set.” The man pulled himself away from his discussion with Lyle. “The lady will be most pleased—”
“If you talk to her directly,” she finished sweetly.
He had been looking at Justin but glanced at Tina, then at Justin, then at Tina again.
“I wanted to suggest, perhaps, something not combat-oriented. My lady does not look accustomed to the use of weapons.” He clearly struggled to not mention the burlap shirt.
“I’ve fallen on hard times,” she said and fell into LARPing with ease, “but I’ll have you know that in my city, my skills are well-known and I will also make my name known in…in…”
“Insea,” Justin muttered.
“In Insea,” she finished. “Now, your wares have surprised me with their quality. Suppose we strike a bargain.” She leaned forward. “You give me the name of a good leatherworker and the daggers at cost and in return, I will mention your name to my friends and not force you to bargain with this man again.” She gestured at Lyle.
“Who is this?” the dwarf asked Justin.
“I’ll explain later,” he muttered. He folded his arms and looked at the shopkeeper. He was enjoying himself more than he had expected to with this exchange. “You won’t get a better endorsement than hers,” he said loudly. “I had to beg her to come to Insea for the tournament. For weeks, she told me it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Only when the Twins rose to prominence did she think she had found a worthy adversary.”
People had begun to gather to watch, and he had to stop talking so laughter wouldn’t escape him.
To his amusement, Tina took up the thread without any prompting. “I lost my family to a warlord,” she told the shopkeeper and made sure her voice carried. “It took half his mercenaries to defend him from me, and with the winnings from this tournament, I will go back and avenge my loved ones.”
The people nodded and murmured.
“Now,” she said and smiled magnanimously. “To win the tournament, I must have the best weapons money can buy. I have looked at many stalls, but nowhere have I seen blades so sharp as this. Surely we can strike a deal, shopkeeper.”
The people of Insea clearly liked good theater. They clapped and a few sighed and murmured about the new challenger’s dramatic story. The proprietor, meanwhile, settled into negotiations with goodwill, apparently viewing emotional manipulation not as an inconvenience but instead, as an essential part of a good sale.
Ten minutes later, the group was on their way with Lyle’s fist weapons sharpened, Tina wearing the daggers, and Justin in possession of a new boot knife. By the time they reached the leatherworker the shopkeeper had recommended, word had already reached her. She greeted them like old friends and settled into negotiations for a full set of leathers.
“Alas, I have the most perfect set of armor,” she told Tina, “but it will not be completed for two more days.”
“When is the next tournament match?” Justin asked.
“Tomorrow,” the woman said. “Only one team is willing to try to beat the Twins. It’ll be a poor showing—the Master of Ceremonies is desperate to get more entrants, but there’s only so much he can do. There’s talk of an ancient treasure being unveiled and still people won’t sign up.”
“So a team could sign up now?” he asked urgently.
“Oh, of course.” She lit up. “If the Twins win unopposed tomorrow, that’s the end of the tournament. But if there are more than two teams, the top two will advance.” She looked at Tina. “I have to say, it would be quite a coup to have a tournament team wearing my gear. And if you are in the top two tomorrow, I’ll have time to finish the better set.”
“Excellent.” Justin looked at Lyle, who cracked his fingers and gave a wolfish grin. “I’ll let you hammer out a price with my associate.”
“Since this city was built by dwarven hands,” the dwarf thundered as his companions escaped with a chortle.
“Do you think I can really get good enough to—” Tina started. She stopped when he cleared his throat meaningfully.
Two people waited for them outside the shop. They were almost identical in size and tall, and lean-muscled, although he could faintly tell that one was a woman and one was a man. Both wore their blond hair pulled back in a tight braid and wore metal masks over their face.
“Well, look who it is,” the man said.
“The vagrant in burlap who says she’s going to challenge us,” the woman