10 The Antique Dealer
"Keep your filthy hands to yourself!" The rough voice came as a surprise to Genesis. A bit taken aback she quickly dropped the ring which she had been fondling, faintly recalling seeing a handwritten "Hands off" sign on her way in. Usually she would stick to the rules, but today was an exception. Firstly, she had been distracted by the fact that Jan's birthday was coming. Secondly, she had a habit of caressing objects. It was one of these things that she often did unconsciously. Thirdly, she had never been this deep into town before.
She had gotten used to running errands like visiting the local ironsmith, baker and so on. The smithy she tolerated. The ironsmith was a man of few words, and usually answers with nothing more than a huh or a grunt. The bakery she quite enjoyed, where she had been just a few minutes ago, where warmth radiated from furnaces that almost reached the height of her chin. And the baker's apprentice, Ren, a boy of nineteen, would always sneak a new cooked loaf from a furnace for her when his master wasn't looking. The bread he wrapped with one hand and the other loaves on display, which were already cooling and hardening in the afternoon breeze, he quickly rearranged with the other. This clumsy effort to mess with the old baker was either successfully unnoticed, or the baker did notice but didn't say anything about it. Then, Ren would beam at her with one of those smiles, a little mischievously but cute all the same. "Careful. It's hot." He would always say as he handed her the wrapped loaf, making sure to brush his fingers against her hand as he did so. Earlier today, Genesis had gone to the bakery only to find it vacant of the apprentice boy. To her surprise, she actually felt a twinge of disappointment. Now as she dropped the ring and turned to look at the thin, pale man that was the antique dealer, the guy that had told her to 'keep her filthy hands off', She decided that she didn't like the antique dealer.
The antique dealer sat in the corner of the small shop, hidden under a dark cloak of fine fabric. A hood was drawn over his head, casting a shadow that fell across half of his face hiding the eyes and the nose. Only his mouth showed, dark red lips drawn together in a tight line. Now as Genesis walked closer she was aware that the outline of his form was shimmering, it was like looking through a transparent veil of water, so thin that anyone would fail to notice. But Genesis did with her observing eyes, and there it was, again. Shimmer…
The antique dealer had placed himself behind a protective force field.
"State your business, girl." He said, and she was about to reply when she saw the armor move.
They were not alone in the shop. Standing beside the display of old looking bracers and shields, was an even more ancient looking warrior. Apparently he had been standing so still that Genesis had mistaken him for a set of armor. Now the helm turned to look at her, a V-shaped visor gave no hint of the face that was beneath it. The armor was forged from iron, under the light from a dim lantern it only glinted dully. Even so, she knew this was a forged by some experienced craftsmen. Maybe it was of a time long forgotten. It was bulky with large shoulder guards and a single piece chest plate. Genesis had never before seen something like it. The sight made her nervous.
"I…I came to make a trade." She tried to sound as calm as possible. There's no reason to be jumpy. The stranger could just be a random customer, who had nothing to do with the antique dealer. She reassured herself. But she would be on her guard.
"A trade…you say. I see that you came alone. Hmmm…" Wrapping his boney fingers together, the antique dealer leaned back against his chair. "This part of town isn't very friendly for a young girl like you." He continued, "Your parents should've known better…"
"I have no parents." She cut him off. "You'll make the trade with me. That ring, I want it." Something in the girl's voice made the antique dealer feel cold under the skin, but if he was startled he didn't show it. "Well, then I'll have to see the colors of your money first." He said in a soothing and business like tone. "I have no money that I can spare." Genesis said, suddenly losing the little authority that was in her voice just a moment before. She unsheathed her bone knife. Hand crafted, it was only 7 inches long and rough around the edges, despite her best efforts. This she choose not to inform the antique dealer.
"It's the fang of a Lupun," She said, handing over the knife hilt first. The antique dealer leaned forward, took the hilt from her and twirled the knife with experienced fingers. With disappointment the knife was pushed back towards her. "That simply…will not do I'm afraid." His eyes glinted. She could see them now, dark and moist. "A bone blade, roughly made and unbalanced…Lupun fang if you insist." He almost snorted. "Now the ring, on the other hand. Shaped with titanium, forged in the very flames of the ancient land of dragons long lost to mankind. They say even the Deathless lord Vulcan once wore it on his finger. It is a relic capable of harnessing mythical powers, it's…invaluable…priceless!" His voice rose, boney fingers gestured in the air. "But if you are willing to pay the price…" Sadly, Genesis reached for her bone knife. She knew it was hopeless, and even if what the antique dealer had said about the ring was true, which she highly doubted, she had nothing else on her that she could willingly give. She stood for a moment, looking at herself up and down. An oversized shirt which used to be her father's. Oversized shorts held tightly against her waist with a cheap leather belt. An oversized combat glove. She knew gloves were supposed to come in pairs but she had scavenged it so there was only one.
Oversized and cheap and out of place. "Everything about me is down to those five words." She thought. Oversized. Cheap. Out of place. The fact of being a deathless came to her mind. Yesterday, when Janus had asked her how she felt…was it bitterness she heard in his voice?
"Sorry for taking up your time." She said rather apologetically. Her hand was already halfway through the force field, reaching for her knife when the antique dealer's bony fingers shot out and before she knew it they were wrapped tightly around her wrist.