dragon.
Dragons! Yeah, right!
A Strange Meeting
After finalizing a few details and getting my contact's location and the time of our meeting, I left the Council HQ with Mithnite and found myself back outside the innocuous terraced house. The whole street was Hidden territory, so no need to worry about the constant comings and goings.
This sounded like a seriously epic way to begin my life as a resurrected dark magic enforcer, but then, this was what drew me, the promise of excitement, of magic, of the unknown. Dwarf caves, dragons, gold. How cool was this going to be?
A quick drive across town, I parked and after a short walk we were outside a pawn shop in one of the arcades right in the heart of the city. It's the proper old quarter that I like best—the narrow alleys, the darkness, the history that seeps up from the ground and relaxes me, allows me to forget about the traffic and the fumes, which all still seem like a recent occurrence.
Knowing it wouldn't go down well, especially if the contact was the distrustful sort—which it would be because it was a dwarf—I told Mithnite to just hang around and wait, and that I'd meet him soon at a nearby church. He headed off, disappointed but doing as I asked.
The windows were crammed full of displays of various pieces of jewelry. From watches to rings, to chains and anything else made of precious metals, definite emphasis on gold. After loitering for a few minutes, just checking out what was on offer, I pushed open the door and was half-deafened by a loud bell right above my head. The tinnitus flared up then receded. Damn, I wish I could cure myself of this thing, it's so annoying.
The tiny space was cramped to say the least, almost as if it was custom-built for people of limited height. The ceiling was low, the room was closing in on me with locked display cabinets of more junk and items precious at one time to their owners. One wall was taken up by the serving window, reinforced glass and a tiny opening for items and money to exchange hands.
At one time I knew the guy that ran it, but it had changed owners a number of times since so I didn't know who to expect.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
"What?" came a less than friendly voice from somewhere behind the counter, out of sight.
"Where are you?" I know dwarves are short, but you had to be seen if you wanted to do business.
"Be with you in a minute, just hang on." I waited, listening to the labored breathing of the gruff dwarf as paper rustled and tape was used, my guess being sealing something ready to post.
A mass of hair eventually popped up from behind the counter and kept on rising as the dwarf clambered up onto a high chair and sat.
"Ulod Lavadelver, I presume?"
"Who's asking?" said Ulod, looking apprehensive. Dwarves usually appear as swarthy bearded men to Regulars, and never used their dwarven names unless they're sure you're a Hidden, so it was understandable.
"I'm Faz Pound, Black Spark," I said, giving him both my Regular and Hidden names. "Dancer, um, Council Head Dancer sent me." I realized then that I wasn't sure what Dancer's new title was. Had he become a Mage? No, that was next step up from wizard. What was the next level for a necromancer? I'd have to ask.
"Ah, why didn't you say?" said Ulod, not looking quite as shifty now. Okay, I'm going to say he, but as with so many truly magical creatures it's no easy thing to know. All dwarves dress alike, heavy on the leather and thick belts for hammers and chisels, requisite leather satchel for any gold they might pick up plus the gold they carry with them at all times, and they never talk about sex.
Just because Ulod had a beard down to his waist, in three plaits, had so much thick hair and even thicker eyebrows that you got to see little exposed flesh and what you did see was a swarthy dark brown, well, it makes you think male—that's my prejudice showing, but some habits are hard to shake.
Ulod rattled a large keyring and unlocked a