Chapter 70. How Offerings Work.

  Beck looked around curiously. “Thought I heard another in here, wasn’t sure if you’d forgot about me and got somebody else for the quest. Hmph, because I can do it Lief, just tell Beck what you need.” So proud he slapped a fist over his chest twice.

  “Nonsense Beck, it was only me, I was reading a poem, sometimes I mimic my voice to get a feel for character.” That boy was getting good at lying.

  Beck nodded, he had no idea what Lief was talking about. The dwarf couldn’t read, and he didn’t care for poetry unless it was crude or rhymed, he especially liked the poems that were both.

  “Beck, would you care for some tea?” Lief offered, reaching for the pint and brass teacup from the small table. At one time he had a matching set of brass teacups.

  “Hmph, I’ll take the mead.” That prideful dwarf reached for the empty pint. he was under the impression that he had two options. Soon realizing the pint was empty, his expression changed from a golden cheer to a deflated sigh. “I suppose I’ll have the tea.” and he reached for the brass cup noticing it too was empty. “Hmph, Lief, I don’t know if you understand how offerings work, but usually you’d have something to give when doing so.”

  Lief blinked emptily, biting his lips before answering. “Yes Beck, but I wasn’t going to make any if you didn’t want a cup, you said you were thirsty earlier but all I have is tea, is that alright.”

  “Hmph, that’ll be fine I suppose. Yeah, a gentle drink to warm the thoughts before we discuss my quest.” He picked up another heirloom. It was the small feeble tobacco pipe Suvalitol would smoke during the rainy days of Melt. Or during the relaxing setting times of the late season of Sun. “Have you got any tobacco ready?” He asked admiring the fine detail.

  The pipe was a lovely deep red. The boy must have cared for the thing, because it had a generous sheen to its reflection. The stem was a gentle curve that would make for a comforting hold. And the mouthpiece was wide like a fish’s tail. The bowl itself was deep and caked, not so thick it would be unpleasant, but enough that each bowl following would be an indulging delight.

  Lief didn’t smoke a pipe. The smoke burned his eyes. The heat from the ember bit his tongue and burned his throat. However, he did have readied tobacco, Colebrax would be returning in a day or two wanting to do another trade, and Lief was always sure to have something ready in exchange.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  This call for tobacco excited him though. The boy wasn’t used to guests, but he liked being able to accommodate their requests like Becks right now.

  “I do.” It was an endearing smile that had a dark curve around the edges. His eyes were dull, and his cheeks still hollow. But his smile and tone were warm—well warmer. The temptation from the quill is powerful—sure that kind soul was still in there, but that internal presence of wrath yearned for that taste of power.

  Lief turned and tampered with the ignition of his oil lamp. He exchanged the illuminating glass for a burner attachment. Once fitted he placed a brass tea pot atop. He then hurried to his bookshelf. Pulling a jade vase with a soft lily-looking lid and pink lotus flower acting as a handle. Removing it from the second to top shelf.

  “This is a special blend my mother was crafting.” He lifted the lid and smelled it; cherries, blister berries, or some kind of sugary tart fruit aromas was released. His senses were then rushed with afternotes of smooth mahogany and thick maple. It was all pulled together with a lingering company of robustness that tickled the nose.

  “Thank you Lief this smells nice. Not just nice it smells good. No, hmph, it’s better than good its…” Beck was having a hard time finding the words to describe it—like I said he wasn’t a reader and his vocabulary was limited. “… it’s really nice.”

  He took a pinch from the jade vase, tapping the bowl gently, letting the tobacco fall gracefully, finding its own place within the bowl. Fingers went into the vase for another pinch. Beck stuffed that pinch. Gently packing the tobacco with the pad of his fat dirty thumb. Covering the bowl with the same thumb he gave the pipe a nice twist. It was a perfect pack. Not too tight, not too loose. This bowl shall smoke wonderfully.

  “Thank you, Beck, I hope it smokes with acceptable satisfactory, bringing you the utmost delectable comfort and pure enjoyment.” He smiled with a friendly wink at the Dwarf—see that gentle kid was still hiding behind those glassy-black eyes.

  Beck too laughed at the use of words. Lief went back to his bookshelves and opened a box, he pulled out a tight twist of cotton, caked with honey and beeswax. A makeshift wick for carrying a flame from lamp to lamp, or simply for lighting a pipe. He touched it to the burner and a soft yellow flicker danced at the end. He handed it off to Beck who started an ember in the pipe.

  “Ahhhh… thank you boy.” Beck let out a breath of satisfaction that carried a soft cloud of smoke towards Lief.

  That cloud would carry him into another memory. Lief lived in his memories. Fragments of mental distress that tormented him daily. Not all memories were bad though. Just like you or me, there were a few good ones. Unlike me or you, however, he has already collected more bad memories over the good ones, honestly, more than a child should be allowed.