There was peaceful refinement lingering in the air that smelled of Vortas snow and aged paper, and that brought about a sense of familiarity to the straight-backed passive. Yazad took in a deep breath. This was the smell of Sophronios’ study at home, more or less. Not the most alluring of scents--not to Yazad who would rather be smelling perfumes of flowers or bread baking in the oven, but it added a certain type of charm to the place.
The second breath Yazad drew hitched in his throat as he heard Quintrell’s price for the tome that Niccolette wanted. Three concords--for a book of spells. It is no wonder that only galdori could afford the advanced use of magic, with spellbooks this outrageously priced. Three concords--that would allow him a year’s supply of perfumes and Hurte only knows how many flowers. Perhaps even an elegant new outfit. If Niccolette herself thought the price of three concords to be overstated, she certainly did not look like it. Her financial state is not something that he knew anything of nor thought important to ask about, and so the passive continued to silently watch, his thoughts wandering towards the pocketbook sitting in his pocket. He could only hope that the book he chose is not included in the price range of ‘age and rarity’.
He was not ‘poor’ by his own standards. No, not at all. Yazad had more than a few concords to his name, saved up after years of monetary ‘gifts’ that his master regularly bestows upon him. ‘Gifts’ that he knows are not that at all. Still, if he was to be spending all of his funds on a single item, it will most certainly not be a book.
Ah, bargaining--another skill that he was not blessed with. And one that he, amusingly, did not expect to see a galdor of means practice. With a subtle frown, Yazad chided himself for his line of thought. Galdor she might be, but Niccolette was a widowed young woman far from the kingdom they both previously called home. What knowledge would he have of the difficulties she could be facing? Numbers continued to be exchanged, with both parties maintaining their adamance. In the end, it seemed that Niccolette came out the victor.
"Ah, yes, of course." The passive smiled politely, returning the other’s bow before reaching for his pocketbook. Slender fingers briefly dipped into the leather purse, extracting two shills that Yazad stepped forward to gingerly place on the counter, leaving him with a few tallies to spare. Two shills was an acceptable enough price to pay for a few new joys to be had.
"May I?" Yazad’s indicated towards the bundle wrapped in wax paper, his free hand reaching for it in an attempt to carry it for the lady.