“Can you figure out what it is in an hour?” Rylana wasn’t swimming in gold coins, especially since she’d spent all of Rolf’s earnings on pantry supplies that morning. The money hadn’t gone as far as she’d hoped. She hadn’t even done an inventory of what in the storeroom had been destroyed yet.
“Impossible to say.” The alchemist took the paper with the sample and turned toward his equipment, but he paused to look back over his shoulder. “Were you to inform me of the location of the dark-green-haired elf assassin, I might do the work for free.”
Unease swept down Rylana's spine. Maybe all the elves in the citywerelooking for Sylin.
“I don’t know where she’s staying. I can only pay for up to an hour of work.”
“Yes, the assassinisa she.” He smiled triumphantly. “I suspected you were the one I’d heard about who travels with her.”
Rylana clenched her jaw, irritated to realize he’d been fishing, that he hadn’t known she was Sylin’s friend, and she’d confirmed that for him.
“I only have two gold,” she said, “so don’t spend more time with it than that buys.”
“Perhaps if I need more time, you’ll remember where your dubious comrade is staying.”
“Perhaps I’ll just go find that goblin alchemist.” Rylana reached across the counter, wanting to take back the sample, but he drew it out of reach. With peacekeepers and golems all over the square, she decided not to vault into his stand to try to forcibly take it back. “Keep it,” she said, and took the pouch and headed down the line.
When she glanced back, the elf was gazing thoughtfully at her.
“I’m starting to have fewer regrets about shooting at their kind during the war,” Rylana muttered.
At the end of the stalls rested a small wagon harnessed to a donkey eating from a bucket. A bald, chubby goblin dozed on his back on the driver’s bench. There wasn’t a written sign anywhere on the side of the wagon, but a painting showed a goblin stirring a cauldron over a fire in a cave. Was he making soup or alchemical concoctions? Rylana couldn’t tell but petted the donkey and cleared her throat. The goblin started snoring.
Rylana poked him on the side. “Hello? Are you an alchemist?”
The snoring grew louder.
“If you are, I have a business proposition for you.”
The goblin sat up, his yellow eyes opening. “Money, did you say?”
“Not exactly.” Rylana held up the pouch.
The goblin held up his hands. “Strictly no returns. Sorry.”
“I’m not— Wait, do you recognize this? Is it something you sold?”
“That’s one of my sacks. I trade fire salts to my weaver friend for them.”
“Well, I didn’t buy this from you.”
“Aren’t you working for the snooty human who came by yesterday?” The goblin took the pouch and peered inside. “Yes, this is my anti-magic powder.”
“Anti-magic? It’s magical, as far as everyone can tell.”
“Well, of courseanti-magical powder would have to be magical itself to succeed in nullifying magic.”
“I… see. Did you say it was a goblin who purchased it?”
“No. I— Are we engaged in the business proposition you mentioned?”
“I think we might be.” Rylana wondered if Yerin would qualify as asnooty humanto a goblin. She wished she knew for certain that hehadbeen behind the arson and other affronts to the diner.Jildarin might have more than one rival out to get him. He wasn’t exactly warm and friendly with people.
“Then you should be paying me for the information I offer, yes?” The goblin smiled and rubbed his hands together.
“I have two silver.” If she could get answers from him, it would save her from having to pay the elf’s exorbitant fees.
“Let’s see it.” The goblin stood on his bench and leaned forward.
