His mind raced, frantically searching for a single clue he'd missed, a sign that should have warned him he was guiding a walking, talking bankruptcy.
Then, his eyes, sharpened by years of appraising anything of value, snagged on a glint of polished metal. The ring on Baelgor's finger. It was an elegant, understated piece, but it hummed with a faint, potent energy he could almost feel from a pace away. A spatial ring. A high-grade one, by the look of it.
Hope, desperate and wild, flared in his chest. The ring! If I can get that, it has to be worth something. The contents alone… it could be ten million! Maybe more!
He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing his merchant's mask back into place, smoothing the panic from his features.
How did he do it?
Baelgor pondered. Ah, yes. He channeled a trickle of energy into it.
With the casual ease of one breathing, Baelgor let a minuscule wisp of his mana flow into the ring.
There was a soft pop of displaced air.
