Myth-Gotten Gains

Scaring the pair of arachnoids next to me into dropping their egg sacs prematurely, I swept the sword up over my head and knocked the blade on the ground. It hummed. The corrosion just exploded off it. I covered my eyes to protect them from flying rust. When the dust storm ended, I found I was clasping a gleaming brand with a blade of white-hot silver and a hilt of chased gold studded with cabochon gems of the pure colors of ruby, amethyst, emerald and sapphire that made my palms itch with unrealized profits.

The eyes, now free of the film that had veiled them, were sharper than ever. I had seen eyes like that while playing Dragon Poker, over the top of a hand of cards, as my opponent wondered if I really held an Elf-high flush, or if I was bluffing. These made an intelligent search of my person from head to feet.

"A Pervert," it said. "I have both aided and killed your kind."

"It's Pervect, you hunk of tin," I snarled.

The eyes closed briefly as if the unseen being was bowing its head in apology. "As you will. Your people have attained a higher status, then, than they had when last I saw Perv. Pray, friend, buy me, and hastily. I would be away from this place. I will see to it that you will be reimbursed tenfold."

"Tenfold, eh?" Well, that was a pretty good return on an outlay. Still, I didn't have amniotic fluid clinging to me anywhere.

"In case you didn't know it, Skinny, you're a sword. Where are you going to get the money?"

"I will tell you my story, if only you will remove me from this locale. I fear that danger may lurk about us soon."

I observed just then that more people than I had taken notice of the transformation of the flea-market sword from letter opener to museum piece. I gave them a good glare and showed my teeth. They backed away, careful to keep their hands and feet far away from my mouth. I shoved the sword back into its shabby sheath and dragged it carelessly over through the dirt to the being who owned the stall.

"Ah, good...sir," the Ittschalkian said, turning his mass of braided fur my way. He eyed me nervously, but he wasn't about to drive away a potential sale. He peered at the weather-beaten tube of leather in my hand. I kept my fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt. "I see you have chosen one of my favorite artifacts. I am sure you appreciate its value."

"I sure do," I said. "Five gold pieces, and not a copper more."

"Five?!" the man asked, his face transforming spectacularly from oily accommodation to outrage. "How could you ask me to part with a family heirloom for a mere five coins, scaly sir? It's worth at least forty!"

I always thought it was amusing how a shopkeeper could set out a tableful of crap, ignore it unless it was being openly stolen, abuse it to his friends and family as the garbage it was, then instantly start spouting the woe-is-me-my-family-will-starve line. I'd heard the litany so often I could recite it along with him. If the guy's a good salesman, I will sometimes join in the banter just to enjoy the show, but this clown had no natural style. He was clearly one of the guys who'd bought the course advertised on the back of a magazine that was headlined, "If you can draw Sparky, you, too, can be a filthy huckster!" He just didn't have it in him. Besides, I wasn't in the mood.

"Too high an opener, brother," I said, shaking my head reprovingly. "A Deveel wouldn't have had the nerve to ask me for twenty for this pig sticker."

"Pig sticker!" echoed the voice in the scabbard. It was muffled, but there was nothing wrong with its hearing. "I'll have you know, varlet..."

"Shut up. Not you," I said to the merchant. "Five's my offer."

"Then I will say fifty!"

I sighed lustily. He had not seen the sword's transformation, and not only was I not going to tip him off about it, I gave a warning eye to everyone in the crowd gathering around us to make sure they didn't, either. "Six."

"Sixty!" the merchant responded.

"Seven."

"Seventy!"

"Four."

"E...what?" The runaway freight train just piled into a brick wall.

"You've just tripped into absurdity, brother. The price goes down from now on."

"Why, you can't do that!" His braids flapped with outrage.

I grinned, giving him the benefit of my last dental prophylaxis. He blanched at the sight of my Pervect smile.

"Sure I can. Do you want to make a sale or not?"

"That's the stuff, friend...!" the voice from my hand mumbled out.

"Shut up. Where were we? Four."

"Nay, good Pervect, I am worth at least a hundred times that!"

"Shut up!" I growled out of the corner of my mouth. "Do you want me to leave you here?"

"Nay, I beg you!"

"Then, zip it before someone hears you! Four," I repeated.

"No, sir, please!" The merchant was aghast. He wrung his hands together. "It cost me far more than that! I obtained it from a hairless, old soldier down on his luck."

"Probably out of drinking money," I said, coolly. I had the upper hand, and I wasn't letting it go.

"Give me twenty, at least."

"That's more like it," I said approvingly.

"Then you'll pay it?"