The First Dragon

Part Three

Ena proved to have a very vast knowledge of the many ways unscrupulous sorts could attempt to deprive someone of their hard-earned coin. Anwar shouldn't have been surprised by the things she knew at this point, but found that he still was.

"I assume the people who do these sorts of things are punished?" he asked as she carefully checked the weights for the scale she'd located.

"It depends on how well they're connected, I suppose. I've heard some get away with it. But if you know who they are, then you can avoid them. Going out of business is a form of punishment." She carefully set down the weights. "Or getting punched. I've known that to happen. Might have done it myself."

Anwar couldn't help smiling. "Oh, you might have?"

"Might have. I won't admit to it and no one can prove it was me. Walked away too quickly to be caught and I don't think the man wanted to admit to anyone that he was punched by a much smaller woman."

"...was he a giant of a man?"

"No, I'm short for a woman." She tilted her head. "Can you not tell?"

He really couldn't. "Everyone is smaller than me," Anwar said. "I don't have anyone to compare you to."

"Fair enough. I'll show you if I find any women's clothing in..." She gestured around. "All of this."

Did he have women's clothing? He wasn't completely sure. He knew he had clothing, but he often just counted the pieces without taking into account what they were. "Your father must have been short, then. I don't recall you being that much shorter than him."

"Aye, but don't tell him that. It can be a bit of a sore spot." She smiled fondly—far more fondly than Anwar would've ever dreamed of smiling when thinking of his father. "What about your family, then? Did you come from a group of giants or small folk, like us?"

In truth, Anwar was having a hard time remembering. "My father was always taller than I," he said. That much he was sure of. "Taller than most we knew. I thought perhaps I would catch up to him, but..." he shook his head. "He'd be furious if he saw me in this state. For falling for a trick like that."

"Well, good thing he's not here to tell you off then, eh?" Ena shrugged and resumed counting gold. She had taken to staking the coins in groups of five—said the counting went faster when she counted stacks of five and not individual coins. Anwar kept close watch, just to be sure that she wasn't trying to steal anything.

If she noticed the scrutiny of his gaze, she said nothing about it. In truth, she was not too offended; it was not too much worse than the scrutiny she would get in any other circumstance, were she handling someone else's money. The only difference was that those people didn't have claws or fangs like Anwar did.

Then again, what were swords if not the fangs and claws people gave themselves?

"What did he tell you of the gods?"

"Some things. Not enough, apparently." Any acts of worship were done in an impersonal way, out of obligation more than genuine belief—or that was how it had been for him. Perhaps his father felt differently, and more strongly on the matter. Anwar didn't know. "What about you?"

"Oh, I was told many stories. My father could've been a bard if he weren't so busy with other business. He loves to tell stories. So did my mother, when she was alive."

Anwar wished he had known that when he first had Bronn in his clutches. He might have asked for some advice. "Perhaps....you might be able to tell me some stories, if you can. Something that could help me fix my predicament. You mentioned there were other stories about people who had been transformed?" Granted, her summaries had painted a bleak picture for him. But perhaps some context would make things better.