"We need the heralds kept an eye on," he instructed the group of soldiers. "If they're interested in a particular item, and it isn't particularly harmful and below one hundred crowns, buy it for them then use that opportunity to direct them back this way."
"One hundred crowns won't buy much," pointed out one of the soldiers.
"It's still more than we make in a pay period," another soldier reminded the first.
"Get moving you louts, you heard the General," growled a lupine Sergeant, managing a snarl that promised much pain for lingerers.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," said General Tchon, heading for the herbist. Something to qwell the nervousness in his stomach seemed to be in the day plan.
Gerald Streama noticed the General coming in but his eye was particularly fixed upon the display before him. "Do these work as advertised?"
The humanoid mouse behind the counter raised a whiskered eyebrow. "Of course they work. I, Madame Oushka, would not be able to stay in business otherwise. Certain blends only work on certain races though."
Gerald had walked past the aphrodisiacs and oils, and was apparently examining something in the "Tonics & Elixirs" section. "What about this?"
"Works on humans and elves and dwarves," replied Madame Oushka. "Not so well on my own race, nor on reptine, completely useless when you consider some of the other races. Except dryads. Makes them giddy and euphoric."
"How do you use it?" asked the reporter.
"Put a half-handful of the mixture in a mesh container, wicker or metal if you have it, pour boiling water over it," advised Madame Oushka. "Breathe the steam until it is cool enough to drink, then drink the mixture. It's a little bitter so honey is recommended for the tea that forms."
"Respiratory difficulties?" the General asked, looming over the reporter.
"An acquaintance of mine," admitted the reporter.
The General nodded at that. "Oushka, a small tin of the Stronglung Tea."
"Right away, General," said Oushka as she scurried to the task.
Nuke knew that there were places in every port that people gathered. Sailors gathered in wharfside bars all the time, and this was clearly the sort of place where people would normally gather while their ship was in dock.
Except that it was largely empty.
"Where is everyone?" Nuke asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
"We're normally a lot more crowded, but most of our transient crowd isn't in while we're off acting as a base for the Prince in this land," said the barkeep, polishing glasses behind the counter.
Nuke winced as that made sense. It looked like the only customers were three soldiers and a... "What or who is that?"
The barkeep's eyes flicked over to make sure the herald was referring to whom he thought he was referring to. "THAT would be Stiltek."
Nuke glanced back to the barkeep. "Is that a species or a personal name?"
"Stiltek is his personal name, his species is Mau, and his profession is storyteller."
Nuke's eyes gleamed at the possibility, the tigerstriped pseudo-feline sleeping in a corner now representing a source of information he could tap.
"How much is that?" asked the reporter, looking over the clockwork ballerina and trying to figure out what the material was.
"Normally three hundred crowns, but I'll cut it down to sixty if you'll tell me something," said the clerk behind the desk.
The reporter blinked and looked at the long-nosed person behind the counter, wondering what this was about. "Why such a drastic price reduction?"
"I'm a businessgnome," said the clerk. "I have to cover the costs of the material but since I'm the maker, I can write off the labor costs if it suits my purposes. Getting the straight information from one of you heralds is worth it to me."
"Does this move?" the reporter asked.
The gnome took out the clockwork and wound it up. What happened next was literally magic.
The six inch tall ballerina came to life, literally, before the reporter's eyes. She danced and pirouetted and made graceful moves to some little music coming from her base, ending her performance with a low graceful curtsey directly towards her one person audience. At which point the ballerina returned to her original position and appearance.
The reporter opened her mouth and closed it a few times, and even though no magical spell had been cast upon her, she had to get this now. "What did you need to know?"
"The people in the higher ups have been talking about the Prince getting together with a human girl from his own world, and there are factions that would have him do this rather than set one group over another if he should choose a bride from one of those groups," said the gnome. "What can you tell me of his land of origin here, as they'd have that advantage over the rest?"
(Posted Mon, 05 Apr 2004 10:15)
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