A few months later...

The Three Pigs Tavern was a rundown, spit-and-sawdust establishment in the centre of the bustling Pixie Village. As grotty as it was, the pixies were Hex's best clients. 

Mud from the narrow dirt streets splattered the sorcerer's once spotless black boots and extremely expensive cloak. This had better be worth the effort. 

Hex opened the heavy oak door and stepped inside the dimly lit tavern. The pub smelt of smoke, stale ale and mutton stew. Its peeling walls and threadbare rugs added to the dreary atmosphere. Hex surveyed the premises, checking for danger. Once satisfied that the few intoxicated pixies loitering by the bar, and the old leprechaun supping on Pixie Brew, presented no real threat, he headed for his usual table, next to the crackling fire. The weather had turned cold, and Hex's hands were frozen. He pulled a stool in front of the fire and sat and waited.

Five minutes later, the landlord approached, carrying two pewter tankards. He handed one to Hex and sat beside the sorcerer. 

"Hello Bob, do you have my money?" Hex asked, trying not to notice the missing buttons and food stains that covered Robert's off-white shirt. Hex hated slovenly appearances.

"Hex... I tried... but business is slow, and my rent is high." Beads of sweat glistened on Bob's forehead. 

"That is not my concern. You knew the terms of our agreement. For a love spell, you owe me one thousand fairy marks. That is a fair price for such valuable magic."

Bob squirmed nervously on his stool. "I know, you're right. And I'm grateful for your help." Bob's gaze drifted to where his new bride, Bessie, cleared tables and chatted happily with the drunk pixies. "Please, Hex, give me more time. In two months, I'll have enough to pay you."

"That will increase the interest you owe me. I am not a charity, Bob." Hex calculated how much Bob would owe him. Two months' interest was worth the wait or... he could vaporise Bob as a warning to others who defaulted on their agreements.

Bob scratched his stubbly chin. "What if I knew how to repay my debt?"

Intrigued, Hex asked, "What is this you speak of?"

"A week ago, a goblin flew into town on the back of a dragon. Dressed in fine clothes with pockets full of coins, the goblin asked if I knew of any roofers willing to work at short notice."

"And?" Hex sipped from his tankard.

"I said no. Roofers are like hen's teeth."

Hex slammed down his drink and frowned at Bob. Was this pixie toying with him? "Be careful, Bob," Hex warned.

"Sorry... He stayed here, drinking, and he became more talkative. His loose lips betrayed a secret I have not repeated to a single soul."

"What secret?" Magic flickered between Hex's fingertips, and darkness wrapped around them to conceal what Bob said next.

"He had found a Gem Maker."

"Impossible!" Hex yelled. "They're extinct."

Bob nodded. "That's what I said. But when he pulled fistfuls of diamonds from his tunic pockets, I believed him. No mere goblin would own so many precious stones."

Hex's foot tapped as he considered what he'd heard. Was it possible? Was there a living Gem Maker? Could he find it? Could he steal it?

"What was this goblin's name?"

"Giggleton... he said his name was Giggleton."

Hex rose from his stool. Towering above Bob, he hissed, "Tell no one about this, and if what you say is true, I will forgive your debt, and we are even."

Bob sighed with relief, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his brow. "Thank you."

"But if you are mistaken, I will take back the love spell and everything you own."

And with those words, Hex left the tavern to return home.

*

Back at Rune House...

Hex arrived home with no time to waste. He had a Gem Maker to steal, and as the worthless goblin, Giggleton, liked to brag, it wouldn't be long before others heard.

"Pickles!" Hex shouted as he stormed from the hall to his alchemy room. His muddy boots squeaked on the stone floor and candles flickered as he rushed by. "Get here!"

To Hex's surprise, Pickles was already there.

"There you are. What are you doing?"

Pickles frowned at his employer. And with a wave of his feather duster, he said, "I'm cleaning."

"That makes a change." Hex set about packing lotions and potions into a leather bag. Not sure what to take, he chose spells to hinder, help and confuse.

"Going somewhere?" Pickles asked, dusting the marble mantlepiece and rearranging the china ornaments.

"We're going on a trip." Satisfied he had covered all eventualities; Hex buckled his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Pickles stopped dusting. "I can't possibly go. I have far too much work here."

"Nonsense." Hex strode to the door and added, "I'm not asking, Pickles. We leave in one hour."

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