Chapter 43

Merchant Tips!

Thrush

“A two,” Boggo declared. “A two! Gimme the dreambon! Gimme-gimme!”

“It’s all yours,” I said.

Boggo and I were similar. I could see a little of myself in his eyes. In the way he threw himself into the dreambon, teeth first, until his lips pushed up his cheeks, and his cheeks squished his eyes. The Blue Bestie gobbled up half of the dreambon. The other half painted his chin and belly. Like me, Boggo was a master at keeping his fur clean and his tongue went to work on stretched out limbs.

In a minute, Boggo had forgotten where he was entirely, so consumed by the act of cleaning. He’d gotten comfortable, licking at his blue fur with closed eyes and habitual patterns. When his fur was shiny and new, he opened his eyes into a squint and realized I was still there. That we were spending time together.

Boggo’s eyes opened as wide as they could go. The corners of his mouth raced to the back of his head. His ears flattened and he wrung his hands over his belly.

“Thrush,” he said. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes again.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m content. That’s all.”

“So,” Boggo said, wiggling into his seat of blue fur. “About that beer?”

“Ah, yes,” I said and retrieved a gourd from my inventory.

“This was a Poor Man’s wheat ale,” I said. “It’s now a Workman’s ale. Hawkin gave it to me.”

“Are we going to shoot for a taste?”

“Smell it first,” I said and popped off the cork. A bit of foam cascaded over my paw as I tipped the gallon gourd toward Boggo. The creature scampered up and slowly extended a wiggling nose up to the neck of the gourd.

“Wowie!” Boggo said. “Whoa, wow, wow! What is it?”

I sipped and digested what my composition had to say.

“Water, hops, barley, wheat, yeast, and alcohol.”

“Let the games begin!” Boggo squeaked.

He threw his dice from one hand to the other. He gave them a good shake and tossed them down. They clattered together as they tumbled about. They struck a barrel beside us and bounced off, landing at a total of 5.

I rolled a 6.

“You first,” Boggo said.

I rolled a 7. I drank.

“Roll until you lose,” Boggo said.

I rolled a 12.

“Roll a two, three, or a twelve before your point and you lose the pot!” Boggo said. “My turn for a sip!”

He leapt to his little feet and tackled the gourd that did not budge against his small form. In his excitement and haste for his first sip, he scrambled so fast that his feet slipped against the glossy gourd and he made no purchase. I lifted him by his waist and he went limp as I brought him to the neck of the gourd where foam lived and died in one long whisper.

Boggo stretched his neck and dunked his squirrel-ish snout for a sip. After a slurp, he came up, stared into space for a moment, then gave a little burp.

“That’s beer?” Boggo said. “It tastes… …It tastes… Oh I like it!”

“Let’s keep rolling,” I chuckled.

Boggo rolled a 6. He rolled several times for the point until rolling a 6 once more and earning himself a sip of beer.

Our game continued on until we’d equally had half of the beer. The effects of the alcohol caught up to Boggo by then and we decided to slow down and barter some more for dreambons and warm-warm roots.

“This is sort of silly, isn’t it,” Boggo said.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, we’re bartering for the same thing over and over. Dreambons for warm-warm roots.”

“Not all the roots are the same size,” I said.

“Well I realize that, but instead of bartering a bushel for a bushel, we’re going one at a time. It’s quite tiring, you know?”

“The more bartering I do, the more I level up. I’m already level 4, thanks to you. This has been more than helpful.”

“Me? I’ve been helpful?”

Boggo puffed his chest out.

“I’ve got to be heading out,” I said. “I have some appointments.”

“Fancy,” Bobbo said. He gathered his affairs and began to head off toward a tunnel. He paused and turned back to ask, “Do you think we could barter for a beer at some point? “I’d love to share some with family and friends.”

“I’d be delighted to barter some beer with you,” I said.

∞

Since I was only delivering a few beers to GloomGlower, I decided to simply keep them in my inventory. The added weight was nothing to me, though I did sink into the snow more than usual. My footprints and I arrived at the coast, crossed onto the ice that cracked beneath me, and then onto GloomGlower’s deck. I shook the snow from my fur as I threw myself aboard.

“Welcome back, monster Thrush,” GloomGlower said. “Let’s talk in the deckhouse.”

To the deckhouse we went, parting our way through small goblins. At the deckhouse, StubToes nodded in greeting, and closed the door after us. GloomGlower offered a seat across from him. A metal bowl sat between our couches, filled with freshly cleaved, burning wood.

“Hawkin isn’t happy that your goblins are cutting trees,” I said.

“Excuse me?” GloomGlower growled. “We’re not putting logs up our noses. We’re keeping fires to stay warm. To stay alive. Beer and grounds, StubToes!”

“Yes, my king,” StubToes said.

“For the Thrush monster, too,” GloomGlower said.

StubToes delivered a stronger batch than last time. GloomGlower and I smashed mugs and kept eye contact over the first few gulps.

“You’ve got a few beers for me, yes?” GloomGlower said.

“Twenty five gallons,” I said.

“As I’d hoped.”

I withdrew them from my inventory and stacked them on the couch beside me. Then I withdrew Hawkin’s barrel of goblin spit beer brewed with warm-warm root.

“StubToes,” GloomGlower said. “Please fetch BarnacleEyes and have her send off two of these barrels down the chain of command. What’s the sixth one, Thrush?”

StubToes ceased his cleaning, bowed to his king, and made haste toward the door.

“I’d like you to try this,” I said. “It’s a new goblin spit beer.”

“StubToes,” GloomGlower said just as the small goblin creaked the door open and let in an angry bluster of wind. StubToes shut the door and shivered.

“My king,” StubToes said.

“Please taste this beer that our Thrush monster has brought.”

A shivering StubToes fetched a long straw made of a dried and cracked reed. His ‘thief’ he called it. He popped the cork off the bunghole, explored the depths of the beer with his straw, and pressed a thumb over the top. He kept his thumb closed over the end of the straw and exhumed it, drawing beer with it.

After drinking, StubToes gasped in shock. He looked down at his arms which deepened in their dark lichen color. His eyes went wide and he gesticulated, unable to use words instead.

“What’s wrong?” GloomGlower said. When StubToes couldn’t answer, GloomGlower leveled a slant of eyes at me. Like a knife, he said, “What’s wrong with him?”

I let StubToes speak for himself since he was coming around. He finally grasped onto words by spitting, then stuttering, then arriving at conveying his experience.

“I’m hot! I’m hot!” He said. “GloomGlower, you have to try some! I’m warm from my toe-pits to my ear-pits! I feel all warm and cozy!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” GloomGlower said. “Draw me up some of that beer.”

Another sample of Hawkin’s beer was stolen from the barrel. On his first sip, GloomGlower’s ears flapped. A drop of sweat beaded upon his brow.

“Whew,” GloomGlower said. “What is this? Thrush, do you have more of this?”

The deckhouse door opened. A female goblin with a scar over one eye came in. A frigid gust of wind accompanied her. She wore a shred of canvas for a dress and black boots. One hand fiercely clutched a pair of rusty pliers.

“BarnacleEyes!’ GloomGlower said. “I had just sent StubToes to find you!”

“Well, my king,” StubToes said. “You asked me to stay and-”

“Thank you, that’s enough out of you, StubToes,” GloomGlower said. “BarnacleEyes, I have work for you!”

“I came as fast as I could, my king. I heard that the Thrush monster had come by. I apologize that I didn’t warn you ahead of time.”

“Nevermind that,” GloomGlower said. “I need two things from you. Try this beer and tell me what you think. Then I’d like you to deliver two of those barrels—one to FlyBooger, and one to RatsHead.”

When BarnacleEyes tasted the beer, she had very much the same reaction as GloomGlower and StubToes. All three goblins conferred with each other in excitement. GloomGlower came to the conclusion all by himself that his goblins could make such a lethal winter more hospitable with enough of this new spit-warm beer. When the excitement simmered and both BarnacleEyes and StubToes were sent off, I began the sale.

“Obviously I’d like to trade for a lot of this beer your hawkman friend has made,” GloomGlower said. “You’re still going to honor a month's worth of goblin spit beer in exchange for the Fable Stone. I’d like as much of this new beer as you can produce in addition to that deal.”

“I think we can make that happen,” I said. “We can transition to the spit-warm beer after the final delivery of the first month.”

“Let’s just stick with this spit-warm beer in addition to the original goblin spit beers for now. Even when we go into another month. I still want that Double delivery when you can make it happen.”

“Fine with me,” I said. “After the first month, we’ll begin trading for those original goblin spit beers. For these new beers, I want to sell them to you.”

“Sell them? For coin? Human coin?”

“Yes,” I said.

“We’re leagues from the civilization of men. What good is human coin to you?”

Before I could open my mouth, a system notification came up in my mind.

[You have entered negotiations for your first sale.]

“It will help me in other ways,” I said.

“Coins are indeed useful,” GloomGlower said slyly. “Which is good for you, because we’ve acquired a little coin here and there from our attacks—I mean adventures-adventures! Haha! We’re goblin freebooters, Thrush. Every captain has a chest of coin and gold. Silver and jewelry. Pewters and boots. Our hoard is our power. It’s what we can do for other goblins that gives us influence over the smaller ones. It’s what makes them follow us. They work beneath us for some trickle down rewards. Goblins live for this stuff. It’s lucky for you that we hoard human coins. Unlucky for you that it has a high value in a goblin’s hoard.”

[Merchant options:]

[Beg GloomGlower to make a purchase.]

[Threaten GloomGlower to make a purchase.]

[Persuade GloomGlower to make a purchase.]

[Flirt with GloomGlower.]

The options were entertaining. I couldn’t fathom doing any of them except for Persuade. Upon choosing the option, my mana fell to zero.

[Remind GloomGlower that making a purchase with you will save goblin lives.]

[Make the case that beer is more rewarding to trickle down to goblins than coin.]

[Lead GloomGlower into considering the worsening weather.]

[You’re out of mana. End of Merchant tips.]

“That’s true,” King GloomGlower said to my reminder. “Mhm,” he said to my second case. “That’s something to consider,” he said when we considered the worsening weather and falling temperatures. “How much are you asking per barrel?” he said.

“How much do you think is fair?” I said.

GloomGlower’s eyes sparkled with a predatory glee.

“Well, Thrush monster,” he said. “One silver per barrel is a generous, generous gift. A high price, I tell you. A high and fair price.”

“Deal,” I said.

We shook on it.

[Congratulations! You have completed your first sale!]