Yellowish eyes looked out at her from behind the little shutter in the door. "I not know you," said a deep voice accusingly, "why you here?"
Elandra had already composed herself; she knew that the woman she had come to see had a half-orc assistant and bodyguard. She was no aristocrat, but still, half-orcs were not a race that she had had many dealings with before. This one, just from the sound of his gravely voice and crude grammar, seemed to fit the stereotype. Which made it easier to deal with him, in a way, so long as she didn't show fear or disgust at his appearance. After all, his employer surely needed new customers every now and then.
"We are here to see Nyvara," she said, keeping her voice steady, "we want to buy something."
"We?" asked the half-orc, his eyes glancing about.
He could probably see far better than her in the dark of the night, but from his vantage point behind the door, her body was blocking his view of Tinberly.
"My daughter is here with me," she said, reluctantly taking a half step to the side, so that he could see. Surely they looked harmless enough?
The half-orc grunted, "you wait here. I be back soon."
The little shutter closed, leaving the two of them outside in the darkened alley. Elandra pulled her shawl more tightly around herself, although it was more the lateness of the hour and the unfamiliarity of the streets that was getting to her than any feeling of cold, for, if anything, it was quite a warm night.
"There won't be a problem," she told Tinberly, with slightly more confidence than she felt. The teenager nodded, wide eyes looking up and down the empty alley, arms gripped around her sides.
Before long, the door opened, and the half-orc beckoned them inside. Gratefully, they both stepped within, into a room as dark as the alley itself. Elandra could only make out the outline of the half-orc in the gloom. He was a big man, almost a foot taller than she, with large brawny arms and a powerful build. She couldn't see his face clearly, but even if it was not as fearsome as she expected, he would still look quite threatening.
"You go down," he said, pulling aside a curtain at the far side of the room.
It led to a stairway heading down, she supposed, to a cellar. "Thank you," she said, seeing no reason not to be polite. The half-orc grunted again, sounding pleasantly surprised. Perhaps most strangers didn't bother talking to him at all.
There was another curtain at the end of the stairway, and then she was through into the sorceress's den. She glanced around at the occult symbols on the walls, the hanging lanterns and the range of odd-looking items on the bench in front of her. But her eyes were drawn mainly to the woman who sat behind it, in a high-backed chair.
She certainly looked the part, clothed in a tight black dress with a plunging neckline and a silver pentagram on her belt. Her skin was almost unnaturally pale, contrasting with long, jet black hair and dark eyes that were obviously appraising the pair of them carefully. Elandra was very aware of the fact that the half-orc was just a short distance away, and that Nyvara herself was said to be an accomplished magician.
"Please sit," said the sorceress, her voice silky smooth, "and tell me what it is that you desire."
Once again doing her best to hide her nervousness, Elandra sat on the little stool in front of the bench. She almost immediately regretted it, realising that there was not another chair for Tinberly to sit at, forcing the girl to remain standing. It was too late now, and she should just press on, getting this over with as quickly as possible.
"My husband died three years ago," she began, "and it has been hard for us since. I no longer have any family, except for my daughter. I have little else to call my own,"
Nyvara's eyes moved between the pair of them, her expression at first neutral, but then seeming to be interested as she continued with her story, of how it was difficult to make a living alone in the poorer parts of the city. Yet, Elandra felt, she did not seem at all sympathetic; instead it was if she saw some opportunity for herself here, some way to turn their misfortune to her own advantage.
The rumours did not say that Nyvara was cruel, but neither had they anything to say about her being compassionate. She sold magical items to those who needed to maintain secrecy, or where such items were not entirely legal, or moral. Such a way of life, Elandra saw, had evidently inured the sorceress to the suffering of others, leaving a mercenary soul concerned only for her own profit. That would surely make things difficult when it came to negotiating a price, but, then again, perhaps any sale would be better for the woman than none at all.
"My daughter turned eighteen a couple of months ago," she went on, "she is barely more than a girl. But my landlord... he has threatened her, to get to me. I can't allow that. You must understand, as a woman, that it is a mother's first obligation to protect her child."
Nyvara said nothing, although Elandra thought saw the ghost of a smile on those pale lips. It was like being watched by a reptile, the woman was so cold-blooded.
"So," she ploughed on, "I need protection for her. A charm of some kind, something to protect her from harm. You do such things, do you not?"
The sorceress leaned back in her chair, and her lips twitched, a clearer smile this time. "Yes," she said, "the most effective, within your price range, would be something that warned of an impending threat. That I can do."
She reached across the bench, lifting up a box, and placing it between the two of them. Her delicate fingers slid open some sort of complicated catch, and she darted a hand inside, not allowing Elandra to see any of the contents. She removed a coppery medallion, decorated with a symbol resembling an eye, and with some sort of engraving around the rim. It was held on a long green cord, evidently intended to be worn around the neck.
"This," she said, closing the box carefully, "will suit your needs perfectly. Wear it, and you will be warned of any approaching danger, in ample time for you to leave. It warms up, and gives the wearer a distinct prickling sensation that is impossible to miss so long as one wears it close to the skin. It will not protect against an attacker, but it will allow one the time to escape. You must simply move quickly in a direction that causes the sensation from the medallion to become weaker, until it vanishes altogether."
Elandra nodded. She could hardly have expected a magical barrier or something that would throw back hostile magic at an attacker, not for the money she would be able to pay, but this should be enough. Enough to keep Tinberly safe until she could find another solution to their predicament.
"Yes," she said, "I will take it."
Nyvara named the price, and Elandra once again felt the bottom falling out of her world. She was behind with her rent, which was a large part of the problem in the first place, how could the sorceress possibly expect her to pay such a sum?
"That is... I..."
Nyvara named another price, lower than the first, but still beyond her grasp.
"I could manage half that..." Nyvara frowned, black eyebrows drawn together in a way that looked almost menacing. "Uh... perhaps I could pay the rest by instalments?"
"That is my lowest price, and there will be no instalments." The sorceress flipped the medallion up into her hand, visibly moving it further away from Elandra, yet still keeping it visible. "Do you want it or not?"
Elandra looked across to her daughter. The teenager was standing there, silent throughout the conversation, looking embarrassed and a little nervous. She was such a beautiful young girl, and the only thing of value her mother truly had. She needed the protection, yet the price was simply one she could not pay.
"Please..." she said, turning back to the sorceress, resigned now to beg for what she needed, "I can't allow her to come to harm. There must be something I can do, something we can work out. I'll do anything to protect my family."
This time the sorceress was silent, saying nothing for a while, before raising one finger to her lips, and tapping them gently. "Perhaps," she said, "there is something. Payment need not be in cash, after all." She put her hand down, and smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes. "But this is something we will need to discuss alone. Your daughter will be safe in the anteroom."
Elandra swallowed, finding it impossible now to hide her nervousness and unease at how things were developing. But she had no real choice, no other way in which to go. Whatever it was that Nyvara wanted to her to do, she had no doubt it would be unpleasant or illegal. It was also true that she did not want Tinberly to hear the details, whatever they were, so she had little alternative to letting her leave while they discussed things.
She turned back to her daughter, trying to look reassuring. "It's okay, it will just be for a moment. We need to do this."
"But, mother..." Tinberly spoke for the first time, a look of concern on her young face.
"It will be all right. Please, just for a little while."
As they spoke, Nyvara rang a little bell that had been hidden among the clutter on the bench top. Heavy footsteps came down the stairs, and the half-orc pushed the lower curtain aside, and stood, waiting for instructions.
It was the first time that Elandra had been able to get a good look at him. He was, as she had already observed, well over six feet tall, with a powerful physique that threatened to burst out of his clothing. His skin was greyish-green in colour, his hair dark and close-cropped. Even had it not been for the hue of his skin and his yellowish eyes, there would have been no mistaking him for a pureblood human. His brows were beetling, heavy ridge-like protuberances, and his face and nose were flattened, with wide cheek bones and a slightly protruding lower jaw. Two blunt tusks jutted out from that jaw, pressed against his greyish upper lips.
