The Witch of Webs: Book 12 (The Wandering Inn), page 22
She’d expected the Hobgoblin to be somewhere else. But to her surprise, he was in his room. He hadn’t even gone downstairs. Erin cautiously poked her head into the room, holding a tray with two mugs of tea.
“Heeeey, guys. How’s it going? Um—everyone okay? Sorry for going off like that. Anyone want a drink?”
Numbtongue and Yellow Splatters looked up. Erin blinked as she saw them sitting on his bed and chair. They’d dragged the table over and were gathered around it. The young woman smiled.
“Oh wow! You two are really getting along!”
“Hi.”
Numbtongue gave Erin a smile and accepted the tea. He seemed to be over his earlier frustration, and he’d clearly been absorbed by some kind of discussion with Yellow Splatters. Erin peered at the parchment as Yellow Splatters took a mug.
“Whatcha working on? Ooh, are those maps?”
“Tactics.”
Numbtongue tugged at one bit of parchment, looking slightly put upon as Erin peered around the table. She was clearly intruding. Erin made out a list of what looked like classes and Skills. And then she identified some of the drawings. Numbtongue wasn’t exactly an [Artist], and he was no [Tactician], so his picture of a Goblin stabbing an adventurer in the back was crude. But it got the point across.
Erin’s face fell a bit. She glanced up at the Goblin and Antinium.
“…You’re discussing fighting? Really? Nothing else?”
They looked at her blankly. What else would they talk about? Erin sighed, but she smiled.
“I’m glad. Hey, you could go downstairs. If you want! Or I can get you a snack.”
“I ate.”
“And I have imbibed adequate sustenance.”
“Right. Okay! Well, glad to see you two are making friends. Don’t let me bother you!”
Erin stepped back. Numbtongue and Yellow Splatters turned to look at her. After a second, Numbtongue coughed. Erin blinked.
“Oh my god. I’m my mom.”
Numbtongue blinked.
“What?”
“I have to go. Sorry. I’m cramping your style! Oh no…I’m a mom. Wait, does that mean Lyonette’s the dad? Or the bossy older sister? Am I the dad?”
Erin groaned and slapped her forehead. Completely lost, Yellow Splatters and Numbtongue exchanged a glance. But they were relieved when she was gone. It wasn’t that Erin wasn’t welcome—it was just that both were well aware of how distracting she could be. And this was serious business. They leaned over the table again. Yellow Splatters nodded.
“Back to our discussion. Survival rates among the Soldiers is typically low when encountering powerful monsters. Belgrade’s traps do work well—I will suggest the ones you use to him. We also have magical items, but I am certain Revalantor Klbkch will not allow their use.”
Numbtongue nodded.
“Can make slings, though. Slings are good.”
“Indeed. I am not sure if a Worker can swing four slings at once, but that is a viable experiment.”
Numbtongue laughed, trying to imagine that. Yellow Splatters politely smiled. They’d been discussing how to fight, and to Numbtongue’s surprise, it was actually…fun. Talking about Redfang tactics and survival strategies with someone who appreciated them. Right up until you realized they might all die in one of the scenarios they were laying out.
The Painted Antinium were certainly unlike any tribe Numbtongue had met. They could overwhelm a foe just like Goblins, but their Workers and Soldiers were all a lot stronger than the average Goblin. By the same token, though, they didn’t have strong Hobs or Chieftains, with the exception of Yellow Splatters. That complicated things, especially if your goal was to keep as many alive as possible.
Something occurred to Numbtongue as he looked at Yellow Splatters' description of the Painted Antinium’s forces. Bow unit, low-level [Soldiers]…he looked up sharply, realizing there was an obvious discrepancy besides a lack of magic users and more sneaky and ranged types.
“You know what you need?”
“What?”
Yellow Splatters leaned forwards again. He was more decisive than the Workers, but when he listened to Numbtongue, he was a very attentive student who asked a lot of questions. Numbtongue grinned and tapped his belt. Next to the small satchel holding his mined treasures was a vial. He pulled it out and showed Yellow Splatters.
“Potions. Potions are good. All your Soldiers should have potions. Redfangs use potions.”
“I am intrigued. Tell me more.”
Numbtongue gave him a blank look.
“Potions. You use them. You heal. Or get effects. Like…spitting fire. Potions are good.”
Yellow Splatters hesitated.
“The Antinium do not use potions. Ever.”
“Really? What if you get hurt?”
“We have a healing gel. That we seldom use. Soldiers have a recovery area. There they live or die.”
Numbtongue shook his head. That sounded like a poor Goblin tribe.
“Potions heal everything fast.”
“So I understand. And the Hive has a supply. A very…large supply, in fact. But Revalantor Klbkch has designated such stores off-limits except in case of war or emergency.”
“Okay. So get more.”
“How?”
“Steal? Kill adventurers? Or…buy?”
“Buy?”
The Hobgoblin nodded uncertainly. He wasn’t completely in on this concept either. But since the first two options weren’t viable around Liscor—
“Potions cost money. You have money, right?”
“I have a stipend allocated to me by Klbkch, yes.”
“Can you buy a potion with it?”
Yellow Splatters opened his mandibles slowly.
“…I have never purchased anything except for food from Miss Erin. Have you?”
“No…”
They stared at each other. Antinium and Goblins didn’t buy anything. But the thought was beguiling. And Numbtongue had seen Lyonette coming in with food that she’d bought with the shiny coins Erin gave to him. Yellow Splatters had seen the same while marching through the city.
“You have coins.”
“Yup. See?”
Numbtongue found some silver and two gold coins stuffed in his desk. Erin had paid him for guarding the inn along with the other Redfangs. They’d been keepsakes. Useless. Until now. Yellow Splatters produced his own money pouch. He poured the coins onto the table. Numbtongue stared at the bronze, silver, and gold. Yellow Splatters stared at the pile and him.
“…Is that enough for a potion?”
“Maybe? Maybe one.”
The Hobgoblin had no idea. He thought about asking Erin. Did she know how much a potion was worth? Maybe Ceria? Yellow Splatters opened his mandibles and clicked, clearing his throat.
“I could…attempt to look at some in Liscor. However, I do not know if the [Alchemists] there would allow me into their stores. Obtaining potions…that would be very useful. Very.”
Numbtongue nodded. Potions were every Goblin’s dream. You could save your life with one. Even the Redfangs, who were rich, had coveted every bottle they found. Speaking of which…Numbtongue frowned at his belt. He had two healing potions. And another stashed under his pillow. Erin had given them to him, but she’d gotten hers from—his eyes widened.
“Want to look at some? I know a place.”
“In Liscor? You are banned from the city.”
Numbtongue scowled and then suppressed it.
“No. But I think—we can go there. Follow me.”
Casually, he left his room and went downstairs. Yellow Splatters swept his and Numbtongue’s money into his pouch and followed. Erin was downstairs, serving guests. They looked at Numbtongue when he came down, but no one caused a scene this time.
“Erin. Can we go somewhere? With the door?”
Numbtongue innocently walked over to Erin. She looked around suspiciously, but when she heard what he wanted, she nodded after a moment.
“Sure. I mean, if you’re just visiting her. Don’t let her rip you off! Tell you what—the Pallass crowd’ll riot if I don’t keep the door open there. But I can let you two through and…check on you in ten minutes? Just tell Octavia that if she scams you, I’ll rip off her arm or something. Got it?”
Numbtongue nodded eagerly. He beckoned to Yellow Splatters, and Erin pushed her way towards the magic door. Lyonette looked anxious as Erin changed the door, let the Hobgoblin and Antinium through, and then came back.
“You’re sure that’s fine, Erin? Shouldn’t one of us go with them? Or at least one of the Horns?”
“It’s fine. It’s just Octavia. Numbtongue promised to stay in her shop. And I’ll head over as soon as I finish setting up the fondue. Relc’s gonna love this. Hey, Relc!”
Erin waved and turned. It was just five minutes. Ten or fifteen at most. She’d be over as soon as she finished melting the cheese in the big pot. Pisces was providing the flame, and Erin had already equipped Mrsha, Ceria, Yvlon, and Ksmvr with some long forks to dip sausage into the cheesy goodness. Relc was beaming as he rushed over with Embria following, and Erin was smiling too. She’d introduce the wonders of fondue to the inn, then pop over to Stitchworks and…deal with Octavia for a bit.
It never occurred to her to worry. Right up until her [Dangersense] started going off, that was.
——
It was past lunch in Celum. And Stitchworks, the [Alchemist]’s shop owned by Octavia Cotton, was not open. It was still closed despite the [Alchemist] being awake. She sat in her shop, and for once, she was too tired to make a sale.
She knew she had to. The day’s payment had been twelve silver. More than half a gold coin! For an [Alchemist], it was doable. But Octavia had to sell and sell well to get ahead of that. Let alone make money.
“But what’s the point? I might as well pack up rather than keep on here.”
Dully, Octavia stared at her racks of potions. The magical glow they gave off was usually enough to cheer her up. But today the colors just looked pale. Fake. Octavia was an [Alchemist]. She could see the low quality of her own potions.
She used to think she made up for quality with quantity, an affordable margin for both her customers and herself. She’d liked to imagine she was making her mark in Izril, despite the competition. Today? She wished she’d never left Chandrar.
Octavia stared at her potions. Then she stared out the boarded-up window of her shop. There were slits in the imperfect covering, but the pane of glass in her door also gave her a view of the street. She could see them out there. They were watching her.
The [Alchemist]’s eyes flicked to her shelves. To the door. Then to another door set in the back of her shop. It was a magic door. Or at least, the mana stone glittering in the doorframe was magic. But if Octavia opened the door, it would just reveal a wall. It wasn’t connected to Liscor at the moment. So she couldn’t just run through with all her gold and potions.
Even if she could, then what? Octavia shook her head. Assume she could get her gold, her equipment, and all her ingredients and wares through. She was still out the cost of her shop. Not to mention she’d have to set up in Liscor. If they even accepted String-people. And would Erin let Octavia stay? Or—if Octavia opened the door and asked, begged for help…
No. Octavia shook her head and slowly got up. She went over to her shop sign and slowly changed it. Erin wasn’t going to come to her rescue. She, Octavia, had given up on the thought. Why ask? Octavia hadn’t gotten anyone she knew to slow down and hear her out. Bad pitches, bad timing…it didn’t matter. She knew all the Gold-rank teams had left Erin’s inn anyways. And who would answer her call if she did ask? Erin? That small Gnoll, Mrsha? Lyonette? The Horns?
“Say they did take care of…”
Octavia peeked out her door again and counted. Then she shook her head. Even if they got all of them, Quelm had, what, two times that many lurking about. He’d gone mad. And it was Octavia’s fault. Well, he’d started it by stealing her designs. But…
“Can’t wriggle out of it this time, Octavia Cotton. It was a bad deal, and you knew it. You should have just let it lie. Now you’ve got to pay up. It’s just twelve silver. Every day.”
Octavia stared blankly at her shop.
“I have to move. To Remendia. Ocre. Or Esthelm. Yeah. Esthelm doesn’t have an [Alchemist], right? Or if they do, how good can they be? City gets sacked by the Goblin Lord—there’s bound to be plenty of business opportunities! I hold on, make a few preparations…Quelm’s not watching the gates, right?”
Her eyes flicked to the window, then to the magic door again. If only—
“Erin. Ten gold? I could manage that.”
It was all her savings. But if Erin swung it for her…Octavia hesitated. Ten gold wouldn’t buy enough Silver-rank teams for a fight with that many thugs. Not to mention the City Watch wasn’t getting involved. They were bought-off. Or something. Quelm had Octavia’s gold. And his sales from the matches. And…
She was sitting behind her counter. Octavia buried her head in her hands.
“I thought she liked me. A bit? I know I’m a bit pushy. But I thought Krshia—or the Horns—we have a business relationship. I’m still selling to Krshia. Surely—”
She stared down at her counter. It was swimming a bit.
“Did they all hate me that much?”
Nothing in her shop answered her. After a moment though, Octavia heard a jingle. She looked up. At least she had this. She put a smile on her face.
“Welcome to Stitchworks, friend! Can I interest you in my potions? Four silver off any first purchase and—ulp!”
She stared at the rough figure that had pushed open the door. Octavia slowly closed her mouth and sat down. The [Thug] grinned at her. He was rough-shaven and smelled of sweat.
“Morning, Miss Octavia.”
“Ah. H-hello. How’re things? Checking in on the shop? I paid today, you know. Promptly and on time! There’s no need for…”
Octavia could normally out-talk anyone she met. But the words dried up as the man looked around her shop. She could see the long knife at his belt. But that wasn’t what terrified her. String-people didn’t fear knives. It was fire she feared. Fire and those who caused it.
“Looks like you haven’t got much business. Alchemist Quelm’s concerned.”
“Is—is he? Well, you can assure him that I’ll get him his money.”
Esthelm. She could move tonight if she found a good [Wagon Driver]. And if they weren’t watching her shop. The [Thug] looked around and shrugged.
“So you say. But he’s concerned. And since he’s so worried, he sent me and some of the guys around to help you sell.”
For a second, Octavia was confused. Was Quelm mad? Did he think this would be a good [Shop Assistant]? She stared as the [Thug] went over to one of her shelves of potions.
“Help me sell? He really doesn’t need to—hey! Wait! What are you doing?”
The [Thug] was grabbing bottles off the shelf. Octavia rushed around her counter.
“No! Those are mine! Here, you want the next payment? I can make it! Tell Quelm—”
She grabbed at her money drawer and realized it was locked. The [Thug] just shook his head. He grinned at her, exposing bright, well-kept teeth. Octavia felt they should have been rotten or replaced by gold.
“Alchemist Quelm has decided there’s a new deal. You’ll be selling your potions through his store. You’ll get your cut—but everything goes through him, got it?”
He grabbed an armful of bottles. Octavia couldn’t take it.
“No! That’s my merchandise! If he takes that—”
Her income was liquid. Literally; more money was in the potions waiting to be sold than anywhere in her shop, even her safe. The [Thug] raised a fist as Octavia grabbed at him, and she flinched.
“Don’t. We’re taking all of these today. Damn, we’ll need a wheelbarrow or something. I’m not carrying them. You’ll get two-thirds—Alchemist Quelm gets a third. And he won’t even charge you a daily fee anymore. Isn’t that fair?”
“He—that—”
Octavia gulped for air. The world was swimming. If Quelm did that, she’d lose far more than twelve silver every day. A third of her profits? He’d be the only [Alchemist] selling in the city, and she’d be unable to run. Both she and Quelm and the [Thug] knew it. He gave her another pearly smile.
“You can’t do this. This is too far. Quelm—I know we had our grudges, but this is robbery. I’ll go to the City Watch if you take my potions. I’ll testify under truth spell! I have friends in Liscor too. I go through that door—”
Octavia’s voice shook. The [Thug] turned to her. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, deliberately, he dropped his armful of potions.
“No—”
Too late. Octavia grabbed one bottle, but the rest smashed on the floor. Horrified, she stared as four stamina potions and three healing potions mixed on the floor. That was—at least three gold’s worth of—she looked up as a boot smashed the glass shards flat. The [Thug] drew his knife with a snarl.
“And what? You tell the Watch or you go through that door and your store won’t last till morning. Neither will you. We’re in charge now, not some [Guardsmen]. Or didn’t you hear what happened to Jeffil?”
Octavia froze, the last potion in her hands. She backed up.
“I heard. But—but—”
The [Thug] grinned unpleasantly.
“Too bad String-people can just replace their arms, right? Don’t make us make an example of you. Be smart. Mabel the ‘Magnificent’ is smart. She’s working for Alchemist Quelm. You’ve got one chance to make the right move. Either you agree right now or—”
He broke off. Octavia heard a sudden roar of sound and jumped. A familiar voice rang out in her shop!
“Okay! Ten minutes! Remember, stay inside!”
The [Thug] swore and ducked back. Octavia turned. The door to Erin’s inn was open! Her heart leapt, but the warning growl behind her made her tense up. And the door was closing as soon as it opened. Octavia opened her mouth—and then choked when she saw who was coming through the door. A Hobgoblin and—
“What the hell is that?”
