More Tales of MU

…or, Diamonds Are Forever

Iason helped me into the cab, then closed the door while he told the cabbie our destination. I fixed him with a glare as soon as he opened the door again.

“Oh, what have I done now?” he asked.

“I’m not going with you if I don’t know where it is we’re going,” I said, putting my hand on the other door.

“If you insist on knowing every little detail, we are first making a stop at the Bank of Overton,” he said, climbing in and closing the door. “And after that, we will locate a suitable jeweler.”

I snerked.

“What?” he asked.

“Go a little bit over budget at the tattoo parlor?” I asked.

“Please. I spent a little bit more than I had expected, but that will hardly break me,” he said. “In any event, what I am currently envisioning could hardly be purchased for the sort of money I’m wont to carry around.”

“You could rent an apartment for a year for what you dropped on the counter back there,” I said.

“Please, Iamie, we have only just met,” Iason said. “There will be time to discuss our living arrangements later.”

“I’m just trying to put this into context,” I said. “That much for the tattoo, and you’re acting like it’s pocket change compared to what you’re going to spend on earrings.”

“As a matter of interest, it was pocket change,” he said.

“Exactly how much more are you planning on spending on me today?”

“I told you, Iamie, don’t be so hopelessly vulgar,” he said. “I will think that only money matters to you.”

“I just don’t want you spending a lot of money on me if you’ve got some idea that you’re buying a relationship with me,” I said.

Iason’s bank was back on the other side of the canal, to my utter lack of surprise. He had me wait in the cab while he went in, apologizing in advance that it would probably take a while.

“How much did you take out?” I asked him when he returned to the carriage, about forty minutes later.

“Your obsession with petty matters of coinage will only be a wedge between us,” he said. The cab pulled away from the curb.

“Do you know where we’re heading, or are we just going to ride around until we spot a likely place?” I asked.

“I received a recommendation from the bank president for Clan Sternbauer and Company,” he said.

“Clan Sternbauer?”

“Yes, I’m almost sure that was the name.”

“A dwarven jeweler?” I asked.

“Only the best for you, dear Iamie,” he said.

“But, a dwarven jeweler?”

“You don’t have problems with the mountain folk, do you, Iamie?”

“I don’t,” I said. “Don’t you?”

“I would not buy a boat from one, but when the very best in gemcutting or metalwork is required, where else would you turn?”

“Why not elves?”

“Elven jewelcraft is very pretty, and I understand if you like pretty things, but in terms of overall quality, I favor the dwarves,” he said. “Still, if you insist on jewelry of elven make, I will accede to your wishes.”

“I’m not insisting on anything,” I said. “If you have to get me diamonds, I’d be happy with a single stud.”

“That is the plan.”

“Seriously,” I said. “You don’t have to buy me the imperial crown jewels or anything.”

“You expect me to sell my dignity for some tiny trinket?” Iason asked.

“Apologizing to someone is not beneath your dignity,” I said.

“That depends on the someone,” Iason said.

“Would you treat my mom like you treated Rosalie?” I asked.

“You are moving so fast, Iamie,” he said. “Already, you want to introduce me to your mother.”

“No, actually, I don’t,” I said. “Which wouldn’t be a problem if this just stayed a casual sex thing, but since you want it to turn into a lot more than that, you might want to think about your long-term strategy here a bit.”

“You cannot get more long-term than diamonds, Iamie.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I said. “Buying me diamonds doesn’t mean I’m going to stay with you.”

“I know. But I am confident enough that you will stay to buy you diamonds, and if I am wrong? It is my loss, and your gain,” he said.

“I’ll return them,” I said. “I wouldn’t keep them, if I dump you.”

“Oh, no,” Iason said, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. You see? That gives you an incentive to stay with me. Anything I give to you is yours, free and clear, without strings attached. Do you understand?”

“If we break up, I’m not keeping any diamond earrings,” I said. “How do I explain that to future girlfriends? ‘Oh, this? Just a little something the guy I used to date picked up when he thought I was going to marry him.’”

“Sell it, then,” Iason said. “Just make sure you get a good price.”

The cab stopped in front of a two-story brick building fronted by marble columns holding up nothing. It was only a couple of blocks from the park where we’d eaten and watched the dragons fly the night before.

“You know, it’s already been an hour since we left the tattoo shop,” I reminded Iason after he paid the cabbie. “We’re going to have to be quick about this.”

“It isn’t as though the tattoo is going to go bad,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I contacted Jeff from the bank and told him we might be a while, and he said the scroll will be ready when we get there.”

A smiling man in a uniform stood at the top of the steps of Clan Sternbauer & Company. He was just under five feet tall, though his big hat and padded shoulders made him look a bit taller. His black beard was bushy rather than long, and very neatly kept. I figured him for a half-dwarf, though his human and dwarven features were blended a little more artfully than most first generation mixes between those two races.

“And how are we doing today, sirs?” he asked, opening the door for us. Iason strode right past him without a first glance, much less a second.

“We’re good, thanks,” I told the doorman, then hurried to catch Iason by the sleeve. We were alone in a short hallway with another set of doors at the other end, so I let my voice raise a little. “That was rude. I want you to give him a tip on the way out.”

“It’s a mindless construct, Iamie,” Iason said.

“What?”

“Did you not apprehend the single mark in the center of its forehead?” he asked. “It has animation, but no will. It follows a script. It would not know if you thanked it for its kind attention or told it to fuck its mother with a scythe.”

“Wait, are you saying that was a golem?” I asked. Iason nodded. “Are you sure you weren’t just being rude?”

“Attend,” Iason said. He pulled his sleeve out of my fingers and took a few steps forward, towards the other set of doors. They were opened from inside by a man who was the spitting image of the one outside.

“And how are we doing today, sirs?” he asked, in precisely the same tone and cadence.

“Quite well, Susan,” Iason said to him as he passed through into the store. “My pants are exploding with chickens, and if the empress refuses to yodel, I am prepared to feed them fish paste.”

The doorman—or door-golem, apparently—stood there smiling impassively. I looked at his forehead carefully, and saw a vaguely phallic symbol in the center of it, partly obscured by his curly hair.

“Huh,” I said.

“Come, Iamie,” Iason said, tugging on my shirt.

The first floor of the building seemed to consist mostly of a well-lit show room. One long jewelry counter wrapped around a square column in the center, where I assumed the stairs to the upper floor was. The public area seemed to continue around on both sides of this. Smaller display cases were scattered like islands around the hardwood floor. The lower halves of the walls were covered with displays of shiny metal and glittering jewels. Above these—at what would be more than a little above eye level for a dwarf—there were paintings of dwarves and humans in fine armor and clothing, and other pieces of art.

Behind the counter, a dwarf was peering through a large prism at a jeweled gauntlet. He looked a bit on the tall side, though the counter seemed to be on a raised dais. He was wearing an old-fashioned dinner jacket over a burnished copper breastplate.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said without looking up. “I will be with you in just one moment.”

“Please, take your time,” Iason said, turning and looking at one of the wall displays near to the doors. It held rings, watches, and bracelets made out of a steely-silver metal I didn’t recognize. “Titan-ium?” Iason said, reading the card on a display.

“Tie-tay-nium,” the dwarf sounded out. “A new base metal our metallurgists have been working with. It’s becoming very fashionable on the coast. May I show you it?”

Iason tilted his head from side to side as he turned this over.

“Not today, I think,” Iason said. “Titan-metal does not have the image I’m looking for.”

“Well, just let me put my little friend here away, and we’ll see if we can’t find something more suitable,” the dwarf said, stowing the gauntlet away behind the counter. He swung open a gate, and I saw that the section inside the counter was a step up from the dais around the outside edge of it.

“Who am I addressing?” Iason asked as the dwarf bustled towards us.

“Hans, son of Johann, apprenticed to the Clan Sternbauer,” he replied. He extended a hand, which Iason took, to my relief.

“Iason Manblood, and this is Iamos Elfblood. We are looking to do a full elven spread.”

“What?” I asked.

“It is a set of—” Iason started to say, but I cut him off.

“I know what it is,” I said. “My grandpa and great-grandpa both have them.”

“Then think how pleased they will be to see you following in their footsteps,” Iason said.

I had thought we’d been talking about a pair of earrings, at most. A typical arrangement for piercings on a male elf was a set of three matched pairs along the bottom curve of the ear. They were usually a small loop or dangling pendant in the closest to the front, a simple jeweled stud in the middle, and then something more elaborate for the third.

It was possible to do an elven spread on the cheap, and the jewelry stores that catered to teenage girls even sold assortment packs geared towards imitating the look, but in a place like Sternbauer’s, it would probably cost a small fortune

“We don’t get many of those, but it’s a classic look, and if I may say so, I think it would suit you admirably,” Hans said, looking up at my ears.

“Before we begin, Master Hans, you might like to run this,” he said, handing him an envelope. “This is my letter of credit from the Bank of Overton. This way, when I tell you that there need be no discussion of price, you may understand that I mean precisely that.”

“Ah, very good, sir,” the dwarf said. “I shall have this back in your hands presently.”

He waddled around back behind the counter, and then wound his way out of the showroom. I spent a moment thinking how trusting he was, and then I remembered the double sets of doors in the entryway with a sturdy golem at either end. The display cases probably all had sophisticated wards on them, too. If elves had a reputation for stealing from other people, dwarves had one about being stolen from. In a word, it was “don’t.”

“Iason, can I talk to you about this?” I asked.

“Yes, of course you may, Iamie.”

“Do you plan on giving me any say in what goes in my ears?” I asked.

“I do not think that Hans, son of Johann is about to strap you to a chair on my say so, but honestly, Iamie, it isn’t as though you’ll have to look at them,” he said. “You may as well let me have my fun with you.”

“How much is your line of credit?” I asked Iason.

“Your obsession with my money is becoming alarming. I think it is best, for your sake, that you do not know the exact extent of my purchasing power. That way, you cannot be too greedy.”

“Who’s greedy? I’d just as soon leave when he gets back with your letter and go to a kiosk in the bazaar,” I said.

“How cruel are you, that you would let me get that little man’s hopes up with the promise of a large sale, and then leave to buy trinkets off a dirty blanket in the crowded marketplace?”

Hans returned shortly and handed the now-unsealed envelope back to Iason.

“Sirs, I don’t think I should waste your time showing you any silver jewelry, and while the young gentleman could wear gold, it would make him clash terribly with you,” he said. “So, if you have no overwhelming objections, it would be my very great pleasure to show you our platinum collection.”

“Lead the way,” Iason said.

We headed back around to the rear of the shop, going past a whole section of jeweled weapons and armor pieces. Well, it was a dwarven jeweler.

“Your young gentleman has a good eye for fine weaponry,” Hans said to Iason when I stopped to look at a silver dagger. “And on that subject, may I say that is a lovely piece on your belt, Mr. Iamos.”

“Call me Jamie,” I said. “Please.”

“Jamie, then,” Hans said. “That’s faerie-made, if I’m not mistaken. I see a lot of replicas, but one rarely sees the genuine article these days.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And you aren’t mistaken.”

“Of course, as axes go, it’s a bit of a toy, but still, it’s a thing of rare and delicate beauty all the same,” Hans said. “I would offer to buy it, but of course you wouldn’t be interested in selling it, and even if you were—”

“I was told it can’t be sold,” I said. “Though nobody seems to be clear if that’s part of the magic or if it’s just the family tradition.”

“An honest axe can be sold only in need, never in greed,” Hans said. “Most of them turn to lead or glass as soon as the transaction is completed in the seller’s mind, which historically leads to a nasty altercation with the buyer. This little feature is usually overlooked when the item is being analyzed, because it’s not an enchantment so much as part of the subtle nature of the thing. That your family still has possession of yours is a testament to your bloodline’s honor, or ability to follow simple directions. Both are rare gifts.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Earrings?” Iason said.

“Oh, right,” Hans said. “Sorry. Fae magic is a bit of a hobby of mine.”

Iason approved of Hans’s taste and eye for jewelry, and he responded quickly to each choice that was laid out in front of us. I would have protested, but I didn’t have any complaints about their choices. It was like my relationship with Iason: something I would never have sought out in a hundred years, but when it was put in front of me I felt the appeal.

Hans used a glamour mirror to show us what each selection would look like in my ears. He started with the hoop, opining that the biggest mistake in an elven spread was to make the front too ostentatious. He recommended a simple small ring of platinum, and then had my reflection “try on” a variety of widths. We settled on one of medium thickness.

For the stud, he talked Iason into sapphires instead of diamonds, saying they would bring out my eyes. “Bringing out my eyes” was not high on my list of requirements for accessories, but looking in the mirror I had to admit they were a good fit. They looked like they fit with my face, which was good. I was a little self-conscious about wearing a lot of jewelry, but it just seemed to be a natural part of the face in the mirror.

In the end, Iason had his heart set on diamonds, so we compromised with a cluster of sapphires with a diamond in the middle, cut and arranged so that they looked like a single jewel.

“And finally, the crown,” Hans said. “If you don’t have anything in mind, I would recommend a leaf or tree motif. This is a chance to either show off the unique qualities of the platinum or to incorporate something really spectacular with the gemcraft. Do you have a preference?”

“I promised diamonds, so I would like to see something with more of them,” Iason said. “Lots of them. I only want to see pieces that are one carat or less away from being horribly embarrassing to the artisan who made them, the person wearing them, and all who behold them.”

“Well, sir, all of our pieces are widely held to be the height of taste and restraint, but taking that in the spirit in which it was meant, I think I know just the thing to complete this ensemble.”

He went back behind the counter and ducked down, then came up with a small box. He made a big show of cleaning it off before he rejoined us on the floor.

“Do these meet your requirements?” he asked, opening it and holding it up. The earrings inside were in the shape of leaves—kind of like mistletoe, but more stylized than representing any real leaf—fashioned of diamonds set in platinum, with three sapphire berries on each one. “I’m afraid this one isn’t in the mirror. We don’t honestly show it that often, but I can allow you to handle them if you’d like to hold them up and see—”

“We will take them,” Iason said.

“They are a unique piece,” Hans added. “Part of a set of fifty that our jewelers have done in this style, but each one is unique. This is number twenty-one, if I’m not mistaken. They come with a signed certificate of authenticity. Of course, this being the case, we are not able to offer it in an unenchanted form.”

“Unenchanted?” I repeated. “So, these ones here are enchanted?”

“Naturally. All of the pieces I’ve shown you are enchanted, after the elven fashion,” he said. “For most of our pieces, we have unenchanted copies, as well, and of course, we can do custom work on those, if you have something particular in mind.”

“That is good to know,” Iason said. “What are their properties, as they stand?”

“The platinum hoops provide resistance to lightning and similar energies,” Hans said. “The sapphire and diamond studs protect from sleep, charms, and other mental effects. As for these delicate little leaves? They are heavily enchanted for longevity, and assist the body in fighting off death and sudden shocks. A human wearing these leaves could survive accidents that would drop a dwarf.”

“That sounds perfect,” Iason said.

“Excuse us one moment,” I said to Hans. I pulled Iason a short distance away. “You didn’t say anything about enchanted earrings.”

“I told you, this is an investment,” Iason said. “If you spend the rest of your life with me, I will still lose you when I am young. Am I greedy for wanting you to live as long as you can?”

“This is the sort of thing that should wait until you’ve got more reason—any reason—to think I’m going to spend my life with you in the first place,” I said.

“And if I decided to wait and you were struck by lightning tomorrow?” he asked. “Or accidentally poisoned? Or run over by a cart? Or you suffered a heart attack? I would rather gamble by spending my money now than gamble with your life, my pretty Iamie.”

“You aren’t impressing me with this, you know.”

“When it rains, we say that every drop which falls is another human dying,” Iason said. He raised my hand to his lips. “I don’t want you to be a raindrop.”

I sighed.

“You’re already buying me a magical tattoo,” I said.

“Yes, so this is not even a big deal,” he said. “Look, Iamie, I do not plan on giving you anything from this store without the most comprehensive anti-thievery spells laid upon it, so whatever you leave with is going to be enchanted anyway. What does it matter if there are a few extra spells?”

“I could still die tomorrow,” I said. “You know that, right?”

“If you do, I will be very cross.”

“I just mean that you can’t buy off death any more than you can buy love.” I sighed, and turned back to the dwarf. “What exactly does this death resistance mean, in practical terms?”

“Well, it’s important to understand that we can’t make specific guarantees like ‘you will survive being mauled by cave bears’, but it improves your chances. If you were, say, run through with a sword, there’s always a chance you’d survive long enough to receive healing care. The enchantment in the jewelry maximizes that chance. There has to be a possibility to begin with, though.”

“So, if something took off my head, I’d just be dead.”

“I’m afraid so,” Hans said. “Clan Sternbauer does not deal in the magics that would be necessary to prevent death in cases such as that.”

“And the longevity enchantment?”

“Your results may vary, but a spell of this strength, on average, results in a twenty percent decrease in aging.”

“We will take them,” Iason said.

There was a surprising amount of paperwork to be done for buying jewelry, but as Hans explained, the purchases were guaranteed for life—the life of the jewelry, which would easily outlast me. Hans explained the loss prevention spells would cause the earrings to return to Clan Sternbauer’s central vaults if they were removed from my “living body” by anyone but myself, and would return to the vaults anyway if separated from me for two weeks.

“So, if somebody wants my earrings, they have to kill me for them?” I asked. “I’m not sure that’s actually a good thing.”

“Oh, no,” Hans said. “If you die, they’re no longer connected to your living body. Therefore, they return to us for safekeeping. Of course, since you know they will find their way back to us, the safest thing to do in a robbery situation is to remove them yourself and hand them over. If you make your assailant remove them, you’ll have to deal with his disappointment when they vanish.”

“How do I get them back if they go poof?” I asked.

“You or your heirs can reclaim them by coming in person to any of our stores. It may take up to ninety days for us to locate them and get them back, but it usually gets done in a week. We can also reassign ownership, should you choose to part with them or pass them on to another.”

“See, Iamie?” Iason said, pointing to a paragraph at the bottom of one of the pages. “If you change your mind, getting rid of these trinkets would be as simple as filling out some forms in triplicate and waiting ten business days.”

“You’re sure about this?” I asked him. “You’re really ready to drop a bundle buying magical protection for me, knowing I could dump you tomorrow, knowing I could die, knowing I’ve got no interest in marrying you and knowing that it’s impossible anyway?”

“I’m sure that you are pretty,” he said. “I am sure that I want you. I could never be sure of those other things, no matter who you were, so what is the point of dwelling upon them?”

“Well, as long as you have some perspective,” I said. I signed the last form. We’d made it through the process without me seeing a single price tag or itemized invoice. “Is that all?” I asked, ready to be pierced and get it over with.

“Gentlemen, that is all,” Hans said. I felt a slight pinch in my ears, and suddenly was aware of a slight extra weight pulling them down. “You have yourself an elven spread.”

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