He didn’t know how to describe exactly what he wanted, but he knew he’d seen it in action before. He wanted a tool like the one the assassin had used when he had come to kill him on the October monster wave. He wanted a tool that broke through magical wards.

“I want a knife or some kind of cutting device to break through magical wards,” Max explained.

The man’s one good eye fluttered with surprise.

“You know, young man, such tools are deemed illegal by the climber’s guild,” said the merchant.

“I do,” said Max. “And I don’t care. Do you?”

The man snickered. “You’re clearly a fool boy, but I’m not in the business of chaperoning idiotic children. If you want to buy a ward-breaking device, I’ll sell you one. It will cost you one hundred gold though.”

Max bristled at that price. He only had about twenty gold to his name. Maybe Casey could pitch in some money too, but they still wouldn’t be anywhere close enough to the merchant’s price tag.

“Could you do twenty gold?”

“Sorry, nope. See ya around if that’s all you got to play with,” said the man.

Crap!

Based on the information the librarian had given them, any secret means they’d have of exiting the tower-zone would most likely require a ward-breaking device. Without one, they wouldn’t be able to go ahead with their plan.

“Here’s a proposal,” said Max. “For ten gold coins, can I borrow the knife for two days and then return it to you?”

The merchant man scratched his chin.

“It’s not a bad offer,” he said. “Make it fifteen gold and we got a deal, but you’ll also need to provide me with some form of collateral.”

Max and Casey looked at each other nervously.

“What do you mean by collateral?” asked Casey.

“Well, what’s to stop you two from running off with my fancy knife and selling it yourselves and never coming back to me,” said the merchant. “I need something that tells me—you’ll definitely be coming back. With another customer I might make them give me something of equal or similar value, but as you two are just a bunch of kids, something more sentimental might work. Like how about that rat in your pocket there?”

“Toto!?” shrieked Casey.

The gerbil immediately hid from view.

“So that’s the rat’s name, huh?” said the merchant.

“Toto’s not a rat, he’s a gerbil,” said Casey, correcting the man.

“You say ‘tomahto,’ I say ‘tomayto,’” said the merchant, grinning. “I promise to take good care of him.”

Casey shuddered.

“The fate of the city and all of us might rely on this,” said Max. “You’ll see Toto again in a few days.”