Phony Potions

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Not a moment had passed. The second I was out of the shop, I felt a boot connect with my stomach as another pair of hands grabbed my hair. They yanked me toward the alley off to the side of the shops. I stumbled, trying to protest. The light went from bright and golden to the cool purple of the shadows. I gasped as the air was knocked out of me. I was violently shoved against a wall.

"We talked to the local Potioneer," the man who was in the lead said to me. "He said that you gave us duds."

"Of course he'd say that about the competition," I said, trying to keep my voice light. I received a solid punch for my trouble and didn't bother lifting my head again as my cheek throbbed. Shouts of rage rumbled at me from the outside edges of the crowd, but they were quickly shushed.

"You think you could rip us off and get away with it?" they shouted. I shook my head.

"It's not, if you wait a week, you'll see—"

"He tested them! Barely any magic!"

They were angry. Not one angry person, but a dozen, seething so much I tasted the rage. They spoke all at once, about how they had hoped, poured their last savings into my potions.

"You think you can come into a city like ours and peddle your phony wares?" one woman screamed. "Divinis Wenrick and Bernard and Winsor and the Contractor and the Avalons live here, icicle! It was only a matter of time before we realized there was something wrong with your magic!"

"Please, I'm one man—" I began. They tore the coin purse from my waist, and distributed it amongst themselves, the coins spilling as everyone grabbed handfuls. They tore at my clothes, finding the second secret pouch and taking all the gold from that as well. I hoped they wouldn't find my potion vial.

The man at the front of the line drew a knife from his side. He scowled at me.

"Wouldn't it be a shame if you happened to trip, and this happened to pierce your throat?" he asked.

"Come on now Mada," a man at his side said. "The guards were explicit. We can take revenge, but we can't murder him. The Avalons would be on us soon."

"They should have killed him long ago, if they were interested in doing any good," The man, Mada, holding the dagger barked. Bitterly, he stabbed me in the arm. Shrieking, I fell even limper in their grapple. I tried to think of lines to stem their flow of their hostility, but my mind was empty. My stomach was still sore, both from the kick and from the remorse. I realized I couldn't talk my way out of this because I didn't want to talk my way out of this. I felt awful about Mallow, about not wanting to save Mallow.

But not so awful as to sell my freedom. Not yet.

Scared and guilty, I took the beating. An unwilling death was better than a surrender into servitude. My pride repulsed me all the more with each bruise and scratch I acquired. They did not knock me out, avoiding the head with massive force because of the warning about the murder.

They left the knife embedded in my arm as they walked away. With the last of my strength, I pulled it free and tucked it into my tattered vest, protective of the weapon now that my gold was gone and my body ruined. Time passed, minutes melting into hours as the sun sank lower in the sky.

"Oh, Osoro, there's someone in here," Bernard's familiar voice drifted over me. "And here I thought of taking this way because no one ever—"

"Is he all right?" Sir Osoro's enunciation was impeccable as he walked forward. They both came up behind me, before Osoro squatted down in front of me. He lifted my face with one hand. "What happened to you?"