The Krakos: Book Two of The Legend of the Artificer

Chapter 4

"I have no idea what you just said," Tibalt said ruefully as the two of them meandered down the street, arm in arm, and Elmer let out the most dramatic of sighs.

"Hopeless. Utterly hopeless, Tibalt, you'll be the death of me," she said, and slumped against him with such theatrical precision he was almost convinced she had grown up in a traveling troupe of performers, not merchants. Though, if he was being honest, with the way she carried herself, it might be the same profession in this world. He had no idea. "You are the proud partner of a no-competition equestrian contract with the finest horse master in Hulanbyr. So long as you don't create tack charms or enchantments for any other competitors, or sell your designs to other competitors, you get to enjoy a hefty twenty-five percent royalty agreement."

"You shouldn't be so proud of yourself," Tibalt grumbled in malcontent. "You had to have me tell you the difference between charms and enchantments."

"A good merchant will always bow to the superior knowledge of an artisan, Tibalt," she gasped in mock offense. "How dare you question my good business sense."

"I'm just saying, you have been harassing me and stealing my food for weeks. How did you not know the enchantment had the script seal and the charms have the single solid line? It should be obvious!"

"How did you not know what an exclusive contract entailed?" she demanded, and he paused in dismay. How didn't he know that? "See! That's why friends are friends! We learn from each other!"

"And what happens when we're all educated?" he challenged, and she paused thoughtfully as she tapped a pensive finger on her lip.

"Well, I would assume, that's when we evolve and find something new to learn together," she decided, and something warm flickered in his chest as a smile barely tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Don't be such a sap."

"Oh, but you're smiling."

"No, I'm not; I have a muscle spasm!"

"Lies! You would lie to me? Me, the great Elmer, who just saved your sorry hide from a terrible payment arrangement?!" Elmer threw a hand to her forehead and dramatically dropped, forcing Tibalt to scramble to catch her in his arms as she sprawled out in his grasp. "Unappreciated! Unloved!"

"I'm going to pick you up and drop you in that puddle," he threatened without any heat, and she laughed, big and bright, her eyes gleaming.

"You would be paying for the cleaning of my wardrobe, then."

"Workplace hazard. Your own fault."

Elmer straightened up and he let her go so she could stretch as long as she could go, languid and lazy and cracking her neck.

"Is this even a good shortcut?" he asked as he finally took stock of his surroundings, and she idly spun on one heel to start walking backwards.

"I know this city inside and out. Of course it is," she sniffed.

"Yes, you would learn after running from the guards," he said dryly, and she huffed in high indignation.

"I never run from the guards."

"Of course you don't," he soothed, and she rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to sound so patronizing, Ti---"

Elmer trailed off and tilted her head, and in an instant, Tibalt's ears were twitching as they strained to pick up whatever she was hearing. There was a dull hum, and a gravely voice whispering softly, and every muscle in Tibalt's body coiled. The hum was well concealed, but he had trained his ears to pick up even the slightest of differences in magical frequencies. Slowly, his hand flexed, and then...