Zohar

  It had been many years since Zohar had been gifted the stone wall in the black market where he’d forged his shop. He’d been gifted it a few nights after he’d made his choice to leave the Western Hoard. When people asked him which they didn’t often, he told them that he’d never truly fit the ideals of a hoard.

  Yes, Zohar liked to find and collect things, admire them, but it almost seemed wasteful to let them sit especially when his attentions moved on so quickly. Under the control of a hoard he was expected to do just that. He would have had to fight and snap to be able to sell anything he found.

  This was all true and it made leaving easier but he couldn’t claim it was truly why he’d left. It wasn’t why he struggled to uphold a form that felt small, restrictive. It wasn’t why he hoarded himself away far more than any treasure he might find. He didn’t have some twisting reason he wished to brush off, forget or move on from.

  No, simply every day, he found himself pulled into studies that had filled his needs more than any object. Information was considered something valuable to the hoard but not the knowing of it just the possession of it. Zohar though liked the learning of it. The gathering. And the more he did the more he saw that information did best shared.

  Yet. Zohar tapped his foot he couldn’t quite say he liked people enough to do the sharing often directly. So, a shop was best. A system of letters of trade were ideal. He only had to meet with living things every so often with decided topics and if he wanted, he could engage more in depth with some. No one asked him about his responsibilities, no one pushed him to fit an ideal, to be an example. He simply lived.

  The only true interruption to this was when he had to pull himself away when someone dared tried to take his treasures without apt trade or equal compensation.

  Nothing else ever caught his attention. So, why did the woman with the strange shiftiness have nearly half of it? He’d thought maybe he was noticing behavior of a thief but after watching her hair change from a shade of orange to a shade of pink to a shade bordering red, length and shape shifting through the days, he didn’t think so. She always walked around his shop slowly looking at each item reading over the little cards he’d left to explain an object, so he didn’t have to.

  He could tell whether she agreed with his assessments or not by whether she stepped back with a hoped her hands clasped behind her back or turned swiftly away. She never took the same pathway through the shop but she always settled out of his sight where he kept the pretty stones that shifted over his desk pretty little things he kept to look at and cycle through before adding them to maybe get sold. He wasn’t too disappointed when they didn’t though.

  Zohar tried to focus on his book, tried to shift away from the jitters but he kept glancing toward the alcove where she’d disappeared into waiting for her to reappear again.

  Eventually he did get himself to at least process information when he’d decided something caught her attention. The idea that she might also like his small enjoyments made him a bit happy. Zohar didn’t notice how long she’d been back there until an alarm rand through the shop.

  Zohar tenses and felt heat crackle along his skin as he searched for who dared steal from him. But he saw no one affected by any of his spells then Zohar realized it wasn’t his alarm but the one that sounded through the entire market. Warning of something.

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  Zohar stood and descended the stairs just as three cloaked mages marked as those under the service of the Igandorn Merchants ducked into his shop.

  “One of the creatures for the auction has escaped.” One of the men informed him. “May we search your store?” He asked. The three men looked as if they were used to just tearing through things without needing permission. It was a benefit he assumed of either being a dragon or owning one entire wall of the market, plus the things he’d taken on just in case.

  “What type of creature. I can tell you if they could manage to hide here.” Zohar purred letting a hint of flame warm his skin. He knew his eyes probably slitted as well seeing as the three stepped back.

  “She’s a half-elf.” A different one answered looking as if this was the last place he wanted to be. “She doesn’t seem to have much power but she’d evasive.” He offered waving a hand.

  Zohar hummed and led the three around his store and when they ducked into the empty nook, he knew his suspicions were correct. The strange woman could not have left the shop without his notice. He was sure of that.

  “I do not see any half-elf.” Zohar pointed out. The three glanced toward his sleeping space. “I’d think again.” Zohar prompted. Then as he reached the door he considered.

  “The leader of the Igandorn Merchants is named Cronlen correct?” Zohar asked. The head nodded. Zohar nodded. “This has intrigued me. How much did he expect to get from her?” Zohar asked.

  “I don’t know why but four hundred-thousand chips.” He hissed out. Zohar looked the man over.

  “Tell Cronlen that I will give him six hundred thousand chips if he stops looking for her and leaves the hunt for me.” Zohar offered and the man gaped at him.

  “Why?” He asked. Zohar shrugged thinking of shifting everything.

  “Because it interested me.” Zohar offered coolly. The three men left baffled Zohar knew. Zohar locked the door to his shop behind them to look like he was being helpful limiting the amount of area one half elf could hide in. He’d specifically designed the window so he could look out yet no one could look in. He watched two men duck into the next shop and a third went off probably to offer his deal.

  He slowly made his way over to the nook. He placed his hands on his hips scanning the area. He blinked at the stones stepping forward and picking out one that buzzed with new energies. He recognized every stone none of them were brought in. But they radiated with all types of energy and magic. Zohar pocketed them stifling their distraction.

  He scanned the area again.

  Zohar hadn’t bother scanning her energy signature when she’d walked through the door. Even if he thought she might be a thief it hadn’t been what intrigued him.

  What was it though that did? He couldn’t pinpoint one true thing.

  That’s when he noticed the trunk. The night before he’d been annoyed at it being skewed but had been too focused on his reading that he decided to push fixing it off. Now though it was neatly placed like he’d had it originally.

  Lowering he pulled the case out and looked at the woman wrapped in a solid shadowed cloak pulled over her hair as she was curled in a huddled ball asleep.

  It seemed foolish and he didn’t read her as foolish. He breathed in and blinked tilted his head breathing again.

  Dronic root and Frent Berry. He tugged her out of the small area and checked her. Everything about her was dulled by the sticky mixture but she was in fact alive. A smirk pulled at him face. She was clever.

  He lifted her as he stood and walked her right up the spiral stairs into his room. He held out a hand that shifted a bit more claw like and the ground shifted up into a bed shape and moss grew in a thick spongey mat. He yanked out a cloth and haphazardly tossed it over the moss before laying her down he removed her cloak placed it off to the side and then removed her shoes. Then he took a thicker cloth and laid it over her.

  He looked her over. Her hair wasn’t pink anymore Not fully seamless three colors swirled together through her hair. He stroked it and thought it looked like flame but softer.

  Zohar started at the knock at the door ensuring rock lifted higher on the one side preventing anyone from possibly noticing her. Then he descended once again to negotiate so no one could take her away.