"Jan Schnee's Imposer?" Will growled from across a corner table at The Donkey's Backside. "First of all, the damn thing never existed. Second, even if it did, there is no way it didn't get destroyed, stolen, or lost between the Sinjennian and now. Third, and this one, I cannot emphasize enough, there is no fucking way a skinny, garlic-breathed, bugger like you could have the remotest clue where to find it. Now, if you're done wasting my time, I've got to see to a fresh shipment of those misting spheres you're so fond of."
As Will moved to push himself from the table, Samuel grabbed his arm and motioned to the waitress for another round. "Now Will, won't you humor me for a moment?" Will glanced over to the approaching tankards and replied, "You've got me till I finish my round."
"Excellent. Now, listen. I haven't been completely honest with you. I'm not really some gutter rat from the streets of Quen."
"Heh heh. Well, Sammy, to be honest, I figured about as much when you introduced yourself as a 'gutter-rat from the streets of Quen'."
"Ah, well, it appears my infiltration skills could do with some schooling. In any case, I have good reason to believe that I have in my possession documents that pinpoint precisely where the Imposer can be found. And, lucky for us, the location is virtually in our laps."
Will eyed the door and took a deep pull from his ale, "Clocks ticking sonny."
"I'll be brief then. Prior to leaving my family estate, I took the opportunity to rummage through some of the miscellanea in the library. Amongst the family histories and my great aunt's cookbook collection, I found a particularly dusty tome in a language I didn't recognize. I had a hunch that it might be worth taking so I, ah, borrowed it and held onto it until yesterday. After that job with the pendant, I realized that book was my ticket to getting out from under Skivah's thumb. So I took the book to an appraiser in the sky district, who, believe it or not, claimed to be able to read it and offered to translate it. I didn't have the coin for the whole thing, but I could afford the first few pages." Samuel reached into his jacket, pulled out several folded pages and pushed them across the table.
Will squinted down at the fine script, his eyes growing wider with each line they passed over. Looking back up at will, he said "Surely this translator is taking you for a ride." "I thought she might be too," Samuel replied, "so, just to be sure, I took the book to her competitor and had the same pages translated again. The two were nearly identical." Will glanced back down at the paper. "So you're telling me that you, mister Sammy fucking Lewis, actually have the personal journal of Mazrim Schnee, descendent of Jan Schnee, the last person rumored to have possessed the Imposer."
Will flipped through the pages in front of him until a section indented from the edge caught his eye.
"And, what exactly am I looking at here?", Will said, gesturing towards the section. "That, my friend, is the path from our front door to a treasure unlike any that's been unearthed in the last hundred years."
"And what's this rubbish about some 'Morrigan'? Never heard the name. Also, what kind of bloody direction is 'West by West'" Samuel waved his hand, as if knocking the questions from the air, "Details, details. All things we can work out in time. The question I have for you is: Are you interested?"
"Yeah, I'm bloody well interested," Will said before draining his mug. "But it seems to me this may be more than a two man job. Who else are you planning on bringing in on this little scamper."
"I've a few names in mind, but am open to suggestion", Samuel said, smiling and leaning back in his chair. Will glanced to his empty mug, then to the door, then back at Samuel before replying, "Well, seeing as how this has just become a business meeting, I think first, we need another round."
TO BE CONTINUED