Arlin smiled up at the towering man of a woman who stood beside the table. “A round of ale would do us wonderfully, as well as a bit of information.”
“Conversation will cost extra, hon,” the waitress rested a hand on her hip.
Arlin placed a gold coin on the table. “Sure is busy around here today.”
“That it is,” she smiled and picked up the coin. “The auction always seems to bring a lot of y’all questionable types to town every year.”
“Every year?” Firae asked.
“Being as you young’uns are new to town I’ll give you a little tip,” she rubbed the piece of gold between fat fingers. “These are some rough men here. Many are mercenaries who would rip your throats out if you so much as look at them funny. Just drink your drinks and be on your way. There is nothing for you here and nothing you can afford neither.”
Gaston’s eyes narrowed and his voice was a near growl. “Don’t worry. We are more than capable at handling ourselves in a fight.”
“Who puts on the auction?” Arlin’s white teeth glistened in the candle lit tavern.
“Those drinks will be a silver each.” Arlin placed a second gold coin on the table, which she snatched up. “There’s a group of spell casters who put the auction on. They call themselves the Zmatek Elementalists or some such. Always a big turnout. Always a few fights. Always good coin to be made.”
“Where do they acquire these items for the auction,” Firae asked.
“Don’t rightly know, hon. Some say they find them in ancient tombs, others say they create the items themselves. I never did care to find out myself.” She punctuated her words with a frown. “I have other customers to get to. Since you’re here for the auction I’ll leave you with this last piece of advice. Save y’all some trouble and get all y’alls’ butts out of town. If y’all gonna stick around then don’t miss the start at the first thing in the morning. Many of the items for sale are on display at the town hall today.”