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Benedict continued to pace back and forth. Those merchants were late. If they didn't show, he wasn't getting paid. If he didn't get paid, goodbye hold on giant tome. Goodbye progress. He only had two other books. Theory of the Divine, and Arcana for Dummies, the latter of which was an obtrusive yellow copy with a very confused man in high wizardry costume and question marks all around his head. It hadn't told him much that Divine hadn't, but every now and again it was useful. For instance, Dummies had taught him a nice little disspell. Now, all he had to do was find an occasion to use it. He had hoped that these merchants, whom he was guiding through the forests, would give him something, anything, to work with. They were late. And then, on top of that, he owed rent for this little ramshackle shack he called 'home'. It was absurd to him, for a dragon to need a house. Especially one so human in design. Still, he needed a way to keep his books safe. There was really nothing else to it. This was the only sane and logical way to keep his books safe without taking them with him everywhere. On the other hand, he had a huge collection of scrolls he had transcribed from library books, borrowed books, stolen books. Okay, so he wasn't inherently the most moral of dragons. He gave them back after he was finished with them. Honest. He had only two books, and those had been bought with hard-earned money. They were his most treasured possessions, and if he had anything left over after paying his back-rent from this job, he would start saving for his third. Someone knocked on the door. Bene opened it and felt a massive wave of relief wash over him. *Messer Falgrow,* he said cordially. *You're late. I'm going to have to charge you extra for wasting my time.* "Don't be silly, Benedict," Falgrow said calmly, dismissively almost. "This is the time we agreed." *Two hours I've been waiting here. You're going to pay me up front, and you're going to give me an extra day's wages. We can't make it through the forest all in one night. Not anymore.* "You're trying to skimp me out of my profits," Falgrow challenged. "I'm working an honest wage here, Messer Falgrow," Benedict told him calmly, almost coldly. *The truth be told, I think you're trying to screw me out of a day's work.* "I will not pay you for a day's service's if it's only a two hour delay." *Oh, but you will. Because otherwise, you won't be able to find a guide free for another month. Mine are the shortest and safest routes through, even for pack animals and carts, and you know it.* Falgrow bounced back and forth between feet. "One tenth a day's wage," he offered. "In addition to what you're already owed." *More like eight tenths. I still need to walk all the way back home, which means I won't be here to take requests should they come.* "You'd be walking home that day anyway," Falgrow countered. *Two hours later than I planned. I'll have to rest myself, also, because I'll be making more than the regular trip in the meantime. I'm not used to that kind of stress.* Falgrow gritted his teeth down at the dragon. "Two fifths a day's wages." *Three fifths, and not an ounce lower,* Benedict told him sternly. Falgrow bounced back and forth on his toes. He considered this, did a good deal of hemming and hawing, and then finally acquiesced. "Fine," he muttered, drawing a bag from his coat. "But don't think I like this, Benedict." Benedict smiled warmly up at him. *Of course you don't like this,* he said. *You're a miserly old man who loves gold above all else. Now, since I had to wait for you, you owe me five minutes undisturbed before I come out and help your caravan through the woods.* Falgrow glared down at him mutinously. Bene was unconcerned. He knew Falgrow would be late to market whether he waited five minutes or not. He also knew that he could afford to drive hard bargains. Falgrow had tried to find Bene's routes before by following what he thought were the right signs. He found himself lost very badly instead. Bene had come to his rescue then, too. Falgrow left, muttering under his breath. Bene closed his eyes, dipped his head in a bucket of water on the floor to cool himself off. Then, he shook the water off, and put on his pack of scrolls. He didn't have many. The ones he did have, he still needed to work with them. He hadn't been a full bishen for long, and as such, his magic needed work. This was work. And this was practice for his magic. And it was a chance to watch people, understand them better. He took a deep breath. He'd rather stay home and study, but that hardly paid the rent, let alone bought new books. So, counting five minutes or so exhausted, Bnee double-checked that he had everything he needed, and then stepped out of the door, locking it behind him. -- Merchants, as a rule, were boring types. They liked to try to pay Benedict in whatever they were transporting at the time. He never accepted, unless it was a new book. That was how he wound up owing so much back rent to begin with. It was a bad habit, but if he accepted money only, who knew? The book might not be there the next time that merchant passed through. So, when Falgrow and his merchants tried, once again, to buy him off with some inordinately red silk, he once again rolled his eyes. *What am I going to do with that?* he wanted to know. *You know my price, Falgrow. If you're not going to give it to me, then so be it.* One of the merchants came shuffling over, despite wearing loose trousers pushed into his boots, he still looked frightened that he might trip, taking each step very carefully. "Ah, Benedict, perhaps um, erh, ahem, that is to say, maybe we can strike another deal?" Benedict cocked an eyebrow at the man. *What kind of deal?* He knew what kind of deal. It was a dance he did with this one, who was a books dealer that moved every month between cities. He wouldn't be back this way for another three months. "Ah, that is, I have come into possession of several rare tomes... Perhaps you would be interested." Benedict smiled at the pudgy bookseller. *You can't cut a profit this way, you know?* he asked quietly, casting a glance to Falgrow, who was wiping his brow. Benedict knew the lead merchant didn't have enough gold in all their coffers to pay the increased service charge in addition to his regular wage. Still, no one ever seemed to pay the bookseller back. At all. Yet. New book! He felt his paws itching to get a new book read. *What subject matter?* he asked at length, very very tentatively. The bookseller chortled a little. "I have my usual supply, of course, Benedict, but also a few more advanced books on your favored subjects." Benedict considered this. "No," he said at length. *I still need the beginning volumes. They're absolutely more practical for me. I will look over your wares tonight, and I will choose one.* The merchants heaved a collective sigh of relief. *And,* he said, watching them all flinch. *I will also take three reams of heavy paper, two bottles of ink, and fourteen new number two standard nibs.* "But, Benedict!" someone shouted. *My rates went up because you all pissed me off,* he said cheerily. *I can't be bought with books all the time. Now bridle up!* he shouted at them. They obeyed, grudingly. The merchants returned to their apprentices and their pack animals, laden down with supplies. Everything they cared to sell was packed onto mules or camels, despite the cool, moist climate. They crossed sands, evidently, at some point in the cycle around the cities. Benedict waited for them, and at last they all hollared the 'ready to go' signal the caravan used. After the sheer number of times this caravan had employed him, he was certain the merchants would take a different route or not bother to hire a guide. However, they all insisted that the forest seemed to change after every time they went through. In all likelihood, Bene had been the one to change it, since he was one of the very few sentients to live in it. It was as normal a forest as any other. Any idiot could have guided them through it. But any idiot didn't guide them. Benedict did. He swished his black-tipped tail through the air in a serpentine manner, waving his tattooed paws around each other as he walked to the front of the caravan. He walked several hundred feet into the forest, sniffing and tasting the air for any signs of danger in the immediate vicinity. None came, and he signalled for the caravan. They trudged onward after him. Pack animals walked notoriously slowly, and Benedict wandered here and there, investigating the area around the trail for signs of trouble. None came. Benedict sighed with relief, thanking each of the four deities for a safe journey. He wasn't overly devout in worshipping them, but every little wedge of favor helped, right? It was dusk by the time they reached the area he intended to use as a campsite. He withdrew to the woods a little, watching the merchants and their armed escorts make a circus of themselves by hobbling their steeds and unpacking and repacking and running in circles. Bene knew he would only get in the way there, so he watched safely from the treeline. When it was finished and fires lit, he emerged once more, curling up beside the fire. The bookseller sat down, setting a plate of food before him. Bene blinked up, smiled softly. *I hadn't intended on eating just yet,* he admitted. "Nonsense," the bookseller said meekly. "You must be hungry. You've led the way all day long." *Thank you,* he said, and listened while the man related tales of crossing the Bay of Tides up north. He ate, drank, and listened. And nothing jumped out of the shadows to get them. It was a good night. |
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