Of all the usual results of a blow to the head, this one probably isn’t even in the top four. One minute a misunderstanding with a crowbar and a man called Hercules—in retrospect that should have been a warning sign—the next…something else.
This isn’t the Colt Arms Factory, and it isn’t even Hartford. He’s in the middle of a ravine he’s never seen before. Must be a practical joke by someone who’s about to be unemployed. He groans, pushes himself to his feet, and works his way up the nearest slope. On second thought, this is less of a practical joke and more of a dream. The half-clockwork dog would be decidedly impractical to fake, and the enormous bipedal beetle is far too well-dressed.
At the top there’s a fence, with signs facing the other side. No gate is in evidence, but the fence isn’t too much of an obstacle. From the other side, the signs can be read as saying variations on “beware of the magic.” Huh.
From atop the slope, there’s at least a clearly visible destination. A nearby city, it may not be any city that was nearby when he was last conscious, but it’s better than here. He heads toward it.
On a more immediate level, I don't have one and a quarter hundred seo on me and for that matter don't even know how much that's worth. I—" he lowers his voice "—I could find something to pick the lock if you want to make a break for it."
"And if the reseller's out of the picture first? If we're lucky, some of your burlier colleagues and I might be able to lay him out without raising an alarm."
If the papers are in his possession, can we write it out like I bought and freed you? No one else needs to know I haven't the funds, and a strange and obviously foreign person could go either way on that score."
"There's still the question of how I will physically depart the premises when everyone knows that no such transaction took place."
I admit I was imagining the proprietor had some form of an office around here, where he could be captured or robbed of his papers in private with none the wiser. Harder still otherwise."
"He has an office, but he also has security guards. Stealing me is a dicey proposition unless you came out of the magic with magical powers of some relevant kind."
He hasn't seen much evidence of any interesting technology; it's worth hazarding a guess. "Do you have guns here?"
"Magical powers of some relevant kind, I suspect. They're a type of weapon; I make them professionally. How long are you likely to be unsold if I try to come back later better equipped?"
I'd assume the security you mentioned is guarding you when the market's not in session; is the same true of your owner? If not, I could rob him then. And show up claiming to have bought you and with papers to prove it."
"I don't know his sleeping arrangements but imagine he doesn't have guards standing over him all night. But he'll contest the validity of the papers and since they would in fact be forgeries I would bet on him if it came to it."
"So he just has to be unavailable for comment until you've a head start on your way to Tsopix?"
"...Yes. Although I'm also not sure you'll be able to make them look right if you came out of a magic with no locally appropriate memories."
"Hm. Well, with enough samples of how he records routine purchases and sales, one more sale should be doable? If not, I can try to show it to you before passing it off as genuine, if there's a way to get away with that."
"In that case, gambling on forgery might be the safest bet if nothing else comes up. Or at least the least risky."
In the meantime, I should probably find a blacksmith or something and see if I can get," he glances up at the sun, "half a day's work on short notice. Dangerous felonies on an empty stomach sounds like a bad idea."
He pulls out a pocket watch and looks at the sun again. "Good, it's about the same time of day it is in Connecticut."
In retrospect, he should have thought of this earlier.
"This is a unique artifact capable of counting time with precision unmatched by anything that exists in this world. That I forgot I had."
"I can tell you where to find someone who collects curiosities from magics. He pays more than my asking price for ones that are useless; one that's functional too you could get that and quite a bit of slush fund."
Keep in mind that a hundred and twenty five is the only number that means anything to me directly; can you guess at a ballpark number for the watch so I know if I'm being cheated?"
This would go much better with her doing the negotiating, but under the circumstances that's probably not an option.