“Where is it, Rignar?” Hanan slammed his fist against the wall next to the clerk’s head. He had come to collect a parcel that, as he discovered, still hadn’t arrived.
Candles flickered in the wall sconces from a cold draft as someone entered the store, bells dinging overhead. Feeling eyes upon him at the sound of a hoarse cough, he glanced over his shoulder through the door to the front of the small chemist’s shop. One man stood absorbed reading the labels on the various vials and containers on the shelves, while an elderly gentleman waited for service at the little counter, trying to avoid eye contact.
Quickly flinging the door to the backroom shut with his boot for privacy, Hanan then grabbed the shop owner by the collar with both fists and pulled him close. Towering a full foot over him, he continued through clenched teeth, holding him locked in a fearsome stare. “I’m tired of delays and fed up with your excuses, old man. Where’s the package?!”
“It… It’s coming, sir. I swear it’s on its way,” blurted the terrified shopkeeper before carrying on in a quick stream of explanations. “It’s the snow… been snowing for days. Well, you know that.” His last word finished in a gurgled squawk as Hanan tightening his grip and lifted him off of his feet, but he somehow found the courage to go on. “The mountain pass, you see... deliveries have slowed right down, sir. Some aren’t even getting through. Please... Please sir,” he begged, “your package has been ordered and should arrive any time now.” Held aloft, nose-to-nose with Hanan, the little man reached up with a shaking hand trying to adjust his slipping spectacles. “I’ve had word the Svelgevar team broke through the heaviest patch and should make it within hours. I promise, sir. I’ll deliver it directly to you as soon as it arrives.”
Hanan continued his cold glare, until finally exhaling in a short, heavy sigh. “Fine,” he grunted, releasing the man with a menacing sneer. “…but I’ll be expecting a discounted price on it now.” He added, as the clerk fell with a thud.
“Y-yes, sir. Of course, sir,” the shopkeeper promised, smoothing his shirt and rubbing his throat. “You shall have it. Your bill will be adjusted handsomely.”
The sound of gunshots suddenly rang out, followed by loud crackling and popping. Both men turned immediately towards the grimy little window, spotting the bright coloured flashes and lingering glow of small ground fireworks outside.
Hanan narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw as cheers roared up from the streets. He just wanted to get back to the festival… and back to business.
Turning his attention again to the clerk, he reached inside his coat to his shirt pocket. “Here,” he nodded at the small man looking up at him from the floor, “and while you’re at it, track these down too.” Absently tossing a folded piece of paper at him, Hanan turned and swiftly left the shop, through the chime of the tiny tingling bells.
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