127 Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Seven – Hazé wuvs Mama (1/2)
Hazé knew the two idiots were bad news as soon as they walked in the door. The bell rang loudly, and heavy boots scuffed the floor, pounding on the boards self-importantly, breaths were cleared haughtily, and loud sniffs could be heard even before she and Mama came out of the back room.
It was now no secret that Mama could see, even if her head didn't exactly zero in on what she was looking at. Still, Hazé held her hand as they came out to the counter, and both of them wrinkled their noses at the odors of the chemicals coming off the two men there.
Both of them were adorned in belts, pouches, and bandoliers, from which hung more purses, bottles, vials, packets, and other suspicious things, along with a prominent badge on the shoulder of their black robes... which looked to have gone through a fire or two at one time or another, and had many a suspicious stain on them.
”Oh, it's you two again.” Hazé wrinkled her small nose unpleasantly. ”Mama, they still haven't learned how to wash clothes and take a bath yet!” she piped up, the way her head was thrown proudly back clearly conveying that SHE had learned how to do those two very important tasks!
”Hush, dear,” Mama Greta patted her hand, while the two men scowled unpleasantly. ”Well, well, what can my little shop possibly have to satisfy the Alchemist's Guild, Masters Ulgwith and Rombal? Do you want to place an order for some actually fresh herbs, instead of that dried dust you sell to idiots who don't know alchemy?”
Her voice was warm and welcoming, in total contrast to her words.
”See here, woman! Insulting the Guild is a dangerous thing for a mere hedge witch!” sneered the shorter man, Ulgwith, his bald skull sporting a bright green patch of glow-in-the-dark skin from some accident or another, and fairly reeked of preparing too much pallcap mushroom oil, giving him an unsightly twitch every now and then. One of his eyes was also near bulging out of its socket, probably from using moon oil to help him see in the dark.
Hazé was fairly certain the two of them were corpse robbers, reducing fresh corpses before they could be vivified down for materials sold off under the table to wealthy idiots dabbling in stuff they shouldn't.
”My, how threatening. So, you've come to my home to sell threats now, have you?” It was really hard to look Mama in the eyes when she was looking a foot to your left.
”I think they came to smell up the place!” Hazé proclaimed, and Mama sighed theatrically, shushing her again.
”You know why we are here, Greta-” Rombal began in a wheezing voice.
”Mama Greta!” Hazé promptly interrupted him proudly. The tall one was too pale, cadaverously thin, and had a nose a size too big with a great number of swollen veins, as if he'd been imbibing things better not discussed, and sniffing things which no intelligent person wanted to. His butter-yellow eyes were narrow and unsettling, having about as much emotion as the corpses he liked to take apart.
And he didn't clean under his nails, either. Ewwww.
”Control your daughter's tongue, Greta-” began the short one.
”MAMA GRETA!” Hazé promptly hollered at the top of her lungs, fixing them with all the dire menace of a three-year old's gaze, stamping her small feet with great authority, her ”Haze wuvs Mama” embroidered shirt her own shining suit of mail, the green bowties in her pigtails her own winged helm. Mama Greta just made a dismissive gesture, but didn't try to hide her smile.
They finally harrumphed and looked away, finding it beneath themselves to argue with a child. Hazé put her nose up proudly at having won the browbeating contest, not budging an inch from Mama's side.
”You know the reason we've come. The Guild would like to buy the formula for your Moon's Milk skin cream. Our offer will be fair-” It was Mama's turn to snort a laugh, and Ulgwith scowled again.
”Your attempts to duplicate it didn't work? Your snitches have long passed on all the possible ingredients, have they not, even if your ilk haven't broken it down?” Mama smiled, teeth white and gleaming, in contrast to the yellow-toothed men in front of her. ”Your last 'fair offer' was less then a tenth of its value. Have you come back to double, triple your last offer, and still gain it for such a pittance?”
Both men flushed. ”It is unwise not to share your knowledge... Mama.” Hazé let out a snort, squinting at the two of them suspiciously. ”Any intelligent person would have registered the recipe with the guild a long time ago, in case something were to happen to them, and the knowledge be lost...” Rombal went on, in something that might have been a solicitous tone, were it not for the gloomy aura attached to it.
”Well, you know us old blind women, copper-wise and gold foolish. It would be a shame if the poxed whores you visit couldn't receive my cream, but such is fate.” She waved her hand. ”You should leave, gentlemen... and please, invest in proper detergents and scented soap.”
”You are taking a great risk, Mama, both for yourself and those close to you,” sneered the affronted Ulgwith coldly.
”Did you just threaten my daughter in front of me?” Mama's voice was very pleasant, and her hands moved very precisely to certain spots on the edge of the counter in front of her.
Both of the alchemists froze as there was an ominous click beneath them.
”Hands up and out of your pockets,” she ordered cheerfully, and both of the men removed a hand from deep pockets, carefully empty of anything dangerous, holding them up so the sleeves fell back from arms pocked by scars from acid and fire. ”Good boys. Now you just back out that door and head down the walk. If you make it to the fence alive, it'll mean you didn't try anything funny.”
They glared at her, and around, trying to ascertain where the threat came from. Hazé was openly smirking at them. ”Stinky bad men!” she piped up bravely, shaking her small fist at them, totally humiliating them.