Snippet #2527408

Rahiq barely even twitched at Richter's accusation of her being mad. “Let me explain you.” She grinned at Richter's question about the reward. She picked up her own cloak and threw it around her. The moment she did, her skin tone turned from a olive to a dark gray and her colourful hair turned nearly black.

“This cloak is an artifact. Artifacts contain djinni and borrow their power. They are the property of my country, but my country has lost it's pride. They sell artifacts to the highest bidder. Many foreigners come to my country, just for the business. This djinn in my cloak is weak, but the ones exported to the likes of a duke are stronger.” Rahiq explained, rapidly a plan formulated in her mind. She grabbed Richter by his shoulders and spoke with sweeping enthusiasm;

“Your people pay to hear you sing, yes? I am sure they would pay for magic tricks as well. You perform songs of others in bars, but what if your songs were performed in front of nobility? What if you had the proof of your adventures? They would shower you with gold. And if not... Just imagine the market price of the dead duke's artifact.”

Rahiq shook her head, making the most money out of anything was something that had been drilled into her from a young age. Although she did not know much about Gar itself, she knew about the ruling class. After all, they were the only Gar people that she'd ever met in her homeland, although usually at the tip of her blade. There were no limits to what you could learn about a man when threatened by death. And now she had learned something about Richter; he could be motivated by greed.

“Come, you must show me the way.”