“Ah, it was originally a trident, and I wish I could pronounce the name, and yours, as eloquently as you do, but Trishul in more modern times is in the form of a cross, like a religious artifact. And this pattern …?” He didn’t glance at the paper again, instead maintaining their steady mutual gaze. Beautiful woman or not, he was still the only professional craftsman present.
He had his finger on the slip of paper and she reached out and put her hand near his, tracing the elaborate pattern neatly with a finger without even looking. “It is indeed the cross that I seek and this is the adornment I want on the haft and the quillion.”
His bushy eyebrows rise together again, “that is a knife or a dagger then rather than a traditional cross,” he nods at her, “and the blade?”
“As you would normally create Armandino, the sharpest of sharpest edges available,” she smiled.
They spoke of length, weight, balance, material, the necessity of a camouflaging scabbard and Luigi became absorbed in this new project, this new very interesting project. It was a relatively easy task for him but the very interesting part was the customer. Finally, they arrived at money, as all business transactions are wont.
“This won’t be wildly expensive but you will have to leave a deposit to cover the cost of the raw materials. For that, I can give no discount,” he shrugged.
“How much, the deposit? And how much in total?”
“The materials are exotic but easily obtainable, around three thousand Euros. Three will be enough,” he watched her eyes as he mentioned the amount, she did nothing but nod so he went on. “My charge for moulding, machining, tempering and finishing will be considerably higher than that, but,” he added quickly, “it is a little quiet at the moment so I could spare a small discount, say, a total of twelve thousand Euros.”
She didn’t blink, instead reaching into her clutch again and withdrawing a small billfold. “Three now and another nine thousand on completion, yes?” This time it was he nodding. “And how long until completion?”
“About two weeks, but I’ll have to wait nearly a week for the special alloy. If it comes sooner I can finish sooner. Maybe I can call you …?”
She smiled and stood up, proffering a bundle of cash toward him. “No need Armandino, I will be back in two weeks.” He took the cash and was opening a desk drawer to retrieve a receipt book when he heard her tinkling footsteps. Surprised, he looked up. She was almost at the door when she whirled back to face him. She waved, a dismissal. “No need for that either. Goodbye for now Armandino, I will see you again soon.” She blew him a kiss.
“Wait, wait, what was your name again?” He started after her.
“Borsaki my darling, Borsaki,” and with that, she turned on her heel, the tinkling of the bell over the door and her heels dissipating together.
Luigi walked back and slumped down at his desk, the cash still ensconced in one hand but his eyes remained firmly fixed on the closed door where he had last seen her. He shook his head a little, and not for a second recognised the different name she had given before leaving. It was sometime before he locked the door and went upstairs to his little home to phone the metal supplier.
The elegant lady walked confidently around the corner to a waiting limousine. The back door opened as she approached and she began to laugh before getting into the car, sinking into the plush leather and surveying the elderly, and some surprised, faces around her. The oldest, a slightly built man dressed in a simple dark suit that clashed heavily with the large gold hoops hanging from each ear, grinned back at her.
“It went well then, I see,” and when she laughed a little more he added, “so tell us what you did to this little man so we may laugh along with you!”
“First, first, I told him my name was Chovani,” she laughed more, “then, wait for this one, I told him I would call him Armandino!” Some had laughed at the first name but all of the men broke into laughter at the second.
“You jest child?” asked one of the other men, also dressed plainly but he too adorned with somewhat smaller hoop earrings.
“No, no jest, and I thought he was supposed to be worldly and clever but he couldn’t see past my beautiful face … men!” She spat the last word savagely and silenced the laughter. She grinned but not the smile Luigi had seen, this time there appeared to be too many teeth, not beautifully full as he had seen but sharpened, pointed like the teeth of a shark. “Then I told him the truth, I told him who I really was, I told him my name was Borsaki and do you think that idiot noticed? NO, he was still far too enraptured in his appointed task, too sad that the beauty in front of him was leaving.”
“What if he is aware of the Romani folk?” another asked the elder.
The old man turned his eyes to the woman. “Yes, so you tell this man you are a witch, a good witch, then you use the name of a cursed one to address him, and you leave after telling him you are in fact an evil witch! What if he does know the Romani and works it out? He will not make the Trishul if he knows.” His voice gathered volume as he spoke and he pointed fixedly, accusingly, at the woman, with a single gnarled finger.
She laughed out loud, again, slapping her thigh in glee at their combined looks of shock. “Because I gave him the Solax to engrave onto the handle and he did not recognise the old speech. When he completes the engraving he will be putting a hex on himself, a curse that will see him dead within minutes, or hours, or days if he is extremely careful. But you tell me, how soon before a blade maker draws blood, mayhap when he shaves in the morning?” her laughing increased and the men in the car nodded their approval and laughed along with her. “It will end his blood line forevermore, justice finally after his family effected the deaths of hundreds of ours.”
The limo departed with its laughing occupants, leaving behind a reflective Luigi, upstairs in his apartment thinking of the woman who had come into his life so abruptly. Maybe, just maybe there is a chance for me to have a family, a heir, he was thinking. He picked up the telephone and called his special metals supplier again, this time he wanted a special express delivery. He was going to make sure this job was so exquisite she would drop dead at his feet in gratitude …..
============== THE END ===============
W156 That’s not ‘extreme’. That’s just stupid!
FINE DINING
Ever have one of those days, you know, the type of day that you wish you never got out of bed? Everybody has them, occasionally, some more than others, and for those who get out of the wrong side of bed on one of those days, it can be catastrophic, life defining, or life ending. Eve, Tom and Jerry shared one of those days together. The three close friends suffered at the hands of fate, a hand obviously dealt with the greatest amount of malicious intent with the aim of delivering the most brutal torment imaginable.
Eve slept in, her alarm inexplicably not working even though it had done so religiously for the past three months. She tripped over the cat (black of course) hurrying to the bathroom, chipped a tooth when she collided with the partially open door then in her half stupor, sat down on the toilet and began her business having forgotten to put up the lid. The warmth from her nether regions, not to mention the smell, performed the function that her alarm clock didn’t and she truly came awake quickly, jumping up and swivelling quickly to witness her stupidity. She cursed to the heavens with all her petite frame could muster but quickly realised there was something worse happening … she’d also forgotten to lower her panties. She didn’t believe for a second that her day could get any worse, however, this was just a prelude of what was to come!
Tom was always early to work, always. His nickname at work was ‘Early-Tom’