As the group goes about the seedy work of selling off their finds, Jolánka continues to refine her notes and sketches. She has an edifying chat with Dexia Trenziano, discussing their respective foci in Osirianology and exchanging contact information. She's a little reluctant to offer up the remnants of the cobra to Zidakeak, but she relents relatively quickly, asking only to once again exchange contact information with the gnome, explaining she may have a project in the future that his expertise would be invaluable.
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"Trenziano, I realize your kind is more used to dealing with fiends than actual people," Luke opined with the patient air of a schoolteacher before the Chelishwoman. "Now, I'm considering your offer keepin' this in mind. And hell, I respect you usin' all your little half-truths, flattery and fancy legalese in fleecing those abominations. It's the only reason I'm not real upset with you right now."
He leaned closer, one paw settling onto the funerary charms that were in contention, his brow sinking into the grim aspect of an entirely different sort of teacher: that ubiquitous disciplinarian happy to dispense his critique through a firm cane. ”But if you try to swindle us again, I’m reporting you to the local Abadarans. And you’d best know the powers here aren’t gonna give foreign entrepreneurs like us a fair shake. Those knick-knacks are worth twice that and you know it!“
They weren’t really – worth all that much, that was. And the Taldan, for his part, knew this. But they could fetch a higher price than the Osirionologist had initially offered, and such was the crude art of haggling, all knowing exaggeration and feigned outrage. One party suggested a valuation to their own advantage, one completely beyond the pale. The other reared in fury with a different price, equally ludicrous, and from there the two could approach a genuine estimate, one wounded contention at a time. It was like two armies trading blows, driving their opponents back scant feet across the battlefield one day and losing as many the other before finally settling on what would become the border of their respective lands. In this particular battle, Luke thought he had more verbal soldiers to spare than the Chelaxian.
”C’mon now. Be reasonable, yeah? Give us your best offer and the eggheads –“ he pointed to the likes of Djehuti and Jolánka ”– will give you the story behind the charms too, free of charge. You call yourself a historian, right? Well, I call that a good deal.”
The young man didn’t particularly like the theatre of such negotiations, direct as he was. Even so, if these were the rules of the game, he’d play to best of his ability.
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Almost overnight, Amal goes from running on his last pennies to having pocketed more money than he's ever earned in his life. The thought makes it kind of delirious.
It's not that he wasn't used to witnessing obscene amounts of wealth, but whatever pocket money he was given once a while absolutely pales in comparison to the near thousand gold coins he got on his first job. What could he possibly buy with that?
Armor. He did need better armor. A better armor, and a better shield. Healing potions, maybe? The possibilities were endless.
He finds himself warming up to the idea that maybe it would have been a shame for Akhentepi's fortune to be buried with him all those years, instead of being redistributed amongst the living. Not that it would actually make the people of Wati any less poor, but perhaps with a donation...
No, that would only make him feel better.
Why did money come with such dilemmas? The possibilities of spending it on stuff were endless.
Dexia, much to Luke's chagrin, did enjoy the theatrics of the bargaining. She seemed quite pleased with his efforts, pushing him to push back. However, in the end she did concede to his prices, blowing him a kiss after promising to pay handsomely for the restored tapestries . Dexia had a much more civil discussion with Jolánka concerning their fields of interest, happily exchanging notes and referencing the journals of obscure professors and explorers. She gave the address of her temporary residence in Wati and had her halfling porters carry her prizes.
The others were presented with their shares of coin, busying themselves with planning purchases for the remaining two sites and potential hazards.
The next day sees Ra rise once again - as he has for untold millennia - over the sands of Osirion and the ancient Half-City of Wati. The party, having rested from their first foray into the necropolis and meeting with several parties with varied intensities of interest in the Ruby Prince's decree to open the most ancient of ruins and tombs to adventurers, wake in time to either commune with their gods, meditate on their tomes or items, or sharpen their weapons.
Headed to the first floor of the Tooth and Hookah, they are welcomed by a fresh breakfast of hearty fish curry and flat breads. The miniature mascot is heard splashing in his well, making those odd noises of contentment as Farhaan fed the dwarfish crocodile scraps of fish from his meal preparations. He greets the party - and his other guests - with gusto.
However long the party takes to break their fasts, they will find more general goods stores open in the Sunburst, finding a wide array of mundane items for purchase. Marwanun will seek out the Vulture Court should you take too long in returning to the Grand Mausoleum.
It was a night well slept. The physical weariness from their adventure in the tomb lulled Senemheb into deep sleep, despite of the excitement of the things to come. So he wakes up early on the next morning - rather unusual for a late night reader such as he, and sits on the breakfast table with good appetite.
"Good morning, friends." he wishes, between mouthfuls of flatbread and dates. "What do you think will be our target today?"
"Another tomb. We know so little about who is interred in the necropolis it's impossible to tell who." Djehuti enjoys the hearty breakfast and shopping, ready to continue on to the next mission.
"And we've already taken our first step towards correcting that." Jolánka adds. "I think we learned quite a lot about Akhentepi and who he was from his resting place. How any of us feel about that notwithstanding."
She shoots an aside glance to Luke.
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Djedefre rises early enough to travel to the Temple of Ra for the official morning observances. He also wished to be in this holy place as he calls upon the divine power of Ra to repair and restore the ancient tapestry to its former glory. He also knew the kitchens would prepare extra food to be presented to Ra, and the other deities of the Ancient Osirion pantheon, as an offering and thanks.
After multiple prayers to Ra the tapestry is in notably better condition.
"It's a shame to sell such a piece of history and art but a deal is a deal. Perhaps someone will appreciate it as much as a native of Wati would or be inspired by it."
He carefully places the tapestry in a papyrus wrapping to protect the delicate colors from Ra's sunbeams and walks back to the Tooth and Hookah to meet with his new compatriots and present them the refurbished tapestry.
Handing it to Luke, "Your contact should be pleased with her purchase. Although not as vibrant as it would've been when new it's in much better condition. Praise be to Ra!"
"If it's another tomb we'll need to remember what we lacked yesterday and purchase it today before proceeding."
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Djedefre makes sure the others have a chance to review the tapestry to see if they arrive at the same conclusion. He's hoping so to prove he was paying attention to Djehuti, Senemheb, and Jolanka when they were fine-tuning his learning of both Ancient and modern Osiriani.
"It appears Akhentepi's family fell victim to a disease while he was away, no signs of foul play or magic involved or mentioned. Akhentepi returned to the heartbreaking news, delivered by a cleric to Pharasma, who later became his mistress and began to bring Pharasmin faith and iconography into his household. That would explain the presence of the Pharasmin symbols in his tomb."
"I think we learned quite a lot about Akhentepi and who he was from his resting place. How any of us feel about that notwithstanding."
She shoots an aside glance to Luke.
The pale eyes answered hers in turn, furrowed and looking all the more ridiculous for it glaring over a bowl of fish curry. "The man was an ass, yes," Luke nodded in a pragmatic tone of voice only somewhat obscured by the mouthful around which it had to navigate. "And frankly, I question the validity of any dissertation of yours that doesn't include this verifiable fact."
Verified in every cut, scrape and bruise. What good was a historical biography that couldn't call out its subject for the scum he'd been? Call a spade a spade. There was a time for hedging one's words, sure, yet those times were very few indeed in the Taldan's mind. Meeting the future in-laws and funerals, mostly. Plain speak was the first line of defense against incompetence and tyranny both. It wasn't without reason that his own home country knew no biography but the fawning kind...
The empty bowl was set aside with a satisfied sigh. It wasn't that Luke was particularly bitter at Akhentepi, anyway. No, he'd slept soundly, no thought of the old general interrupting his well-earned rest. The guy was in the dirt, his grave goods were scattered to every corner of the market, and his parting brand was erased. What did the young man have to linger on? Mission accomplished. Right now, sitting among the many treasure seekers of the Tooth & Hookah, his thoughts were more so on the next such mission. The purse secured away in his pack had room for more gold yet.
Although not all that much more. The group's first payday had been greater than anticipated. A visit to the Abadarans this morning could be worthwhile, he mused; deposit all that gold into his bank account. That made two churches he had to endure today. Bleh, Luke didn't particularly like Abadarans or Pharasmins...
Still. They certainly had their use. On the topic of cuts, scrapes and bruises, yesterday's had been the first foray he'd returned from without all three. Djedefre's healing really was a miracle. "That symbol there refers to disease, right?" he remarked over the wise heads examining the cleric's tapestry. "But it's pronounced like... 'oasis'? ...You really have the most horrid language. I'm choosing to interpret that as Akhentepi fell into a lake and caught a deathly cold, the idiot. Don't any of you dare to correct me."
The foreigner left after thanking Farhaan for the meal - in Osiriani at that, however broken. He had some shopping to do before their next excursion.