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."
"Are you mad, Matya?" the grizzled old trader said in
exasperation. He gestured to the bolt of fine cloth that lay
between them on the counter, in the center of the trading
post's one dingy, cluttered room. "Why, this was woven for
a noble lord in the city of Palanthas itself. It's worth twice
what you're offering me. Nay, thrice!"
Matya watched the trader calculatingly with her bright
brown eyes. She could always tell when she was about to
best Belek in the driving of a bargain, for his nose
invariably would begin to twitch.
"If the doth is so fine, why did the noble lord for whom
it was made not buy it?" Matya asked pointedly.
Belek mumbled some excuse, but Matya waved it away
with a ring-covered hand. "You may take my offer or leave
it, Belek. You'll not get so much as a bent nail more."
The trader sighed, a look of dismay on his haggard face.
"You're determined to drive me out of business, aren't you,
Matya?" His bulbous nose gave a violent twitch.
Matya smiled inwardly, though she did not let the trader
see her satisfaction. "It's simply business, Belek, that's all."
The trader grunted. "Aye, so it is. But I'll warn you,
Matya. One day you'll drive a bargain too cleverly for your
own good. There are some bargains that aren't worth taking,
no matter how profitable they seem."
Matya laughed at that. "You always were a sore loser,
Belek." She pushed the goods she had offered across the
counter. Belek sighed - his nose twitching furiously - and
pushed the bolt of cloth toward her
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