'But I have a problem?' continued the odd-speaking merchant. 'I was doubly cheated, for I did not know the material was illegal? And further was unaware that someone had mixed it with sand? If I am to get it out of the city, I need to pull the sand out?'
'I…' Jehan's voice died as he thought about it. The merchant had to have overheard their conversation about the paranoid and powerful Khelben Blackstaff, and now was trying to get his stuff out of town as soon as possible. The right and proper thing was to go to the sage and aged authorities and have them destroy it.
Of course, getting it out of town was as good as destroying it, and if Jehan could get some for his own experiments, so much the better. Just a bit for independent study. The idea warmed him, and the ale strengthened his resolve.
'I'll be glad to do what I can,' said Jehan, 'for a small sample of the material. Where do you have it?'
The merchant led him past the City of the Dead, toward the Trades Ward. The well-tended walls of the various noble families gave way to town houses, then to irregular row houses built by diverse hands in diverse centuries, and finally to the gloomy back alleys of the warehouses, off the beaten track and home only to teamsters carrying goods and merchants selling them.
It was as if they had entered a different, alien, city, far from magical instruction and friendly taprooms. Jehan might have worried, but the ale and his own resolve eliminated doubt from his mind. Besides, he was a mage, and even with his simple cantrips, he'd be a match for any ordinary citizen, common merchant, or rogue of Waterdeep.
The merchant went to a heavy oak door and thumped hard with his fist, three times. A bolt clicked audibly behind the oak, and the merchant slid the entire door aside on ancient, rusty runners. Without looking back, he entered and motioned for Jehan to follow.
The warehouse was a middling-sized member of its breed, one of those that would have six or seven tenants, who would either quickly rotate goods or store them forever and forget them. From the dust and debris accumulated on most of the supplies, it looked like the majority of the tenants were in the latter category.
Great iron-banded crates marched in neat rows across the central space of the warehouse, and the deep, gray-boxed shelves reached from floor to ceiling. The only odd piece stood at the far end of the space-a large, badly corroded statue of a winged deva, cast in bronze. Possibly a wedding present, thought Jehan derisively, gratefully accepted, then quickly hidden. The entire area was given the slight glow of moonlight through a frosted skylight in the ceiling.
In the center of the room were about a half-dozen small quarter barrels, their lids popped open, next to an empty full-sized tonne keg. In the center of the room was also a large humanoid creature of a type Jehan had never seen before. It was half again as tall as he was, with a broad, ogre-sized body and a huge-mouthed head that reminded Jehan of a hippopotamus. The massive creature was dressed in black leggings and a crimson coat, the latter decorated with metallic awards. In its broad belt it had a pair of small crossbows. No, corrected Jehan, they were miniature arquebuses, long, pistol-like weapons. The huge creature recognized the mage's presence with a curt nod of its massive head.
The merchant, locking the sliding door behind them, caught Jehan gawking at the creature. He said. 'His name is Ladislau? He's a giff, one of the star-faring races? He's normally not this cranky, but the present situation has made him bitter?'
Jehan could not tell if the giff was bitter, cranky, or in blissful ecstasy. All he knew was that the creature could swallow him to the waist in a single bite.
The young apprentice put on his most serious face, the one he used when Maskar was lecturing him. 'Is this your… material?'
Ladislau the giff made a loud, derisive snort that sounded like an air bubble escaping a tar pit. 'Is this the best you can do, Khanos. Are there no better groundling mages on this dirt speck.' The hippo-headed creature's voice was level and flat, and his questions sounded like statements.
'I think he will do, Laddy?' rejoined Khanos. 'You don't need a large gun to shoot down a small bird, do you now?'
Ladislau grumbled something Jehan did not catch and motioned to the barrels. Jehan stepped up to the containers and pulled the loosened lid from the closest.
The smoke powder itself was hard and granular, a grayish-black shade shot with small pips of silver. Jehan had never heard of these pips, and inwardly congratulated himself on the discovery. Here was some other fact about the powder that the Old Hounds kept to themselves.
Jehan picked up a nodule of the powder between two fingers. It was heavier than it looked, as if it had been cast around lead. He tried to break it between his nails, but he might as well have been squeezing a pebble.
Jehan looked into the container. The small nodules were mixed with a grit of a soft, lighter gray. The largest particle of the grit was slightly larger than the smallest bit of smoke powder. Doubtless, the merchant had already considered sifting it through a screen. Jehan rubbed the grit between his fingers; it broke apart easily and drifted slowly downward in the still air of the warehouse.
The young mage licked his dust-covered skin. It tasted like the floor of old Maskar's summoning chamber, and the grit clotted into a ball that Jehan rubbed between his fingers.
No sieve then, and no water to separate the two, Jehan thought. He said aloud, 'You could do this without magic, and in a city safer than this. Perhaps it would be smarter merely to remove the smaller barrels now and separate it later.
The giff made a noise that sounded like a human stomach growling, and Khanos put in, 'We felt it would be easier to move one barrel than six, especially through this city? We don't want these to fall into the wrong hands? Can you separate the two?'
Jehan scooped up the mixture with one hand and sifted it between his fingers. Some of the larger nodules stayed in his palm, but most of the silver-shot grains fell back into the barrel with some of the grit. The grit drifted more slowly, like dandelions on the wind.
At length he nodded. 'It can be done. You want to have the powder in the large keg at the end of this?' Khanos nodded enthusiastically. 'Then if Mr. Ladislau here would be so kind as to pour the smaller barrels slowly into the larger, I can come up with something to remove most of the debris.'
The giff grunted and hoisted the first barrel. Jehan recalled the basics of the cantrip, the small semispell that Maskar had taught him to aid in his sweepings. It was a simple spell-'half an intention and a bit of wind' as Maskar described it when he first taught it. Of course, Maskar the Mummy would never think to use a floor-sweeping cantrip in this way.
Jehan cast the minor spell and nodded at the great creature. The giff began to pour the mixture into the larger barrel. Jehan directed the sweeping wind across the entrance of the larger container. The breeze caught most of the grit and dust, blowing them away from the container's mouth. The heavier nodules of smoke powder fell into the barrel, forming a dark great pile mixed with silver sparkles. Without the dust, the sparkles glowed brighter in the moonlight.
Ladislau the giff finished the first small barrel and picked up the second and, finishing that, the third. Jehan wondered if he could make the spell last long enough for all six barrels, and redoubled his concentration as Ladislau started on the fourth barrel. By the fifth barrel, perspiration dripped from the young mage's brow, and by the sixth, small stars were dancing at the edge of his vision.
The giff poured the last of the barrel into the container, and Jehan tied off the end of the incantation. He took a deep breath and blinked back the dizziness he felt. The back of his head ached, and Jehan realized he had sweated off the effects of the ale, spellcasting himself into a mild hangover.
He looked at the others. The dust in the air had yet to fully settle, giving the entire warehouse a fog- enshrouded look in the moonlight. The great giff s nostrils twitched, and he scratched his snout with a heavy hand. The merchant was positively radiant, and pulled up a handful of the smoke powder, letting the rough nodules slip between his fingers. Then he grabbed the barrel's lid and slipped it into place.
Jehan cleared his throat softly. Then, afraid his interruption might be merely interpreted as a reaction to the dust, cleared it again. The merchant scowled at the young mage.
'Before you close the barrel,' said Jehan levelly, 'about my fee.'
'Your fee?' said Khanos. The smile returned to his face. 'I had quite forgotten. Ladislau, can you give the young man his fee?'
The giff pulled the arquebuses from his belt-sash and leveled them on Jehan.
