Iyvee looked down at the goblin and cocked a brow. "Three-hundred gold pieces for this hunk of scrap?" She eyeballed the iron contraption and shook her head. Doing jobs for people were never good for one's sanity, especially when it was something so specific. "I'll give you one-fifty."
The goblin nearly choked on his smoothie fruity something or other drink that another goblin had brought over from a nearby vendor (who was also selling mutton, which made Iyvee realize that she hadn't eaten in a while. The bonus to goblins is that they didn't seem to sell bad or worthless things. They liked money, making money, and keeping it that way. Although, there were some…). "One- fifty?! Are you out of your mind, mage?" He snorted once and patted the side of the side of the meat smoker. "It's worth twice what I want for it! I'll take nothing less."
Ah, so that's how he wanted to play. Bargaining was a game. Much like poker in which you never knew who was bluffing. In this case, Iyvee did: She'd spoken to a few cooks who'd warned her about this one. Smarken o' Booty was his name and was good at screwing over new adventurers and those new to their ranks. Iyvee smirked lightly, folding her arms over her chest. "I think you need to re-evaluate your business relationships with your cohorts in Booty Bay. A cook I may not be, but I've befriended a few in my travels. You got taken for a ride on the price of this, and I refuse to give you twice the profit of what it's worth. Iron isn't difficult to come by—imported or not. Either you'll take one-fifty or I'll take my business elsewhere and let the patrons know just how much of a shyster you are."
Smarken snorted, sipping on his drink again. "Really? Who do you think you are, mage? Nobody knows you. Why would they believe you?"
"Why would they believe a goblin who's known to rip people off?" He sat his tankard down looking slightly ashen (as ashen as a goblin could get, one would suppose) and gulped as Iyvee rested her hands on her hips, her expression lightly smug. "Oh yes, Smarken. They talk about you. I'd be careful of who you choose to talk back to. Your money might not be the only thing they'll be after if you pick the wrong customer."
The goblin wrinkled his face in a weird sort of grimace. He knew he'd failed and knew that he had to watch himself… at least for the moment. This blood elf wasn't as dumb as blood elves tended to look. "Fine," he sighed. "One-hundred fifty gold. But—you find your own way of getting it to wherever you need it to go." He inwardly chuckled. The mage was a tiny thing, no more than five foot and maybe a hundred pounds on a good day. Mages couldn't transport objects with their powers.
Iyvee grinned, plopping the gold coins into his hand. "Fair enough." She turned toward the meat vendor, waving over two very large orc warriors who looked very much like twins, but sometimes it was hard to tell. She smiled at them, motioning toward the smoker. "Oy! Bruk, Fompu… Here is your new smoker, just like we discussed." The two grinned their orcish grins and nodded. Smarken looked flustered beyond belief and Iyvee shrugged. "They knew you wouldn't be fair with them and hadn't been in the past with much of their tribe. They didn't want to squeeze your brains out because you had this to sell and couldn't find another like it. I didn't feel the need to flash you or fireblast you for it."
Fompu was patting down the sides, making sure it was in good shape in all the right places—wheels and all. When he gave Bruk a thumbs-up, he grinned at Iyvee. "Dis good food smoker, Iyvee. Thank you for helping. Scummy goblin. Not others, just him. Mostly."
"Not a problem, guys. I hope this helps your storage for the season. Need a lift?" She held out her palm, aimed at an empty space near the road. "This will take you to Dalaran. The mages and warlocks there should be able to help you get it to Icecrown." A swirling glow surrounded both of her hands as she opened a portal for the orcs to pull their new purchase through. "Good luck." Iyvee waved as the orc brothers pushed their smoker through the portal, both looking pleased as punch.
"You come supper with us sometime, Miss Iyvee!" Bruk called out behind him just as the portal closed. And someday, she would.
As they went on their way, she turned back to the goblin. "Better some coin than none, I'd say. Stop getting yourself in over your head. Coin may not be the only thing you lose someday, goblin." He knew it would happen, sooner or later. Changing his ways was a whole other story and one that was likely not going to end well. He grumbled at the elf as she walked off and tried to figure out how he was going to live this down amongst his colleagues. Gossip ran rampant and the other patrons at the post didn't look incredibly thrilled with him, either.
A gust of wind flipped Iyvee's strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and she caught a whiff of mutton, spices and bread as she strode away towards the vendor with all of her money and one heck of an appetite. This would be fantastic…
Later that night, Iyvee tucked herself at the tavern in Silvermoon City. The evening seemed incredibly quiet, even for that place where something was always going on that generally ended with guards showing up to keep the peace for the night. Something felt strange and uneasy in the atmosphere, though she couldn't put a finger on it. She was becoming used to the snoring guest in the room across the way and was becoming wholly drowsy. Sleep came easily tonight, however fitful it soon became.
"Iyvee? Are you okay? Can you hear me…?"
Valari. Iyvee hadn't seen her dear friend in ages, and it worried her in waking hours. And in this dream (it was a dream, wasn't it?) Valari sounded… defeated? It wasn't unusual for Val to do her own thing, go where she needed to and do what she needed to. What was unusual was the lack of word from her. How long had it been? Well over a month, Iyvee supposed.
"He knows you, too."
He? He who? Surely not Vaspien. That was a matter best left to the past and their past. He was long gone with the winds and time and she'd finally moved forward.
"Don't be daft, girl," stated a male voice loud and clear. One that Iyvee didn't recognize right away but, by the gods, it was incredibly familiar. "There is nothing and no one left for you to care or fight for." A deep chuckle. A mocking sound. "And there is nothing and no one left to care or fight for you."
"No!" Val sounded urgent. "Just… don't listen! Iyvee… Don't –"
Iyvee sat up like a shot in her bed and blinked at a whole lot of darkness and odd silence. She felt strangely helpless and aggravated and never more alone in her life. It was a dream. A really bad, stupid dream all because of… "Of what?" she muttered to herself and to the quilt she was grasping at her chest. It was a simple nightmare. "Go back to sleep, dummy…"
And as she finally calmed herself enough to do just that, it occurred to her just whose voice it was that Valari's voice seemed so defeated of. A voice she'd only heard in her travels and had hoped to never hear it again. Iyvee's green eyes quickly opened. This had been no simple dream.
Arthas.
