"So," Gaya said, her gaze sweeping over the crowds, "what now? Shopping spree? A pub crawl? Or maybe a little demonstration of our newfound power?" She grinned, cracking her knuckles, but Michael shook his head.
"We need to talk to Seshat," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
They made their way through the throngs of shoppers and merchants, their path leading them toward a quieter, less… fragrant… part of the city.
"That's a nice axe, dwarf! How much?"
"One hundred gold pieces. And not a copper less. This blade's been kissed by the flames of Mount Cinder, elf! It'll cleave through a dragon's hide like butter."
"One hundred gold pieces? Are you out of your goddamn mind?! I'll give you fifty. And a bottle of my finest dwarven ale."
"Seventy-five. And the ale. And you throw in that pretty little dagger on your belt."
