A Mythical Match Up IV - Futures Market Part VI (Patreon)

The buxom fox-witch scowled. She glanced down at her hips, legs and feet, all of which were still pressed flat - literally - against the poster. She rolled her eyes and sighed, blowing a lock of reddish-brown hair from between her emerald-green eyes. Pausing only to readjust her wide-brimmed hat she leaned forward - exposing her absolutely cavernous white-furred cleavage - and pushed against the wall. She moaned softly - almost sensuously - as her upper body jutted forward. Gradually, her cartoonishly-wide posterior emerged along with half of her bushy tail, the tip of which was still two-dimensional, twitching animatedly on the paper behind her.

            Nathan could only watch in awe as she extracted herself from the paper. He swore he saw parts of her momentarily stretch like rubber as they emerged. Eventually and with a final yank to pull out her tail, the vixen stepped fully into the third dimension. The instant she left it, the poster rapidly withered away and crumbled into dust.

            "Hmph," harrumphed the fox, absently brushing her shoulders. "The one problem with that spell is that the ectoplasmic parchment can get a little, mmm...clingy."

            Nathan goggled as she reached (elbow deep) into her buoyant, watermelon-sized breasts and produced a small white powder puff. She gently applied it to both her cheeks.

            "And one cannot simply dismiss it while one is incorporated into its ersatz morphic matrix," she added, stuffing the powder puff back into her cleavage. "Ah well." She looked down at Nathan almost in surprise - as though she'd forgotten he was there."Come now, out with it," she said, her paws on hips. "How did you find me? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised given the thaumic resources at your disposal."

            "Buh, buh..." mumbled Nathan, trying to come to grips with all he'd witnessed.

            "Inanimate image compression fools most divination spells since you do not technically exist for its duration," she continued. "Unlike petrifaction. And searching the neighborhood - let alone the entire city - for a specific dweomer would be a fool's errand. Not even an archmaester with a master-crafted scrying mirror could discern a particular mage's signature aura without being physically present." She paused. Suddenly, her frown acquired an odd, almost mirthful character - as though she were scolding a child who had done something naughty yet amusing. "You employed divine magic, didn't you? Hah! No fair!"

            "What? No I...someone knew you were staying here!" blurted Nathan.

            The fox-witch stared at him for a few seconds.

            "Are you..." she trailed off and leaned in closer, eyeing him. Nathan swallowed. Her massive pair of jugs aside, she wore a very nice perfume that brought him to mind of Melinanatha. His heart sank a little as he thought of her.

            The fox's expression slowly softened.

            "You're not with Byteiye, are you?" she said.

            "No, I...I'm on my...I guess I represen-"

            The vixen started laughing. She had a rather pleasant, musical laugh.

            "What? What's...what's so funny?" said Nathan, thoroughly befuddled.

            Still chuckling, she extended a paw.

            "Oh my, how embarrassing!" she chortled. "For the two of us, I suppose. Come, darling! On your feet."

            Nathan stared at the outstretched paw as though it were about to explode.

            "Don't be shy. I don't bite," she smirked playfully. "Unless you want me to..."

            Nathan blushed tomato-red. He'd never get used to this world. He accepted the vixen's paw - it felt like a warm, fuzzy glove - and rose, only to knock his head on a beam of wood, nearly dropping his phone in the process.

            "Careful, darling!" laughed the fox, covering her mouth with her free paw.

            Nathan gingerly rubbed his stricken head and smiled foolishly. He almost pocketed the phone before realizing he still needed its light.

            "Introductions, then," said the vixen. She bowed slightly, the brim of her oversized hat nearly brushing against Nathan's face. "I am Maeve Marigold, sorceress, scholar, and investigator extraordinaire!"

            "Uh, Nathan. Nathan Veles." He paused. "Who uh, who did you think I was? And will we have to worry about them?"

            "Hm? Oh, just some...overly zealous watchmen," said Maeve dismissively. "And now that I think of it, it's been weeks. They've very likely given up by now."

            Nathan hesitated. There was clearly something else going on here. Then, he recalled Dovon's words. Whatever she was involved in, he needed to stay out of it.

            "Cool, cool," said Nathan. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "So, here's the thing. I was wondering if I could hire you. As a, uh, I guess a magical consultant."

            "Ah! I see. Well, as it so happens I am already working on a rather demanding job for another client, so-"

            "I don't think it will take much of your time," interrupted Nathan, somewhat desperately. "Er, sorry."

            "Now now, I didn't say 'no,' darling," said Maeve. She looked around the attic. "But first, let's retire to slightly more agreeable environs; to whit, the tavern below. I haven't had anything to drink for a few days now. Being an erotic drawing is thirsty work!"

* * *

            Nathan descended the ladder. He looked around the taproom. All of the other customers were gone. This made him a bit nervous. He couldn't see the tavern keeper either, though little fellow could just be out of sight behind the bar. Gnesh - reliable as ever - was still around. The orc was standing right where he had been just before Nathan climbed up into the attic.

            "Hey," said Nathan, addressing Gnesh. "Where did everyone go?"

            Gnesh shrugged. "Dey all left a little after you went up dere."

            "You didn't...you didn't scare them off or anything, did you?" said Nathan.

            "Naw," said Gnesh, shaking his head.

            "Then why-"

            "Gneshy! Is that you?"

            Nathan turned around. Sure enough, Maeve had just descended the ladder. She was trotting towards Gnesh, arms wide, beaming like a high school girl who had spotted her life-long crush.

            "Come here, you big green lug," she crooned. "It's been too long."

            Moving remarkably quickly for someone of his size, Gnesh stepped back, simultaneously grabbing one of the bar stools and moved it in front him like a shield, blocking Maeve's advance.

            "Oh foo," pouted Maeve. "Fine, be that way."

            Nathan stared at Maeve, then at Gnesh, then back at Maeve.

            "What's, uh, going on?" he asked, bemused.

            "Oh, we used to date," said Maeve.

            "Date?"

            "Once," said Gnesh firmly. "Just one date."

            "Oh, don't be so modest, Gneshy! We went on at least three."

            "Don't count as a date when you show up wit'out telling."

            Nathan looked closely at Gnesh. The burly orc bodyguard formerly relaxed, confident demeanor had turned tense bordering on nervous. He kept his gaze locked on Maeve. This was the first time Nathan had ever seen Gnesh look perturbed, let alone scared. And apart from acting a little overly affectionate, the fox hadn't done or said anything the least bit threatening.

            Nathan swallowed. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

            Maeve turned towards the apparently deserted bar.

            "Righak?" she called. "A bottle of Wolfbrothers brandy and some cups, if you please. An unopened bottle, if you have it. Put it on my tab."

            With that, she sashayed over to a nearby table, dusted the chair with her tail and took a seat, crossing her legs. Mere seconds later the tavern keeper - a three-foot tall bald, black-bearded dwarf (or gnome?) wearing a greasy leather apron, green pants and thick, knee-high boots - emerged from around the bar. He carried a large, slightly corroded metal tray on which rested a tall green bottle and a quartet of ceramic cups. Saying nothing, he walked over to Maeve's table, set the bottle and four cups down and hurried back behind the bar. Maeve deftly uncorked the bottle, poured two seconds' worth of amber liquid into one of the cups and motioned for Nathan to join her.

            Nathan hesitated but nonetheless pulled up a chair and sat. Gnesh took his standard position behind Nathan with his arms folded, albeit a little farther away than usual.

            Maeve poured a second cup and passed it to Nathan.

            "So, darling, how can Maeve Marigold assist you?"

            Nathan reflexively took a sip and then winced; not because the brandy was foul - it wasn't - but because it stirred memories of his cataclysmic hangover. He glanced back at Gnesh.

            "You uh, don't need to knock my drink out of my hand anymore," he muttered.

            Gnesh gave a curt nod.

            "Sorry," said Nathan, turning back to Maeve. "I'll start from the beginning."

            Maeve listened intently, interrupting a few times to ask a clarifying question. Occasionally she took a sip or refilled her cup. Nathan refrained from drinking any more.

            "...So I just need to know whether I've been poisoned," finished Nathan. "Is there a spell you can cast that can do that?"

            Maeve raised a furry eyebrow?

            "Is that all?" she said, sounding disappointed. "Truly?"

            "Uh, yeah, pretty much. Can you do it?"

            "Can I do it!" snorted Maeve. "Of course I can. Such divination magic is trivial!" She paused. "Well, perhaps not to some inexperienced wet-behind-the-ears apprentice, but I am hardly a novice." She dipped a paw between her breasts and pulled out a thin black wand. "I can do it right now."

            "Oh, great!" said Nathan, relieved. "How much wil-"

            Maeve waved the wand. Her eyes briefly glowed blue.

            "Hmm...yes, yes..." she muttered. She leaned forward and gazed closely at Nathan. "It's faint, but there is definitely a lingering aura. And I think I recognize it. Mm...yes, a potion."

            "So someone did slip me a roofie," breathed Nathan, feeling a rush of vindication.

            "Not a 'roofie,' darling," said Maeve smugly. "A sobrietas sarong."

            There was a pause.

            "A what?" said Nathan, blinking.

            "A moderately powerful concoction that relieves all deleterious effects of alcohol - or any other substance that dulls, muddles or overexcites the mind and body."

            There was a longer pause.

            "So...a hangover cure," said Nathan.

            "Well, yes, that is what it is usually used for," said Maeve. "Although it has many othe-"

            "Hold on, hold on," interrupted Nathan, raising a hand. "I know I drank a hangover potion. Melinanatha gave me one this morning."

            "You didn't mention that before," said Maeve, cocking her head.

            "Sorry, yeah."

            Maeve sighed.

            "Then I'm afraid we have a problem." She tucked the wand back into her cleavage. "Any and all trace of the hypothetical first potion would have been shrouded by the power of the sobrietas sarong. Even if there were some faint lingering spoor it would dissipate far before the sobrietas sarong's would. Short of divine intervention there is no magical means of detecting whether you drank some potion last night."

            "Oh," said Nathan.

            "I am sorry," said Maeve, nodding gravely.

            There was another long pause.

            "Fuck," hissed Nathan between his teeth, pounding the table. The bottle and cups rattled slightly. The barkeep peered up over the counter. "I shouldn't have drunk that damn potion!"

            "From what I gathered there was no way you could have known," said Maeve kindly.

            "I still should have been more careful," he muttered, lowering his head. "Melinanatha was right about me." He then slowly looked back up at Maeve. "Sorry for wasting your time. I'll...be on my way."

            Maeve bit her lower lip. Then, slowly, a small, thoughtful smile formed on her vulpine face.

            "Hold," she said just as Nathan was about to rise from his seat. "You asked me to determine whether you'd been affected by some potion, but what you ultimately want to know is who tricked you into drinking it. And why."

            "Uh, yeah, I guess," said Nathan. "But-"

            "You sought me out for my services as a mage but perhaps you should retain me as an investigator."

            "But you already tried the spell. What else can we do?"

            "Magic isn't the solution to everything," said Maeve, lowering her voice. "I have always averred that most problems can be solved with a just little bit of ingenuity, luck and hard work. And while I am already working on another case I think I could...squeeze you in." She winked saucily. "I am very flexible."

            "Er..." Nathan considered her offer, blushing slightly. He glanced meaningfully over his shoulder at Gnesh but the half-orc bodyguard remained as impassive as ever. "...How much would you charge?"

            "Mmm...three-hundred silver talents a day, plus expenses - cost of material components over ten talents, bribes, tolls and so on," said Maeve. "Minimum payment of one day's work. Half returned if unsuccessful. No bartering. My rate is set in stone. I'll waive the fee of the detection spell as a courtesy."

            Nathan nodded. Just as Dovon had said her fee was pricy but not ruinous. His bank account was definitely starting to feel the strain but assuming this didn't take too long, he'd be fine. He might have to take a part-time job next if this kept up, however.

            "Okay, you're hired," said Nathan extending a hand.

            Maeve gleefully shook it.

            "Wonderful, darling! You've made the right choice. I have a feeling this is going to be a great deal of fun!"

            "Yeah, so, I think I have enough here for the first day..." said Nathan, reaching down for his coin pouch.

            "Oh, don't worry. We'll deal with remuneration once the investigation is complete," said Maeve, waiving dismissively.

            "Uh, thanks."

            The curvy anthropomorphic vixen clapped her paws together. She then rose from her seat and began pacing, paws still pressed together. Her hat and boobs bobbed slightly as she walked, her long, thick leather boots striding across the dirty stone floor.

            "First, we must examine all relevant information and make no assumptions," she began. Her voice had changed subtly - it was far more businesslike. "You spoke with unusual candor at the Wemic's Rest tavern soon after imbibing a beverage provided by the owner and revealed closely held secrets of both a personal and a professional nature. The simplest explanation is the liquor loosened your tongue."

            "I told you it was only one drink," protested Nathan. "One. Drink. At least at first," he conceded. "And then I apparently started blabbing about things I wouldn't tell anyone."

            "Mm...perhaps the bartender's recollection erred? Ah, no, he was right there beside you. And given his association with Byteiye I doubt he'd risk harming you."

            "Association with Byteiye?"

            "Darling, you said it yourself.  He had a...what is it called? Wireless net-worth? And more of your kind's fascinating electronic devices right in his bar." She grinned almost voraciously. "I don't know why I've never visited the place. I'm half tempted to scurry down there as soon as our business is concluded. In any case, he clearly has made some special arrangements with them. So unless..." she trailed off and shuddered. "No, that's an assumption - an unpleasant one at that."

            "Huh?" said Nathan.

            "Nothing you need worry about. Anyhow, your unusual candor manifested soon after drinking. Even if you were affected by some enchantment that doesn't necessarily mean someone slipped something into your cup. Someone could have cast a spell on you..." She whirled around, facing Nathan. "How many were in the bar when you first took a sip?"

            "Oh? Uh," said Nathan, taken aback. "The bartender lion-guy, this guy on his laptop, this girl at the bar and those two elves in the corner." He paused. "Oh, and Gnesh, of course."

            "I think we can rule out Gneshy and the barkeep," she said. "Same for the two other humans - your kind are incapable of magic, no offense. We can also rule out the elves - everyone in the tavern when you arrived, now that I think of it."

            "Why?"

            "Simple! Did you tell anyone you were going to visit the Wemic's Rest?"

            "Uh, no," said Nathan, scratching his head. "I just asked Gnesh to take me to somewhere he'd thought I'd like to see. I didn't even know where we were going."

            "Then how could anyone else had known to wait for you there?"

            "Oh, yeah," said Nathan, feeling a little dense.

            "But other patrons arrived at the tavern soon after you did. They could have been following you. Who else was there when you first started speaking so...frankly?"

            "Hm...there was this unicorn guy, this kobold and... Lord and Lady Fredritch," he added gloomily.

            "Ah. Well, we can rule those two out as well."

            "Why?" said Nathan, suddenly suspicious. "I mean, they kinda had a motive. They must have known I was with Melinanatha and involved in the futures deal. Maybe they planned this whole thing to get an advantage during negotiations."

            "Darling, if that was their plan they certainly wouldn't have done the deed themselves, much less shown their faces!" laughed Maeve. "No, I think that was just bad luck on your part."

            Nathan's face reddened a bit.

            "This unicorn...could it have been him?" asked Maeve, rubbing her fuzzy chin.

            Nathan hesitated. "You know what? I don't think so. He pretty much spent the entire night just watching the game with Gnesh. That much I remember."

            "Which leaves the kobold," said Maeve. "What do you recall of him?"

            "Nothing really...though, now that you mention it I didn't see him much. I think I saw him in the corner of the bar later on. Could have sworn he was watching me..." He looked up at Maeve meaningfully. "So, it was him?"

            "Tut-tut, we cannot make any assumptions," said Maeve, wagging a finger. "We are simply evaluating possible suspects. The kobold seems the most suspicious, I'll grant you. But let's turn to whatever enchantment affected you."

            Maeve folded her arms. She started tapping her right elbow.

            "If it were a spell and not some concoction, the mage responsible would have been skilled and subtle to the extreme," she said slowly. "Almost an assumption, I admit, but casting magic without being noticed by anyone in a crowded tavern would've required great expertise or exceptional luck. The kobold? I'm afraid to say there are very few worthy kobold mages. But not impossible. And there is always the possibility our villain was shrouded by illusionary magic, but again, that would demand an exceptionally adroit mage. And there's no way inferring which spells were employed. Mm...perhaps there was no mage." She raised a finger. "If, however, something had been slipped into your drink, we may be able to identify it. Did you feel...out of control at the time? As though some unseen force had wrested control of your voice?"

            "Not really," said Nathan, shrugging. "Maybe I felt a little...off, but nothing like that."

            "That rules out veritas vestment, then," said Maeve, nodding. "Those affected by that particular draught cannot help but answer every question posed truthfully even if they'd prefer to remain silent - it is an irresistible compulsion. Quite unpleasant, in fact. You would have noticed something were amiss. Yet your altered behavior was too, mm, sudden to be explained by some mundane drug like Fairy Hair or Soa Moss."

            Suddenly, Maeve grinned and pounded her fist triumphantly.

            "Of course! Why didn't I see it before? All signs point to candidus cameo!"

            "Candidas...camo?"

            "Candidus cameo, darling! An unusual and somewhat obscure potion. It was originally brewed by beastkin shaman for ritualistic purposes - communing with one's ancestors, ascension to adulthood ceremonies, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, these days it is most commonly employed as, hmm, how should I put it...a tool to embarrass and pry secrets out of others without their knowledge. See, the draught lowers one's inhibitions - drastically. Nobles are fond of slipping it into their rivals' goblets during their soirees. Of course, its effects are weakened by alcohol."

            "Then how would that work?" asked Nathan, confused. "If it doesn't function in alcohol-"

            "Weakened by alcohol," corrected Maeve. "Weakened, darling. One under the effects of undiluted candidus cameo would behave most distressingly. No no, alcohol both lessens and conceals the effects of the concoction. Any unusual behavior on the victim's part can be dismissed as mere drunken foolishness. And the poor victim will often drink far more than good sense warrants, with their inhibitions dulled." She gave him a smug look. "Sound familiar?"

            "...It fits everything to a tee," breathed Nathan, eyes wide. "So...it was the nobles! You said so yourself - nobles use it all the time!"

            "True," said Maeve, nodding. She sat back down, scooched closer and leaned forward. "But if they were behind it they acted through an agent," she continued softly. "From your description they were in open view and didn't leave their table. And I maintain they would not be so overt in their ploy." She paused. "Forget suspects for now. We should first ask where the potion came from. Once we determine its origins, we may find our culprit."

            She leaned back.

            "O-kay," said Nathan uncertainly. "Do you think they made the potion themselves?"

            "Unlikely. One of the primary reagents of candidus cameo is fresh cork root. Cork root does not grow around here and is fiendishly difficult to cultivate. And while cork root does have some other, more benign uses, there are plenty of local alternatives that an herbalist would avail themselves to first. No no, what we are looking for is an alchemist - one specializing in the more illicit applications of their craft." She grinned. "And unless a new alchemist has set up shop in the last year or so there are only two in Do va Iesk that fit." She rose from her seat. "I think we should pay them a visit."

            "Oh, uh, we?"

            "Of course! There may be some questions only you'll know to ask." she clapped her paws. "Come now - no time like the present!"

            "But it's night," protested Nathan.

            "These shops operate at night, darling!" laughed Maeve. "Their clientele like it that way. Up! No dawdling." She turned and beckoned at Gnesh. "You too, Gneshy! I guess we'll be going on a fourth date after all."

            "It's not a date," grumbled Gnesh.

* * *

            "Here we are!" proclaimed Maeve.

            Nathan stared down the dark and narrow alleyway. Apart from some dirt-speckled piles of garbage and a few tiny windows, he saw nothing notable. He turned back to Maeve.

            "Uh...it's here?" he asked skeptically, pointing down the alley.

            "Yes, unless he's moved shop," said Maeve.

            "He hasn't," rumbled Gnesh from behind.  

            "But I don't see anything," said Nathan, peering deeper into the gloom.

            "When you're running a store specializing in concoctions and drugs that are, mm, a bit on the illegal side, you'd hardly want to operate in the open," chuckled Maeve.

            "But...it barely looks like there'd be any room back here. And I don't see any doors."

            "Appearances can be deceiving, darling."

            With that the buxom vixen stepped into the alleyway, tail swaying behind her more than ample derriere.  She turned and motioned for Nathan and Gnesh to follow. Nathan looked back at his orcish bodyguard, who gave him a reassuring nod. Nathan took out his phone, activated its flashlight and reluctantly entered the alley. Gnesh followed.

            Ten or so yards into the shadowy lane, Maeve stopped. She gestured somewhat dramatically at the side of a two-story building. Unlike most of the structures near the river, this one was built of irregularly sized sandstone blocks rather than weathered wooden planks and clay bricks.

            "Uh...what am I-" began Nathan.

            Maeve reached up and pulled aside the camouflaged drape hanging from the hidden alcove in the wall, revealing a small door. Nathan stared, eyes wide. He trained his phone's flashlight on the curtain. It had been cunningly painted with dull yellow and brown streaks to resemble the sandstone wall. He probably would have noticed it in full daylight, but here in the dark alleyway, it was all but indistinguishable from the wall itself.

            "Wow, that's clever," chuckled Nathan nervously.

            "Allow me," said Maeve. She stepped into the alcove, holding the drape up with one hand, and lightly knocked. There was a long pause. Then there came a soft, bell-like tone. Maeve nodded and opened the door. A faint yet warm yellow light radiated from beyond the threshold.  

            "Let me do the talking," said Maeve as she stepped inside.

            Nathan followed her, shutting off his light and pocketing his phone as he entered. Gnesh took up the rear. He had to crouch slightly to fit his hulking form through the doorway.

            The three descended a short stone staircase. Strange yellow orbs that hovered in the air just above their heads illuminated the passage. Nathan had seen these things before back in Northkeep. A blue diaphanous curtain hung in an open doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Maeve parted it and stepped through. As Nathan followed he was suddenly assailed by a bewildering melange of sharp smells - cinnamon, patchouli, sulfur, sage, burning copper and many others he couldn't identify. Wrinkling his nose, Nathan nonetheless pressed forward. He brushed aside the curtain.

            Before him was a small, cramped room whose walls were dominated by row after row of wooden shelves crowded with bottles, jugs, flasks, jars, boxes, bundles, vials, ampoules, retorts, bins and other products and paraphernalia one might associate with an herbalist or old-fashioned chemist. The floor was covered with faded carpets dotted with dark stains and even a few holes where either fire or possibly some kind of acid had eaten through. A dense-looking counter made of some kind of charcoal-black wood stood in the center of the room. Behind it propped up against the far wall stood a pair of work benches littered with more tools, chemicals and reagents. A shiver ran down Nathan's spine. He thanked his lucky stars that chemistry wasn't a required course for his major; he'd always been a bit unnerved by the prospect of working in a lab full of potentially dangerous substances.

            Suddenly, a white-haired head popped out from behind a doorway to the right.

            "Eh? Come on in," said the figure, entering the main room. "Welcome to my shop."

            The owner was short bordering on having the stature of a little person. He had jet-black skin, snow-white hair with a fussy little goatee, long pointed ears and deep purple eyes. He ware a simple leather apron - spotted with dark stains much like the carpets - over a dull brown robe. As Nathan stared at him, recognition dawned. He was a dark elf - or was it night elf?

            The owner looked over at Maeve, who was standing there patiently.

            "Oh no," he groaned, stepping back. "No, no, no..."

            "Well, hello to you to, Deniz," snorted Maeve, seemingly put-off by his reaction.

            "I want no part in whatever trouble you're stirring up," snapped Deniz, leveling a shaking finger at the busty foxgirl. He looked around the room, sparing Nathan and even Gnesh only a perfunctory glance before re-focusing on Maeve.

            "If I had known what you were going to do with those nightswallow essences I would have never sold them to you," he growled. "Do you have any idea how much I had to pay to get the watch off my arse after that?"

            "Really, darling, if they were able to trace them back to you, it's your own fault," said Maeve, absently examining her claw-like nails.

            "Out with you!" he snapped. "You're banned, Mistress Marigold. You and your unlucky companions here. I wouldn't sell you a damned dandelion."

            "Not a problem," said Maeve, completely unfazed by his anger. "We aren't here seeking moldy herbs and second-rate potions, no offense. We're looking for information."

            Deniz hesitated, but only for a moment.

            "Do I look like a gossip-monger?" he sneered.

            "Oh, just answer our questions and we'll leave you to your fetid little store," sighed Maeve. "When was the last time you sold a candidus cameo? And don't insult us by saying you don't carry it. I know you have a herbarium on the second floor."

            There was a pause.

            "Just because I have a herbarium doesn't mean I'm growing cork root."

            "The profit you could make off it would be far too tempting for one such as yourself. Just tell us."

            Oddly, Deniz's scowl softened slightly. He spoke again, this time his voice tinged with more irritation and disappointment than rage.

            "Mistress Marigold, even if you and I were on better terms you know I wouldn't reveal that. My customers value their discretion. If I don't value it too, they'd stop coming."

            "We wouldn't breathe a word of your little...indiscretion," said Maeve. "Promise."

            "Word has a funny way of getting around even when no words are spoken," grumbled Deniz, stepping around the counter. "But if it'll get you out of my shop, yes, I did happen to sell a few candidus cameo three days ago." He looked up at her from behind the counter. "That's all you're getting from me. Now bugger off!"

            "I'm afraid that just won't do, darling," sighed Maeve, touching the brim of her oversized witch hat.

            As Nathan watched the tense exchange, he noticed that Gnesh had just taken step back.

            Maeve flicked a paw as though swatting an invisible fly. Suddenly, a glowing blue translucent paw-like hand the size of a man coalesced in the air. Nathan gasped in surprise and fright. The hand flew down, seized Deniz and lifted him into the air. Deniz cursed and struggled to pry himself from its grip but could not break free.

            Still holding her paw in the air, Maeve circled around the counter, bent over and began examining the bottles arrayed along the workbench.

            "Hmm....where are you...I know you-ah! there it is," she exclaimed.

            "Put me down you...you wretched madwoman!" screamed Deniz from the air.

            "Whoa, whoa, you're going to far!" protested Nathan, growing genuinely afraid. Behind him, Gnesh simply watched on, arms folded.

            Ignoring both of them, Maeve triumphantly raised a small blue philter in the air and scurried over to Deniz, still holding her free paw in the air like a puppeteer holding strings.

            "Seriously!" yelled Nathan stepping forward, anger suddenly smothering his fear. "Put him down."

            Maeve looked back at him and wagged a finger at him with the paw that was holding the vial.

            "Don't be so naive, darling," she said with gentle reprimand. "He's hiding something. And I'm afraid this is the only way we'll get the answers you need. A drop of veritas vestment should suffice to draw a few truthful questions from him without causing too much discomfort."

            Nathan opened his mouth and then shut it. He reasoned that, as her client, he could insist she stop. But the sudden show of power and ruthlessness on the part of the anthropomorphic vixen who, up until now, had behaved like a flirty, ditzy, albeit undeniably intelligent schoolteacher had caught him completely off guard. He simply nodded in unspoken consent.

            The ghostly, glowing paw lowered Deniz to eye level with Maeve. The vixen pinched his nose shut and waited. A few seconds later Deniz, opened his mouth in a gasp whereupon Maeve, almost daintily, tapped a single drop of the fluid inside the vial onto his tongue. He froze momentarily, and then slumped in the hold of the magic paw.

            "Now then," said Maeve, her voice acquiring a bit of an edge. "Let's keep it simple. Did you sell a candidus cameo to a kobold over the last week?"

            "No," answered Deniz in defeated voice.

            A long, awkward silence followed.

            "Er," said Maeve, flustered and caught off guard like an actor who had forgotten their lines. "Did you sell it to some elves?"

            "No."

            "To some wolfen beastkin?"

            "No."

            "To a unicorn?"

            "No."

            "...To some humans?"

            "No."

            "Confound it, to whom did you sell it?" barked Maeve.

            Suddenly, a child-sized figure appeared on the opposite side of the room, emerging from a second doorway opposite the one Deniz had stepped out from. They had curly auburn hair, soft features - their cheeks lightly dusted with freckles - and wore a loose off-white robe. They were carrying a brown bottle.

            "Hey Deniz," they intoned in a squeaky, feminine voice with an Irish lilt, gazing down at the bottle. "I just wanted to thank ye again for letting me stay here while the heat dies down, so I-" they looked up and froze as they saw the tableau before them.

            Nathan, Maeve and Gnesh stared at the little figure. She stared back.

            Then, Deniz spoke.

            "Her," he said. "I sold it to her."

            A shudder passed through him. He glowered at Maeve and then sighed.

            "Along with a chameleon cameo to make her look like a kobold," he added bitterly. There was a slight change in his tone of voice that suggested he was now parting with this information willingly.

            The newcomer chucked the bottle of wine at Maeve with sudden viciousness. Maeve cursed, raised a paw and caught the hurled object in a glowing blue aura that suddenly appeared in front of her but was apparently forced to drop the enchantment holding Deniz. The giant magic paw dissipated and the dark elf alchemist fell to the floor with an angry yelp.

            The little figure darted past Nathan - who only stood there in shock - and over to the stairs. Suddenly, Gnesh lunged forward like a tiger and seized her by the collar of her robe. He lifted her squirming form off the floor without any apparent effort.

            "DAMN YER YOU BIG GREEN BASTARD I'LL RIP YER THROAT OUT LEMME GO LEMME GO!" she shrieked at a volume that should have been impossible for one of her size.

            "Good catch, Gneshy," remarked Maeve as she dismissed the second spell. The bottle fell a foot before Maeve snatched it out of the air without even turning her head. She briefly examined its label and then glared daggers at the little woman caught in Gnesh's iron grip.

            "Alsusare Syrah?" she snarled, sounding, perhaps for the first time since Nathan met her, genuinely enraged. "Alsusare Syrah? You would use this masterpiece of the winemaker's art as a mere weapon?"

            Still growling, Maeve popped the cork, raised the bottle to her lips and took two long glugs. She lowered it, exhaled, wiped her mouth and sighed blissfully.

            "Ahh...I needed that," she said, sounding like her old self again.

            The vixen picked the cork off the floor, re-corked the bottle and reverently placed it on the counter. She then turned back to the little woman, who was still wiggling in Gnesh's grasp. She regarded her with careful interest, like a zoologist examining a particularly fascinating yet dangerous specimen.

            "Deniz," she said without looking back at the dark elf, who was standing up. "Perhaps this would be a good time for you to attend to your herbarium."

            Still dazed, Deniz just nodded and scurried out the doorway the little woman had come out of.

            "Now," said Maeve, addressing the captured woman. "Based on everything gathered I believe you are the one who administered a candidus cameo to my new client." She gestured at Nathan.

            Nathan blinked and remembered he was more than a mere spectator in all this. He looked up at the little woman. She appeared to be actively avoiding his gaze, which was in itself a dead giveaway. A sudden loathing filled him as he stared at her. She was the one responsible for this whole mess. Then, as he looked closer, Nathan noticed two things about her. For one, the soles of feet were covered in a thick mat of hair. She was a hobbit. Or were they called halflings here? He couldn't remember. For another, she had, relative to her size, an absolutely enormous set of boobs.

            Nathan groaned. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate it. It was just...whatever had created the Realms of Shaltae seemed to have the mind of a hormonal sixteen year old male.

            He then realized that the halfling hadn't replied. She had stopped struggling as well. She was just dangling there, arms folded, face locked in a frown.

            "Well?" said Maeve. "Will you admit it?" She glanced back at the lab bench. "There's plenty of veritas vestment left..."

            At the mention of the potion the little halfling's eyes went wide with fright. The color drained from her cheeks

            "No-no-no-no!" she screamed, waiving her arms. "Ye can't! It'll kill me!"

            "Really, darling, I know it's unpleasant but I don't think we have any other choice-"

            "I'm under a geas, alright?" she snapped.

            A long silence followed. Frowning, Maeve retrieved her wand and waived. Her eyes briefly glowed blue.

            "Drat," she hissed, tucking the wand back in place. "The little scoundrel isn't lying. She's under a geas."

            "A geas?" said Nathan. "Wait, isn't that some kind of magical...oath?"

            "Yes, essentially," sighed Maeve. "It is a powerful enchantment that forces its victims to act or not act in a certain way. A horrid spell, in my humble opinion, as it curtails free will on such a fundamental level, but it is widely perceived as a necessary evil in some cases and is thus tolerated." She paused. "I'd venture to guess she's been geased not to speak of her employers or her work. And when someone who has been geased not to speak of something is compelled to do so by a veritas vestment, the conflux of opposing magical forces shatters their psyche, reducing them to drooling invalids." She shuddered. "I've seen it once before and hope I never see it again."

            "Goddamn it!" cursed Nathan. "We were so. Goddamn. Close!"

            He hesitated. "Hang on. Can't you just..." he waived his hands vaguely "...Remove the geas or something? You're a mage."

            "I could, but geases are notoriously difficult to dispel - worse than greater curses in some ways," explained Maeve. "And the process is dangerous to the victim and the mage. Usually there is a key word or phrase that, when spoken, dismisses them entirely, but we don't know what it is." She paused. "I am willing to try if you insist, darling, but I'd recommend considering other options first."

            "Uh, pardon me," squeaked the halfling, still held aloft by Gnesh. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Jaya." She cleared her throat. "The fox mentioned other options? I may be able to provide ye with one."

            "Mmm...we're listening," said Maeve.

            Jaya glanced down at Gnesh.

            "First, tell this thrice-damned green lummox to put me down!"

            Gnesh looked questioningly over at Nathan. Nathan nodded. Gnesh slowly lowered Jaya to the floor. The buxom halfling snorted haughtily, adjusted her robe and glared up at the three of them.

            "Second, no mentioning my name t'anyone," she snapped. "I have a reputation to keep. Anyone asks just say the fox harlot here used some of her magic to ken it."

            "Divination doesn't work that way, little one," said Maeve.

            "Third, no more calling me 'little,'" she snapped angrily. Her breasts jiggled beneath her robe as she yelled. "I'm sick of you big 'uns thinking I'm a child just because I had the sense not to grow to the scale of you lumbering dafties!"

            "Of course not!" said Maeve, covering her mouth to conceal a chuckle.

            Jaya took a deep breath and then continued in a slightly less acrimonious tone.

            "There are some things I can say and others I can't," she said. "I can't, fer instance, speak the name of the one who hired me. But if you ask the right questions, who knows? Ye might get something useful."

            "Do you remember the exact words of your geas?" asked Maeve suddenly.

            "Eh? Uh, aye."

            "Can you tell us what they are?"

            "I suppose."

            "Hah!" exclaimed Maeve, raising a fist in the air. "Amateurs!"

            "So...that's good?" asked Nathan, bemused.

            "Any mage with an ounce of wisdom always adds a provision to geas forbidding its victim from repeating it word for word," said Maeve, beaming. "Fortunately, whoever cast the spell doesn't have an ounce of wisdom. It is oh so easy to find loopholes in a geas if one knows the details. Well? Out with it, litt-...darling."

            "Er..." Maya's brow furrowed in the effort of recollection. "...I must not reveal in word or deed who hired me to anyone. I must not reveal in word or deed what I was hired to do to anyone." She stopped, and then shrugged. "That's it. 'An before ye ask, I don't know WHY I was hired."

            "Mmm...disappointingly open and succinct," said Maeve, rubbing her fuzzy chin. "Bu-"

            "Hang on," said Nathan, raising a hand.

            "Eh?" said Maeve, glancing at him.

            Something about this was...familiar. Semesters of contract law and philosophy courses suddenly sprung up in his mind. He smiled.

            "I think I got this," he said confidently.

            He turned to Maya. Suppressing his disdain for the little halfling, he spoke.

            "Was the person who hired you different from the person who actually paid you?" he asked carefully.

            "What? Uh, aye. Of course," said Maya, nonplussed. "There are always middlefolk. I met the client personally since they didn't want the middlefolk to know the details either."

            "Does your geas consider the person who paid you separate from the person who hired you?"

            Maya silently mouthed something.

            "...Aye, it does," she admitted eventually. "When I think of revealing who paid me, I don't get that damned headache I usually get when I think I'm breakin' the geas."

            "Okay. Who paid you?"

            "Cao Lu," she said promptly. "She's a slimy sort - a weasel beastfolk from far south. A fixer an' fence an' smuggler an' broker of all things living, inanimate or unalive."

            "Good. Now, who has Cao Lu worked with over the last, oh, month or so?" asked Nathan. "Note that I am not asking you who Cao Lu was working for when she paid you. I am asking you to list every client specifically she's had dealings with over the last month."

            "I don't know the name of every other berk she's had dealings with," said Maya, frowning.

            "Then just tell me the ones you do know," said Nathan patiently.

            "Fine! Er, Margaret the Madam, Scavvy the Smuggler, Old Nic - nasty sort, him - Sergeant Snorri over near the gate - they're practically lovers, those two - Oh! I heard she played cards with a few of the thieves guild officers last week. Not sure if that counts as dealings. There's the boat cap'n of the Resolute - not sure what his name is, but know she smuggles on his boat - Lame Kattie the beggar, Deuxtrassineaii when he's in town, Borth th-"

            "Hang on," interrupted Nathan. "Deuxtrassineaii..." he repeated, carefully pronouncing the odd confluence of vowels and consonants.

            "Aye."

            "Is that...is he a Draco?"

            Maya opened her mouth to reply but then froze. She shut her eyes and grimaced, clutching her head.

            "Okay, that's enough," said Nathan quickly. "This didn't work. We still have no idea who's behind all this," he added, trying to sound frustrated.

            "What?" said Maeve.

            "Huh?" said Gnesh - the first thing he had uttered since they'd entered Deniz's shop.

            Maya opened her eyes and looked up at Nathan, puzzled. She shook her head, apparently recovering from whatever malady had gripped her.

            "Thanks anyways," continued Nathan. "Why don't you go check in with Deniz upstairs? We'll be heading out shortly."

            "What? Just like that?" said Maya, blinking at him.

            "Yeah. Beat it." He paused. "We won't mention this to anyone. Scout's honor."

            She glared suspiciously at him for a few seconds. Then, without saying another word, she padded over to the doorway leading to the second floor and disappeared.

            Nathan waited a good ten seconds before finally exhaling. He grinned.

            "Brilliant, darling!" exclaimed Maeve joyfully. She trotted up to Nathan and hugged him. Nathan yelped. She was surprisingly strong and he swore he could feel some kind of...suction drawing his head into her expansive furry cleavage.

            "Absolutely ingenious!" she said, releasing him and stepping back. "And how did you know to leave her with the impression you hadn't gleaned the identity of the puppetmaster? The geas would have caused her considerably worse pain if you hadn't."

            "I didn't. I guessed. And if I hadn't gotten the name of the client out of her I figured I could at least learn who her handler was. Then we could go after them. I got lucky."

            "Luck has nothing to do with your success, darling!" she said, playfully prodding his chest. "Well, maybe a little. We were fortunate to happen upon the correct alchemist so quickly and to find the culprit hiding in his home. And this Deuxtrassineaii...do you know them?"

            "No, but I've been around Draco enough to recognize one of their names."

            "And what made you suspect a Draco was behind all this?"

            A sinking feeling suddenly formed in Nathan stomach. It had, at first, been an unconscious, almost instinctual inference, but now that he was fully registering the suspicion - and all that it implied - it was anything but pleasant to contemplate.

            "Oh no..." he groaned, shaking his head. "Not him. Not again."