There was a knock at the door. Rizx opened it, staring up at a bewildered human.
"Uh, delivery for the Wizard Strihagan?" he asked.
"I am 'is servant," Rizx said, bowing her head. "'ow may I be of service?"
"I have two crates of brandy... Where do you want it?"
"Yes, my master spoke of this. He owes you 24 silver groats?"
"Twenty-five," the man corrected, grinning.
"Oh, I am sorry ta 'ear that," Rizx sighs. "Gave me only twenty-four groats, 'e did. I will 'ave ta refuse delivery."
"Eh? You can't..."
"If 'e owes you twenty-five and I've only got twenty-four," Rizx says, shaking her tiny head, "I cannae pay you. Good day, sir."

As she started to close the door, the man put his hand out to stop it. "Twenty-four groats, I'll take it."
"Sir, I cannae expect you ta take a loss...."
"No loss!" he said, gritting his teeth as he carried the first crate in.

After the man had taken the twenty-four groats they'd contracted for and left, Rizx allowed a small smile to creep on her face. It was uncomfortable and vanished quickly.

"Right," she said, pushing back her sleeves and began her hex. The crates began to shiver, then shrunk until the were the size of dice. Scooping them up, she put them inside her carpet bag where dozens of other tiny crates waited within.

She picked up her cup of lukewarm Glee and stared at it.

"I donnae know what you've got me into, Mr. Wolf, but I'm signed up fer it. Why does that 'alf-elf with all da children keep wavin' at me, do you think?" she sighs, taking a sip.