Ivle's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Ivle walked through the market at dusk, watching the stalls close. The fence's shop stood at the end of the row, windows dark. A sign hung crooked on the door: closed at nightfall. His vial was inside, held as collateral until the buyer returned with payment. He needed proof of ownership. The fence would demand it before releasing anything, even for coin. Ivle pulled the leather pouch from his coat and loosened the cord. Inside sat his official seal, the same mark pressed into the wax on the vial. He'd kept it hidden for years, never using it where others might see. Now he had no choice. The seal was the only thing that could prove the vial belonged to him. The hunting lodge sat behind the shop, its stone walls thick and old. Animal heads lined the walls inside, their glass eyes watching. The fence operated a game trade during the day, selling venison and rabbit to the wealthy families of Spruce Meadows. At night, different transactions happened in the back rooms. Ivle pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside. The fireplace roared, casting shadows across the mounted heads. A man sat near the flames, sharpening a knife. The man looked up. Ivle set the pouch on the table between them and opened it. The seal caught the firelight, gold against worn leather. The man studied it, then nodded toward a passage behind the fireplace. They walked through to a fortified vault built into the hillside, its steel door frame gleaming against the stone. Inside, shelves held lockboxes, wrapped bundles, and glass containers. The man pointed to a dark vial on the top shelf. Ivle's mark pressed into the wax. The man held out his hand. Ivle dropped the seal into it and took the vial. He'd gotten what he came for, but now the fence knew his face and held the one thing that could prove his ownership of anything else they might acquire.