The village of Hahill had been dead when Serish had left three days ago to hunt down the infestation of gruffs that had been stampeding through the few suitable farming plots on this part of the mountain and the gardens of half the people in the village. Aside from the priests that seemed to run the village, there had barely been enough people around to keep the place running; most of the houses were dark and locked up, no one was on the streets, and the local inn was only serving two other patrons in a hall meant for a fifty.
So it came as something of a shock to Serish when, upon returning, the streets were packed. Carts and wagons were double-parked, everywhere she looked, leaving barely enough room for the hundreds of people swarming over them like ants to unload and carry off the cargo. Sunset was still a couple hours off, but over the bustle of the revitalized town, Serish could still hear musicians plying their trades from somewhere amongst the crowds.
:Well, they're looking lively,: Xaraea noted. :Seems the village is seeing a windfall. I wonder if we can take a little off the top.:
Serish considered the sack of gruff horns she had slung over her shoulder, trophies from her hunt and the only proof she had for the job. She'd had to settle for fifteen coppers a head -- or pair of horns, at this point -- instead of the twenty plus hazard pay she'd wanted. The trouble with gruffs, and the one thing the alderman had refused to believe about them despite all the supporting evidence, was they tended to get bigger and meaner the more of them you killed. Yes, the ones that had been trampling the gardens were easily dispatched, but Serish had rather quickly graduated to gruffs big enough to trample her before driving the herd off this part of the mountain. Horns large enough to hold a week's worth of lamp oil were worth more than fifteen coppers individually, let alone as a pair. But, if Xaraea was right, the village being flush with new goods might mean the alderman would be willing to pay a little extra now that Serish had proof the problem was a little bigger than he'd wanted to believe.
"Sorry, fifteen is still as high as we'll go," the alderman chortled, handing her a pouch of coins before downing another swig of ale. Serish felt a blood vessel in her forehead throb. The old man hadn't been in his house where she'd first met him and she'd asked a resident where he was. The resident had, kindly, pointed her in his direction, only for Serish to find when she got there that the alderman had moved elsewhere in the village. After going through that five more times, she eventually found him amongst he densest concentration of carts in the town square, which were still loaded down with goods. Serish had been convinced he was deliberately avoiding her, but now, seeing how rosy his cheeks were getting and the subtle slur creeping into his speech, perhaps he'd just taken a tour to sample all the varieties of alcohol the town had brought back from wherever it had gone. He likely didn't register her scowl and continued before she could lodge a protest. "But, what we can do... Look at this sheepskin. Have you ever seen such fine sheepskins? You're welcome to take some as payment, in recognition for your hard work."
"I'd prefer something that traveled a little lighter," Serish answered, trying to keep her voice tempered while still leaving the unspoken implication of like coin lingering in the air between them.
"Of course, of course," the alderman answered, turning back to paw through the carts, completely oblivious. "Let's see here, leather...pottery...axes..."
:Something tells me we'll not find much of value in this podunk little hovel,: Xaraea groused. :We may just have to beat the money out of him.:
"Cordwood...blank scrolls..."
"Wait, really?"
The alderman stopped his inebriated rummaging, "Yeah. You want some?"
Serish planted her feet and tried not to sound too interested. "Maybe. Depends."
The alderman pulled three small tubes out of one of the carts and handed them to Serish. The first two held thick rolls of parchment, enough for a couple manuscripts. But the third--
:Oh, hello,: Xaraea remarked.
Inside the third was at least half a dozen individually-rolled sheets of vellum. It wasn't the best vellum in the world, but to any frontier village or town it was still luxuriant in the extreme. This alone was probably worth more than half Serish's sack of gruff horns.
:Better not make mention of that, dear.:
:Hadn't planned on that.:
Serish tucked the tubes under her arm and turned her attention back to the alderman, who'd already gone back to digging. "Have anything else?"
"Traveler like you, you gots to have some use for herbs, right? Medicinal and whatnot?"
Serish had to admit he had her pegged on that one. Master Ephes hadn't taught her much alchemy, but she did know enough that it'd saved her life in the field in the past. She'd lost her alchemy pouch after the Ancin had killed her and and the orcs had looted her corpse, and while the Serha Plains had offered a few ingredients, she'd exhausted most of what little she'd been able to collect in her hike through the treacherous terrain of the Thunderblacks. She took the sturdy leather pouch the alderman offered her -- not as nice as the one Ephes had given her, but still up to the task -- and flipped it open.
:Elftail, King's grass, jewelhood... oooh, ambertea. You could make some fine poisons with these, love. Did I ever tell you about the time I killed the king of Nelibi with springshoe extract?:
:No, but-- Wait, you started the War of the Starsong?:
Xaraea gave a throaty chuckle with barely-contained pride. :Yes, you should have seen the looks on the faces of the Dolarond delegation as the king's flesh withered. It was as if they had just set their own city ablaze.:
:Nelibi did burn Instow to the ground with the entire population barricaded inside.:
:And your father fed well that day. The power that flowed from so many mortals begging for salvation from any entities they could name... Power that will one day be yours, my sweet, when we find the Skull.:
"These will do nicely," Serish told the alderman, not wanting to entertain thoughts of her father or his enchanted prison.
The alderman answered with a rumbling basso guffaw. "Of course, of course. With those weregoats gone, we should be able to grow more before the winter, thanks to you."
"Gruffs," Serish corrected idly, buckling the herb pouch onto her belt. "Well, if that's all you have, I guess I'll turn in for the evening."
"Whatever for?" the alderman roared as he took up his tankard again. "The party is already starting!"
Serish tracked the tankard skeptically. He hadn't been anywhere near this hospitable sober. "I can see that. What party?"
"We've just sold our finest batch of stone yet. Everything you see in these carts, paid for by the best masonry in the central kingdoms! We're drinking in the new year!" He threw his arms wide, knocking a stack of wicker baskets out of the cart behind him and, judging by the furious squawking that followed, onto an unfortunate chicken. The man didn't seem to notice and downed some more ale. "Come, stay. I can already smell Macha baking her world famous pork buns! I'll tell Druso to hold your room for you!"
Serish shifted uncomfortably, not sure how seriously she should take the offer. She certainly couldn't smell any pork buns, just the barnyard stink of dozens of animals all in a confined space, and most towns she'd been to had been very keen to have her on her way before sunrise. Hahill hadn't been any different, and it wasn't until she'd agreed to leave town after she'd taken care of the gruff problem that the alderman had finally agreed to pay her.
:Come on, Serish, live a little!: Xaraea whined as the alderman walked away in the direction of the inn. :Or at least as much as we can in this muddy backwater. And if they do try to throw us out we can kill a few before we leave. We haven't had fresh food in weeks, so let's at least take theirs while they're offering.:
Serish's stomach gurgled at the mention of fresh food. Xaraea was, as usual, right. It had been a long time since she'd eaten anything other than trail rations and cured meat. What few places she could afford to eat would rarely serve her. None had known for certain she was a demonhost, but everyone acted like they could smell it on her. But if the alderman and everyone else were going to be too drunk to notice or care...
:Alright, let's go join the party.:
:Oh no, not like that we aren't,: Xaraea cut in, manifesting her human form -- that of a tall, striking woman with tanned skin and chocolate hair dressed in harem jewelry and a diaphanous slip that could only stay on her body by means of magic -- to give Serish a walkaround, her bare feet never quite touching the muddy ground. "A set of dirty, lived-in armor is something I wouldn't be caught dead in at a party of any kind, even one as lowbrow as this. No, something nicer is definitely in order."
"I don't have anything else," Serish growled. "My formal apprentice robes were on the Light of Arcanum when Ancin stole it."
"Check the third cart on the left."
Serish took a furtive look around and, upon seeing no one paying attention to them, moved to where Xaraea had indicated. Inside one of the crates was a pile of folded clothes. Most of them were wool or cotton in various blends or colors; sturdy, comfortable, nice without being too flashy--
"But what about this one right here?"
Naturally, Xaraea had pointed to the most expensive article in the box: a red and white silk robe with gold accents and white fur trim and a complementary set of fashionable leather boots.
"Seriously?" Serish protested. You think they won't notice this one robe out of all the others is stolen?"
"And you think they will?" Xaraea shot back. "They're going to be drinking all evening and well into the night. I'd be surprised if they noticed what colors you were wearing."
With one last reluctant look at the folder robe, she pulled it to the top of the pile and began stripping out of her armor, with Xaraea making wordless approving noises all the while. With some help from the edge of the cart, she managed to get into the new outfit without getting mud on anything. Looking at herself in a polished bronze mirror, she had to admit Xaraea had a good eye for these things. The fit wasn't exact, but with a few tugs it was close, and with some minor changes to the pattern the outfit would be a dead ringer for Serish's apprentice robes. At least until Xaraea held out the last article of the outfit to her.
"No," Serish said flatly.
"It's part of the outfit, love," Xaraea told her, her voice dripping with mock innocence.
"I'm not wearing a corset."
"That robe isn't designed to stay up without it. You'll be holding this ensemble together with your hands all night. Unless you'd rather I use my hands..."
Serish felt herself flush as she snatched for the corset and wrapped it around her waist. Making a show of suppressing an amused smirk, Xaraea deferentially made some minor adjustments so it sat comfortably under Serish's bust before tightening down the laces. Serish made sure to hold her breath so she'd have room to breathe in it later. She checked herself in the mirror again.
"Just. This. Once," she told the demon firmly, though even as she said it and saw the Xaraea's eyes on her, she felt her resolve on that point slipping.
"Of course, my princess," Xaraea answered, folding her hands subserviently in front of her and giving a bow of her head, her eyes blazing with excitement. "Now, we have a party to attend."