I'll Bet Ye Fer It! by Mountain Rider
A "Heartlands" tale, with a nod to "Heartlands" creator and Literotica author Trisha Monks for her inspiration and indulgence.
*****
Crizella shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She bounced her pitifully light pouch of coins dejectedly in her hand as she stared covetously at the cleverly cut gems in the glass display case. How they caught the light and filled with fire!
She certainly couldn't afford even the smallest of them, but it was beginning to seem increasingly reasonable to smash the glass, snatch one, and run like mad through the marketplace before the dwarf who owned this particular stall could catch her. Unfortunately said dwarf was standing a few feet behind her watching her conscience wrestle with her greed. She had just taken a step toward the display case when the gritty voice stopped her momentum like a stone wall.
"I wouldn't do it if I were ye, lass. I knows what yer thinkin', and it's nothin' but trouble ye'll find."
Crizella whirled around to face the owner of the voice, a crusty old gemcutter by the name of Hergerson if the marquee on the stall was correct. He fit the dwarvish stereotype she had in her mind -- short, stocky, bearded, dirty, and coarse. Nevermind that his particular dirtiness sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight, as it was the dust of precious stones that lay upon him. He was still a dwarf, and therefore non-human and non-noble.
All that is to say is that Crizella both literally and figuratively looked down at Master Hergerson and had the nerve to act offended when she retorted, "I have no idea what you mean, you filthy little beggar."
"I'm thinkin' ye do lass," Hergerson said grinning. "If not, then no harm done an' no offense to be takin' from this old dwarf now is there?"
Crizella's face reddened in embarrassment and anger as the earthy merchant continued.
"As for bein' a beggar, well now, I think I got more wealth dustin' me beard and eyebrows than ye have in that moneybag of yers. I'll refer ye to the fine print at the bottom of me sign, and leave ye be," he said and turned to go. "If ye need help readin' it, then ye tell me."
That was enough to incite Crizella to make a very unladylike sound and to stamp her foot in irritation. Nevertheless she did turn to read the fine print on the sign:
No Credit! Only Hard Currency Accepted. Full Payment in Advance or You Pay With Your Arse!
Crizella watched as Master Hergerson disappeared around the corner of his stall and bit her lip in anger and indecision. She knew she shouldn't, but now it was almost a matter of principle.
That grubby dwarf had offended her,
she rationalized.
So what if he'd been right?
The dwarf for his own part was slowly counting backward from fifty as he dug a length of strong rope and a pair of manacles out of a locker in the interior of his little workroom. He then slowly walked back around the far side of his market stall and heard the display case glass break just as he passed "two" in his countdown. Sighing, he stepped around the corner of the stall and almost nonchalantly caught Crizella in full flight by simply holding out one of his powerful arms.
The sudden stop knocked the wind out of Crizella as surely as it knocked the glittering gem out of her hand. As if rehearsed a thousand times, Master Hergerson snapped one manacle onto one of Crizella's wrists, caught the flying gemstone, and spun the girl around to capture the other wrist in the mating manacle behind her back. He pocketed the stone, and quickly inventoried the rest of the broken display case while he looped the rope around Crizella's waist to pass through the ring connected the manacles behind her back. In a matter of seconds, Crizella found her hands securely locked behind her back and her body leashed as well.
"Who's yer guardian ye daft girl?" the dwarf asked wearily.
Crizella snarled, spit at his face, and kicked at him instead of answering like a civilized person. Sighing again, Hergerson gave a sharp tug on the rope which planted her seat-down in the dirt.
"That weren't the first nor will it be the last time I been spat at lass," the gemcutter said, wiping his face. "Now I'm more of a gentledwarf than to give ye the slap ye deserve fer that. However, we are a goin' to see the market foreman, and we will be findin' yer parents."
He quickly locked down the rest of the merchandise, then hoisted Crizella back to her feet, and marched her ahead of him toward the market center. There was nothing for her do to but trudge ahead of the angry dwarf.
The wheelwright in the next stall remarked as they passed, "Oh no! not another thief Thorn!"
"Afraid so, lad. They can't seem to leave me shiny stones alone!" Master Hergerson grumbled.
"You going to take it out of her arse?" asked the wheelwright, and grinned lasciviously.
"We'll see, lad. We'll see," the dwarf said and grinned himself as he saw Crizella's eyes widen in fear.
*****
"Thorn you old curmudgeon! Another thief? If I didn't know how much this annoyed you I'd swear you were deliberately baiting them," exclaimed Foreman Blacksage. The foreman looked like a big, fat, retired merchant himself -- most likely because he was a big, fat, retired merchant. This made him ideal to judge matters of theft and grift in the marketplace because he not only knew what was good for merchants, but what was good for business.
"I think we knows how this goes," began the dwarf. "I, Master Thorn Hergerson, a gem miner, cutter, and seller of this market, do accuse this foolish lass of smashing me display case and attempting to depart with me merchandise unpaid for. I knows not who her guardians may be, but I have recovered me merchandise and only seek retribution for a new piece of glass for me stall and for lost time dealing with this hatful of nonsense. I promises on me honor that I've not been abusive to her though she be rude and violent herself."
"And who are you girl?" asked the foreman turning to Crizella.
Crizella lifted her chin and spat, "Crizellavillissant Armagondro, and this little beast is a liar."
"Armagondro? Well that settles that then," said Blacksage.
"Ye know her family?" asked Master Hergerson.
"Aye," said the foreman. "They're a rich family with a big estate out from Bremin. Her father owned several ships in the river delta east of here, but recently sold them for a vineyard estate and moved in from the coast. Otherwise were the girl a local, she would know that her calling you a liar only damns herself."
Crizella's face fell. She had been on the verge of believing herself to be released on the reputation of her family alone. Now confusion and fear returned, and she glanced from foreman to gemcutter and back.
Blacksage leaned in and said, "Girl do you have any idea how long Master Hergerson has been plying his trade in this very market?"
Crizella shook her head and looked to Thorn who was counting on his fingers. She lifted her lip scornfully, jumping to the conclusion that he didn't count well, until the old dwarf grumbled, "This summer makes it 238 years, a little more'n half me life."
"And your brother Morik the smith and weapons master?" Blacksage prodded.
"Aye, nearer a hundred ninety years in the trade fer him, but he's a wee bit younger than meself."
"So you see girl," Blacksage said turning back to Crizella, "He's been recognized as a fair craftsman and merchant here ten times as long as you've been alive. His family's credibility and integrity are above reproach. If he says you stole from him, then you stole from him. The only reason you are here is so we can determine who you belong to.
"Now that I know you are Crizellavillissant Armagondro, that answer is obvious," Blacksage paused for effect and pointed to Master Hergerson. "You belong to
him
."
