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〃I don't sell to outlaws。 I don't want any trouble with the priestesses。〃
Pharaun looked into the merchant's eyes and saw that he'd never connotvince him。
〃Too bad。 You'll regret this decision。 In just a few minutes； most likely； but by then it will be too late。〃
The master turned and strode away； but once he was out of Blundyth's sight； he circled back around。 Creeping through the cramped spaces benottween the booths； he approached the burly draw's stall from the side。 As he skulked along； he listened to hear if the undercreatures were ing closer； but he couldn't tell。 He suspected that one of the cursed sound bafnotfles was muffling the noise。
At any rate； he reached the dimpled fungal structure without any ores attacking him。 He swept his hands through a mystic pass and whispered an incantation。 The protective circle ot light winked out of existence。
Pharaun ran to the stall； floated upward； and swung himself onto the roof。 The petrified fungus supported him like stone。 Blundyth cursed and came stalking around the side of the stand； his crossbow at the ready。 Phanotraun thought he'd better make sure the merchant didn't get a chance to use it。
The wizard jumped off the roof onto Blundyth's back。 He knew he hadn't executed the move as nimbly as poor Ryld would have； but it worked。 It slammed the merchant to his knees。 The toad hopped away。
Clinging to his victim； the master drove his dirk repeatedly into the big male's side。 Sometimes the blade plunged deep； and sometimes it caught on a rib。 Blundyth flailed and bucked for a while； couldn't break free； then tried to aim the arbalest back over his shoulder。 Pharaun ducked away from it。 Finally the merchant fell sideways； pinning his attacker's knife and hand beneath him。 Pharaun dragged his hand free； but didn't bother with the dirk。 He was about to procure a set of vastly superior weapons。 He wiped his bloody fingers on Blundyth's clothing； then rose and headed for the entrance to the stall。
Blundyth's neighbors watched him； but didn't interfere。 As the dead male might have observed； his murder was nothing to do with them。
The wizard's supply shop was as well…stocked as usual。 Jars； bottles； and boxes stood on limestone shelves； and a greenish mirror glowed on a wooden stand in the corner。 The air smelled of spices； herbs； bitter innotcense； and decay。
Blundyth's piwafwi lay carelessly draped across a chest； and it was the first item Pharaun appropriated。 The cloak fit him like a tent； but it had the customary row upon row of hidden pockets。 Next he examined the vials and drawers； finding the magical ponents that corresponded to the spells he had prepared。 With every one he filched； he felt a little better； almost like a cripple regaining the use of his legs。
As he worked his way across the room； he spotted a pair of boots sitting atop a little cupboard。 They were plainly special in some way； for the maker had tooled runes into the leather。 Without his silver ring； Pharaun lacked the ability to instantly discern what virtues they possessed； but playing a hunch； he decided to take the time to try them on。
The boots squirmed； molding themselves to his feet； then quivered against his flesh like an animal eager to run。 He took an experimental step； and the magical footwear kicked off on its own； augmenting the strength of his legs and propelling him all the way across the shop in a single bound。
Not bad； he thought。 Not as good as a flying carpet； but helpful nonetheless。
He took a few more strides； getting the feel of the boots； then headed out。 Just as he exited the shop； a howling； shrieking cacophony ex