Findan sat up to rest on his elbows and watched the Tiefling as she reclaimed her clothing from around the floor. She turned yellow eyes towards him, and he got that thrill again. Dark eyes full of laughter and promises. He still couldn't believe his luck. Years of courier work and never had a job ended like this.
She stood up, her dark red skin almost the colour of blood in the dim light, her body hidden only by a barely-there chemise.
"Well it's been a pleasure doing business with you, sir, I do hope we can arrange it again sometime," she said. Her voice was husky, with a lyrical accent Findan wasn't familiar with. He spread his hands wide and grinned.
"You got that right, where can I find you when I'm back in town?"
"Oh, I'll find you first," she purred, slipping back on a deep blue shirt and buckling the front around her stomach. Findan's satchel lay on the floor nearby, bulky and heavy. He had been sick of carrying and watching the thing all the way from Icewind Dale.
When the Tiefling was fully dressed, standing tall in low-heeled riding boots, a frilled skirt and a small jacket, she knelt to take up the satchel and slung it over her shoulder.
"Until next time..." she whispered, and blew the courier a kiss, Findan watched her go, and decided to get a few more hours sleep.
-
Tormyr was gnawing on the second hunk of dried meat he'd purchased from the nearby stall when Findan finally appeared, trotting down the watery street with a spring in his step. The Dwarf gave a grunt of acknowledgement as the courier approached and flashed a smile.
"I said noon. Not noonish, Finn," Tormyr grunted, waving the meat at him. Findan gave a nod and fluttered a hand in apology.
"Oh come on, I'm barely late. Sometimes in life you have to take the time to relax, Tor. Don't you ever take a day off?"
"Not really, s'matter of fact. Why y' so perky?" Tormyr asked, his eyes narrowing under his great bushy salt and pepper eyebrows. Findan gave a laugh.
"It was a good night, sometimes all it takes is a change in luck to brighten up the whole world, you know?"
"Apparently so. Coulda' fooled me though, looks like another shit morning in Waterdeep f'rall I see though. The meet go well then?" the Dwarf asked.
"I tell you, If you'd told me what the contact was like before I would have taken this job weeks ago," Findan gave a whistle. Tormyr stared at him curiously.
"Oh aye? The Tiefling yeah? Scary looking bugger isn't he?"
Findan hesitated, looked down at the dwarf, hands on his hips, and gave an incredulous half-laugh.
"He?"
"The Tiefling. Your contact. Koziel. Big bugger with horns out to here," the dwarf gestured, extending his arms either side of his head, "What do you mean?"
Findan was silent a moment, and he looked out down the wet streets, chewing on his lip. Tormyr's moustache gave a concerned wiggle, and he prodded the courier.
"Why...who'd you give the package to, Finn?"
"Erm... I think there might have been... a misunderstanding somewhere. I met a Tiefling at the dock... she said she was the one I was looking for."
"She? Well did you ask for the password? The one the contact was to give you?" Tormyr thundered, his gruff voice echoing off the cobblestones.
Findan scratched at his head sheepishly, the colour having suddenly drained from his face.
"I... I fear it slipped my mind," Findan said, all trace of levity gone. Tormyr stared up at him, moustaches quivering in rage.
"Who'd you give the package to Finn?!"
-
Treave looked up at the polite knock on his door, and cautiously called out.
"Yes, yes?"
"It's me," came the voice from beyond. Quiet, distinctive.
Treave's face lit up and he tucked his paintbrush behind his ear and scampered across the room to unlock the door.
"Koshka! Koshka my dear come in, quick quick!" he stood aside to make room as the Tiefling crouched to fit through his miniature studio door. The red-skinned woman gave the tiny Gnome a hug that almost covered his figure entirely in her frilly shirts and great skirts. Treave gave a quick glance out the door before he closed it behind her. Koshka slumped a clattering satchel on the ground.
"Is this it? Is this it? Well done girl! How on Earth did you get it from him?" Treave said as he cleared aside his easel and paints, eagerly tugging at the drawstrings of the satchel.
Koshka gave a low shrug and smiled.
"People'll believe anything if you give them enough reason to."
"Clearly, clearly so!" Treave chuckled. The contents of the satchel displayed, he tugged an elegant loupe from his shirt pocket and placed it to his eye.
"Well...what have we got?" Koshka asked hesitantly; watching the Gnome work.
Taking items from the satchel one by one and carefully examining them, Treave nodded slowly.
"Hm, it's definitely magical cargo alright, looks like a wonderous item horde. Let's see now..."
Koshka clutched her hands together in anticipation and bit her lip with a sharp fang. Treave proceeded to meticulously examine the contents of the satchel item by item, sniffing stoppered bottles, tapping on something here, listening intently to something there.
"Wig of many styles... Self inking quill... oh!" he lifted a thumb-sized dull metal object, "Unpierceable thimble of defense!"
Koshka's face started to fall, as Treave continued to sort.
"Goblet of goblins... Evergrowing cheese... Abacus of counting..."
"Is it all... trash?" Koshka ventured. Treave gave a shrug.
"Depends on your view of trash I suppose, there's always a market for novelty magic items you know. This Bag of endless beetroot? Might get a few silver for that at the market."
Koshka slumped back, dejected.
"Where's the good stuff? The Potions of longevity? The Rings of wishes? Girdles of giant strength?"
Treave looked up at her and gave the Tiefling a comforting smile.
"There there my dear. They can't all be dragon's hordes. But, don't be too down," he was sniffing at a tiny metal flask, pearlescent liquid sloshing within, "Because I happen to know that a certain masked Lord will pay at least 30 gold for this one."
He tossed the tiny item to Koshka, who cradled it in her hands.
"What is it?" she asked reverently. Treave gave a wink.
"Potion of hair regrowth. He's been trying to employ a wizard capable of giving him back his curls for years now."
Koshka shook her head and sighed.
"Thankyou Treave. I'll leave the rest with you?"
Treave gave a nod, shoving the bulging satchel aside.
"Of course, of course! Anything I find a home for, I'll be sure to kick you back your percentage."
She leaned to give the gnome a small kiss on his prodigious protruding nose, and made to leave.
"Oh, if you still want to earn a little more, you know you can always come model for me, dear!" Treave called after her.
"You haven't got the gold, Treave!" she called back playfully.
-
Koshka stood in the rain outside the tiny door, clutching the potion to her breast. 30 gold would be enough to tide over the debt for now.
Taking a quick glance either way down the street, she sped off towards the dock, heels clicking on the hard cobblestones.
-
Treave listened as the footsteps trailed off out of earshot, and once more made sure his door was locked.
Digging into the bottom of the satchel, he pulled out the metal bracers from the bottom. Etched in filigree and gleaming silver. They seemed heavier than they should be. Treave kicked the rest of the satchel and its contents aside, and placed the bracers carefully upon his work desk.
"Now then, let's see why they wanted you so badly..."
-
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