"All right, I warned you," blustered Fozgoz. "Now step back or I just might do something you will regret for a long time! I just might . . . Oh, dear. Now where's my wand?"
Several yards from the beleaguered magician but hidden by the thronging humans, Tasslehoff retied and shouldered his pouch. His naturally lined face was further creased with disappointment over the meager magic show. As he threaded his way out through the onlookers, a brief flurry of sparks sputtered unnoticed from his pouch.
"You're insulting me. Is that why you came here, just to insult me?"
Tasslehoff was readying to apologize to whomever he had insulted—not that he could remember insulting anyone lately—when another voice stopped him. "Insult? I'm insulting you? You're the insulting one, with prices like this."
Tasslehoff quickly spotted the source of the argument. A human, obviously a wanderer, judging from his worn, practical clothing, was in a heated debate with a dwarf over a piece of merchandise. Past middle age, the dwarf had graying hair above bushy eyebrows, a red bulb of a nose, and a practiced snarl beneath his mustache.
"Merchandise? You call this merchandise? You should be thanking me for even stopping to look at it."
The two were obviously not agreeing on either the quality or the value of the jewelry the dwarf was selling. Tasslehoff watched as the red-faced dwarf, holding a silver brooch and a fine neck chain, placed them next to a small bracelet in a glass display case. He dusted off his thick hands on the front of his blue tunic, as if he could brush away the rude customer.
"Excuse me, stranger," he said, his tone brittle, "but the quality of my work is excellent—I am the only dwarven metalworker to ever have worked for the Speaker of the Sun himself. My prices are more than fair. I'm selling jewelry here, not fish. If you're looking to barter, then it's fish you want and you should walk down to the market." With that, the annoyed dwarf turned to answer another customer's question. But the surly human would not be ignored.
"Fish," snorted the man. "Now there's a respectable business. Everyone can smell when your merchandise is bad. But with jewelry it's different." The man leaned over the case and peered inside, tracing items with his finger. "You do have one piece that's interesting, if only you'd be reasonable and bargain. . . ."
The dwarf whirled on the man. "I've told you, the bracelet isn't for sale! How thick are you? It's not for sale at any price and especially not for the fish-market figures you've been tossing around." To emphasize his point, the dwarf took a small key from a chain on his thick waist and locked the display case that housed the bracelet in question. "Now, if you're done wasting my time . . ."
Tasslehoff lost track of the verbal joust as he edged closer with his attention focused on the disputed bracelet. It was a rather simply forged copper bracelet with several mounted stones and just enough detail to fascinate a kender—Tasslehoff, in particular. While no such thought passed through his mind, clearly Tasslehoff wanted to see how it felt on his wrist.
In moments he stood next to the dwarven jeweler's stall. It was a rough structure, like most of those at the fair, made of planks laid across barrels or sawhorses on three sides and with a curtain or tent at the back.
This particular stall was no tidier or messier than most, though the racial mix at the festival apparently created some problems for the proprietor. Being a dwarf and about four feet tall, he was most comfortable with his plank counters about two feet off the ground. But most of his customers were human. To get a good look at his wares, they needed the counters considerably higher, which put them just about at the jeweler's nose. In the spirit of compromise, the smith had positioned the planks a little less than three feet up, making them equally unhandy for everyone.
Tasslehoff stood almost exactly one head taller than the plank and could have comfortably rested his chin on it, if his head had been tired and he had wanted to. But it wasn't, and he didn't. What he really wanted was a very close look at that bracelet.
It's obviously here to be admired, said Tas to himself.
The dwarf had only locked the display case to discourage the rude human. Taking a long, thin needle from his pack, he reached at last across the table, quite unnoticed, and sprang the tiny lock on the case, which the dwarf would have done himself if he were not otherwise engaged, Tas reasoned. Slipping his hand under the glass on one side of the case, his fingers met the bracelet's cool metal. Tas quickly turned away to examine the item, because the light was much better from the other side.
The copper bracelet had an exquisite simplicity that the kender found most appealing. And he was very happy to discover four semiprecious stones, just as he'd suspected. Better yet, they were odd stones, of a variety he'd not seen before. Their color was pale amber. Each was a slightly different shape, but no more than a quarter-inch in diameter. The bracelet was quite small, not meant for a human's or dwarf's thick wrist. Slipping it over his hand, he was delighted to see that it fit perfectly and was as light as a feather.
Tasslehoff turned back to the booth to ask the proprietor a few questions, but, to Tas's surprise, the dwarf was gone. The crowd that had gathered was drifting away, the rude customer having departed.
"Excuse me, but could you . . . Pardon me, but do you know where the . . ." Darting from one person to another as the knot of onlookers swiftly broke up and dispersed, Tasslehoff could not get the attention of
