"Hey, you Flint?"
Flint grimaced behind his newspaper, this would never have happened in his younger years. He used to inspire awe.
He glanced up from his newspaper. Two kids were standing at the bar. Teenagers, standing out like sore thumbs in their street fashion.
"Who's asking?" he demanded.
The nearest of the two - a boy whose appearance and demeanor eclipsed the girl he was with so completely that it had to be on purpose - treated him to a cocky grin. "They say you're the one to talk to about basilisk parts."
Flint shook his head minutely. "I don't sell to children."
That clearly offended the girl, who was standing a little behind the boy, but the latter gave him an insolent smile. "We're not buying," he said. "Were selling."
Flint couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising. "And how did you come by basilisk parts?"
"Killing a basilisk," the previously silent girl replied flatly.
Flint sucked on his teeth, wondering. There was no way in hell. But he knew their type. Slick and street smart. They had no reason to lie about what they wanted from him. So they probably stole some stuff and needed to get rid of it fast.
"We can keep looking if you're not interested," the boy resumed.
Flint lowered his newspaper. "I'll humour you. What do you need sold?"
"A whole basilisk's worth," the boy said, still smiling.
He snorted. "You couldn't even lift one."
"It-" the boy began, but his companion made an annoyed sound at the back of her throat and stepped forward.
"One basilisk's worth in parts," she said impatiently. "Skin, treated. Fangs, extracted, intact. Tongue, dried. Eyes, preserved. Blood, bottled. Claws, severed at the joint. Feathers, plucked. Heart, preserved. Liver, dried. Musk glands, liquefied." She drew a breath. "We burned the flesh and buried the bones."
Flint stared at her. There were slayers who could also butcher, of course. But most of them nowadays barely knew which parts of a beast were most valuable, let alone in what form they were most sought after. He looked into her young, almost expressionless face. "Not many people around that know how to treat snakeskin and how to conserve organs."
"Well, she did the skin and I did the organs," the boy said brightly. There was a mean sort of amusement in his eyes now, as well as a deep glow of pride. The girl's expression remained neutral to mildly annoyed, except when her gaze crossed that of her companion.
So they were a package deal then, Flint mused. Not professionals - they couldn't be, far too young - but professionally trained nevertheless. What were the odds?
Flint folded his newspaper and pushed it aside. "Sit down," he nodded invitingly at the strange pair. "I can broker for you, but I don't work with people I don't know." He smiled, raising his hand to flag down the barman. And here he thought he was going to have to retire. "So let's get to know each other."
