Chương 43: The White Knife

I turned to look at the man who had called me. A merchant, though not a dwarf, as I would have expected. He was tall, with an enormous stomach and an even bigger beard of fiery red. His clothing was far too tight, and I felt bad for the stretched shirt and the single button barely holding it closed.

"I'm not in the mood," I said, trying to walk by.

"Wait, wait, wait," the man replied, stepping into my path. With the man's size, I had little hope of slipping around him.

"Just come here and take a look. I've seen you glancing at my wares already." He gestured toward his stone table, and sure enough, it was the one that held the stone knife I had seen a few times." Hmm," I said.

"I could have sworn I saw a dwarven man at that stall." The man let out a bellowing laugh.

"That is my son. A chip off the old stone, if I do say so myself. Now come, come… let's talk business." Not wishing to talk, I decided to humor the man and make myself scarce as soon as I saw an opportunity. I walked to the table. Spread out before me were a few tools and weapons, all made of stone. An axe, both double-headed and single. A sword. A curved dagger, like one an evil wizard would use. And there, gleaming pure white like scrubbed marble, was the knife I had seen before.

My eyes fell upon its beauty, and I couldn't pry them away.

"Ah," the merchant said.

"I see you've an eye for taste. And a cooking knife as well? You likely have a taste for taste." The man laughed at his own joke.

"Honestly, Father, you're much too casual with our customers." A dwarven man appeared from behind the human. He had said it was his son, but the dwarf didn't look much younger at all. Maybe it was the beard. Unlike the lord's fanciful braids, this dwarf's beard was light brown and held in place with simple leather ties.

"How much for the knife?" I relented. Slowly, I pulled out my old one and set it on the table.

"Or can you fix this?" The man shook his head.

"I only work with stone. None of my skills apply to metal. I suppose I could fix it up a wee bit if you insist, but it'll just keep getting chipped. You know, with all the fighting and all."

"How do you know I fight?" I asked.

"You said it yourself. I've a taste for taste. I'm a chef." The dwarf snickered.

"What?" The human answered, "Lad, don't insult us. We make weapons and tools for a living. We know a blade that has seen battle, and that one has seen plenty." He tapped the chipped edge of my knife.

"Shame too. It was never meant for that sort of punishment. Each weapon and each tool has a soul. A life of its own. Something passed down from the craftsman into the hands of the user, where it becomes a symbol of unity. Not so unlike a marriage." The younger dwarf sputtered a laugh.

"And what do you know of marriage? My mother left yer ass." The man slapped the dwarf on the back of the head. Not hard, but hard enough to get the point across.

"Don't ye go disrespectin' yer mother that way," he said.

"You know she's a wildcat whose true love is the world itself. I was lucky to have had her when I did. As are you."

"Sorry," the dwarf said, rubbing the spot.

"And eww." The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"So this knife…" I said, nodding toward the white blade.

"Would it be good in a fight, then?"

"Depends on what yer fightin'."

"Monsters." The man ran a hand through his beard.

"Monsters, eh? Tough business. Messy too." He reached down and took the knife in both hands, holding it up to his eyes. Then he closed them, letting the sounds of the busy street fade around him. Carts rattled against the stone behind us as merchants called to passing travelers, and the distant clang of smithies carried through the market. His eyes popped open.

"Ah, yes… this knife has the soul of a fighter. It doesn't want to be just some simple tool. It craves adventure. Excitement. Not unlike you, I suspect. I think it would make a good companion for you and your journey."

"And the knife told you all that?" The man nodded, handing it to me.

"Ask it yourself." I narrowed my eyes as I looked at the knife. It had a good weight to it. Not too light, not too heavy. Perfect, really. There wasn't a handle, per se. It had been cut and treated as a single stone object. Yet somehow, the grip was porous and rough beneath my palm, while the blade was smooth as I ran a finger along the blunt side. I had to admit… it felt good to hold. Would I say I heard anything from it? No. Still…

"How much?" I asked.

"And just to let you know, if you ask too much, I'll walk."

"Five gold," the dwarven merchant replied. I set it on the stone table.

"Have a fine day, gentlemen—""Now wait," the human merchant said, rushing around the table, his stomach slapping against the edge of the stone.

"Three gold. For the stone and the work—it is a good deal."

"I'm sure it is," I replied.

"And three gold is still far beyond my price range."

"And what is your range?"

"I have fewer than three silver to my name."

"You always pick the paupers, father," the dwarven merchant complained.

"Off ya' go, then. We have payin' customers waitin'." I glanced around and saw no one.

"They're comin'," he insisted. I shrugged.

"Well… good luck sellin' it. Us common types have to live with what we have." I turned to leave and found that the merchant had already moved to meet me. For such a large man, he was quick." Hmm… you do seem to be a bit of a fighter. Tell me, what is the biggest baddie you've killed?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I'd say it had to be between the dragon and the minotaur." The man's mouth hung open.

"Are you alright?" I asked. He shook himself.

"So sorry. I think I misheard. Did ya' say dragon? And a minotaur?" I nodded.

"No, you got it right. It was a lesser dragon, I think. The minotaur seemed normal-sized. Well, I'm not too sure on that either. It's the first minotaur I'd ever seen, and—" The man grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me.

"Deal! We must make a deal!"

"W-W-What s-s-sort of d-d-deal?" I stammered. The man released me.

"I need me a Stone Golem Core. You know golems, yes? Powerful entities made completely out of inanimate objects, attracted to damnable places of power. Magical things. Nasty business." He leaned closer, lowering his voice despite everyone nearby being able to hear him.

"Anyhow, I've a special order, but I cannot seem to get my hands on a core. As it so happens, there is a bounty over at the Adventurer's Guild for a Stone Golem wreaking havoc at the Stonewake Circle."

"Stonewake Circle?"" Aye… a place of power. Said to be an old witch's dueling ground. The place has many flat-topped stones from which witches would duel using all sorts of magic. First to fall from the stone loses." He rubbed at his beard.

"At least, that's the rumor. Nobody really goes by anymore except to travel through and pick the odd herb or two. Yet that damn golem sprang to life and has been a menace to travelers. Even the Merchants Guild has donated to the bounty to be rid of it." He gestured toward the white knife.

"So… what say you? Bring back the core for me, and you'll earn yourself both the bounty and a knife. Good deal, eh?" I reached down and picked up the knife again. It was exquisite. And Vaelith would certainly like to do another bounty to improve her standing. The demon princess needed subjects after all. That's all she ever talked about.

"I'll think about it," I said as I walked away. A few steps away, I leaned back and added, "But why don't you put it on hold for me?" The merchant smiled from ear to ear.