that I wetted from my waterskin was next, and I gently cleansed my face and hands, and finished collecting myself.

The carriage came to a stop, but I sat for a few minutes more. My driver had been happy to rip me off a moment ago, and I wasn't about to rush on his account.

After another moment of wait, I finally opened my own door. I had half expected him to get my door for me, but no such luck. All things considered, it was probably better this way, since it saved me the embarrassment of trying to figure out if tipping was the norm in Enialsha.

I stepped out, gave the driver a nod, then set up the cobbled path to the large house. A small sign was simply labelled with the archaic elvish words for "clothier". Lynnish was a fixture in this part of town, and had no need to advertise with a flashy sign.

Her house seemed almost like an understated mansion as I approached, and an elven man outside the front door gave me a nod and held the door out for me.

"I'm here to see Lynnish," I told him, trying to decide if he was staff or just being polite. "I'm not a customer, though. Is she... in today?"

"In the back." He gave me a slow once-over and leered, making me immediately uncomfortable. "You can probably just head right through to see her."

I stepped through without thanking him, and cut through a large main area. Apparently, the entire front part of the bottom floor of the house had been turned to a lounge-type area. Plush chairs and comfy couches sat around small tables with silk tops, probably so that the fancy folk could share tea between fittings.

It was the cosiest, homiest, richest looking clothes-shop I'd ever set foot in, and I did my best not to gawk as I walked towards the area past the two raised dais-platform-thingies meant for fittings. There was a half-open door, and it seemed like a good place to start. I gave a polite knock on the door, and pushed it open when I heard a high voice call "Yes?"

"Hello, Lynnish?" I called as I half-stepped into the back area. I'd expected a sort of mess of fabric and needles and mannequins, and was pleased to find it meticulously organised by colours and texture, each swathe in its own box on a rack.

A tall elven woman stepped around a corner, a palette of smeared colours in one hand and a paintbrush held delicately in the other. "And you are...?" Her voice was high and musical, her enunciation clear and flawless, every bit the elven noble.

"My name is Amaranthea," I told her, trying my best not to let my Western accent come through too hard. "Theo sent me. The two of you were working on a deal, and I'm here to see what I can do to... help things along."

She took me in with a quick glance and gave a small smile. "This way," she told me, walking deeper into the house. I followed her, past the storage rooms and the workshop, and through a genuinely massive kitchen no doubt meant to make appetisers and hors d'oeuvres for the rich patrons. It was honestly ridiculous how much this shop just looked like a lounge. Past the kitchen was another door leading to a wide veranda that wrapped around the entire back side of her house.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the view of her sprawling yard of trees and bushes and flowers, and I blinked and turned to her as I realised I'd fully missed what she had said. "Pardon?"

"Tea, dear," she repeated patiently. "I have a pot steeping. Do you take cream, sugar, lemon...?"

"Cream and sugar," I answered, swiftly regaining my poise. "Thank you, Lynnish."

I expected her to call for a cook or servant of some kind to prepare the items, but she moved gracefully inside to make it herself. I was glad for the momentary reprieve to catch my breath, and I found myself drawn towards the easel she had set up at one side of the patio. I felt my chest tighten for the second time in as many minutes as I stared at her painting. It was a landscape picture of the harbour, as seen from a high street at sunset. The colours were so rich that they seemed to leap off of the canvas, except for a portion of the sides that were left completely blank, giving the impression that the rest of the world didn't exist at all.

"Do you like it?" Lynnish's voice asked from beside me, and I could barely tear my eyes off of the picture to look at her.

"It's gorgeous," I breathed, taking a seat when she gestured. She sat across from me, beside the painting so I could look at them both at once. The tea was between us, and she busied herself pouring us each a cup with movements so graceful and dextrous that I would have known she was an elf even if the face, ears, and eyes didn't give it away.

"What do you feel when you look at it?" she asked. "What's it about?"

I looked past her at the painting, at the way the world seemed to narrow down to the view of that harbour. "It's like tunnel-vision," I told her. "Nothing else exists but that place, that moment. It's the only thing that's important."

"Mm," she said, noncommittal. "Anything else?"

"The sunset, the brightness with a bit of darkness coming... it's sad. It feels like melancholy, or longing."

"My partner sailed out from that very port," she told me. "I watched the ship fade away on the horizon, and I watched long after it had disappeared, until the sun disappeared over the horizon and I walked home in the darkness. I came back every day for years, watching the ocean and waiting.

"Did they ever come back?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ocean travel is treacherous."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I told her, meaning it. I took a small sip of the tea to buy enough time to recollect my thoughts and get things back on track, but stopped short as the flavour hit my mouth. Hot damn, that was the singular best blend of tea I'd ever tasted.

"When you live as long as I have, you live through many such tragedies," she said simply, as if her casual acceptance wasn't heartbreaking in and of itself. "I've sometimes envied humans, whose lives end so soon. She's been gone for almost thirty years, and I still feel the loss as acutely today as the first time I heard the news of the ship's loss. That's why this particular tactic of Theo's is never going to pan out."

I cocked my head at her, not quite sure what she was talking about

"You're beautiful, I'll give you that much," she said wistfully. "The human girl he sent to butter me up with fluttered eyelashes was pretty, too."

"I don't understand," I started, and she cut me off with a wave of her hand.

"Sending someone of mixed blood, exotic yet familiar, was a stroke of genius. Theo is a clever man, I'll give him that much."

"I..." I started, then finally put the pieces together. I felt a blush rise on my face and heat my ears, more from indignation than embarrassment. "He sent me over to what... seduce you?"

She chuckled at my reaction. "Maybe he only hoped seeing a beautiful girl would loosen my purse strings."

I shook my head in frustration. It would have been nice to know his plan of attack from the get-go instead of being blindsided by it in the middle of a negotiation. I could have leaned into the seductress role... or slapped his ugly face and left.

"I'm just not sure I'm comfortable with the deal anymore," she confided. "I don't mind breaking the law on small matters, but the fines can be quite extreme."

"Breaking the law?"

"Of course," she answered, looking puzzled. "Didn't you know... no, looking at your face I can see you didn't."

"Didn't know what?" I asked, feeling concerned at the sudden look of anger on her beautiful face.

"Your Theo is a smuggler, of sorts. Elves can import and export materials freely, but non-elves pay hefty duties and taxes for doing so. Theo wants to bring in a lot of merchandise for me, but he wants me to pass off much of his imports as part of my own business dealings, so he can bring in his silks and other goods without paying the fees, and undercut his competitors."

I closed my eyes as understanding rolled in. He wasn't just offering her some bolts of fabric at a good price, he was asking her to claim the imports were hers from the get-go to lower his costs of business. "It would give him the reach of an international company, with all of the advantages of elven privilege."

"Just so," she agreed. "And while I appreciate having unparalleled access to halfling silk at costs far below my competition, it comes with a risk of being caught. And the fact that he sent you without even warning you that your actions are illegal... if I had gone to the city guard you could have been fined or even arrested, and he didn't even warn you." She shook her head, looking upset. "No, Theo is an untrustworthy man. It's simply not worth the risk."

"Not untrustworthy," I said in a rush, not liking the man but still wanting to make my sale. "Just untrusting. It's different."

"Untrusting, then," she said. "That seems like quite a poor trait in a business partner."

"It's actually the perfect trait in a business partner," I corrected, then held up a hand to forestall her arguments. "By sending someone who didn't understand the scope of his actions, he was protecting himself. And you, for that matter."

"How so?"

"Two words: plausible deniability. He used an outside intermediary, one not from this country or even continent, as a go-between, so any trouble would fall on me instead of you. I bet he didn't even sign the letter," I added, waving the envelope at her. "He could tell the city guard that this letter didn't really come from him, and you could tell the city guard that you thought you were dealing with a half-elf, which would make the whole affair perfectly legal."

"You're defending the man who was fine setting you up to take a fall, if need be?" Her words were harsh, yet her tone was inquisitive or even curious.

"It's just business," I shrugged, pretending not to be livid at that scumbag. "It's evidence that he's careful and plans ahead, which will keep you and your business safe."

She blinked slowly, then slowly nodded. "Perhaps I'll take a look at that letter, and see what his current offer is. No promises, but I'll look it over."

I handed her the letter and sat back, a grin on my face. She opened the sealed envelope with a careful, graceful motion, and I sipped the cup of tea as she read.

Within an hour we shook hands, and I was on my way back to the docks with her written answer in hand. She had decided on a dozen crates of fabrics for the first month instead of the original nine, and I couldn't help but grin when I slapped the envelope down on Theo's desk.

"You melted the elf's stone heart?" He asked, looking shocked and a little impressed. "I knew she wouldn't be able to resist you."

"It didn't have anything to do with hearts," I told him, "nor whatever else you're implying. She's a reasonable woman, and we came to an understanding."

"Reasonable my ass," he sneered. He slid a knife through the wax seal and opened the letter, quickly scanning over it. "Gods above, twelve boxes?"

I may as well have become invisible as the man rifled through a disorganised stack of papers and got lost in his work. He didn't even glance at me as I found a chair in the corner and sat down to watch him writing figures down and mumbling to himself as he worked. I could have left him to it, but I had a feeling that Theo wouldn't object to saving a few coins by conveniently "forgetting" my role in all of this.

He nodded, satisfied, and slouched in his chair. "You still here?"

"I wouldn't want us to forget the... formality," I told him pointedly.

"Sure, come back tomorrow morning and we'll figure out what you're owed."

"Why wait until tomorrow?" I asked, mincing towards his desk and snatching up a piece of paper before he could protest. "The tide waits for no man, and all that."

He reached for the sheet of paper but I nimbly sidestepped, scanning over it for... there it is. I put the paper down on his desk facing him, one finger pinning it in place as I drew his attention to the number written there. "That's your total cost of bringing it over by the crate, and Lynnish told me what she's paying per foot."

His face soured as he realised I wasn't going to let him wiggle out of this.

"So, sale price minus cost, multiplied by twelve..." My eyebrows went up as I finished the maths. "And ten percent of that is mine."

"Well," he hedged. "We had discussed getting her to agree to nine crates a month, and you would get a cut of that first month, so you only get ten percent of the first nine-"

"Bullshit," I cut him off, slamming my hands down on the desk and leaning forward into his space. "I talked her into this deal when she was ready to back down, and even got her interested in buying a bit more for the first month. You should be kissing my feet right now, not trying to steal my commission. I could walk right back to her door, and have her change her mind in half a-"

"Okay," he shouted, hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, lady, you win."

I sat back in my chair with an irritated huff as he wrote out a bank note for me. "I use the bank three blocks over," he said, waving vaguely South, "but the notes are good from any bank if you're willing to wait for the funds to transfer."

"Yes, I know how banking works," I told him, irritated at his condescension. I wasn't actually sure how banks worked in this part of the world, seeing as the network of connected magical books that let them track changes in bank accounts over any distance was a well-protected proprietary enchantment, but I understood the principle well enough.

He slid the note across to me, but kept holding it down when I reached for it. "Business is complete then," he said with a leer, "but maybe we could find some way to celebrate..."

I yanked the paper out from under his hand and stuck it in my clutch bag. "I told you, one more innuendo and my commission goes up to eleven percent. Are you looking to sign over more money?"

Again he lifted his hands in mock surrender. "You elf ladies are more trouble than you're worth sometimes," he grumbled.

"Smile, Theo," I told him. "You just made a lot of money. And so did I. But if I go to cash this note and find that you've shorted me, I will ruin your business."

I strode out of his office, through the warehouse, and back into the fresh air. I went a whole block before slipping the note out of my purse to check the number he'd written. "That son of a bitch rounded down," I grunted, then decided that the few extra coins weren't worth the trouble of going back in and arguing with him. I was going to have a full purse for the first time since I'd left Amella's capital city Trostis.

As I walked to the bank to get my money, I decided that for all that Theo was an asshole and a prig, he was right about one thing: it was time to celebrate.

By the time evening rolled around, I had about a quarter of my new funds divvied between my carrying purse and the stash in my room, and the rest sitting in a brand-new bank account in my name. I was feeling good as I wandered and explored the darkening streets that night.

I stopped suddenly when I heard strains of music drifting through the evening air. It was quiet and sweet, but somehow melancholy at the same time. Following the song back to its source, I stepped inside a tavern just down the block.

It was a pretty common layout for middle-class winehouses in this area - a smattering of tables spaced out around the main floor, a long bar with rows of bottles behind it, and a small raised stage off to one side. What wasn't typical was the performer on the stage, and I froze in the doorway to stare at him. His tunic was a rich green, which stood out against his red skin. His fingers, capped with sharp black nails, moved skillfully over a mandolin to pluck out a melancholic song.

"Amazing, isn't he?" A man's voice asked from beside me, and I painstakingly tore my eyes away from the curling goat horns growing from the bard's head. A server stood beside me, and gestured to an empty table close to the stage, and I let myself be led to a chair. "What can I get for you?"

I found my eyes pulled towards the red-skinned, horned man, and had to pull them forcefully back to the man asking me for my order. "Nothing too strong. What do you suggest?"

"Tonight, with this atmosphere? I would recommend the Castillo-Rojo. It's imported from the south."

"I've never tried Sawarran wine," I told him, eyes again on the musician. "That would be lovely."

The server faded away as the minstrel's song came to a close. He took a moment to stretch his fingers, drink from a nearby mug, and thank someone for leaving a coin in the upside-down hat on the stage, then started a new song. This melody was a bit quicker, and it evoked images of wandering and wondering, tinged with a hint of regret and wistfulness. Somehow it felt like he was playing it just for me.

I stared, entranced, at the musician's tail hanging down behind him, slowly swaying. The tip was diamond-like, or maybe more like an arrowhead, and it twitched back and forth in time with the song. I found myself wondering whether he controlled its motions, like a man tapping his foot, or whether it was more like an animal's tail that just moved on its own.

I sipped my wine, surprised both by its mellow nutty tones, as well as by the fact that I hadn't noticed it appear at all. I listened in rapt attention as the song came to a close, and yet another one started. This one was a more familiar tune, a popular local song that had translations in several languages, and he sung the Amellan version of the lyrics. His voice was lovely, smooth and confident, but not nearly so magical as his playing. A few people at the nearby tables took up the refrain when he gave a chin lift towards us as if to say "your turn".

When the chorus came around again, I couldn't help but to join in, quietly singing the elvish version of the lyrics, letting my voice join the others. It was a song about longing and hope and dreams, and somehow I knew it was the last part that he was really singing about tonight. A perfect closing piece.

Finally the last chords faded away, and a few more patrons approached the stage to leave a coin or two in the fancy hat. I figured those few coins wouldn't be enough to buy one sleeve of his fine tunic, but he thanked people with genuine warmth.

He packed up his instrument with loving reverence, then turned and met my eyes.

I was startled for a moment by the intensity of his stare, and the brilliant yellow colour of his eyes, but I didn't avert my gaze. I took another sip of wine as he made his slow way towards my table, and was surprised again when I realised the server had stopped by and refilled my glass without me noticing. He had been right about the suggestion, it really was a lovely vintage to pair with the music.

The musician stopped beside my table, then pulled one of the chairs back and sat on it without asking permission. "Bold," I told him.