[grimli] Don't lose your head (Niska)

London, England... Being here felt so strange. She was surrounded by people speaking a language she barely understood. As a studious person, the Russian had tried to learn English a little. However, now that she was walking through wizarding London, she realised that, after all, she understood little to nothing of what the people around her chatted. Learning from textbooks just wasn't a good preparation to real life conversations.

Alla disliked the feeling of being left outside. Not really understanding the language spoken by the majority was not only frustrating but also made her feel stupid. However, the young Russian wanted to see London. She had, of course, read all about the things that happened with Voldemort and she was curious to see the country in which only two years ago a wizarding war had ended. While curiosity had led her to the island she now felt like it would have been better to just read some more  about it in the new books about recent history that were available everywhere.

The only thing that cheered her up a little was that she was the only one walking through rainy Diagon Alley with a skeleton as a companion. Burmin, Alla's pet skeleton which she controlled with necromantic magic, walked one step behind her, carrying her brown leather handbag for her. The Russian quite enjoyed the attention she got although she found it mildly distressing that she could not fully understand the comments that people made about him. It would have been amazing to understand the admiring remarks that they were certainly receiving.

When two young girls pointed at him and giggled as they passed, Alla turned around frowning, trying to figure out if they admired or disliked the idea of a skeleton as servant. She was aware that not everybody liked the idea of Burmin. Even at Durmstrang some students had been appalled. However, that the girls giggled at sight of him was weird. Not focusing on the skeleton for a moment and having stopped suddenly, the skeleton and Alla bumped into each other. While Alla still stood firmly on her feet, poor Burmin stumbled and fell over.

The exhibition of necromantic skills ended unceremoneously and to make things worse, a stupid little boy could not control his dog and that walked away happily with one of Burmin's ribs. Taking out her wand and aiming it at the dog only brought her a confrontation with an older wizard. Since she couldn't explain herself properly she was left with her dear skeleton and his missing rib.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered and patted Burmin's head. “I'll see if I can find you a new rib to rebuild your natural beauty.” She managed to find a witch who was patient enough to explain to her that she had to go to Knockturn Alley. Once she was there, Alla looked around. Which shop was most likely to offer her what she needed? Back in Russia she knew just the right shops but she didn't want to wait for her return as it made her sad to see Burmin like that.

Entering a shop that looked rather lame from the outside, Alla hoped that it would not only have human bones in stock but also be rather empty so that she would not have too many witnesses that overheard her speaking English.

“Hello,” she said, revealing a strong Russian accent with the two syllables she voiced.

Russians don’t get drunk. They just don’t.

That was Niska’s reasoning for why he allowed himself to go into work when he was in such a sorry state as he was. Given, “going into work” mostly meant walking down a flight of stairs to stare at the walls on the first story shop as opposed to the walls in his second story apartment. Last night had been rough, but then again so were most nights nowadays. It had been ages since he’d had a proper night’s sleep and even longer since he’d been able to even go down without a drink or two. Alcoholism was tricky like that. He knew he was in a bad place but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to function without it. Too many things were going wrong right now. First his ward went missing and then his idiot brother followed after her to the place he assumed was hell. It’d be half a year before long and it wasn’t getting any easier, especially with the Ministry investigation putting a hold on his other business.

But he’d given up on the search the moment he took it up. People who didn’t want to be found usually had good reason and he wasn’t about to dig those two sorry souls out from wherever they had gone. But dammit, he wasn’t going to follow after them either. He couldn’t just stare emptily at the ceiling forever. No, he needed to go somewhere, do something.

So he hauled his hung-over body heavily from the bed and trudged down the stairs and to the secret passageway that led into his shop. Instead of being unproductive in his apartment, he would just be unproductive in his shop and give himself that little morality push he needed. Opening the store just meant unlocking the door and turning on the lights, since there was really no need to clean or reorganize. No one came in here for the stuff, it was all a front for the fights. Niska sat behind his long, ornate desk, propping his injured leg up on a stool and resting his “walking stick” (it was a cane but far be it from the proud ex-merc to admit that he needed a cane to get around like some old man). His injury from a few months ago was acting up and it was just another reason he wasn’t able to sleep at night. Old age was catching up to him and it made him mighty uncomfortable that he wasn’t going to be able to outrun it, especially not with this bum leg of him.

Seventy-three minutes and forty-eight seconds later, the Russian was fast asleep, his head lolling back in his chair, his scruffy mouth agape as he snored loudly, probably shaking the whole shop. First his finger twitched. Something…something was coming. Still in the grip of a heavy sleep, Niska took a deep breath, the dusty metallic smell filling his nose and shaking him from his slumber immediately. He was on his feet in seconds, teetering unsteadily as his body adjusted to being jerked awake so suddenly. This smell was strong, almost overpowering. It took him back to Romania, to his time as a gravedigger working for a man who looked like death itself. But he’d also put that man into the ground himself, burned the body too, to keep all that creepiness out of the world for good. There was no way. The bell over the door rang ominously and Niska spun around—

”Hello.”

Niska felt his muscles burn as he stopped his body mid-lunge, his complicated rolling maneuver to duck behind a nearby suit of armor ceased the moment he laid eyes on his visitor. No, it was not a man with skin white as ash and a body like a stretching shadow. It was a girl, small and blonde and with an accent he picked up on right away. Russian? Bulgarian? Russian, for sure. But there was no mistaking the scent. His eyes flashed amber and he took in the dusty crimson smoke that seemed to surround the small girl. It tasted acrid, like a cavity that had broken open or dirt from deep, deep underground that had calcified and turned to stone. Her magic was nearly a carbon copy of one of his professors from his school years, and far too much like the man (okay, one of the men) he’d left buried under a mound of dirt in Romania.

“Can I help you?” he asked, the Russian rumbling from his chest in a familiar and sort of strange way. He didn’t hide the suspicion in his voice or the way his eyes searched her body for weapons. “It’s not every day I meet a necromancer of your skill level. What sort of mischief will you be bringing down on my little shop today, little one?”

After having voiced her greeting, Alla stepped into the shop that looked like an untidy mess to her. She frowned a little. While these kinds of shops usually had hid treasures in store, she wasn't sure that even the shopkeeper knew for sure what he had to offer. Burmin had come to a halt next to her, his head and shoulders hanging as though the poor skeleton was suffering from deep depression. However, in fact it was Alla's lack of concentration on him that made her magic weaker. While the young witch had practice in keeping her pet skeleton moving, she rarely had him walking at her side for so long. Although she didn't want to admit it, it was exhausting to control Burmin for a longer time.

She was just trying to figure out how to ask for a human rib in English when she spotted the shopowner or maybe just employee. The man didn't look to well. In fact, Alla thought that he looked about as neglected as his shop. Subconsciously she wrinkled her nose a little, feeling certain that she'd take in a smell of an unwashed man and alcohol if she approached him more. She stood still, considering if she should just turn around and leave. After all, she didn't feel very positive that this man had to offer what she was looking for. Besides the first impression of him was that of a grumpy man and while Alla wasn't afraid of him she figured that she would fail badly if she had to address him in English.

Relief was the sentiment that took possession of Alla as she heard the man's voice though. He spoke her language! At once Alla forgot that she had just considered to leave the shop again. She smiled and took a few steps forward to the man. It was a little funny that her accent apparently was so strong that one word was enough to reveal her heritage but Alla was a proud Russian and actually felt flattered being recognised as that.

The things the shopkeeper said left Alla in the weird situation of feeling both flattered and offended. On the one hand he had praised her necromantic skills - which definitely was a first step to win her sympathy - on the other hand, however, he had called her little one. She wasn't a little one. She frowned again, her lips tightened and for a moment she didn't know what to say. Mischief? She wasn't up to no good. Somehow it confused her that people couldn't accept that she had Burmin just like other people had a cat as their pet. A skeleton was, in the end, even the better pet. It didn't need food as it had no metabolism and it didn't leave hair all over the place.

She shrugged these thoughts off, reminding herself why she had come in the first place. "You can indeed help me," she began, her voice sounding steady and clear. "I'm relieved that you speak Russian," she added with a sheepish smile. She looked around in the shop, wondering if somewhere in this mess there would be a bone of the right size for Burmin.

"I'm glad to hear that you appreciate necromantic magic," she began, looking at the wizard intensely. "Unfortunately my dear Burmin here had a little accident earlier." She pointed at the missing rib and, seeing how Burmin was almost collapsing she focused on letting him straighten his back again. It was getting harder to control him now and Alla was afraid that if she made him take a step now she would not be able to prevent him from stumbling. Blushing, Alla looked at the shopkeeper again. "Well..." she continued in a lower voice, feeling ashamed, "he stumbled, fell over and... there was dog... You know how dogs are when they see a bone..." He voice faded and Alla looked down. "The dog ran away with one of poor Burmin's ribs..."

The girl wasn't able to continue now. She felt how her eyes started watering and blinked a few times, hoping that the older wizard didn't notice anything. She felt so guilty that she hadn't taken better care of her pet skeleton and that she hadn't jinxed that bloody dog. She cleared her throat nervously, wondering if the man now thought of her as a complete idiot for getting into such a predicament.

It wasn’t everyday that a skeleton walked into his shop either. Niska wasn’t sure how he had missed it when she came in, but the clattering pile of animated bones that followed the young girl in was certainly a surprise. So she was a necromancer. He could tell by the way her crimson smoke danced through the skeleton’s bones like fog over through a wrought-iron fence that the skeleton was hers. The smoke seemed to inhabit the bones, making out the shape of a person around the white pieces. How interesting.

An amused smile danced over the older man’s scruffy lips as she told him her unfortunate tale of woe. Yes, there was a certainly a bone missing there, which seemed to leave the skeleton teetering precariously as if it was held up by only those smoky red strings. Of course, a dog and bones would be an inherently comedic situation. Poor girl though, it couldn’t have been easy to keep the skeleton together in his state. She didn't seem to see the comedy though, and looked a little worse for wear. Oh Merlin, she wasn't about to cry, was she? Niska never knew how to deal with that sort of thing.

“I think I can help you with that, but first—” Niska raised a bandaged hand and waved and a rickety rocking chair from the corner of the room slid gracefully across the dusty wood until it was behind the skeleton. “Let your friend rest his tired old bones. I will look around. ”

Niska was having far too much fun with this. He may or may not have laughed and patted himself on the back for his own pun. Lighten up the mood a little bit. He grabbed his gnarled walking stick from where it was leaning against his desk and walked to the shelves. “I believe there was a rib bone belonging to a 16th century Spaniard somewhere under this stack of papers, yes, here.” Niska moved his wand through the air with his free hand and a pale yellow bone wiggled out from under a pile of anatomy manuscripts. “And perhaps one in this jar… and another… let me think, maybe next to the jousting rod…”

He continued his trek around the store, summoning a number of bones from little nooks and crannies in the shop, letting them all float after him like ducklings after a mother. When he finished he came back to the young girl. With a flick of his wand, the bones came forward, arranging themselves in a neat circle that floated in the air between them, rotating like it was jewelry in a display case. Well, he considered, the ruby and gold encrusted rib bone from the Russian royal family kinda was.

“He’s what I got,” he said, looking at them thoughtfully. “Got a nice selection here if you wanna take your pick. If you don’t mind it though, I think I got a pretty bleached Hungarian Horntail rib bone here too, as well as the better part of a thestral rib cage with vertebrae and everything. Maybe spice up your friends composition just a little bit. Do you need human bones for your friend specifically? It’s been decades since my last Necromancy lesson and I can't say I have been keeping up with it. Got a couple other ones lying around somewhere too if none thing here suits your tastes?”

While she did not really approve of the amused expression she could see on the shopkeeper's face, Alla was glad that he seemed to be able to help her. Why did nobody understand her love for her pet skeleton though? Burmin was probably nicer than any (other) human being being she knew and he was also easier to care for than a common pet. Besides having him set her apart from many wizards as she knew barely any witches or wizards who were skilled in necromancy to keep a skeleton walking for quite some time.

Alla was unaware of all so many aspects of necromancy by now - she found it quite normal to cut herself in order to get blood. She surrounded herself with dead bodies without really thinking about death and without seeing anything creepy in that. She did not notice any odd smell either. Having spent the last few years being obsessed with her necromancy studies, the girl found it all natural.

Although Alla did not worry much about injuries or anything, she was surprised to see the bandaged hand of the shopkeeper and when he got up and grabbed his walking stick, she really wondered what was up with the man and what had put him in this rather poor state. The tears that had almost made their way down her cheeks were forgotten when the man offered Burmin a chair. How sweet was that! Alla beamed at the older wizard. "Thank you!" she exclaimed brightly and directed Burmin to his seat. It felt relieving to have him in a safe place.

She took a deep breath, happy to relax a little. Controlling Burmin was exhausting enough when he was not missing a bone but now it was so difficult it gave her already slight headaches. Rubbing her forehead slightly, she made a few steps through the shop. Looking around curiously, she noticed that there were some very interesting items buried in this mess. The shopkeeper spoke about where he suspected bones and could even give some information on their heritage. It was interesting and Alla wondered if there was the whole Spaniard available. Maybe Burmin would like a Spanish friend? Maybe she should better find Burmin a girlfriend. The poor chap surely hadn't had a girlfriend in ages...

Alla quite enjoyed how the older wizard let the bones follow him through the air. The bones that were dancing through the air had something beautiful. The young Russian really hoped that one of these ribs would work for Burmin. Cautiously she looked at all the bones that were now moving in circles. The rib of the Spaniard now seemed like a bad choice. Alla found that the colour of it was a little darker than Burmin's bones were. To her it looked a little dirty but that was probably not even the case.

There was a ruby and gold encrusted rib that looked rather spectacular. However, Alla liked the simplicity of Burmin. She even refused to use the knitted socks that her sister had given her for him as Lyuda disliked the clacking sound his feet made on the floor. Biting her lip, Alla examined the remaining bones. It was a difficult choice, after all. Briefly she looked at Burmin, tempted to ask him which rib he would like to get but she refrained from doing so, assuming that she already seemed strange enough.

"Thank you for letting me choose one of these", Alla said, smiling at the shopkeeper. She hesitated for a moment before answering his question about using a dragon or thestral bone for Burmin as it felt so wrong to her to even consider that. "Well," she started, weighing her words carefully to let them sound very diplomatic, "I think it would disrupt the necromantic magic and make it impossible for me to control him, if I used a bone of a different species. A more experienced necromancer might be able to manage it but I think I'd need a lot more practice for this attempt. Besides I prefer a more... natural look for Burmin. He's a simple guy, after all." The girl grinned and took one of the bones out of the circle.

"This one might fit," she said thoughtfully, holding it in both hands. Would it even work to use a different bone for Burmin? She had never animated a skeleton with bones from more than one individual. Somehow the girl was scared now that she'd fail to include the bone properly.

Niska watched her examine the bones, his eyes flickering to the skeleton sitting just a ways away, seeming to watch them. It was certainly strange seeing it sit upright like that and honestly it make him a little twitchy. The last time he’d dealt with a necromancer of any skill, Niska was digging six-feet deep holes in the frigid Romanian dirt under the watchful eye-sockets of three Inferi. He hated Inferi. Those things are too gross and creepifying to keep around, especially the way Vaduva had used them. Gravedigging was probably Niska’s least favorite job, by magic or my hand. Vaduva had liked to lure muscle for hire in with promises of high pay for little work and get them to find him fresh supplies. Niska had only been about twenty-five at the time but his experience with death-dealing men like that had left a very strong impression on him.

What the girl had said made sense. Keeping a human skeleton together was no joke. Adding other flotsam and jetsam would disrupt the purity. Hmm. Niska narrowed his eyes at the bone, his eyes flickering from it back to the skeleton. The crimson smoke emanating from the girl was quiet and subdued, like fog. But the greenish glow surrounding the bone she had chosen was loud and acidic, tasting faintly of rotten meat. He wasn’t much for necromancy, but if it was compatibility that she was looking for, the bone she had chosen wouldn’t hold together for long if she was worried about her skill set.

“Wait a tick,” he said, holding his hand out and then scratching his beard thoughtfully. “I think…I think I got exactly what you’re looking for. Damn near forgot I had it until now.” He hobbled back into the shelves, painfully taking a knee beside a little trapdoor in front of the fireplace. He waved a big paw over the hinge and muttered a spell that dispersed the cursed barrier around it. He pulled the trapdoor open to reveal a rather wide but not very deep compartment under the floor, between them and the fighting arena. He flicked his wand and summoned a box from the dark depths, bringing back to the girl.

The box was a medium sized black Cherrywood chest with gothic silver filigree decorating the corners and lid. A single, perfectly round ruby sat above the lock and the name “Rummen Vaduva” was etched into the wood. The blackish-vermilion fog that seeped through the cracks of the wood was similar to the girl’s magic, though this one made Niska wrinkle his nose in distaste. He covered his thumb in a layer of smoky blackish-cobalt magic and mumbled another spell that popped the little treasure chest open and the vermilion fog poured out.

“There was a man,” Niska said slowly, looking through the contents of the box, “that I knew some ten, twenty years ago who had some skill at necromancy like you. We had something of a falling out when he tried to add me to his army of undead and I didn’t take too kindly to it. He was nice enough to, uh, donate a number of his belongings to me as a payment for my trouble, among other things. I’m not much for necromancy so I haven’t touched these in years, but if you’re looking to learn more about your trade, Rummen was one of the best of his time. Never got caught either.” By the Ministry, at least.

He let the chest drop gently to the floor in front of her for her to peruse, but in his hand he held a dusty leather-bound book filled to the gills with loose scraps of fraying paper stuffed between the pages. “I think this was his spell book. I can’t give it to you cheap, cause it's a one-of-a-kind spell book, but it's hard to do better than that." He handed it to her. “Take a look, and in the box too. Might find something catches your eye. Name’s Niska, by the way. You got something I can call you and your friend by?”

Alla was glad that the shopkeeper had any rib bones to sell at all and while she did not feel convinced by any of the offered ones, she figured that the size was the most important thing. If it was too large or too small, poor Burmin would not look much better than with a missing rib. It was tough to make a decision though. Especially, considering how the young Russian felt like she was not skilled enough to regain proper control of her pet skeleton if it was not in its original state.

While she hoped that she was wrong, the witch feared that she would have to set up the necromantic magic on Burmin anew to fully control him again. It was not that she was afraid of the challenge. However, Alla had not yet forgotten that her necromantic experiments had led her into the hospital wing a few times during her time at school. Since she graduated she had experimented as well, sometimes feeling so exhausted after her necromantic projects that she stayed in bed for a day or two to recover afterwards.

Musing about these things, Alla heard the shopkeeper mention that he might have an even larger choice of necromantic equipment. Alla looked at him curiously, hoping to find just the right bone. She did not even dream about any other useful things at the moment as her sole ambition was to restore her friend to his natural bony beauty.

Alla noticed with a slight smile that the shopkeeper seemed more and more eager to get out things to show to her. She appreciated his enthusiasm and soon felt how her heartbeat accelerated. Did this man truly have some necromantic treasures hidden in this pretty looking chest? She watched him curiously as he brought it to her. Having a chest like that filled with artefacts from an old necromancer was something like a dream.

While the girl had first taken a fancy in necromancy because she had quite liked her professor at school, she was now obsessed with this kind of magic. However, to her it was not really dark magic, her approach to necromancy was rather playful. For that Burmin was the living or rather dead and animated proof.

With some curiosity she looked at the man as he told her about the acquaintance from whom he had got the chest. He had experienced quite a bit, hadn't he? Alla, liking older witches and particularly wizards for their knowledge and experience anyway, listened carefully. Maybe this wizard could tell her some more about his adventures if she managed to befriend him.

“Merlin, yes!” Alla exclaimed, carefully taking the book from him. “This really looks like a treasure.” Her cheeks glowing with excitement the girl skimmed through the pages. The book had this certain smell of an old book, old leather, dust and something musty. While it was not exactly a scent everybody fancied, Alla found if very intriguing as it suggested that the item in question was old and not used every day.

“My name's Alla and that's Burmin,” she replied pointing at the sitting skeleton, “it's a pleasure to meet you, Niska. When I came to London I never dared to dream of finding a place like this stuffed with treasures such as this book. It's really amazing.”

Kneeling down in front of the chest, Alla began to examine the contents further. She didn't yet dare to ask Niska how much he'd want for the book, a bone and whatever else she might still find here. “You are not really into necromancy yourself?” she asked, her voice sounding sceptical and yet relieved. Had he loved necromancy as much as she did he would not offer her these items after all.

Niska was pleased when Alla expressed excitement at all of Rummen’s belongings. As he watched her shuffle through the chest, memories of the first time he had opened it himself and looked through it came back to him. Of course at the time Niska had been more concerned with how much he could sell it for. But for Alla it looked liek Christmas had come early. It was many years ago but seeing some of the items made the memories even stronger. Rummen had been one of the first people Niska had ever killed, or at least in the early ten. After that it had all just sort of gone downhill and he’d nearly lost track.

“So you are new to Britain then?” he asked. “I myself left Russia almost 30 years ago and have not been back as anything more than a guest. My family lives in Volgograd, perhaps you have heard of them-- the Zukovs. My brother was once a professor at Durmstrang but that was many years ago, probably far before your time.” The Zukov’s were not a well-known family outside of the dark circles. As bodyguards to the powerful, they had always preferred to stay below the radar, but the reputation his ancestors had built for them was quite fearsome. There were not many who actually knew the family personally, aside from the royal and impossibly rich. But the whispers in the criminal underground also often carried the Zukov name, so he was never really sure who knew and who didn’t.

Niska felt something in his leg twitching again as he leaned on his cane, and he made an unpleasant expression. The doctor had instructed him to rest and take it easy for the next two weeks, but Niska didn’t like that. Although he hadn’t expected a simple walk around the shop to irritate his old bones so much. “You can examine the chest over here on my desk so you don’t gotta kneel on the floor. It’s real dusty and I don’t wanna get your clothes all smeared with it, come on.”

It had really been for Niska’s benefit, but he also didn’t think it was comfortable being on the floor like that. He hobbled behind his desk and summoned an extra chair across from him for Alla. “Here’s something I been curious about, how does one so young as you are get into death magic? It takes most people decades to master it, and most of them turn out a little…off. Like the dark magic got in their brain and rattled something loose. You seem perfectly normal, aside from your interesting choice in company. See anything you like in here?”

"Oh," Alla exclaimed when Niska asked  if she was new to Britain, "yes, I only arrived today and it's my first time here. I'm not going to stay for long though. I feel much more at home in Russia. I'm just here out of curiosity. I've read so much about wizarding history and Britain that I wanted to see how things are here. I don't know the Zukov family. Then again I am from Moscow and don't know Volgograd well at all." She had briefly looked at Niska while speaking but now focused on the chest again.

When Niska offered that she could examine the chest's contents in a more comfortable position on his desk, she offered a smile. She felt sure that she'd need quite some time to take a proper look at everything it contained. She didn't mind the dirt but kneeling on the floor was not even half as comfortable as sitting on a chair. Following Niska to the desk, Alla wondered if he only offered her the more comfortable position mostly because he needed to sit down himself. The man, while not really old, did not seem to be in the best condition. Had got into a fight? Was it maybe an injury he had attained during the wizarding war?

The words he spoke about her proficiency in necromantic magic felt flattering and yet Alla knew that she was not half as skilled as she wanted to be. There were still so many things she did not master, so many things she wanted to learn. Animating a skeleton was something she had practised for months and now she could do that easily. However, what she really wanted to learn was possession. She had tried it on little mammals and on her sister, the latter experiment had gone quite wrong. f course those weren't things she would tell Niska. He was a new acquaintance and she would surely not confide in him what she could not do when it came to necromantic magic.

"Well," she said slowly, weighing her words before answering his questions. "I've learned the basics of necromancy at school like we all do at Durmstrang. It has quickly become my best and favourite subject and so I've taken extra lessons and read books about necromancy... I've been experimenting a lot. It's such a fascinating magical field. I hope to be able to do even the more complicated things in the future." She paused, thinking about how he had called necromancy dark magic.

"Do you really think that necromancy is dark magic?" she asked thoughtfully. "To me it isn't actually dark. I mean, of course it has to do with death a lot but... but I don't think animating a skeleton can be called an act of dark magic." She looked at Burmin and grinned. "You know, my little sister even knitted socks for Burmin once. A walking skeleton with socks on its feet can hardly be dark, scary or anything, can it? I'm not trying to do people any harm either... it's just that I'm trying to push the envelope." She shrugged and played with the dagger in her hand.

"Umm... I am really intrigued by the book you showed me but I'm not sure I can afford it. And this dagger is looking really great too. I just have a simple one with a blade that isn't as sharp as this. And... she pulled a bone out from below some other things - this one looks like it has quite the right size and it feels comfortable in my hand. I think it could be a good fit for Burmin. How much do you want for the bone? If you don't mind I'd like to try if it works for Burmin before making my final decision though."

Once he’d gotten himself a seat and his leg propped up on the little stool beside his desk, Niska felt the pain lessen considerably. Old battle injuries layered with plenty of new ones had a way of stacking up. Well, he supposed his age was finally catching up to him. He hadn’t exactly lived the healthiest life leading up to his early retirement, so at nearly fifty, he felt like his body was already pushing sixty-five. Sooner or later he was gonna have to stop doing the fights. Injuries like this one were too common and it was taking him longer and longer to recover.

At her tentative question, Niska chuckled, almost humorlessly. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so empty but he couldn’t keep the sadness from creeping in. “You know, you remind me a bit of my daughter. Like you, she had some special abilities that were…let’s just say ‘traditionally’ dark. She was always going on, trying to convince me about how dark magic is one of the purest forms of magic because it comes from the heart, you know? You can’t kill or torture someone ‘less you mean it. Of course, she was preaching to the damn choir cause I’m sure you noticed I ain’t no saint and’ve seen plenty of the darker side of magic. But she always got all academic about that sort of thing, going on about ‘there should be a way to quantify magic power’ and ‘dark is just a social construct’. Drove me nuts.”

The words were coming out faster than he meant for them to. Perhaps he was just getting tired of keeping it all locked up inside. He glanced across the table at Alla, his eyes watching her look through the items with unbridled excitement. The girl must’ve been about 20 years old, give or take, but she looked a number of years younger the way she was sifting through Rummen’s things like it was Christmas. His eyes softened just a bit and he shook his head. His hand when to his scruffy beard and he rubbed it, realizing he was getting lost in his thoughts. “It’s a shame she'll never meet you, I think the two of you would have really gotten along real well, raised some hell for the rest of us poor souls around here.”

His sudden display of emotion over, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, though not because his leg hurt. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat. “Any other sorta person and I’d shoo your self outta here cause I ain’t much for haggling. But… I don’t know if there’s anyone else I’d be willing to part with all of this stuff for. With what you got on you, I think you’ll be able to afford the blade and the bone, no problem. As far as the book goes… I could let you rent it. You come in every two weeks and pay me a small fee, and I let you hold onto it. But I warn you not to try and run off with it. I think you’ll find the late fee at my library is more than you’re willing to part with.” He gave her a somewhat ominous, but not unfriendly, grin. “Shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

"She sounds like an interesting person," Alla said, looking up at Niska. Something told her to be careful now. What he said and the sound of his voice made her wonder about the story about his daughter. Was she dead? The girl was curious now but knew better than to burst out with the question. She'd rather ask some other things and hope that Niska would reveal the secret of his daughter then. There had to be a secret, so much was certain. "Which kind of special abilities are you talking about?"

Somehow Alla felt flattered that Niska was willing to sell her some of the necromantic treasures from the chest. He made it clear that he was not particularly eager to part with these rare items. While Alla needed the bone for Burmin and found the blade rather useful she felt that her real wish was to call the book her own. However, she was part of a middle class family, had a job that paid the rent but didn't allow her to afford many expensive things. When she wanted to get something that had a high price, Alla usually took some time to save up enough money. Running her fingers over the old book spine, Alla wished to have a vault full of galleons so that she could easily buy the entire content of the chest and take it home.

Niska's offer took her by surprise. Renting the book and coming in every two weeks to pay the fee was better than not being able to study the book at all. However, leaving Russia every two weeks to get to London? That seemed rather odd to Alla. Why did the shopkeeper expect her to visit England so often? She hadn't planned regular visits to London. In fact, the girl thought that exploring London once should be enough for a long time. Yet, she had to find a compromise now. She would not leave this book behind so easily.

Obviously stealing the book was not an option either. Niska made quite sure that she wouldn't live to tell the tale. However, Alla was far from intimidated by the threat. She rose her eyebrows slightly and looked into his eyes with a kind of curious expression. "You know," she began, her voice sounding soft and calm, "I don't really intend to visit London every two weeks. Maybe we could settle for once in a month? That should be feasible. How small is the small fee anyway?" She looked at him, trying to sound confident and relaxed but now that she had started the negotiation she felt rather nervous. She wanted to study this book so badly. Maybe she should have accepted coming every two weeks to London? That did seem a bit over the top though and she didn't like the idea of blindly accepting what Niska said. After all, she had a mind of her own.