Quoted By:
“I … I honestly don’t know. A goodly portion of the coins are foreign, and I haven’t had a chance to sit down and count the talents yet.”
“He said something in the range of a thousand talents. Does that sound about right?”
“What? No, more.”
“More?”
“Aye, a lot more.”
“More.”
For once, you can tell exactly what he is thinking. He is contemplating all of the reasons that someone might underreport the amount of money that was stolen from them. Eventually he moves on, though you can tell that he is still wrestling with it.
“Alright then, last question. Was there anything else in his strongbox?”
“Uh … yes, papers. Correspondence, and a lot of it. Looked like most of it was in Reichtongue, surprisingly enough.”
“You can read?”
Fray it all to the Pits and back! How many times are you going to keep making this fraying mistake! Quick, deflect!
“I – I can <span class="mu-i">recognize</span> Reichtongue.”
That is true. You can also read it. But it is true that you can recognize it. Blessedly the same ploy that got you out of trouble with the Master Abbot gets you out of trouble with this bastard as well. Just like the Master Abbot, this man clearly has other things on his mind. He leans in to ask the next question.
“Did you take any?”
“No. Just the coins.”
He slumps back, and you can plainly see his face fall. But shortly, he sighs straightens back up.
“Well, my mother always said to me, ‘Eupator, no good ever came from greed’.”
He looks at you with a much gentler expression than before.
“You have done me a great service here, and I find myself not able to do much in return. But at least I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to see that once the bounty on your head – and that snuff-box – expires, it will not be renewed.”
Once again, your heart is soaring, and you have to force yourself calm – this could still be part of the trap.
“You can – “
“Yes, I can. Those bounties were placed by the Embassy, and the Embassy is not just a political mission, it is loose fraternity of Tartessian merchants who are licensed to trade in Scrimshaw Mount. All of us pay into the collective coffer. And I can tell you, as much they would all like to see you on the winch-gallows, and any idea of imitation put to bed, one hundred and twenty talents is excessive for one thief … and beyond assine for a snuff-box. Not to mention the costs of the criers. I am known to be no friend of his, so I can call for the bounty to remain unrenewed without attracting undue suspicion, by claiming that spending money to advertise that we were so brazenly stolen from is not in the best interests of any member of the mission, <span class="mu-i">except</span> Pharnaces.”
“H-how soon?”
“Sixty days.”
Before you can object, the Tartessian talks right over you, and you have to bite your tongue, fuming.
