>>5808632Zith-Zi sneered, and crossed her arms.
“Magic? Really? You think a goblin’s gonna’ give two shit-covered coins for your wand-flicks and fairy tricks, wiz-kid?”
Your hands balled to fists at the jabs, but you refused t let her jabs get under your skin. You needed her, at least for now.
“I’m not talking about parlour tricks or a bit of spellcraft to impress you,” you said. “You’re a trader, right? You sell things? Well, magic goods—especially from foreign places, sell well. Potions of healing, invigoration… Wel, those are pretty useful to people who travel up and down the wastes all day and risk fights, right?”
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, fixing you with an eye that was as much that of a jackal as a merchant.
“If you’re so damn valuable, maybe we ought to just keep you, then?” she said, her voice low.
You flinched slightly, taking a step back, and she took one forward.
“Yeah, why not, right?” she said, grinning wider, and reaching behind her as if to produce a weapon. “You’re so keen to tell us all how IMPORTANT and DESIRABLE your fucking magic is… Why buy it by the bottle when we can own the source, right?”
You raised your hands, though whether to <Summon Elemental> or to shield yourself against her gaze you couldn’t be sure. But then, you calmed yourself. You glanced over your shoulder, and realized what she was doing: pushing you towards her tent-flaps.
If she’d meant to simply kidnap and enslave you—if she thought she could geta way with it, and was willing to risk your friends’ resistance—she never would have bothered telling you her story, or negotiating. This was a tactic—to extract more concessions, or to humiliate you and drive you away. Either way, it wouldn’t work.
You stopped, and stood your ground. Gritting in frustration, smile fadinga round her eyes even as her mouth mimed mirth still, Zith-Zi stopped as well. You searched the tent with your eyes even as you searched your mind for an answer… And again, your gaze fell on ‘Hershy’, her drake.
>18Her feathers… They were dull at the edges. There were small patches where they seemed preened or plucked away, and yet nothing new had begin to grow to replace them. His flight-feathers were ragged. His eyes, half-closed, were dull with age. He was a chimera, but drakes… How long did drakes live? Not long. And this one came from Hawksong, you were sure—a family heirloom, a cherished pet.
“I’m a chimericist,” you said quickly. “I can help Hershy.”
Zith-Zi stared blankly, processing your words. Slowly, her expression shifted from sinister smile to irritation, to something… tender. Her eyes shifted to her pet’s makeshift perch.
