Bonepicker

VIII

He pulled the bag of shining stones from his sack and lay it on the tradeboard.  With a steady pull of the drawstring the bag relented its haul. A tidy collection of polished stones. Most smooth and rheumy, some sharp and elongated.

"Shiners...", he murmured as he peered at the figure in the murky gloom.

The stonetrader leant forward. She was gaunt and sunken with heavy scarring on her face. The mark of the sandstorms. Draped in dirty cloth she slowly advanced her hand to the pile of meagre spoils then began picking it over with spindly fingers.

He looked down at the top of her head and was drawn to the parting of her thinning and lank hair with its surrounding medley of deep scarring which spread out all over her scalp. Like so many other scars and wounds he'd seen ravaging the skin of both the living and the dead. 

He knelt forward so that their eyes were level.

"I figured two rounds" he said flatly.

Her eyes darted to his then slowly she recoiled. She paused then descended back to the pile. She leant forward once more and began to meticulously inspect each and every stone, holding them between her fingers and pressing them as if to test their resilience.

He waited, used to the ritual of forced calm and cool play, the laboured weigh and deliberated pay.

Suddenly she leant back and looked him in the eyes with a hard gaze and blank expression. She held his eye like she was waiting for him to give or say something further. He remained impassive as he looked upon the craggy face, beaten and burned by the black sands of the outside. 

She turned deliberately and looked down to the floor. Kneeling low she dug deep into a battered old crate at her side before she ascended in return. She looked him hard in the eyes once more. She seemed to shrink in the low light as her hand gradually slid inside her robes. It was if she was darkening in the gloom, merging with the shadows.

He looked keenly to the point where her hand was due to emerge, expecting to see a single battered round.

The stone trader was a reliable source of exchange. The person to see when he had shiners and sharps, slate shards and polished rock. She didn't haggle and she didn't think but once but he was always sure to walk out with a fair return. At least a mini round to buy a swig and soup. He'd looked on that ravaged scalp enough times. He was used to the ritual of eye for eye and spoiled spoils.

Her hand emerged a fist. Clutching some great bundle. For a split moment he almost let himself think it was a whole magazine's worth but he knew better than to let himself be.

His gaze shot to her ravaged face. He couldn't be sure in the heavy dullness but it was as if a barely perceptible flinch shot from her eye to the crease of her mouth.

Her steady fist encroached upon his haul which was scattered upon the tradeboard. As her outstretched arm hovered she stared into his eyes. Her battered face was as blank as stone. He tried to read something from that hardened mask but it was merely void.

She seemed to deflate or dissolve in some minute shift as her clenched fist suddenly released its burden. The rattling sound of like and like colliding drew him to the haul upon the board. Now regrown, the stonetrader had dropped a considerable addition to the pile of stones.

Taken aback, he had barely a moment to look upon the haul as she swiftly returned her hand to her robes to gather even more stones. He looked back to the board as she scattered even more. Left was a great pile, deep and dark and shining like dying embers among the musty cave.

The stones she had added to his haul were all alike. Red and smooth, some with sharp edges, of the same kind as some of those he had found within the bag.

He barely had time to look upon them before she quietly presented him with three tall rounds. Enough to eat and pay for shelter beyond the worth of all he carried in trade some times over.

Her voice was a cold unbroken whisper.

"Take them and the stones."

He stepped back and readied himself.

"Take them all. I've held the bargain", she said.

"And here:"

Pinched between finger and thumb she held a small rolled up parchment. Bound with a green thread the likes of which he'd seen before.

He knew she had it wrong and that he was not the one to fulfill whatever bargain had been made. The stones he had brought were worthless and hers were merely a curiosity. The rounds were valuable but not worth foolish risk. 

But the parchment bound in shining green thread was something other.

Maybe another piece for his collection. Another piece concealing secrets. Another piece to be absorbed. Another piece to be gathered together with all the others and remade. Something other than all there was that was no longer.

He was tempted for a moment. To play the part, claim the spoils, and head off to the bunks to carefully unwrap the mystery before him. But he hadn't made it this far by getting careless and he wasn't about to take an unknown risk.

The stonetrader knew him and she was a familiar and reliable face, as punished as it was, and she was shrewd. He knew that she was aware that his were the wrong hands to be placing anything.

He took a sharp breath and a step back but before he could protest she stopped him.

"As the bargain was made. Stones like for like and to no other and then so the rest. So take it all and take your leave. I'm out of it now and so it is."

Just like when she made a final offer, those last three words marked the end. She wanted rid of the burden and the bargain, whoever was the intended receiver. She knew it wasn't him.

He considered refusal, but whoever was meant to collect had either dumped the bag or been raided. The stonetrader seemed agitated and all too ready to get rid. He felt not sympathy but some sense of loyalty to her. Nothing to warrant needless risk-taking but enough to hesitate. He sensed danger but he was bound to a sensation beyond mere curiosity.  

So it is.

He took the parchment and the rounds and carefully slid them into his coat. With a couple of swipes he gathered up the stones into his bag and drew the string. He looked over to the stonetrader as she shrank back into the shadows.

With no more to be said he let the woman be. Now free of her bargain and shorn of her burden she cautiously let out a breath as she watched him walk away.