46
If they were thrown onto a battlefield-
"The money pouch is still bulging."
I jerked my chin toward the corner of the box.
Oguri Cap stood with her arms folded, wariness showing through the gaps in her armor; Rody's horns rested against the wall in the shadows, his breathing heavy and slow. "If any of that junk down there catches your eye, bid on it.
"Think of it as clearing out loose change."
Doffy laughed.
It was low, rolling up from deep in his throat. "Fufufu... sure.
"Let's see what other 'junk' catches our eye."
The auctioneer started calling out again.
This time, half a crate of rusted ** was brought up, wrapped in the briny smell of the sea.
Someone below raised a paddle, and scattered bids rang out.
** back against the chair, fingertips unconsciously tapping a rhythm on my knee.
Nine years later, that island would fall completely silent.
Human infighting had burned everything away, leaving only creatures that had learned to wield swords.
If we went now, we might still catch the tail end of that long death.
Of course, there was no need to spell any of that out.
"That princess,"
Doffy suddenly said, "you planning to have her guide us?"
"Depends how long she lives."
My answer was flat.
All I had bought was a breathing set of coordinates.
If she died along the way, I would simply grab another native on the island-whether it walked on two legs or four.
Trebol muttered something, his snot-like mucus stretching into thin strands.
Oguri Cap shifted half a step forward, the soles of her metal boots scraping the floor. "Young master,"
his voice was taut, "there might be trouble on the island."
"Where isn't there trouble?"
Doffy glanced sideways. "Since Rossi brought it up, let's