Page 132 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Stronger entrapment curses—their victims endure much worse fates.”
Was it wrong that I didn’t want to know the details of those worse fates? Me, the supposed ruler of this sordid world.
“Why isn’t someone doing something about it? Doesn’t this place have something resembling police? You know, guards who protect the general public?”
“Some, though it’s mighty hard to police something the crown sanctions.”
I froze like I’d short-circuited.
“Would you keep up?” Pete snatched my arm. “You should distance yourself from that seed. Besides, I want to show you something.”
I nearly stumbled as he tugged me. “What? Did you buy your gun?” I refrained from sneering.
“The seller demanded more than I can pay,” Pete said, exhaling. “It’s fair impossible to dicker with a Goblin who knows the value of his wares. That pistol is likely worth thrice more than what he’s asking.”
I thought that unlikely with no ammunition. “Them’s the breaks.”
He shook his head at my idiom. “Anyhow—once I realized bargaining was pointless, I went in search of you and encountered something I think you’ll fancy.”
I sneered, his motives as clear as fresh rain. “Oh, yeah? What’d you find? Jewelry?”
I’m pretty sure I have vaults of jewels waiting for me at the palace you won’t allow me to escape to.
“Nothing of the sort. Coddled you might be, but I haven’t mistaken you as frivolous. You’ll want something you can use.”
I lifted my chin. “True. In my predicament, anyway.”
“Precisely.”
“What is it?”
“I believe it’s a sauce.”
I made a face. “A sauce?”
“Aye. Something to eat.”
“I know what a sauce is. Just, why would you think I’d want it?”
“Why? Because you’ve done naught but moan about it for the entirety of our unfortunate friendship. You still won’t eat a morsel of my woefully bland food without mentioning this beloved red sauce from earth. Christ, the way you speak of it, I’d think it was milked from the teats of angels.”
Gasping, I jerked Pete into me, grabbed his smirking face in my hands. “If you’re bullshitting me right now, I’m going to besomad at you.”
“What did you call it? I know it began with cat.”
“Ketchup!”
“Ah, that’s right—ketchup.”
I scurried ahead of him, hands clenched, scanning the vicinity. “Where?”
Humming, Pete strolled past me. “Right this way.”
He led me to a stall overflowing with human goods. Amongst a section of tins, cans, and boxes of food of varying freshness, stood a glorious bottle of Hinerz 59 ketchup. Torchlight sparkled upon its glass.
Oh, Danu, please don’t let it be expired, I thought, ready to pounce, a cheetah on a gazelle. Pete caught me mid leap, wrangled me to my feet. “What’s yourdeal, dude? You can’t tell me there’s ketchup here, then not let me have it!”
Pete tsked. “If you want a fair price for your treat, then acting as if your very life depends on it is the worst strategy to employ.”
