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The way to the cave had become familiar to Vairgar, and he made quick work of getting there. The sooner he got this over with the better. As he walked up what he knew was the last hill before the cave, he smelled something strange in the air. It was a mixture of smells, so many things blending together that Vairgar couldn't pick out just one. The old man had always kept a pungent place, but this smell was new to Vairgar. As he approached the mouth of the cave he saw green smoke billowing out into the clear air. It crept along the roof of the cave, sweeping around stalactites and then floating up and dissipating into the white clouds above. The further into the cave he went the worse the smell became, until he finally tucked his nose inside of his shirt.
"Fezdon, are you in here? Fezdon, do you hear me?"
He would often call out before coming upon the old man, in an attempt to not startle him; but it never worked. Every time Vairgar found the old badger, he was deep in thought, pondering over his boiling cauldron. Vairgar always had to get right next to him and tap him on the shoulder, as he did now. The wrinkled mad man jumped. It always made him jump, but there was nothing to be done about it.
"Oh, hello my boy. I didn't see you there."
"You never do," Vairgar said.
"Ha ha, I'm sorry. So is it that time again? Have you come to get your spices?"
"Yes, something like that," Vairgar said. He looked down into the massive cauldron boiling with green goo, and then to Fezdon. Fezdon’s shirt was flecked and smeared with the stuff, as was the ground around them. Vairgar backed away from the cauldron, barely avoiding the splash of a big bursting bubble.
"I'm sorry about the mess. Here, I'll go get your spices," said Fezdon. "I just finished packing it up for you a couple days ago."
"Here, take this with you," Vairgar said. He handed him the pot of stew.
"Oh, thank you. This will be very nice. Yes, it has been some time since I have eaten anything with a good taste to it.”
Fezdon took the pot and walked back to a homemade table covered in glass vials and dusty boxes. As he placed the pot on the table, Vairgar began to think. If he didn't ask the old man what Helsa had sent him here for, she would nag him without end until he came back to do it. There was no way around it.
The old man came back with many spices wrapped in cloth and bound at the end with a rope. Vairgar swung it over his shoulder and said, "Thank you. Now, I'm sure that you can do nothing to help us, but your niece wanted me to ask something of you."
"Yes?"
"Well, you see, there hasn't been anyone visiting the castle in many days. We have sold no stew in all this time. Helsa was wondering if you had anything that could somehow help us sell our stew. I don't see how a potion could possibly do that, when there's no one around to buy it from us, but I told her I would ask you."
"Ah yes, I see. Well, I think I've got something that will help your situation."
He walked back to the table, and rummaged around underneath it until he produced a slender glass vial. It was filled to the brim with some sort of black powder, very thin like sand, and capped off at the top with a cork. He walked back and handed it to Vairgar.
"Yes, sprinkle just a pinch of this in each batch of your stew. Since you'll only need a pinch, it should last you a couple of years."
"Ok, what does it do?"
"Well, like you said I don't know why there's no one coming to the castle, but this should lure people to you, even from great distances. It was first produced by a great wizard who worked for a king in the market of conquering. It was meant for a war tactic of retreating. You see their forces had been met by those of another kingdom, and they were being over powered. They had to retreat, but were losing men by the hundreds. The wizard made up this powder, and a sprinkle of it will make the smell of your food travel very far. People for miles will be able to smell your stew. The soldiers used it so their enemies would think that they were much closer upon their trail. If their pursuers thought that they could smell the camp just over the next hill, they would not chase after them with as much vigor. It allowed them to escape."
"I see. So people will be able to smell our stew from far off? I suppose that might bring a customer or two from the village, but . . .”
"There is more my boy. There is something else which I have added myself to this fine powder. It makes the person who comes upon the enhanced smell pine greatly for whatever the powder has been added to."
"Really?"
"Yes, but that is not all. Something else which is from the original recipe is that the powder has a very strong health enhancer. It was made to put in the soldiers' food anyway, so the wizard gave it restorative power. Any sick person who eats the stew, you have sprinkled that into," he pointed to vial, "will get better right away. All of this should help you sell more stew," the wizard said crossing his arms with pride.
"Alright, well, thank you. I had better get going so I can return in time for supper."
"Yes, Helsa is not a woman you want to keep waiting."
They shared a short laugh.
"Yes, well, thank you."
"You are most welcome. I will go eat the stew you have brought me before it grows cold. It never tastes the same if I've used a potion to restore its temperature. Safe journeys."
"Thank you," said Vairgar as he pulled the sac of spices off of his shoulder. He opened it and put the small vial of powder inside, then slung it back over his shoulder and headed out of the cave. He was thankful for the fresh air as he escaped the dark pungent cavern.