《The Slime Farmer》


 Chapter 1: Desislaf Rimet (1 of 3)

    Chapter 1: Desif Rimet (1 of 3)

    Desif Rimet, eleventh son of the lord of Rimet, drowned in anger and despair. He stared unseeing at the package on the greeting room table. Its fine hemp wrappingy torn apart without abandon, but the enthusiastic hands that had eagerly opened the delivered parcel nowy spiritless on the polished tabletop.

    "Young Desif," the servant who had paused at the sight of the listless young noble finally spoke. But apart from the greeting, he did not seem to know what to say.

    Worried he may be, but what ve would so familiarly insert themselves into a master''s business without invitation? He could only make himself known, so that the young man would call upon him as needed.

    A sun-tanned hand lifted from the yellow teak table and lifted a piece of paper from the midst of the parcel. A head full of dark curled locks lifted, showing red-rimmed eyes openly with ack of care to who might see -- a shamelessness brought about by deep despondency.

    The young noble desultorily waved the letter about and forced a smile. "Ah, Garun. Look at the news, it appears my father has all but disowned me."

    The servant hesitated. "Young sir"

    He stopped his words and instead quickly poured a cup of cold young wine for the mncholy youth. Desif only sipped at it half-heartedly.

    "He wrote the words ''your mother''s son'' as apliment andpared me unfavorably to such an ideal. What a wretched child I am, to have failed not one parent but two."

    The servant straightened and his features fell into thin-lipped anger, a cold rage the average servant would never dare show. "If I may, the lord only knew the Lady Emuti for her beauty. He did not stay long enough to know her thoughts or her heart. You are your mother''s son, and there was none who could outshine her pride in you."

    The young lord let a sigh cross his lips and his countenance briefly lightened.

    They had known each other for many years, for Garun was his mother''s friend. Desif had grown used to the man''s defense of his mother Emuti, sixth wife of the Lord Rimet, celebrated beauty, and former ve.

    His mother and the servant Garun met when thend Desif now lived on was beneficed upon his mother by his father when she bore him a son.

    Back then, she had called him Defi. He liked it better than Desif.

    It was a bittersweet thing, this gift ofnd that Defi only returned to when he failed the Sacred Trials two years ago.

    The Sacred Trial was offered to all Current-adepts with aspirations to be warrior-priests, the defenders and leaders of the nation. The Current, the power of the Creator that flowed through the whole of the living world, would ept no less than the best to defend those that lived within the Creator''s protection.

    "And have we not established that I am not a good spice farmer?"

    "Your beginnings may have been rough but in these two years you have learned the pulse of thend."

    Defi looked away, ashamed of his behavior of two years ago. He changed the subject.

    "Do you remember the announcement that the quota on farm produce had been raised?" It hade during the harvest, three months ago.

    The question startled Garun by its suddenness but he answered readily. "Of course. It seems like ckspice has gained poprity beyond the Egrenua Gate. The city beyond Egrenua is consuming it by the rate of a hundredweight a day and they''re paying its weight in gold. The lord Rimet seeks a simr profit, but wishes to introduce whitespice."

    "To have a product rarer and selling more dearly than Egrenua, I suppose," Defi surmised moodily.

    Garun was referring to the dimensional gates that connected the kingdom of Ontrea to the Otherworld. They were often called the World Gates.

    There were three gates in the kingdom of Ontrea, guarded by powerful lords beholden only to the king. Thends of Rimet, Egrenua, and Terium all held a Gate, and the lords of thosends were made powerful and wealthy by themerce that flowed between the worlds.

    The Rimet Gate and the Egrenua Gate both devolved into the same country on the other side, and were subsequent rivals for trade treaties and travel ess.

    Ascharon! cried the merchant retainers of Rimet, those who were allowed to cross the Gate. Land of wonder and mystery!

    But the Egrenua Gate opened near a city and the Rimet Gate to a mining town that was essed only by a river. Even if it was a gold mining town, the ease of travel of the two Gates was different, and that meant preferential trade treaties went to Egrenua.

    Defi''s father always fumed because the Lord Egrenua always gleefully threw this one fact into conversation as much as he could. His lone rebuttal was ''Rimet is known for its warriors, not its money-grubbing'' even as he fought as hard for those treaties as he did for glory on the battlefield.

    Perhaps that was why he was so invested in his children bing warriors.

    Tradition and politics.

    Defi hated politics when politics said his mother, because she used to be a ve, was inherently less than his father''s other wives. He disliked the tradition that said he was not allowed to see her from the age of ten until the age of sixteen.

    He did not even have that anticipated sixteenth year. She died when he was fourteen and he could only watch as her body burned to free her soul to the Three Heavens.

    A suspicion grew in the servant''s mind. "Young lord, could it be thatthey assessed your spice at the new quota?"

    When the young noble onlyughed humorlessly, Garun''s face darkened. "It cannot be. Raising the quota near harvest timeit is understood that it applies to the next season! We sent in more than enough to double the regr quota. Young sir, the profit"

    The farms belonging directly to the Rimet family, whether leased to family members or retainers, had a standard amount of its produce taxed to the lord''s coffers; the quota.

    Defi''s mother was given a family farm as a benefice and consistently was one of the top producers of ckspice in the family because her talent in the Current leaned toward gardening.

    It was that same farm that was granted to Defi as a leasehold after his mother died. After he failed the Trials, he was granted additional farnd at the borders of the property. Some may say it was a sign of his father''s favor but to Defi, it was the lord of Rimet saying he would not amount to much more than a farmer.

    The implied insult had angered Defi and it had taken months to work through that anger. By now, Defi knew his father''s ways well.

    "My father has spoken. In his eyes, I sent in barely more than themon standard. By his standard, I have once more failed. He did not agree to my entry into this year''s Trials, seeing the failures I have already incurred."

    Garun''s jaw tightened in silent anger at those who put the misery in the young man''s voice. He spoke encouragement. "We still have the northern fields. We could harvest the berries for ckspice. It''s not as valuable as the white but it is now bought at seven silver coins per half-pound from farmers. Other condiments, the chillies, even the price of the cheapest lemongrass has risen."

    "No," Defi said, defeat rife in his tone. "The lord of Rimet proims; he does not negotiate, especially not with failed sons. There is no changing this. Besides, we both know the quality of the northern fields is poorer than most."

    The Creator gave them the world to live in and gifted them the Current to help preserve it. This was the first teaching of the Church and even five-year-olds could recite it.

    It was known that the Current responded to will. In his anger, while using the Current as he farmed, he had tainted thend in the northern fields and caused its fertility to wither.

    He was so ashamed that he did not uproot the nts that grew there, leaving them as a reminder of his thoughtless actions. Instead, he sought to remove the taint through proper use of the Current. It was a long and tiring process, but he had learned much since then.

    Those who did the world ill were punished. Now, Defi was seeing the consequences of his anger and rashness. He felt a frisson of shame course through him. What would he do now?

    Should he have rented after he came to his sensesst year? He shook his head. It would''ve been a waste of money to uproot the mature bushes and rece them. He was not one to smooth out his mistakes with gold.

    The profit of a spice farmer was one of the highest in the kingdom, but the spice bushes needed quite a bit of investment in the early stages off growth. Even now, they needed to borrow from the agricultural council to nt new seedlings next year.

    The produce they sent in, at the present quota, would have given them enough gold to pay the debts and nurture the seedlings with the best fertilizers and the best shelters.

    Now, even if they dug into the gold reserved for unexpected cmities they had barely enough to get the seed-houses ready and rent the old fields.

    "Should we open more fields for the next harvest?"

    "Open more fields?" Defi lifted his head. Opening more fields meant petitioning the lord of thend for expansion, in addition to thend already granted. His eyes sparked, and suddenly his despondentnguidness was as if never there. "That is tantamount to giving up. It will not happen."

    "Then what are we going to do?"

    "If father will not enter me into the Trials, then I''ll enter myself. The Temple only requires that the candidate have understanding of the Current and an age not past their neenth year. The ritual cleansing is expensive but even without edging into farm funds, my personal savings are enough. Once I pass the Trials, the reward will be sufficient for the farm to expand."

    As a fully-fledged warrior-priest, he would have other duties of course, and the farm management would be left to Garun as overseer.

    He thumped his fist on the table repeatedly, thinking furiously. Was it proper of a noble, to be this desperate for coin?

    The package on the table contained twenty fingers of gold from his eldest sister and a still unopened box from his eldest brother but with the letter that came with it, it felt distasteful to use the contents.

    "Young lord, perhaps we should wait until next year''s harvest? There is no need to use your own gold."

    That was to say, even his farm overseer knew how little Defi had, even as a son of Rimet''s lord. This was one of the reasons he had taken his hands, the hands of a born noble, to farming. He had to; the farm was his only source of ie apart from the allowance given to all the lord''s children.

    Defi stood abruptly at that embarrassment, defiant and determined. "Garun. This year, I will enter the trials, and this year, I will pass them. I will bet everything. There is no room for failure, therefore I will seed."

    "For your father?"

    Defi shook his head, a single vehement motion. "I am eighteen, fully adult. I have begged enough, only to be refused. To give him this victory will only see it useless; it will not raise my worth in my father''s eyes. I will do this for my own advancement."

    Garun looked at his young master, his friend''s only child, his charge. Feelings of pride and worry suffused his heart.

    My friend, he thought, your son has grown.

 Chapter 2: Desislaf Rimet (2 of 3)

    Chapter 2: Desif Rimet (2 of 3)

    "Young one," a voice called as Defi entered the Church. "I had hoped to see you again in these halls."

    "Lecturer Casmiref," Defi bowed politely to one who had been his teacher for the six years since he entered the capital. "I am d to see you well."

    Casmiref smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling pleasantly. He stroked his bushy gray beard. "Here for the trials then? Straight to the Hall and no ns to see your old teachers? For shame. Maryiz has been grumbling for loneliness since you left."

    "I had hoped to seed first, and visit after. I hope she is well also." He was unsure they would receive him after his abominable performance two years ago. He was happy that it seemed not to be the case.

    "Hah, that old hag is a devouring river. She''ll outlive us all, to the unfortunate luck of the future striplings thate after you." The Lecturerughed. "Come then,e. I am watching today, hm?"

    Defi decided it was best to address thetterments rather than the former. "Thank you, lecturer. Your faith inspires me."

    "Tsk. Ever the polite lordling. Come, Desif. We shall see what you have learned these past two years."

    The words were ominous.

    Defi felt a sudden chill. He nced at the man.

    Oh no.

    It was never a good idea to test the teachers when they looked more mischievous than first-year students.

    *

    *

    The Sacred Trial was a test of philosophy and battle prowess. Both were needed to be a leader of the people, to protect thend, and to ensure the future of Ontrea.

    Philosophy came easily to Defi, who was normally so exhausted by using the Current to heal the farm that he could not lift a training sword, when all he could do was read the ssics.

    "Why must a person act?"

    "A person must act to prove character, else purpose is lost, and action meaningless. To act is to exist in the world. To act with impable character is to honor the Creator."

    The questions were rote and the answers were words he had mouthed over and over to different teachers. The lecturer asking the questions, someone he''d never met before, nodded to him.

    "A person hasmitted violence upon another. How does one act?"

    "If one acts ording to one''s character, the situation does not matter. If one''s character is of poor quality, then one''s purpose is low. If one''s character is of good quality, then one''s purpose is to the benefit of the most people. However, a person of good character must also strive to act ording to thews of thend. If one acts ording to thews, then the situation would affect the purpose inherent in the act."

    "Do you mean thews of thend are in conflict with the character of a good person?"

    Defi paused. That wasn''t precisely a rote question.

    "The fighting arenas are not in conflict with thews of thend. It is possible that an act ofbat may stem from malice, therefore creating violence. A person who is of good character prevents violence, but should that person jump on into the arena to stop the onemitting violence then they would be detained by the guards and charged with causing a disturbance among the poption. Unless the personmitting violence is lost to murderous impulse, then in this situation thews of thend prevent an act of good character."

    "Should a person of good character not act when witnessing violencemitted upon another?"

    "A person of good character must always strive against violence. But to not act is also an act that may prove character. To not act in a situation where to act would escte violence, or in a situation in which the act does not result in the good of the most number of people, is an act of good character. Should a person wish to stop the violence in the arena, then it is possible for one to not act in the situation of the arena but instead move to change thews that allow the arena to exist."

    There was a subtle frown on the lecturer''s face, but he only nodded and moved to the next question.

    Defi nced at Casmiref but the old man''s face was neutral, as were the other lecturers that hade to watch the tests, until he caught Defi''s eye and winked.

    Defi''s nerves settled.

    The test ended with no other urrences of note, and Defi yielded the room to the next trial-taker with relief.

    "Half-ve, it appears you are here," sneered one of the other trial-takers. "It appears that once more, proper nobles have to suffer your presence."

    Defi turned, all emotion taken from his face. "I am my mother''s son, f of Maren," he said. "and merely a splitting of my father''s line."

    f''s face turned ugly, and there were a few hidden smiles among the other youths. Defi did not let himself rx in the small victory  these were the people that smiled at him being called half-ve and while they may not join the taunting, they did nothing to stop it.

    He moved past f. The next test was on the sword dance, then on tactics and strategy, after that the sword duels. He needed to prepare.

    "Do you think you will win here, whoreson?" the other all but howled. "You will never be a warrior of this Church!"

    It took all that Defi had to not scream insults and break the other''s face for the insult to his mother. His mother had been a freed ve - this was fact and to call him half-ve was a truism; it was nothing. But to directly offend his dead mother''s honor in this way?

    He took a moment to chill the rage in him. To be of the Current was to let the pettiness of the world wash away. To be a noble and a warrior-priest was to be a leader and an inspiration who must not falter or fall to childish bickering.

    He had already been toeing the line, referencing the shame of the current line of Maren: they were only a few hundred years descended from unsuitable ancestors only elevated because the rest of the proper family died.

    In the noble society of Ontrea, the prestige of the ancestors was important. Maren was a name millenia in the making, but so were other names.

    He forced the corners of his lips to rise, and it caused f to pause. "Perhaps not," he said lightly. "And of yourself?"

    f lunged and Defi''s smile turned a little more real, a little more pointed.

    f had lostposure, and everyone knew that the lecturers had spies in the waiting area.

    He had to evade the other''s hands once before the rest of the trial-takers took action and restrained him. He looked at f, straining to get free, and silently turned on his heel and left.

    The animosity the boy had for him was longstanding. Defi was not now certain where it came from, only that he held the same animosity since the first year he''d been sent to learn at the Church. It was eight years ago, and now it felt like a lifetime.

    Had two years on a farm, away from the capital city and the society of nobles, truly changed him this much?

    f had been his counterpart for the duels during thest Trials, and their animosity had colored their use of the Current. Their duel had been halted and they failed the Trials in disgrace.

    Defi took a deep breath. The Trials emphasized character and control of self, wisdom and honorable conduct. He had spent two years preparing for this. The six years before that were prologue. Failing the Trials had ripped away boyish assumptions and left truths in their ce.

    The toxic rivalry between them now seemed illogical. He would not be held to it any longer.

    This was the beginning of the rest of his life.

    *

    *

    The tests went as expected, and with someone not f as opponent during the duels, he was positive about his results.

    It appeared his old teachers were too. Was this perhaps too much faith, he asked the universe dryly.

    "The results cannot have been debated this early, lecturer," Defi reminded Casmiref.

    "I have spoken to each of the testing lecturers. They all spoke well of you. Eh, but for that one snag where Ivarofined you were disrespectful and halfway inciting rebellion, but of course he''s just a stickler for reciting the faff in the books."

    "Disrespectful? Rebellion?" Defi''s face was all horror. "Lecturer, I never "

    Casmiref waved his concern away. "Of course not. But he just went on and on."

    "What, what words could I have said that made him think that?" Defi frantically went over the whole day.

    "The ones where you implied that the fighting arenas still stood because of ack of goodness in the character of all who came before, as they watched and did nothing to remove them, not speaking of course of the one whosews allowed the fighting arenas in the first ce."

    Ivarof, Defi now knew, was the one who facilitated the philosophy test. And the one who made thews was...

    He paled even more. "I didn''t"

    "I know that, Ivarof knows that. You just stung him a little. The stiff deserves a little sting now and then, the rule-bound young fool. He''ll get over it."

    Defi was unconvinced. The philosophy score took the greatest percentage of the Trial grading. He could not afford to falter even a little, as his tactics were book-learned and unpolished while his sword dance had deteriorated a little in thest two years.

    "Nonsense," said Casmiref, when Defi voiced his concerns. "Your sword dances were beautiful, every movement full of power. Perhapscking in refinement and you should work on the stances of the twelfth and fourteenth forms but it was more advanced in character than the average student of this Hall. Your tactics were correct in essence and some of your insight surprised Romer. You did well. If Ivarof fails you, then he is truly a fool."

    "Then why did he call for me?"

    "That, I wish to know. He called for me as well."

    They neared the lecturer''s Hall and heard voices. Defi stopped in his tracks.

    "Odd," said Casmiref. "Ivarof is usually more discerning of proper social timing than this."

    "That," forced out Defi quietly. "is my father''s voice."

    "Oh?" Casmiref perked up. He tiptoed exaggeratedly to the door, and gleefully put his ear to the wood. "How fortuitous. We must "

    The yfulness fell from his face. He straightened, grabbed Defi''s arm and pulled him away. "Come."

    "Lecturer?" Defi was confused by the sudden turn in the old man''s demeanor.

    "Where was it?" muttered Casmiref. "Ah."

    He tugged Defi behind a pir and up a stair he never knew about. The stair curved and at intervals along the curve, the old man stopped and put his ear to the stone briefly.

    Defi let himself be dragged along patiently.

    The old man looked angered  Defi was certain his teacher would exin or else he wouldn''t have brought him. Probably.

    Then the lecturer stopped altogether. He listened at the stone grimly, then waved for Defi to do the same.

    He raised his brows. This was not honorable behavior.

    The lecturer lifted one brow in return. In the doing of a crime, one must implicate all witnesses. He grabbed Defi by the cor and pressed his head insistently to the wall.

    "...understand my concerns." His father''s voice came clearly.

    Defi paused to regret all the times he could have eavesdropped on the lecturers'' Hall if only he had known of this stair during his time in the learning halls.

    "I do, I merely question why such concerns would be the purview of the Church." That was Lecturer Ivarof.

    There was a weighted silence before the lord of Rimet spoke, words measured. "He looks naught like a Rimet."

    Defi''s stomach dropped to the vicinity of his ankles.

    He could not even look up when a new voice intruded, close behind him, female and the tone nearly as grumpy as Casmiref''s.

    "Well, isn''t that a shock."

    **

    **

 Chapter 3: Desislaf Rimet (3 of 3)

    Chapter 3: Desif Rimet (3 of 3)

    "Maryiz, he''s not responding. Do you think I should p him?"

    "Do it and answer to me, Casmiref."

    Defi only faintly heard his teachers'' conversation. He could not believe it. His father was not his father and, Defi not his son, had arranged to get his Trial scores revoked.

    His father had no ns to ever announce Defi as his son, to present him to the court of Rimet.

    Why

    Why?

    Warmlyforting hands, slightly rough with the calluses of the schr, cupped his cheeks. "Little one, listen. I was born to the name of Rimet. And I can already say that your coward of a father lied."

    Defi blinked to awareness, because it was his mentor speaking. What was she saying?

    The lecturer Maryiz smiled at the life flickering back into the boy''s eyes. "I was born to the name of Rimet," she said again. "And do you not see?"

    See?

    He stared at her. She stared back, expectantly. His eyes roamed her aged face a long while, before he caught her meaning.

    They had the same nose.

    His eyes widened and sharpened. The same nose, the same shape of the lips, and the earshe lifted trembling hands to expose more of her earsyes, the same ears.

    His hands dropped, and tears fell down his cheeks. One of the foundations of his life still stood, but what was it worth when his own father did not wish to acknowledge him as a son?

    He tried to smile for her, this unknown rtive who had guided the years of Defi''s education sincerely.

    "Hush," she said. "We do not forceposure for family."

    He cried harder. If that was true then he never had any family since his mother died, for he had never felt less himself than in the presence of his father.

    She held him until he raised his head, tears spent. He spoke, choked out the words. "After this, you will not be able to im me as kin."

    His name would be taken from him, and his ce in the family. His father was powerful, and his word was thew of Rimet.

    Maryiz shook her head. "I imed you when you became my apprentice, and your father has no say in what apprentices I may take,moner or noble."

    "I thank you for it, grandmother. But I will not have you waste the best years of your life on a conflict against the lord."

    She sighed. "Am I not the adult?"

    "You are the person with more to lose than I."

    He knew she had other apprentices, and her work in the Church was important. She was not just a lecturer in the learning halls. If she went against the lord of Rimet, then all she had worked for would be affected.

    Her grip on him tightened. "You call me grandmother, then ask me not to act to defend my grandson from injusticemitted against him?"

    He could not sway her, he realized in dismay. His father was a ruthless man. No matter the influence Maryiz had, he was the lord of thends.

    He sought Casmiref''s burning gaze, pleading. "To not act is also to act."

    The old man twitched, then smirked darkly. "As you say, young one. What do you intend to do?"

    Defi closed his eyes, opened them with regret. He would be hounded his whole life. His father would not be content to let him fall to the farmer caste or to even lower castes.

    In entering the Trials he had defied the lord of Rimet, and that would not be forgiven.

    After this, he would be a stain on the name of Rimet, and the only way to wash out such a stain would be death.

    There was only one thing to do. "I must leave."

    "A logical answer, and a viable solution."

    "Casmiref!" There was a gasp of betrayal in the old woman''s voice.

    Her old friend stayed silent, standing by his words.

    Then she too, closed her eyes in pain.

    "You will not be happy here," she said, more to herself than to Defi. She opened her eyes. "You must hurry then, before the news gets out. You only have untilte morning tomorrow at the earliest."

    His father would use rumors. The fact that his coloring and eyes were all his snonder-blooded mother''s would seal the lies. Of all his siblings, he was the one with the most different looks, and the only one with the slightly paler skin and the dark eyes not native to Ontrea.

    Ontrea where people had eyes that shone as jewels and skin that shone as gold, was themonly heard refrain of other nations.

    Late morning tomorrow, that was the time he was running against.

    He looked around. They were in one of the abandoned rooms on the top level of the Church. It was likely the room the hidden stair was supposed to ess. He hadn''t even known he was moved.

    Deep golden red sunlight threw dark shadows inward from the outside, the patterns of the carved windows dancing darkly against the walls and floors.

    The sun was already setting.

    There was little time to prepare.

    A thought came to him. "Won''t Lecturer Ivarof be looking for us?"

    Casmiref chortled, unconcerned. "The man is sneakier than I thought."

    "What?"

    Maryiz shook her head. "Ivarof is a man of propriety. The chances that he would mistakenly schedule three meetings that ovep is negligible."

    The lecturer had nned for them to hear? Defi did not know whether to thank the man or curse him.

    "I''ll need coin," he turned his thoughts from his conflicted heart to more productive matters. "The lease on the farm was transferred to my name. I can sell it."

    He''ll have to decide what to leave behind and what to take with him as well. And then what to do with the ves on the farm. No, it was better not to tell them anything. They would have the protection of innocence.

    "Meet me tomorrow. I''ll have a buyer for you." Maryiz said it without hesitation.

    "No, lecturer. I have already taken too much of your goodwill."

    She huffed. "Nonsense. The patriarch of a family is its protector. If he can do this to one of his sons, do you think the other branches of the family would rest easy? Rimet is only the name of the ruling branch. Ten names are ministers, ten names are generals, ten names are given to the church. The family has many branches, and it is more than the name of Rimet."

    Defi smiled weakly, knelt before her. "Do not defy the lord for me, grandmother. I ask this of you, I beg it."

    She might be the only one of his blood who was willing to im him; he would not put her in his father''s sights.

    She patted his cheek. "Worry not about me. I will not challenge the lord directly. He will not see me."

    Her face wore resolution like armor and Defi would not move her. His shoulders slumped. "Be careful. Perhaps I shouldn''t leave? I would --"

    She smiled, and it was like the edge of a de suddenly bared in moonlight. "Do not stay for us, young one. We are old, and like our whims. The lord is shrewd and cunning, but do you think we survived so long because we are soft? Weakness kills in our family, child. Worry not."

    Casmiref leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "Why does one defy a patriarch, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom? For profit and entertainment, of course!"

    Maryiz stifled augh, and Defi had a dreadful thought.

    The people that taught in the church Halls were all insane.

    *

    *

    Defi jumped off Pale, his riding ox, and knocked on the door of the small house. He thanked providence that Garun had chosen to live nearby, away from the ve town. There were no witnesses.

    "My lord," Samti''s eyes widened when the door opened to reveal who was outside. She bowed.

    "Pack all that is important," he said to Garun''s wife without introduction. "Do it secretly and be ready to leave tomorrow before dawn."

    "My lord." Her back straightened and her eyes were suddenly of steel. There was a question in her words, nearly a demand. Not a tone the average ve would take before her masters.

    His lips twitched, despite the despair roiling in his heart. Of course Garun would marry someone like her.

    "By noon tomorrow, the news that I am not of the lord of Rimet''s line would have spread across the capital city. Garun is known to be Mother''s friend. You must leave this ce quickly."

    Her gaze sparked. "My lord. You are leaving?"

    "I am."

    "We areing with you."

    He opened his mouth to deter her.

    "My husband would agree with me."

    He closed his mouth. Garun had a way of being persuasive.

    "My lord, you cannot leave alone."

    "You have a child," he said, his final argument.

    "All the more reason."

    He shook his head, swallowed to wet his throat. "I am going beyond the Gate."

    It was a thought he had not even voiced to his teachers. It was too daunting a concept. Even he could not believe he''d said it.

    But she stared at him, this ve, this woman who had endured much much more than he likely ever could. "We will be ready in the morning, my lord."

    *

    Sure enough, when the next morning dawned, he found them waiting at his door.

    He stared at Garun silently, a tactic he had seen his father employ many times to intimidate people into exnations. Unfortunately, it did not work this time.

    The man smiled with equanimity. "Young lord, I hope you are well rested. We have long to journey this morn."

    Defi would be lying if he said he did not want thepany.

    The thought of passing through the Gate to the Otherworld was terrifying. "It is not the safest on the other side."

    "It will be fine. I was born in a vige just outside Ascharon, and lived there until my thirties. The dangers beyond the Gate, I remember."

    Defi choked in surprise. "Outsiders are not allowed past the Gate-markets."

    "All outsiders but ves."

    He stared at the man, then nodded once. In this, at least, he was certain of his actions. He would return Garun home, with his wife and daughter.

    It was something he could do for the man that had not abandoned him when his rage nearly destroyed the man''s livelihood.

    He caught up the travel pack, settling the straps on his shoulders. The few things he could not bear to go without were alreadyshed to Pale''s sides in bags and wooden chests.

    Garun had somehow found a donkey upon which sat his family.

    He shook his head. Garun was the farm overseer, and in charge of the rest of the ves. Defi should not be surprised that the man had his own transportation.

    Samti peered at him with amber eyes, their child, only months old, cradled to her chest.

    Defi smiled resignedly at her. They set out to the city.

    He set his eyes upon thend and found that he would regret to leave it. It was only a piece ofnd, not even truly belonging to him.

    The memories, he could take with him anywhere.

    Garun neared, almost hesitant, his voice low. "Young lord, I must tell you. There is no manner in which your mother would dishonor you or her husband."

    "I know. But my father will throw me away just the same."

    "Young lord, such a father is unworthy of such a son."

    He was silent a moment. "Do not say such things, Garun."

    "Yes, of course, young lord."

    They carried on in silence.

    In sight of the city, the sun now cleared the tops of the pale mountains in the east, Defi spoke. "Go ahead. There are arrangements I must yet make. If I do not catch you by mid-morning, then go through the Gate without me. Wait one day in the mining town before leaving."

    Garun contemted. "There is a small vige just past the mining town, if I recall. It would be safer to wait there. No one would speak of foreigners there."

    That sounded fine. He gave Garun the token that allowed ves to pass the Gate and return. In addition, a pouch of silver coin.

    Garun took both grimly. "I will see youter, young lord."

    It was a promise.

    Defi turned Pale toward the Church and clicked his tongue. This early in the morning, no respectable noble was on the streets. But there was always the chance of being recognized.

    He lifted his hood. Yesterday, he would never have worn such a thing.

    But this morn, he had left most of his clothes behind, his sword, and the tall regal hat that proimed his status to the world.

    There was no need for them now.

    He paused when Maryiz opened the door to Casmiref''s house, because he did not know his teachers were so intimate. He did not want to know.

    Casmiref saw his surprise.

    "I know," he grumbled. "All those years ago she turned down my suit, even breaking the contract between our families, and now she acts like a wife?" He patted Defi on the shoulder. "Women, eh?"

    "Stop corrupting him, Casmiref, and bring him here."

    Maryiz sat on a cushion across from an elderly man with pronounced Rimet features, the long face and the bright eyes, the curling ck hair still fighting against the grey. Defi knelt beside Maryiz and bowed.

    "You have the papers?"

    Defi bowed again, silent.

    Maryiz snorted in amusement. "This is Janef, the overseer of the familynds. Janef, my own Desif."

    The man looked amused. "Greetings, young one."

    "And to you, elder." Defi did not show his shock. He was the son of the lord and had never even met the overseer of the Rimet personalnds. How high in the family hierarchy was Maryiz?

    He put his lease papers on the low table. The man went through them, focused and sharp. He nodded, and pulled out a few pages from a box near him.

    "These are agreements indicating you sold the lease back to the family, one week ago, in preparation for your entry into the Trials. You only need sign them."

    Defi read them carefully. Then read them again. He sighed at himself when he paged through the papers a third time.

    There was no problem with the agreement. The terms were clear, there were no hidden uses, and thepensation was eptable for a farm the size of Defi''s.

    It was...just days ago, he was nning on expanding this farm - his mother''s farm.

    He took a breath and picked up the brush. There was no room here for sentimentality.

    He signed the papers, pressed his personal ebony seal into the wax at the bottom of the agreement.

    It was done.

    He felt like he had signed away more thannd.

    Janef silently collected the papers and bowed to them. "Aunt, I have been blessed once more by your presence, a thing I had hoped for since the day you left behind the name. Young one, I hope your venture goes well."

    He left behind a pouch of coin.

    Defi looked at Maryiz. "You left of your own ord?"

    To be born to the name of Rimet was to be a child or grandchild of the lord. It was prestige of the highest order. To leave the name was to be relegated into the branch families, a position that Defi cannot even im now.

    "She always says she was driven into a corner," grumped Casmiref. "Do I look like someone who would be so desperate?"

    "Old history," Maryiz waved away, but her eyes softened when she caught Defi''s uprehending look.

    "I was in love," she exined. "A love that took the whole of me, a love that I could not leave behind."

    "Fortunately she was contracted to me."

    "I have never been more fortunate," was the old woman''s dry retort.

    She turned back to Defi. "This old grump is really too soft-hearted, and allowed me to break the contract. My mother raged and my father took away my name."

    "Does it get better?" The gaping hole in the totality of what he once was. How does one evere to terms with it?

    "You get used to it. You find other people to fill the gap. Family is not only the name, child, not even only the blood." She took his hand, met his eyes. "This situation is no fault of yours. I acted, fully cognizant of the consequences. My father gained respect for his act. My child, you will lose your name and ce. But for this act, your father even now loses respect within the family."

    It soothed some of the rage in him, but not enough.

    Not enough to stay, not enough to forgive.

    He bowed low to his two teachers. "I have been honored by your regard all these years, and deeply apologize that I cannot return the kindness that you have bestowed on me. Forgive me this dishonor, you who have been teachers of this unworthy one, for I take my leave upon this day."

    "I have a duty to my students," Casmiref said, after a stunned silence. "There is no debt."

    He turned his back on them and left.

    "He does not like goodbyes," Maryiz scoffed fondly at the old man. She led Defi to the door. "You will honor me by seeking your own happiness, do you understand? A happiness that belongs to you and no one else."

    He met her eyes. "I have a request."

    "Speak it."

    She listened until the end.

    "You will have it," she said without hesitation.

    *

    *

    On the road out of the city, contemting the cool morning sun leaping between dewdrops, he mulled over her words.

    A happiness that belonged only to him

    When was thest time he had that?

    The words followed Defi out of his world and past the Gate, into another world.

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting on .

 Chapter 4: The Gate to Another World

    Chapter 4: The Gate to Another World

    Thends of Rimet were of a calm disposition, of ins and mildly rolling hills covered in verdant nature.

    This gentlendscape only emphasized the rough splendor of the World Gate.

    Built in monolithic stone, carved with symbols and figures arcane, rising high above the tallest trees, the monstrosity of a Gate dominated the area for miles and miles around it.

    Wars had been fought over it, thend around it drenched in the blood of battlefields.

    What right did it have to rest so easily upon this in of golden wheat that waved so purely in the innocent breeze?

    Defi studied it from the top of a hill, lips pressed together and chin lifted.

    "Young lord, is there something wrong?"

    He shook his head. "Nothing important, Garun."

    In truth, he was afraid.

    Nobles do not go beyond the Gate. Every noble child desiring of adventure had this maxim well entrenched into them from a young age. The adults spoke little of why and like every child, he imagined many monstrous things about the Gate as a result.

    He took a breath. By his father''s actions, he was noble no longer.

    The Gate was not a monster set to devour him, but the path to his freedom.

    "Are you sure I dressed properly?"

    "You look enough like a merchant of Rimet, young lord." Samti assured him. "Do not worry."

    "Call me lord no longer, both of you." It was not the first time he said it.

    "Of course, young...one."

    If there was one positive thing about not being presented to his father''s court, it would be that the retainers did not know his face.

    The Gate-markets wererge enough to be a town, street upon street piled high with the bounty of Rimet and the wonders of the otherworld  like the cloth and crystal apparatus that he used at the farm to clean his water, or the meless stove, but the most celebrated were the textiles that had many protections imbued on them.

    His father once sent his mother a durable waterproof cloak that never let the wearer get too cold or too hot. It was of the finest and softest weave. The colors did not run despite their vividness, unlike the fine cotton and woollen cloaks of Ontrea that faded with age. It was in one of his boxes, unused since his mother died.

    Still, he heard the Rimet Gate-market paled in splendor to the Egrenua Gate district. Another reason for his father to grit his teeth.

    The mule under him snorted, likely feeling his difort at the sight of the massive doorway to another world, the unnatural feeling in the air. He patted its neck. "Do not worry. We''ll be there soon and you can rest."

    He could not wait either. Riding a mule was very much different from thefort of a riding ox. Garun said that there were oxen on the other side, but not ones with the magnificence of the Ontrea riding ox.

    He had left Pale in the city, with the Church. The riding ox was too conspicuous to bring here. He''d bought mules and another donkey, to pass as a merchant to the other world.

    Nobles often sent their retainers through the gate in the hope of trading at better prices than the Gate-market. With the Rimet family token, they would not be stopped unduly.

    The market streets were lively, people haggling in low voices, in loud voices, in yelling even. This was truly a ce of business. Coin from beyond the Gate could be exchanged here, but in limited amounts. Some of the otherworld coins were bought as collector''s items.

    He would likely get a better exchange for Rimet gold on the other side.

    Defi headed directly for the Gate, leading them away from the Rimet guards spread around the town like raisins dotted along a dessert cake.

    This close, the thing hummed with energy, a low droning that resonated in the Current. He took deep breaths, feeling as if something were forcibly rooting around his guts with a stick.

    If he could be so diforted even with the sensitivity of a low adept, then could the masters who immersed themselves in the Current bear this?

    No wonder no noble crossed the Gate. To be noble was to know the Current.

    To go through this would be like being pummeled by andslide, with devils screaming into your ears.

    Defi wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

    It was noon, and the tongues of the capital should already be wagging. What scandal, what gossip, he thought bitterly, what entertainment for the masses.

    All for a man who would not acknowledge the son of a ve as his own?

    Why then did he marry Defi''s mother?

    "Are you crossing, merchant?"

    Defi opened eyes he didn''t know he''d closed.

    The guard grinned at him. "Not seen you before. Normally, people look up in awe."

    The Gate was something to be awed by, certainly.

    The construction was a simple post and lintel, but it held nothing up  a door that was built only for itself.

    The posts were eight-sided, wider at one side than ten men set side by side with their arms stretched in the horizontal.

    They rose regally straight from the earth, higher nearly than a small mountain, two giants bearing on their backs a single massive b of rock-material, carved with mystic animals and statues taller than three adults stacked standing on the shoulders of the person below.

    "We are to cross, yes, guardsman."

    "And the child?"

    Defi was silent.

    They had wrapped one of his cloaks around the baby girl, the fine material a contrast against Samti''s rougher clothing. There was no cause for bringing the child of a ve through the Gate. But with Samti acting as a wet nurse?

    Defi felt that if he should speak, it would be known immediately as a lie.

    "Ah," the guard went, knowingly. "If you show your authorization, then?"

    Defi held it out. Even that was a gamble. What merchant of Rimet ventured to the Gate with this pitiful of a retinue?

    "Ah," the guard said again, with an even more knowing air. "A personal visit then. Fair bets to you, merchant."

    "Good day, guardsman." He forced a smile. Was it really so believable that he had a child? He was too young to be a father! He wasn''t sure he wanted to know what sort of conclusions the guard came up with.

    Though...

    He leaned toward Garun, whispered. "Personal visits?"

    Garun cleared his throat and stayed silent.

    He huffed, not understanding and suspicious because of it. He would need to see what was behind the Gate to know what Garun was keeping from him.

    The guardsman waved at the others behind him, letting them know that Defi and his party could enter.

    Going through the Gate washe clung to the saddle and determinedly told himself not to vomit.

    Garun walked close. "Young one."

    Defi smiled at him briefly. It had taken some doing to get the couple to stop calling him ''young lord''. "It is merely the nervousness."

    "Your first time, I imagine," said the guard on the other side.

    Defi did not even notice they were through, but that surprise paled to his unadulterated shock at the guard''s words.

    Defi stared at the guard, then at Garun.

    The servant smirked lightly, knowingly, and said in Ontrean. "He says he imagines it is your first time."

    That was not even the problem!

    Thenguage the guard used was not one to be spoken in Ontrea.

    It was, however, the ''secretnguage'' his mother taught him, presumably learned from the damnable servant now acting as if the world had told a great joke.

    "Do not worry about the young master, good guardsman," Garun smiled beatifically at the one who greeted them. "It is only a faint nervous condition."

    "Looks pale enough to be a ghost, for certain."

    Defi smiled weakly at the guard, who waved them through after looking at the token the ''merchant'' held out.

    The other side of the Gate was a simr marketce, but the people were different.

    He watched a womanugh with a shopkeeper and twitched visibly as the length of fur down her back, something he thought part of the woman''s dress, swayed in her excitement.

    A fur tail.

    Her ears pointed straight up as the shopkeep said something that obviously surprised her.

    Ears. Real, moving pointed ears on top of her head.

    Garun cleared his throat discreetly, and Defiposed himself, recovering from the unsightly gawking.

    "Garun," he said faintly. "There are some things, I believe, that I have not been told about this world."

    The man stared. "I thoughtI thought your hesitation near the Gate was because of the werefolk?"

    He shook his head.

    There were legends in Ontrea. Stories of old that told of people corrupted by devils, gaining the characteristics of animals. They were lower than the lowest caste, abominations; to see one was to be cursed.

    If he had known of this....

    Would he have entered the Gate?

    Garun looked around, a bit of worry showing on his face. "There is an inn nearby."

    "No. We shall go on to the town, then the vige. This shock will pass. The stories are only legends."

    Garun considered him, then lowered his voice. "Young lord, thend of Ontrea isrge, and other nations beyond it are said to be beautiful. There are surely ces there that would wee you, should you want to go back."

    Defi straightened on his seat, ring forward. "I am not so weak. Let us continue. Address me properly, Garun. There are no ves in this world."

    Garun shook his head.

    "Ascharon has fewer vices in that regard, but I''m afraid veryes with many names. In the allied kingdom of Camun, for instance, there are debt-workers, who are ves to the government in all but name. In the Seven Isles, there are serfs, whose rights belong to their lord. Even in Ascharon, it is within thew to apprentice one''s own children for coin. There are many kind masters who teach their apprentices, but there are also those less kind who use their apprentices forbor. And innds far beyond, there is still very. One of the charges of the Ascharon''s Imperial Navy is to free the ve galleys that move people by the hundred thousands from variousnds each year."

    Defi stared ahead as they passed through the marketce. "I see."

    He had much to learn about this other world, it seemed.

    "People are people everywhere, young one." Garun smiled wryly. "I have travelled many ces both here and in Ontrea. I can assure you, there are kind people and ruthless people,passionate people and cruel people, and in the end no matter the differing color of skin and hair, the differing race and differing creed, the lowest beggar and the highest emperor, people are still people."

    There was a mncholy in Garun''s eyes that Defi didn''t understand, a deep emotion that was only slightly represented by the odd smile on his lips.

    "I will consider your words," Defi could only promise.

    It seemed this other world that was his freedom, this world that he chose, this newnd that he hoped to be his home, was a lot moreplicated than he thought.

    **

    **

 Chapter 5: Marmocha of Stahlchausses Village

    Chapter 5: Marmocha of Stahlchausses Vige

    Defi stifled a twitch as another scantily-d woman walked past, a wink openly sent at him.

    For thest hour, Garun''s face had been stoic as he yed the merchant retainer to the hilt, standing behind Defi''s chair. Samti, who was seated at Defi''s table, was smiling faintly, hiding her amusement in the care of her child.

    This was what Garun meant by ''they will not speak of foreigners there''?

    This was what the guardsman meant by ''personal visit''?

    This was a vige of impropriety, gambling halls and .and ....brothels, forck of a better word. They were on the surface entertainment halls and often inns, but they also offered various...private entertainments.

    Alright, he would beughing at himself too, were he not in this particr situation.

    He was not a prudish pedant, but the clothes here were too well made and the propositions toocking in subtlety.

    Ontrea was too humid for his people topletely cover themselves.

    In the spring, when the sun was only just warming thends and its scorching splendor not yet at its peak, the fashion in Ontrea was to dress in the briefest manner, to cover properly using the least amount of cloth. Certainly the styles that the clothiers came up with were varied and memorably creative.

    One surely must be impressed with the dressmaker of the noble strutting around in less than a pound-weight of clothing with nary an improper show of skin.

    The difference was that, even if certain people in this Ascharonian vige exposed less skin than the nobles of Ontrea, their clothing was cut in styles unabashedly intended to make a priest faint. It suggested and enticed, designed to draw the eyes toward certain ces and to emphasize certain attributes.

    It was nothing like Defi was familiar with.

    And that was not even the main problem! He was trained to resist women and men, of course he was. Such aggressive pursuit was a novelty.

    But the ogling. The deliberate, unashamed, unending ogling over his and Garun and Samti''s bare skin.

    Creator, where was the propriety?!

    Defi, as one who had hoped to walk the warrior''s path, was of course very fit. The other two, who were used tobor, were even more fit than he.

    He had to let everyone see some of his difort and reactions to various propositions, so that Garun would stop ring everyone to a fear-induced death for daring to look at his wife and Samti might not ughter everyone in the vicinity with only her fingernails because they openly coveted her husband.

    It was better that hispanionsugh at him than walk that path. They had no need of the notoriety that would arise from massacre.

    Even if he was impressed that the people were so open with their desires, it was still ufortable.

    "Why did wee here again?" he sipped his wine, hoping the taste would get better.

    The wine here was too diluted, its vor diminished and the harshness pronounced. It grated unpleasantly on his tongue. It was called, by one of the servers, an aperitif to stimte the appetite.

    He drank it doubtfully.

    "They would question it less if we acquired the clothes of this world here, young one," murmured Samti. "And the assayer we need is here."

    There were tailors and metal-smiths and assayers here as well. How curious. A vige in Ontrea would have neither market nor shops. Only in towns were there such structures.

    Was there truly a difference between worlds or was it that his trantion was faulty? Or possibly it was a function of this particr vige. Stahlchausses was not an endorsed vige, he knew. It only grew due to miners seeking conveniences that the town did not - a ck market that became a vige.

    Changing Rimet gold in Stahlchausses instead of the properly sanctioned counting house of the mining town was illegal, as most ck market buyers melted the gold down. But ording to Garun, more illegal was the team of winged goats tantly sunning themselves outside one of the wine-houses, water from the trough dripping from elegant manes tinged in regal red by the setting sun.

    Winged goats! Defi studied them with hidden interest. He might be able to travel on air in this world. How wonderful!

    Wingednd-mammals were prohibited for use in trade  one of Ascharon''s absolutews.

    Judging by the packed wagon nearby, festooned in colorful streamers and painted vividly, the owner of the goats was certainly a grant rebel.

    His study of the street outside was interrupted by the scrape of a chair. A man plopped himself down opposite Defi and made a dramatic gesture with his arm. "Good morrow, young man! Are you the person who requested my services?"

    Garun stepped closer, eyes sharp.

    "Are you the assayer called Marmon Chacort?" Defi asked in his nativenguage, affecting the slightly bored attentiveness of the average young worthy from the grand nation of Ontrea. His knowledge of the Ascharon tradenguage was something to keep in reserve. "If not, we have nothing to do with you."

    Garun tranted, in a manner more polite.

    "Indeed I am!" caroled the man, with a grin. He leaned forward. "Are we doing business or no?"

    The man, Marmon Chacort, then leaned away from the table and waved to a server. "Ahoy there, a spread for my guests, eh?"

    "We have already ordered food brought," Defi told him, via Garun. "We were merely taking the time to rest."

    The custom, ording to Garun, was to have a number of dishes ready to be served before the other party arrived. The smoothness of the negotiation depended on how the second party liked the dishes that the first chose.

    A very odd custom, but Defi imagined it was also to gauge how much both parties knew of each other, in the same way that Ontrean nobles negotiated by insinuated insults and secrets and casual ckmail using fine words and carefully chosen phrases. That concept, he understood very well.

    He considered also that, to be the one who chose the dishes was a way to show off and intimidate, a way to gain the upper hand.

    The local way of negotiation was infinitely more fun than the Ontrean way, even if his instincts said he should treat it as delicately as he treated Ontrean word games.

    Sure enough, the man brightened. "You are certainly more knowledgeable than the average Rimet merchant, eh? Bring on the food!"

    It was only that Garun''s skin was burned as bronze as the average Ontrean, that people here did not suspect him to be of Ascharon. Defi had an idea that were it to bemon knowledge that Ontrea took ves from here, the people of thesends would be less weing of trade with his nation.

    "I had good teachers," he said simply. "I have only had an afternoon in this vige, and perhaps will not even have the whole morning tomorrow. Our business must be quick, and precluded seeking you outter. The food they bring are those with some simrity to what is usually served at home."

    The man hummed thoughtfully. "It would be interesting to learn which dishes to match the Ontrean pte. Some of your merchants I have met before, they stray not too far from what they know, eh?"

    "I have heard that Ascharonian cuisine is the cuisine of a hundrednds." Defi nodded. There were many and varied tastes in Ontrea, but it was also true that most kept to familiar foods  with the many spices that they were able to cultivate, Ontrean cuisine was about the myriad ways to vor the same type of dishes. "I am interested in knowing more. Perhaps the good assayer would care to rmend a few dishes?"

    If the man''s countenance grew any brighter, Defi would have to hold him up to the sky and let him shine with the Ascharon sun. Maybe that would be enough to chase away the damnable chill of this world; the climate on these mountains was really nearly too cool forfort.

    But he had no thought to spare to weather. He was only relieved that his gamble had worked.

    There had been too little time to seek out what the assayer''s tastes were, and this exchange of food-rted information was one way to attend to local custom if somewhat backward from the standard. Defi hoped to show Marmon Chacort that he had some willingness to trust.

    As he anticipated, the man was more indulgent of a young foreigner who at least made the attempt to learn more of the local traditions.

    Garun, when Defi had asked, drilled him mercilessly on the subject. He''d been a traveling merchant, before he was betrayed and sold to an Ontrean trade caravan thirty years ago.

    "Of course, of course!" The man then stood to pull together a few tables. Garun rushed to help him. Defi and Samti rearranged the chairs. "Tonight, let it be a feast!"

    The ten or so dishes that they ordered were suddenly more than doubled in number.

    "Ontrea is and partly of deep forest and partly of sun-baked wastnd and wide ins. Rimet has the distinction of having thergest grasnd in the country. They say we are and of ten thousand spices," Defi started as they ate and smiled as the assayer listened with interest. "It is only an exaggeration of course. We hardly have a tenth of that."

    Marmon deted when he said the number was an exaggeration, then perked up again at the next sentence. It was so much like a puppy watching someone eat meat that Defi nearlyughed out loud.

    In Ascharon, it is said that people took food so seriously that even the poorest of the poor do not eat their gruel in.

    It is said in Ontrea that there are eight thousand spices in the world and the Ontreans aim to cultivate everyst one.

    It appeared, on the surface, that trade between these two nations was as fated as The Song and The Dance.

    Defi was near certain that both peoples would sh abominably.

    Ontrea''s intolerance would grate on Ascharonic values, and Ascharon''s food-rted hedonism would be reviled in Ontrea. It seemed the good rtions between the nations were because so far only the merchants, the most tolerant of the social sses, had made contact with each other.

    He amused himself to think of his father meeting Marmon Chacort, and the subsequent fainting from rage on both sides.

    He smiled slightly at the assayer exhorting Samti to try some tentacled sea creature, not dissuaded by her stoic refusals in ented Ascharonian and her suspicious looks at the dish. He found her suspicions understandable. They were in the mountains. From where would one acquire a sea creature?

    Garun discreetly gobbled a dish of fish paste and vegetables, trying not to bawl at what Defi presumed was the fulfillment of a long-missed craving, while he sent conflicted res at the rotund man who had ordered the dish in the first ce and yet was cheerfully carrying on as if he and Garun''s wife had been friends for years.

    Defi took care to taste all the dishes that Marmon Chacort rmended, and the other did the same with the food Defi selected. There were many exhortations of deliciousness and many exnations on taste from both sides.

    Samti had prevailed over Marmon Chacort, judging by his turning to Defi. Then the man perked up, seeing something behind the youth. He waved enthusiastically. "Young merchant, you must try this. I had it brought specially for you."

    "I am humbled." He saw the bottles the server was bringing. "A wine?"

    "Vital water." The assayer wriggled in anticipation as the server put the bottles down. The bottles were ss, clearer than the opaque green and brown bottles for wine, but the same bulbous onion-like shape. "It is from a mystic spring. You do know there is sorcery in Ascharon?"

    "I do." He''d only recently realized that Ascharonians thought there to be no sorcery in Ontrea. Understandable. Current adepts do not go through the Gate and merchants knew better than to give away Ontrean secrets freely. "I am eager to know more."

    "Ascharon has seven types of sorcery, and inbination, they form the eighth. The power that makes this possible, the power of life, the power of the Seven-Colored Deity, we call ''vitality''. All life has vitality and all life can support it. We have found that in some nts and animals, vitality is condensed  these are called mystic nts and mystic animals. These mystics, when prepared properly for consumption, can allow a person to increase the vitality of their bodies. Faster, stronger, more intelligent, more resilient; the vital cooking of Ascharon is famous throughout the world! We are not the only nation to have vital cooking, but we are certainly the most advanced!" Marmon Chacort waved at the food on the tables. "These are allmon ingredients, for I''m afraid a vital dish would bankrupt me! I would eat and not stop until everyst inch of me was saturated."

    He drooled for a moment, his thoughts evidently turning inward.

    Garun, still tranting, was looking at the bottle Marmon Chacort had passed him with aplicated look on his face. Samti was eyeing him in concern.

    "Vital water?" reminded Defi. He was contemtive. This Vitality did sound somewhat simr to the Current.

    "This is rmended for those who are neers to Ascharon vital cooking or new in general. You might say, ingesting ingredients full of vitality...eh, for the average body, it is an acquired taste. Drinking vital water will help your body adjust to Ascharon."

    Garun thumbed the cork off and started glugging the water down. Marmon Chacort blinked, then his eyes widened. "Please do not drink it that fast! Your body--!"

    Defi popped the cork on his and took a sip. It was ordinary refreshing water, chilled and delicious, but nothing special. He sipped more.

    Then, slowly, a warmth grew in the vicinity of his navel and spread to his limbs. The Current within him roiled inzy movements. He breathed deeply, feeling as if a scouring brush had been passed across his insides. It was not unpleasant, the feeling almost refreshing.

    "Is this safe for children?"

    The assayer nced at the child in Samti''s arms. "Certainly! But as your child is so young, perhaps dilute it with milk. I think at least by half."

    Defi wanted to sigh. He''d been mistaken for a father again. "Thank you. This is a handsome introduction to Ascharon."

    The manughed, with a heartiness that was bing familiar to Defi. "Well, of course! I am---I said drink slowly!"

    Samti had given Garun half her bottle of vital water, evidently not liking the effect. The precious vitality was washing down Garun''s throat like cheap wine.

    Defi''s lips quirked upward.

    It was certainly a lively dinner.

    *

    The night had fallen, themps had been lit, and many of the dishes taken away when finally they sat back in their chairs, stuffed.

    Samti stood to pour thest bottle of wine. It was chilled and light, a sweet end to the parade of dishes.

    "Shall we to business?" Marmon Chacort sighed happily.

    Defi nced at Garun.

    "You are said to be very discreet."

    "Ah, reputation, a thing worth more than my weight in djamants!" He pped his rotund stomach, encased by a rather flowery sky-blue shirt, in emphasis. "I am happy to say this is truth. But of course I understand if you do not believe, for you are new in the world, yes? You will ask the people you know, and they will tell you that the reputation of Marmocha himself is solid!"

    His fist thudded solidly onto the table at the all-but-bellowedst word. The remaining dishes rattled.

    Defiughed lightly. Samti and the child, newly woken, stared at the man with subtle expressions of disbelief.

    The Current provided some small ability to discern the intentions of people and of course to shield against said ability. There was a reason control andposure were taught early in the learning halls. Then, of course, the environment of the children''s court in Rimet provided many opportunities to learn and refine people skills.

    During the dinner and his whole speech, Marmon Chacort had only a sincere deviousness to him that was perhapsmon to merchants. Garun had much of the same air. Defi had noticed that despite the boisterous manner, the man''s words did not carry past their table.

    Some sort of sorcery added to a natural ability for public speaking, perhaps. He still had to ask Garun more about the eight-sided sorcery thesends had. It might be interesting to learn, as the advanced paths of the Current were now closed to him.

    "What do you say, Delos of Rimet?"

    Defi''s mood dimmed a bit at the need to give a false name. It seemed less than sincere. He was beginning to get used to the openness of this world''s people. He liked it.

    "We will do business then. I will trust in your reputation, and you will trust in my gold. This is good enough for perhaps a first transaction, isn''t it?"

    Marmon Chacortughed heartily when Garun tranted.

    "I have heard good things about Rimet gold," he said, still smiling as his eyes gained some sharpness. "It would be a very sad thing, I think, if that reputation were sullied."

    Defi could only smile wryly. "I agree."

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    The children''s court  a name for the gatherings and socialworks of noble scions not yet presented to the court of lords.

    Djamant  a crystal-based currency in Ascharon, in the shape of a triangr prism, worth 1000 gold solstices.

    The Song and The Dance  an Ontrean romantic epic, usually sung in a duet with instrumental apaniment

    vitality - the energy in mystic nts and animals, the power of life and the Seven-Colored Deity

    *

 Chapter 6: A Boar-Lizard of a Day

    Chapter 6: A Boar-Lizard of a Day

    Defi slid into the shadow of a building, quickly falling into the third breathing exercise, the Circle of Ice. He slowly felt his heartbeat slow and his panic recede.

    He breathed out.

    He had underestimated his father.

    How else would Ymirin, the most talented of his younger sisters, be in the mining town right now and asking about two ves and a young noble?

    With her was a contingent of Remir guardsmen and ves.

    At the very least, he was certain that none of them were adept in the Current. They would not be standing so easily this close to the Gate if they were.

    He breathed in.

    Their information was also wed.

    First, they did not know Garun and Samti had a child  very odd. His father would have at least noted down the birth as something to hold over a talented farm overseer. Second, they openly called his two adultpanions ''ves''. That meant they did not consult the merchants that did business here.

    The average Ascharonian would obstruct them on principle, for their pursuit of ves. Depending on what Ymirin said, and how good her perception of people was, Defi still had some time to get his business done.

    What was he thinking, of course her perception was good  if it was not, she would have been relegated to the branch families a long time ago. He nced subtly at the contingent again. They were not guards he knew.

    Perhaps his father sent her here to test her.

    He felt a frission of sympathy. Ymirin was only twelve years in age.

    He shook away his thoughts. Test or not, her being here meant trouble.

    They needed to move.

    He slipped to the next street before the experienced guards felt his watchful eyes. The stables were on the other side of the town from the Gate, to his luck.

    He was grateful Marmon Chacort was able to direct them to a clothier this morning. With his local clothes, he looked like the average Ascharonianmoner.

    He entered the stables and immediately osted the stable-master.

    "You have acquired a travel-wagon for me?" he asked, doing his best to mimic Garun''s broad ent. He was neither Desif nor Delos the merchant right now.

    The stable-master jumped. "Chelua above, are you a cat?"

    Defi only looked at him, innocent. Muffling one''s footsteps was a basic Current trick. He''d automatically shifted into quiet mode at the sight of his sister.

    "I found that having a child means the need for quiet feet."

    Just a hint of noise woke the little one to crying. The walls of the rooms were wood and thin enough that he''d been woken up several times in the night because of the child. Was that why he was so diposed this morning?

    He consciously and silently rxed. The stable-master did not know him, and likely would not remember another reckless youth keen to race the fastest animals in his stable.

    "Kids getting together younger these days," the stable-master grumbled. Defi smiled at him, delighted. Here atst was one person who thought he was too young to have a child. Even Marmocha had thought the child his.

    Ah, and Defi had implied heavily to this wonderful soul that he actually had spawned. Damn it.

    "Yes, there is a wagon," the man continued. "And you''re early. It''s been washed but not yet inspected. Word''s gone round, today the woodworks won''t open until afternoon."

    "I will take it as it is."

    The stable-master Foll raised his brows. "I''d rmend it be refitted, considering you''re hitching her up to a boar-lizard. It won''t stand the strain for long."

    "I only looked for a wagon because my uncle insisted. If the wagon breaks down, then the boar-lizard would be faster then, wouldn''t it?" Defi let a devious smile cross his lips.

    The stable-master sighed, ran a hand through his hair, waffled for a second before shrugging. "Well, not my problem. Just don''t put anything too important in it, I suppose."

    Defi watched as he hitched the travel-wagon to the boar-lizard, petting the animal. The boar-lizard''s skin was scaled and rough, the body like a barrel with a long necked head and a tapering tail. The legs jutted out the sides of the animal, looking ungainly and not like the elegance of a riding ox or even a mule.

    But boar-lizards were the fastestnd-based riding animal in Ascharon, the premier mount of the military for their endurance and speed. They were twice asrge as Pale, who was already somewhatrge for the average riding ox, and the raised scale patterns on its back and tail were enough to make anyone pause.

    It yawned, showing the intimidating tusks in full glory, like it was presenting spears to the approval of a warleader.

    How magnificent.

    "It''s done." Foll stepped away.

    Defi was brought back to the severity of the situation by those two words.

    "Thank you!" He sprang onto the front seat of the wagon and grabbed the reins. He tossed Foll a small pouch of bronze uds, enough for the purchase of one slightly-aging boar-lizard and a beat-down wagon. "Hup!"

    The boar-lizard surged forward and Defi was amazed. It moved like a wave rolling on the sea, unstoppable, forging forth powerfully and with an unexpected grace.

    "Careful there!" yelled the stable-master behind him. "Don''t push it too hard!"

    Push? What was he pushing? The wagon rattled under him but he could not care. Every stretch ofnd he put between him and the Rimet contingent behind him was an inch of relief in a league of stress.

    The boar-lizard handled easily, to his pleasure. It was not unlike a bullock.

    No sooner had he thought that, the boar-lizard sped up. His eyes widened. He hauled on the reins, but the animal only took that as encouragement to gallop even faster.

    Creator, did Ascharonians train their draft animals in illogical ways?

    A carter swerved out of his way, yelling insults.

    But they were already out of the town. He nced back. Surely this smallmotion hadn''t been noticed?

    There were no pursuers.

    He turned to the road with less relief than he expected.

    Now, how was he going to stop this thing?

    *

    *

    "Do you have them?" The words were slightly breathless, and Defi more than slightly windblown.

    Samti turned at Defi''s entrance into the rooms they rented. He was grateful she only paused momentarily at his appearance before deciding not to ask. She was grinding the roots, as Defi instructed. Garun had been sent to procure travel supplies. "Yes, young lord, but I must ask, as Ontrean medicines are more expensive here"

    "Because this particr mix of herbs has only one reason to be purchased and I didn''t have the time to buy them from different ces." Defi entered his room, dug into his belongings for the rest of the recipe and returned to themon room. He lit a brazier. "We must hurry. Grind those finely, Samti."

    "Young lord?" Even confused, Samti made quick work of the roots.

    "My sister is here."

    The other sucked a slow breath. "Irinyez?"

    His eldest sister was famous across the low and high castes of Rimet, respected and feared both. It was not surprising; she was the eldest daughter. He could only thank the Creator that her talent in the Current precluded her from actually crossing the Gate.

    "Ymirin. She tested of low ability in the Current, but she is the most cunning and intelligent of all father''s children. Father would not dare send eldest sister here. But Ymirinhe is likely to do something simr to her as he did to me. She and I, we are not good enough for father. If her test is to find me"

    He knew well enough the lengths his father''s children would go to have his favor.

    Samti looked at him. "What are you going to do?"

    Defi shook his head, frowning into the small bowl he''d put onto the brazier. "Pour those in first; they need to be warmed before the rest."

    Samti tipped the mortar over the hot bowl, letting the slightly moist mash drop in. Defi shook the bowl, using tongs to keep his hands unburned.

    He waited until the moisture was gone, then added the powders he''d purchased in the capital city. The mixture bubbled. He added the honey. "The rest of the roots, if you would."

    Samti scraped the small piles of ground root into the mixture.

    The mixture boiled to a semi-opaque blue, indicating the final phase. He turned off the brazier.

    "How strange," Defi murmured, as he stirred the mixture with a whisk, waiting for it to cool. "This is the only advanced tincture of Ontrea that I will ever know to produce. That it is this oneI think I will only ever use it this once."

    "Young lord?"

    He put a wooden tub in front of him. "Give me your arm."

    She lifted it slowly, unsure. He whisked the mixture over her inner arm, from her wrist to the crook of her elbow.

    She caught her breath.

    Defi nodded in satisfaction at the mark that appeared, the mark that Ontrea ced on its ves. He whisked more of the mixture over it, making it stand clear, a dark red over bronzed skin.

    Of course, in ordance to Ontrean values, it was a work of art. It asked a question, a challenge to eyes, mind, and conviction. An art puzzle.

    The method to destroy this mark was hisst request to his mentor.

    He took the obsidian knife from his belt, met Samti''s eyes. There were other ways to remove the mark, but this was the fastest.

    "This is going to hurt."

    She nodded firmly, eyes unwavering on his.

    He put the tip of the knife on the most logical point of ''unraveling'' on the image, traced lightly through the art the lines of the concept. Blood welled in the wake of the knife, but Samti did not make a sound, only watched him with steady gaze.

    The door opened to admit Garun. His expression nked for a moment at the sight before him, hand going instinctively to the knife on his waist. The bags in his arms thudded noisily onto the floor.

    "Close the door, husband. We are being pursued."

    "If any of those are damaged, it''sing out of your pay," Defi added.

    Garun''s mouth opened, closed.

    "Yes," he said atst. He shook his head to clear it, eyed them in momentary exasperation, and moved to re-order the dropped bags near the doorway before moving near.

    Defi straightened and lifted the knife away, paying no attention to Garun recovering from the moment of conflicted shock.

    Silently, they watched the image drain away with the blood dripping down into the tub.

    Defi snorted when he realized that the maker of the ve mark had dared be so bold: the cuts on her arm when taken in totality formed a reference from scripture.

    Garun huffed at it.

    "What does it mean?" Samti asked.

    "It''s from one of the parables, spoken by a devil who had bested a judge of the people. It means: I pay my dues. Most people do not understand the ascetic nature of the priesthood, so the general interpretation is synonymous to ''reaching for selfishness by destabilizing tradition''  pay no attention, it is pretentious nonsense."

    Did it refer to the master or the ve? Either way, it was a warning, an usation, a benediction.

    "Selfishness is not always a bad thing, young lord."

    "I am no longer a lord, and you are no longer a ve." Defi told her, handing her a washcloth when thest of the red image dripped away. "I am certain there are salves in this country to deal with the scars."

    The cuts, because of the tincture, would not fade easily despite the thinness of the strokes.

    Samti persisted. "Noble one, I thank you."

    "It is a problem to me as well, if you and Garun remain with that thing on your arms," he turned away, ears reddening. "It stands out to those with training in the Current, that mark. I would rather not be caught because I failed to take something so basic into ount. Garun"

    The man immediately bared his arm, motions crisp and trained into him for decades. There was a sheen of moisture in his eyes.

    Defi ignored it, as he quickly whisked blue tincture over Garun''s arm. "This is where we part, Garun."

    "Noble one."

    "No. You will not sway me on this. You will take the creaky wagon and the fractious boar-lizard. I will take the boat and the mules. My sister is looking for us together; we will be safer apart." He did not tell them that their pursuers didn''t know about the child. Staying with Garun longer would only make it more difficult to leaveter. "I would have liked to learn more of Ascharon from you, but circumstances do not give me that leave."

    "Young one," Garun''s voice had a slight strain. "Thewagon outside is the one you got? Ifor coin?"

    "The state it is in is unavoidable," Defi huffed. "The woodworks is closed. It will hold until the next town if the boar-lizard behaves itself."

    "They are generally difficult animals to master, noble one."

    Defi eyed Garun suspiciously. The man wasughing at him, he was certain.

    "There is a scout outside," Samti observed. She was holding the little one against her, and her even tone was betrayed by the slight tremble of her fingers.

    A runaway ve courted death, and to help one was treason.

    Defi was silent. As was Garun. The older wiped away blood and tincture from his arm, eyeing the cuts.

    I pay my dues.

    They scrambled to get the supplies outside and packed. Garun didn''t even make faces at the creaky wagon, all of them keeping up the faade of an unhurried rush.

    Defished thest of his things to the mules. He eyed a particr box, then decided. He carried it to the wagon and took out one of the precious seedlings inside, cradled it to his chest.

    "I only have two of these," he said. "I''d like you to take one."

    "A spice seedling?" Garun was shocked. This single seedling in Ontrea would be worth a single gold finger. In Ascharon, it was worth a small fortune. "What?"

    Defi had nopunction at lowering the profits of Ontrea from this side.

    "You have been a merchant and a farmer both." He affected irritation. "You assuredly know what to do with it."

    "Noble one, it is too much."

    "You have spent thirty years in Ontrea. This," he waved a half-disdainful hand at the wagon, "is surely not all you wish to take from it?"

    He had bought it with his father''s gold after all.

    If it was Defi who had been made a ve, he would burn the ce to the ground.

    Garun thinned his lips, looked at him sternly. "You are not at fault, and do not need topensate me."

    Of all the stubborn old men. It appeared Defi would have to pull out memories better left forgotten. He firmed his stomach.

    "I called you ''uncle'' once, when I was very little," Defi said, almost whispering. He had been young and unknowing. For his ignorance, for that single solitary infraction, his father had Garun whipped and made Defi watch. Defi never called him uncle again.

    Garun looked steadily at him, no usation, no recrimination. The man truly did not think it was Defi''s fault.

    Something in Defi''s chest uncoiled in relief. He did not show it.

    He met Garun''s gaze with a steady one of his own. "I will call your daughter ''cousin'' just this once, and beg your indulgence to alleviate my guilt for not having given her a birth-gift at the appropriate time."

    He extended the box.

    Garun''s lips twitched.

    Defi waited.

    "I thank you, mine nephew," Garun inclined his head. "The gift will not be wasted. But it is still too much."

    "Yes, yes. And when the timees that the name of Garun the Spice-dealeres to my ears, I wille to you and ask you for a favor. I will make it a grand favor, one the equal of my stature."

    Garun smiled. "Of course. I will await your arrival."

    It was a promise.

    Defi nodded and turned away. There was no time to lose on goodbyes.

 Chapter 7: The Hermit of the Little Treachery

    Chapter 7: The Hermit of the Little Treachery

    Sarel''s mornings were marked with specific events.

    The rooster would crow precisely as the sunlight hit its eye, and no earlier. The door of her cottage would stick a little due to the morning moisture and needed a bit of jiggling to open. The redweb spider''s intricate weave across the two apple trees that shaded her home would block her path and needed careful dismantling. The grubs that came out at night would still be wriggling in the shade, numerous enough to fill a jarrge enough for an afternoon''s fishing. The sun on her skin would warm her bones and energize her vitality, getting her ready for a full day.

    That had been her routine for ten years, four months, and twenty-one days. It was a veryfortable routine.

    That was why, when the corpse came flopping against the pilings of her creaky wooden pier one morning, she knew it was going to be the start of a troublesome week.

    She stared at the body, floating on her patch of river, and looked up at the morning sky. Maybe she shouldn''t have woken up so early? The river would then have washed the corpse downstream, nearer to theke. It would have been the town''s problem then.

    The face of the corpse sank. A bubble popped on the surface of the river.

    Sarel frowned harder.

    Ah.

    It was alive.

    She walked to the shed, retrieved the rarely used fishing gaff, and hooked the unfortunate soul out of the water.

    It was not the first time a body had floated down the Little Treachery. It happened several times a year, hence the name of this small tributary of the great river that sustained Ascharon, the Redn. The Little Treachery was only a quarter the size of the shortest of the great river''s branches, but it was ten times more dangerous.

    The Overpool, connected to the great river itself, and the Lowpool, which was the smallke at the end, were the only calm parts of the Little Treachery. Between those pools, one may think the river was fighting itself and the whole world around it besides.

    Sarel''s home was located on the edges of the Lowpool, where it met the Treachery proper. She built it because few dared make their homes near the Treachery and the few that did knew to leave her alone.

    She tapped the fishing gaff on the body''s chest. The young man twisted, coughed river water out of his guts and onto the pier.

    "I don''t suppose there''s a direction I could point you at, so you could go away?"

    The body hacked out another helping of water.

    No.

    The young man was actuallyughing, near to the point of tears. "D-death h-surely isn''t this p-painful?"

    He started to shiver involuntarily, curling into himself. His lips were blue.

    "If you came down the Treachery, you should be thankful you have this much life in you." Sarel took hold of his shirt and hauled him upright.

    He stumbled. Stiff limbs, half-unseeing eyes, unable to take a step without losing bnce, and cold, so very cold, Sarel listed silently. How long had he been in the water?

    She groaned, resigning herself to hosting the boy for a day. "I''ll send someone to the Lowpool, they''ll find whichever fool friends you decided to take on the Treachery with. If they''re still alive."

    He shook his head. "R-robbed. Th-the crew."

    "Pirates came after you?" Not an umon urrence on the great river. She nudged him to sit on one of the sitting stones near her house. It was fully in sun and, more importantly, less prone to water-rot than her house.

    He shook his head again, more vehemently, a bright light of familiar darkness in his eyes. "The crew."

    The two words were spat out like a dark promise.

    Aha. Also not an umon urrence, unfortunately.

    She tipped a sk of brunwine down his throat. He coughed. She poured more into him.

    "Doesn''t taste like vital water," he choked. He rxed a little, though the shivering remained pronounced.

    "It''s not." Vital water? Hah. Her brunwine burned hotter than any water.

    Sure enough he sat up and drew a long inward breath, eyes wide, as the effects started.

    She studied him. Common enough clothes, a wide decorated belt buckled at his waist and...she lifted a brow at the leather straps wrapped around his feet. Some new-fangled fashion from the capital, she was certain. "I''m guessing you didn''t hire through the river-patrol."

    "Couldn''t get to my boat," he grit out, eyes more lively than before. "Had to hire off the wharf."

    He did have an ent, she concluded. She''d been wondering if the odd way he spoke the words was the effect of the river. "Half the runners on the great river are pirates, boy. Aren''t neers warned by river patrol?"

    She felt the sharp nce sent at her. "What do you mean?"

    Oh? That he attempted the elongated sybles of the met mountain people in the south was instantly recognizable, but still a bit too clipped, too abrupt. Her mind whirled. A foreigner running from pursuers, someone else procured his boat for him, nave enough or desperate enough to trust a wharfman

    Sarel stopped herself. It wasn''t her business. The met mountain ent was credible enough. It wasn''t like most people here in the central mountains would know.

    "Don''t trust the wharf rats, is what I mean. River patrol''s usually honest. Mostly."

    "You saidtreachery?"

    She snorted, a corner of her lips lifting in a half-smirk. "This tributary of the great river''s called the Little Treachery. I tell you now, you likely gave up one of your three lives to the Bridge-maker to survive that."

    "Definitely feels like it," the boy grumbled. He downed thest of the brunwine in the bottle, before tucking his hands under his arms.

    He wasn''t dripping anymore, so Seral waved him into the house even as she inwardly sighed at herself. At least her mother wasn''t here to beam at her for taking in another of the pitiful life-forms the woman was prone to collecting. "You can''t let those clothes dry on you. I have old things here somewhere."

    "Thank you." Then a spasm of realization crossed his face. He stopped on the threshold. "I cannot repay you."

    "I''ll have you run a few boatloads downriver for me." The zaziphos had ripened again, to her ire. Why hadn''t she chosen to nt trees that didn''t need so much harvesting all year round?

    Well, she did have a willing ve for the day didn''t she. She eyed the boy who was looking around her cottage with carefully subtle interest. He looked lively enough. Her mood lightened. Any reprieve from the monthly fruit-picking was a good thing.

    She smiled.

    It didn''tst, of course. After the picking baskets had been filled and the sun edged into the mid-afternoon heat, she was readying the boat for a run down to the Lowpool when herpanion copsed like a stage-puppet with strings cut.

    She stared for a long moment. Childhood stories of corpses moving, due to an excess of vitality, long after the body died suffused her mind.

    She mentally kicked herself in annoyance and then gingerly took his wrist. His heart beat strong enough. She pressed the back of her palm to his temples, like people did to children. His forehead felt a little heated. She frowned, bent over to check his breathing.

    It rattled a little.

    She cursed.

    Seven colors forsake her, did the boy catch a cold?

    From a little dip in the river?

    Of all the pampered, weak-constituted lordlings, what in creation were his parents thinking? There were some idiots who disdained the vitality of the world, but she didn''t think she''d get to meet...

    She paused.

    Of course. He was a foreigner, likely from some ce not familiar with Ascharonian mystic cooking. A snippet of conversation from the morning struck her.

    "Chelua," Sarel groaned in realization. "do you damn me to the lightless dark? He''s still on vital water, isn''t he?"

    His body had not the vitality of even the average Ascharonmoner. He definitely had a cold.

    She grumbled under her breath. Her power curled around her in a subtle orange glow as she maneuvered his limp form over one shoulder. This was too much trouble. Tomorrow she was definitely sending him down the river, debt or no debt.

    To her aggravation, the boy didn''t wake up for three days.

    *

    *

    The river current was strong. Defi lifted his chin above the waters, arms iling and legs kicking, and took a desperate breath.

    He was not a strong swimmer. Why should he be? Ontrea wasnd-locked. For swimming, he only needed to be proficient enough not to shame the family by drowning in themunal soaking pools. Ontrea was known for its great baths, not the swimming prowess of its people.

    There was a roaring in his ears, and the faint sound ofughter as he fought the river. Rage, he felt rage. He went under once more.

    The river, for all its shimmering violence under the sunlight, was calm and dark under the surface. He struggled toward air and freedom.

    There was someone calling him?

    Dark hair, dark eyeskeen gaze and a gentle smile. The rage died down, reced by longing. The voice urged him forward, and he struggled more.

    Callused hands tender on his face. A soothing breeze apanied warm hands.

    Joy, pervading joy.

    "Mother"

    "I surely hope not." The voice seethed with frustration.

    Defi opened his eyes.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Brunwine  a liquor distilled from fermented fruit juice. Basically means ''burnt wine''.

    Chelua - one of the names of Tirralod, the deity of rainbows, the primary divinity of Ascharon. Also known as the Seven-Colored, the Bridge-maker, the Harmonium as patron of music and wine, and the Weaver as the one who makes the clothes of the sun and stars, etc.

 Chapter 8: Terroir and Turquoise

    Chapter 8: Terroir and Turquoise

    "You''re going to help Falie with her damnable grapes," Sarel proimed one morning, a week after he woke from his embarrassing faint. "You''ve been doing chores all this time, you ought to be able to take light work by now."

    "Who is Falie and why are her grapes damnable?" Was it anything like how she considered the zaziphos trees damnable as well?

    Her face darkened, a jolt of realization at his words. Defi wondered what he said that brought that on.

    "That woman," she hissed. "is the neighbor."

    Then she turned to Defi, forcing calm. "Did I say grapes? My mistake. Those things are not grapes. They. Are. Suirberries. You be certain to tell her that."

    Who? What? There were no neighbors. Defi had not met anyone else in the days he''d been here. And he definitely did not know what a suirberry was.

    "Walk along the bank until youe to the yellow tree. Just beyond that is her ce. About an hour''s walk for me, I suppose. With those spindly legs, you''ll obviously take longer than that, so next time you should set out before dawn."

    An hour, he recalled, was a third of the Ontrean eighth. Ascharon had moved from the sundials and water-clocks he knew to timepieces he could not yet understand. Something about crystals and glyphs

    The yellow tree he had never passed, but he''d seen it from afar. It was huge, its recognizable golden leaves spread beyond even the stretching branches by the constant breezes rushing between the entrapping mountainsides.

    An hour from the Sarel''s homestead to the tree? He was insulted.

    "My legs are excellent," he retorted. "I''m not losing to someone whose bones have likely already rotted from age. I''ll get there in half the time."

    "Hah. I told her to expect you, so go already."

    He went.

    The solitary woman was likely nearing the end of her tolerance for strangers in her house. Defi was grateful that she was still housing him, though his presence grated on her. He tried to give some of her sce back by spending afternoons on cautious walks near the homestead but it appeared not to be enough.

    He had never met a person so againstpany.

    If she had the bearing of a soldier, or old enough to be grey, he would''ve thought her akin to some of Ontrea''s old warrior elite, retired and irascible, sending youthful would-be soldiers on impossible tasks in the hopes of securing an apprenticeship that would never happen.

    It grated at him too, that he must ept her hospitality. But all that was left to him were his clothes and what coin he had secreted into his belt. He could not use Rimet gold, not with his sister on the hunt. The little monster, he thought, would sniff him out from a single mistake.

    He was not even sure how she had sussed out his boat.

    Once more, he regretted not joining Garun. And once more, he let that regret pass. He had been a noble of Ontrea, a position nearly synonymous with ''ve-master'', and they had been ves. Despite mutual friendship, that knowledge would fester through every interaction they had until it grew into true resentment. It was better that they parted here.

    Garun and Samti might be strong enough. He was not. Even as he traced the lines that meant their freedom, he had been thinking of ways to indebt them more to his service. He had watched in fascination as they interacted with all others as equals but turned to him in deference. He had watched and liked it.

    For all that he was not a noble of Ontrea now, he was still his father''s son.

    Heughed, humorless.

    It was a thought that added to the anger in him. On this homestead, he was in goodpany at least. If its mistress stopped looking for ways to avoid his presence that is.

    Sarel was nearly always angry. He did not know why and had no wish to ask, just as he had no wish to speak of his father to anyone.

    Or maybe his host''s constant ire was only because of his continuing presence in her home, he considered sardonically. Maryiz did often say, when he had been her apprentice, that Defi tried her patience.

    And yet, his mentor had let him call her grandmother, and Sarelhe closed his eyes to remember callused hands on his face that reminded him of his mother. Despite her vexation at having to deal with him, her hands had been gentle.

    He smiled faintly, more real than hisughter. Beneath the curtness, there was a soul of kindness he was ufortable with taking advantage of. So truly, this demand to go and help some random fruit-grower was for his peace of mind as well as herfort.

    A sweet smell hit his nose, turned him from his thoughts.

    He slowed his trot to a walk. The ever-changing breeze tossed leaves into his face. He brought an arm up instinctively. The breeze onlyughed and ruffled his hair. He sighed and peeled a golden leaf from his cheek.

    Had it been an hour already?

    No. The tree was still some distance away. It shivered as he looked, the winds constantly tugging at the delicate leaves. There was a simr tree in the king of Ontrea''s garden, called the Golden Fall. Imported, with great expense, from and whose name he did not care to know.

    He had thought that tree magnificent, its leaves in infinite shades of amber never changing color all year round. The leaves fell easily, and were reced by the tree twice as fast. Its fragrance was deeper, richer than this yellow tree of Ascharon.

    And yet that tree was kept in a greenhouse: its leaves fell only for gravity, its stature diminished from being reared in foreign soil.

    Was this gaily spreading yellow tree on the banks of a treacherous river what that magnificence would be like on native earth?

    He twirled the twig of the single leaf between thumb and forefinger. The delicate lobes waved. He let it go, the wind sending it upward, then dropping it into the river to swirl among thousands of others.

    The bubbling waters of this section of river already flowed golden. Despite his recent aversion to the river, the sight was something that called him close to the bank. It seemed, that should he dip his hands in the rolling torrent they woulde out drenched in liquid gold.

    His lips quirked. That would solve his immediate problems nicely wouldn''t it?

    The walk past the tree was spent in some delight, with subtle scent perfuming the morning, and the constant rustling of leaves a pleasant harmony to the graver bubbling of the river and the high-pitched chirping of waking birds.

    *

    "Good morning," he greeted the first person he met, some ways past the tree. She sent him a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. "My name is Defi. Sarel sent me to help with your suirberries."

    Her face darkened.

    "That woman," she hissed.

    "Yes, exactly." It appeared that his first guess was correct. This was Falie, of the damnable berries.

    "It is," enunciated Falie, all but brandishing her tools at him. "a grape."

    "I see." He had stepped between some weird rivalry. He decided to step back. "And do you need help with it?"

    She stared at him, lips turning down and brows beetling. "Sarel sent you?"

    "She wanted me out of the house."

    Her bows shot up in surprise. "You''re living at her house?"

    "Yes."

    "I didn''t know she had rtives."

    "You mean she wasn''t born out of a rock, in all her curmudgeonly glory?"

    She made a face of exasperation. "You definitely have her humor. If that hermit is expecting me to pay you more than standard, you''re both out of luck. Still interested? The work here is from dawn to sunset."

    It was not about interest. He needed to get out of the house as well.

    "It''s fine. It''s only, I have no experience with grape-growing." There were vinyards in Ontrea, but most of the top quality wine was traded from the north.

    It appeared that in this new life, this new world, he must again be a farmer. He nearlyughed at the thought.

    Without further ado, Falie took him to meet her husband before putting him to work.

    "As you see, this fool is useless during summer harvest," she introduced. "leaving me to do all the hard work."

    The husband sitting on the shaded porch only raised his brows, puffed on a pipe, and shrugged, going back to his carving. Defi didn''t even have to give his name. The man looked paler than undyed cotton. Possibly he was sick?

    "We do the harvest in batches," said Falie, as she handed him gloves, several knives, and a whetstone. "We''re doing the east quarter today."

    She worked beside him for some hours, exining how to use the knives as they moved down the rows of vines. He could not manage how the clusters fell into her hands from a single flick of the knife but he managed an eptablepetence as she moved to another section after lunch.

    The work was repetitive, but oddly soothing, especially with the scent of ripe fruit pervading the area. It was different from the sweet scent of zaziphos fruits or the heavy, earthy scent of spice.

    That is, until he had to carry baskets full of green grapes down the hill to the house.

    He grunted as the path dipped unexpectedly, throwing off his bnce. He took deep, invigorating breaths as he re-seated the basket on his back. If this work was what Sarel considered light, Defi dreaded the day he would need to do the regr kind of work.

    It was his seventh trip down the hill with arge and heavy basket on his back when his new employer straightened from cing her own load down and stretched.

    "That''s enough for the day, I should think." She looked at him in surprise, held out a waterskin. "Are you this tired? The baskets were only about twelve kilogar."

    "I''ll be fine." He tried not to wheeze. She had picked over twice the number of grapes he did. It was embarrassing enough, when he had trained inbat for years.

    She epted his words. "Come back tomorrow. I''ll show you how to press grapes for the fermenting."

    "It''s not yet sunset?"

    "You''re more than halfway to keeling over. East quarter''s done, anyway. You did well, better than expected from someone associated with thatzy hermit."

    Over his protests, he had a bundle shoved at him, along with a handful of ash-colored coins, before he was all but tossed out the gate.

    The average Ascharon farmer, he decided, was very strange. He had not missed how the vinyard was the only farm visible in all directions. Were all the people here solitary souls?

    They were about three decades too young to be proper hermits. Neither Seral nor Falie and her husband looked like they passed their mid-thirties.

    At least the hermits in Ontrea would offer some deep wisdom or spiritual guidance before kicking a visitor out of their caves.

    He waved at the couple as he left. Falie nodded while the man lifted his handzily.

    He tucked the bundle under an arm, slid the coins into his belt-pouch. He paused. There was a small bunch of grapes stuck to his belt, likely snagged in the buckles at some time during the day. He was certainly tired enough not to notice.

    Even with the Current running through him, easing the aches, it was still a level of exhaustion he rarely felt. His recent illness had obviously taken a toll. He plucked the cluster from his belt, held it up to inspection.

    Falie''s grapes were smaller than the average wine grapes he''d seen in Ontrea. He squeezed one between his fingers. They felt as firm and juicy. He tossed one into his mouth and bit through the taut skin.

    Juice gushed across his tongue. He froze in surprise. The next moment he was spitting out the fruit, the juice, and nearly all the moisture in his mouth.

    "Are all grapes in Ascharon this tart," he panted, mouth still twisting in rebellion at the intense sourness that had invaded it.

    No. Marmon Chacort had added sweet wines to the table during that dinner that now seemed long ago.

    He tossed the rest of the grapes over his shoulder, into the river.

    They hit with a squishy thunk.

    He turned. That was not the sound of damnable fruit hitting the river. He moved to the bank. The river here ran over boulders, and a series of smoothly water-worn rocks dotted the banks.

    The grape clustery beside a strangely-shaped stone. He dropped down the small incline to take a closer look. The edges of the stone were straight. Not an average rock.

    He dug into the gravel to extract a small rectangr tablet, carved in intricate detail. The facing side held an abstract design though, not an image. He ran fingers over the carving. The lines were crisp, showing skill and care in the use of skill.

    He should ask Sarel what it meant at dinner. If it was engraved into stone with such care, it should be interesting. At the very least, there must be a story behind it. Who knew, he might get Sarel to speak more than ten sentences to him today.

    His lips curled in amusement.

    A glint in the river caught his eye. He reached into the shallow water and pulled out the small cylinder of metal. A single silver crescent.

    He held it to the mid-afternoon sun.

    Ascharon coins were not the t disks he was used to. They were cylindrical, with reliefs covering the surface. The silver crescent had moons prominent in its design.

    The metal of the coin was bright and untarnished. How likely was it, that this came from his own coin-pouch? He grit his teeth at the memory of a captain with cold eyes, beard carefully curled, and the sound of mockingughter.

    He stood and moved among the rocks, looking for more of the coins. An hourter, he had a solstice and two more crescents.

    The sun was hovering just above the mountains to the west. Sarel should have finished with her work around the homestead and waszily fishing in the shade of therge oaks by now. He should be getting back. There was likely no more than what he already found.

    He wiped his hands on the linen-lined wool breeches borrowed from Sarel. He had enough to buy his own clothes at least.

    *

    Sarel was already cooking when he entered the house, the scent of sizzling fresh fish permeating the enclosed space.

    He quickly went to freshen himself up. He had since childhood tasted the best dishes that a royal court had to offer. Sarel''s cooking was as far above those cooks as the sun was above the desert.

    It was, beyond all, the reason that kept him from leaving the moment he could stand from his illness.

    One month.

    He would only have this cooking for one month before she kicked him out as ''fully'' healthy. She did not know of the Current in him that aided his recovery, and he certainly wasn''t telling her anything that wouldpromise his ability to eat her food.

    He had already lost ess to the midday meal, which he ate with Falie and her silent husband. He was not, definitely not, giving up any other chance.

    "This was sent over." He put the bottle of wine on the table. He dropped the stone tablet beside it.

    She nced at the bottle, huffed in irritated exasperation, and turned her back on it.

    He raised his brow and took a cup from the kitchen shelf. How bad could it be? He ignored that his toes nearly curled in terror at the remembrance of the earlier taste of grapes.

    Surely it would not be the same for the wine? He uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into the cup. He inhaled and nearly forgot where he was.

    The fragrance of the wine curled around him pleasurably.

    He took a mouthful in anticipation.

    And spat it back out immediately.

    It was acerbic, it was sharine, it was savory, it was earthy. It was not to be called wine.

    "Mushrooms?" Who put mushrooms in wine?! He reached for the water-barrel to wash away the deeply regretful taste. It clung abominably to the tongue.

    Sarel nced at him, snorted in amusement. "Nothing wrong with your taste-buds, at least."

    She poured some of the abominable concoction into a ceramic te, then struck a match against the meless stove. The match burst into me, which she touched to the contents of the te. The liquid burned in a colorless fire, and the incredible scent he was enamored of earlier mingled in harmony with the smell of cooking fish.

    "How," he breathed. It was possible to create a drink so fragrant yet tasted like sugared citrons hoarded and forgotten, moldy and decaying?

    "She''s an idiot, that''s how. Only follows her nose. I suppose there''s something to admire in that." She red at him. "You will not tell her I said that unless you want to drink all the new ''wines'' shees up with."

    "Why would she send them to you?"

    "I got her husband out of some troublesome event in town. She''s been trying to get me to approve of this thing since." She eyed the bottle with reasonable loathing, then noticed the other object on the table. "Did she send over the summon-tablet too?"

    "A summon-tablet?" Defi picked up the carved piece of stone. The t surface was about the size of his hand. "I found it in the river."

    "It''s what summoners use to call their beasts." She leaned over the stone andughed a little. "What is your luck, I wonder? Survived the Treachery and now found a summon-tablet? See those marks?"

    She pointed at the two circr divots at the top of the tablet. "That means a second-level summon. Not particrly rare, but even the mostmon first-level summons cost about two hundred uds. And this mark over here," she touched the quartered circle, "would increase the price even more, as it means the ability to summon a n of beasts rather than a single individual."

    "How is it used?" Defi was fascinated. The sorcery of Ascharon was incredibly varied in craftsmanship. The Current was mostly a personal power, and the only craft associated with it was alchemy.

    "This thing is old," Sarel took it from him. "I don''t think this emblem, this design, has been used for a hundred years. People don''t carve stone tablets these days, what with finding a way to summon with just ink and paper."

    She gave it back to him. "The small bowl-shape on the bottom-right is where you drip blood, traditionally. Don''t get too excited, though. Like I said, it''s old. At least a hundred summon beasts have been found every decade since the Gourmand Emperor. That means a second-level beast from a hundred years ago would be ranked no more than first-level now."

    She leaned back. "It''s good enough for a beginner. Want to try it?"

    "You need not ask." He pricked his finger with the table knife.

    "Wait, not on"

    The tablet glowed and spat forth a ball of light that condensed slowly.

    "the table," finished Sarel, glowering. Specks of orange-colored light flickered around her. "If you ever do that again, I''ll throw you back into the bloody river."

    He lifted his hands, quick surrender. "I apologize. I will not do it again."

    She was right. What if it were arge beast? Her house would''ve been destroyed and Defi would no longer be able to eat her cooking. The orange glowing specks only appeared when she was particrly irritated, so Defi speedily cated her while curbing his usual curiosity. Questions on Ascharon sorcery would have to wait for another time.

    The blue-green creature that came out of the tablet bounced. It was globr, and half the size of his head. There was a semi-opaqueness to its being. Fascinating.

    Sarel snickered.

    Defi poked the gtinous object..animal? The skin felt soft yet firm, like a thicker grape-skin really. There were even animals like these? "What is it?"

    "I take back what I said about your luck," Sarel said, amused. "I was fooled by the stone-tablet  it''s generally used for important summons. A slime doesn''t even make it into the summon rankings these days."

    "A slime?" He poked it again. It was not slimy at all. It started to creep over the table. He watched with interest. How did it move? It had no legs. Was it like a slug, a worm? He turned it over on its back. It started to creep forward once more. How intriguing. It could move with any surface part of its body.

    "They were popr as pets some decades ago, but with people discovering greater beasts needing more vitality from summoners, it''s now ssed as a pest, a waste of a summon. No particrly useful abilities inbat or craft, no appreciable utility, intelligence only slightly higher than a nt. It only knows how to eat."

    Defi scooped up the blue-green animal. A pet soundednice. He''d never had one, too busy with studies and obligations.

    Level-null, was it? A waste? He smiled wryly. It was in goodpany, the perfect pet for him.

    He lifted it solemnly above the kitchen table, cupped between his palms. "Your name is Turquoise."

    "A grand name," said Sarel sarcastically.

    Defiughed. "A name suitable for the challenge of imminent glory!"

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Eighth  a measure of time in Ontrea, based on dividing the 24-hour day into eight sections of three hours each.

    Two hundred uds is a year''s earnings for the averageborer.

    1 gold solstice = 20 silver crescents = 400 bronze uds = 40,000 ck-iron ronds

    1 kilogar = 1000 grane

    [In the units of Earth, and far far away, a kilogar is the equivalent of one kilogram and a grane is one gram. -- from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions]

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting for the book on .

 Chapter 9: Detour

    Chapter 9: Detour

    When Sarel said slimes only knew how to eat, she was not exaggerating even a little.

    Defi rolled another suirberry in its direction. Turq immediately pounced on it.

    He watched as, like every other suirberry it had ''eaten'', the green fruit was visibly drawn inside the slime''s body. The translucent nature of the mystic animal meant that Defi could see the grape slowly disintegrate and be part of the slime.

    Oddly, the slime''s body only ever erged when he was feeding it inrge amounts. Once the food was digested, Turq returned to its default size. There was no waste left behind. A slime''s digestion must be incredibly efficient, he mused. Surely the food was not just for survival?

    Falie had allowed Turq to eat the damaged and unusable suirberries for a pittance, as most years she only used them as fertilizer and chicken feed.

    She had six hecte ofnd nted in suirberries, and of the hundred or so quartel barrels she made into her ''wine'' per harvest, most of them were speedily acquired by a mysterious buyer in the nearest river city of Ecthys.

    If people were actually drinking the stuff, then Defi maintained that Ascharon''s reputation as the gourmet empire was a greatly vicious lie.

    In any case, for thest sennight, Turq had been steadily munching on ten kilogar of suirberry every day that Defi helped with the harvest. It was a wonder it did not just shrivel up into a raisin-Turq from the sourness. But of course the marvelous Turq was above such things; its gut was mighty, of legendary fame.

    "Defi, we''re going back."

    Defi straightened at Falie''s call, attaching his water-skin to his belt and plopping Turq on his head. Sarel said that due to the summon bond, humans in general wouldn''t be subsumed to the slime''s devouring appetite. The reason she had to out and say the words was a scene not to be told. In fact, Defi had forgotten itpletely.

    He grabbed his picking basket and jogged after Falie.

    In the recent days, he hade to realize that Garun had given him an entirely different notion on how much work a harvest was. He truly had been pampered, he fumed.

    The overseer had only let him work in the easy hours of the morning, and when the sun rose high had banished him to the house, reasoning that Defi must take care of his studies as well. The man had also not let him work for more than three days every week, citing holidays and feast-days and various other observances.

    The cad. How much study did the man put into religious observances of the Church in order to have that much logic to use against Defi?!

    He twisted his wrist viciously, dramatically. The knife freed several clusters of suirberries without harming the vine.

    "Good technique,"mented Falie, to his right.

    "Thank you," he returned courteously. "I have found that it is all in the mindset."

    Turq bounced from Defi''s head to his shoulder. He smiled at it.

    Oh well. It was not like Defi was truly mad at the man.

    Besides, it would take five or so years for Garun to establish himself as a seller of spice with a reputation famous enough to cross an empire. Defi did not want to hold a grudge that long; the man had only been doing what must be done after all. If Defi had spent all his time on the farm, he would not have managed his studies. If his father had found that he had be a farmer in truth, Garun and the rest of ves would''ve been sold away and Defi punished.

    He had learned many things at that farm. The Current swirling through him, light and pure, was enough proof of that. He was grateful that the soothing warmth of the Current had followed him here, to this ce where all that he knew seemed so insubstantial to everything new looming around him.

    He had to get himself together. He had to, hadn''t he? But, Creator have mercy, the Treachery seemed to have leeched him of strength. What conviction did he have now, what power? When he had to keep leaning on others simply to survive?

    When he parted from Garun''s family, he had fancied himself a traveling knight, setting out to right wrongs and find his own ce in the world. The river Redn stretched out before him, seemingly wide enough to contain the whole of civilization, a path to the glory inherent in his blood. And yet, he was here.

    Here, he idled the world away.

    He should be doing something. Was he not born for something great? It had been the refrain of his life from the first moment he could remember. He should be nning, plotting. His sister was still out there, as was the river captain who had robbed him, even Garun who was expecting him to be someone worthy of a future favor.

    He had lost his possessions and mementos, the clothes on his back were not even his, nor were the tools in his hand and thends he worked.

    And yet, he only nned ways to extend his stay with Sarel just for her cooking, he spent hours feeding Turq suirberries that Falie took out of his already meager pay, he was not even deigning to learn the writtennguage.

    He had deliberately failed every responsibility that Ontrea told him should have been his as a noble. Was he so wretched that a near-death would have him abandon what he had been taught, the soul of his nativend?

    In fact, the worst thing, the thing that he could almost not bear was this:

    It felt like the freest he had been in his life.

    *

    *

    "I''m taking a detour."

    "I''m the one at the reins of this thing," Defi countered. He ignored the slightly disdainful look at the insistence in keeping tond-based terminology and pushed the pole once more against the shallow gravel-filled bottom at the edge of the river. The widening of the waterway in fact indicated that they were already at theke.

    "Where I''m going is no ce for a child."

    He scowled, stabbed the pole into the river. "What a fortunate coincidence that there is no child in the vicinity."

    "Well, I suppose both of us are detouring then."

    He groaned internally. He could have stayed silent and poled this damnable scow right to the town. He nudged the watercraft in the direction Sarel indicated.

    It was a house. Curiously, it was built right against the water. The wooden wall of the building was hanging over the river. Arge window took up most of the upper half of the wall.

    He maneuvered them parallel to the window.

    Sarel leaned in. "Two of the leaf ale!"

    "What?" was the answer. "Someone actually buys that garbage?"

    "You want my money or not?" Sarel asked, impatience coloring her tone.

    Well, she had a point. Defi had heard simr logic in a number of lessons; he''d not heard someone say it so bluntly before though.

    The proprietor apparently thought her point valid as well. A couple ofrge two-handled cups hit the sill of the window without added words. Green liquid was immediately poured into them.

    Sarel motioned him to take the other one.

    "Where we''re going," she said, "is a dark ce, full of hidden dangers and unexpected monsters, gues and illnesses. This is the only fortifying we''ll have."

    There was a low chuckle from the shade of the building. "Why not supply us instead?"

    "If I thought you''d know what to do with fruit, I''d throw the things at you." Sarel tipped her cup into her mouth.

    Defi leaned into the window, then over the side of the house. There was no one to be seen. He eyed his cup skeptically.

    "Problem, boy?" A voice murmured.

    "I don''t drink mysterious brews poured by people I cannot see." It was said not quite apologetically.

    He''d seen the cups filled from different containers but not the person pouring them, no way to gauge intention. In the Current, he was only a low-adept and to glean intention from nothing was an advanced technique.

    There was a smattering ofughter from various ces. "Where''d you get this one, Sarel?"

    "People down south thought to saddle me with him," Sarel emptied her cup, lifted a brow at Defi. "We''re not leaving until that''s gone."

    Garun''s lessons came to the fore. He''d been offered something made to be drunk or eaten. Ascharon tradition would say, to not even take a sip would be rude. But precaution had kept him alive for years.

    Defi took the cup and offered it to Turq, who was lounging on his shoulder. Sarel''s eyes sparked in amusement, and a few of the invisible voicesughed.

    The slime investigated the liquid, then stretched its body into the cup. Defi pressed his lips to the cup rim after Turq had retreated in contentment, letting the tip of his tongue touch the droplets, and then ced the cup back down, empty. The taste on his lips was a little sweet, a hint of bitterness. An ale? He made a note. It tasted interesting. "Thanks."

    Sarel ced a handful of ronds, the coins with the ashy color, on the erged sill of theke tavern and then they were off.

    Defi waited until they were a bit further from the bank. "Down south?"

    "Your ent sounds something like the mountain people there, near the southern border."

    "Ah." He waited for Sarel to ask. But the woman just leaned back against the raised bow with closed eyes.

    Defi poled to the Lowpool town in a slightly tense silence that was oddlyfortable.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Hecte  a measure ofnd area, which in the surveying books is noted as 100x100 mar.

    Quartel  a barrel-size containing 25 litr of volume.

    Sennight  seven days. Literally ''seven-night''. In each of the thirteen months of the Ascharon calendar, there are exactly four sennights.

    Week  in Ontrea, the equivalent of ten days.

    Ale - a drink of malted grains vored by gruit, which is a concoction of herbs, flowers, and spices

    [In Earthen units, a ''litr'' contains a volume the equal of 1000mL. In the same system of measures, the Ascharon ''mar'' is of simr property as a ''metre''.  from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions]

 Chapter 10: Zaziphos Lake Soup

    Chapter 10: Zaziphos Lake Soup

    Defi considered his first impression of theke town. "I thought it would be smaller."

    Sarel made an acknowledging sound, watching the dockboys haul up baskets of zaziphos. "The arable area around theke is small, and most of it is close to town; there are no outlying viges to spread the farmers. Then there''s sable crab in theke. Catching even a small one will earn a fisherman enough to feed his family for half a year. More fishermen than farmers here."

    Once the dockboys finished, they loaded the baskets onto pullcarts and followed Sarel into the gravel-paved streets.

    Defi took one look at the household of Sarel''s usual buyer and immediately turned his feet to explore the town before she could induce him to stay. It was an orphanage, and sounded full to the brim with crying children.

    "Summer fevers," he heard a man say to Sarel. He quickened his steps. He could feel Sarel''s re on his nape. He left her to the monstrous dangers without regret.

    The town was very different from an Ontrean town. Ontrea built in stone and brick, pirs and towers rising high. The houses here were wood and straw, and the roofs curved in arches above houses not more than three levels above the ground. Most were built with only one or two levels. There was rarely stone in the town architecture and no evidence of brick. There was likely no quarry near, but the mud of the river was plentiful so why not use it to build?

    A raft of voices suddenly rose, taking his attention from the architecture.

    "not buying without a guild certification, girl."

    "Why would I need something so stupid?" demanded a rather young voice.

    Defi peered past the houses. A small wharf, one of many in the town, was tucked between twokeside houses, by a paved footpath that wended its way along thekeside.

    "I''ll tell you this, you bring it to the guild and register it or I buy it for twenty ud." He could recognize the tone of smug victory when he heard it.

    "It''s worth ten times more than that!"

    The man grinned, leaning forward, and Defi froze at the face exposed to his sight. It was the man from the docks in Stahlchausses. Hot anger roiled through him. Did that mean that the pirate captain was here too?

    "Not if I say it''s not," he said. "You know why? Because you don''t have a choice, and this is a buyer''s market."

    He breathed in. This man had not been part of the crew. Possibly only a factotum, a goat leadingmbs to the ughter, a procurer.

    He breathed out. His anger chilled with every breath.

    The man would not recognize him. He stepped forward, cleared his throat.

    The two whirled.

    There was a veryrge crab hung from the small girl''s back. It was nearly bigger than her torso, and it was still alive, twitching in the woven grass string that held it immobile. She was trying to sell it?

    A crab for twenty uds?

    That seemed a bit much.

    This was the sable crab that Sarel mentioned then. It was of a dark coal color, spots of white only on the underside and parts of the ws. In that case, twenty uds was too low.

    Sarel said a small one would cost half a year''s food. Garun once said that to feed three ves cost two silver a year. That was a fifth of a whole gold finger. Marmon Chacort had exchanged one gold finger to five solstices. From that, he could logically surmise that half a year''s food would be ten crescents or half a solstice. But the crab was not small. A whole solstice for it would likely be a justified price, wouldn''t it? That was twenty times the price that this procurer was forcing on the girl.

    "Who the Bridge-burner are you?" The girl eyed him warily.

    She was barely half his age, Defi supposed from her stature. "I find myself craving crab for my next meal."

    "Get lost," scoffed the man. "Like a mudboy would ever even see that kind of money, much less touch it."

    Defi just looked at the girl calmly, ignoring the man.

    "Did you hear me, mudgrubber?"

    Defi supposed that was a reference to his skin. It was the tanned color of those that worked in the sun. Was he to be shamed about that?

    The girl studied him a long while. "Alright," she said simply.

    "Hoi!"

    Defi gestured to the street and the girl went with only one look at the older man. He followed.

    "Are you ignoring me?" The outrage was clear for all to hear.

    A hand grabbed Defi''s shoulder, pulled him back with a jerk. Turq nearly fell off.

    Defi steadied the slime with one hand, then whirled and nted his foot in the man''s stomach. The man wheezed and fell. Defi allowed himself a cold smile.

    "Come," he said to the girl. "Your friends also."

    The girl''s breath hitched, but she slowly turned and signalled to the other two children watching from under a bush. They moved uncertainly to Defi''s side.

    He smiled at them all and led the way to the orphanage.

    He could barely wait. The sable crab was famous, wasn''t it? That meant it was more delicious than any lesser crab. It was nearly midday, and Sarel was conveniently in a ce with a kitchen. She would like to cook this famous crab, surely?

    *

    *

    "Sarel, I''ve found a crab."

    It was only through narrow-eyed study and weeks of proximity that Sarel could see the excitement bubbling in the boy''s voice.

    He was pointing at three grubby, malnourished children hovering uncertainly in the doorway of Lergen''s already child-infested house. A crab? She eyed the children, who looked nothing like crab.

    "If one of them is the crab," she said sardonically, "I''ll cook them for you."

    "You will?"

    He sounded thrilled, in that stoic way of his. She squinted at him. Had he fallen into the river again and struck his head on a rock? Did that slime of his identally suck out his brains?

    "Yes," she said slowly, "soup sounds just the thing."

    He waved the children inside, to her irritation. This was her disease-free room. "I''ve never had crab soup before."

    She fixed him with a t look. She had thought he was overly enthusiastic about her food, but equating people with food was never a good sign. That path led to cackling and Imperial oversight. "Defi."

    That was the moment the disease-carrier in the center of the trio pulled a mid-weight sable crab from behind her and put it on the table.

    She stared. "This isn''t the season for crab."

    The girl and the older of the two boy children snorted. She glowered at them. They huddled closer together.

    "What do you think?" Defi was looking at her, eyes expectant.

    She mentally gave up. Cooking was soothing. After being in this ce for an hour, her skin was already crawling. "Soup. Why not? It''s been a while since I had sable crab."

    He nodded in satisfaction. Somehow that irritated her. She caught his head in a vice-grip between elbow and arm. The slime bounced to sit on the kitchen table. "Now why would you bring these brats here?"

    "They were carrying my crab!"

    That was the reason there were now more snot-nosed noise-makers in her vicinity?! She squeezed his head tighter.

    A knock sounded on the door. It was in fact still open, and the professional-looking people peered in without reserve. The one in the lead saw the crab and brightened.

    Sarel had a bad feeling.

    "Did you buy this crab?"

    "No," Defi''s voice was slightly muffled.

    The official looked taken aback. "You didn''t? But I see it right here!"

    Ah. The fishers guild. The three children inched into a corner, looking worried. The picture became clearer to her. Selling sable crab was regted in the Lowpool. She nearly scoffed. Bloody forsaken guilds.

    Sarel released Defi and leaned back against her chair, curious how he would deal with it.

    "It was a gift."

    "A what?"

    "These three wanted to be introduced to the orphanage, and when we came here, decided to gift the crab to the rest of the children in the ce."

    Sarel saw the girl about to object and sent a quelling look. The girl subsided reluctantly, a rebellious air around her.

    "That''s not what we were told."

    "And was the person who told you listening at the windows of this house?"

    A man shouldered his way inside. Sarel frowned. An asional dockworker, if she remembered correctly. "You said you were going to buy it!"

    "When did I say that?"

    "I heard you!"

    "Really, because all I remember saying was that I wanted crab for my next meal."

    The man''s mouth opened. Closed.

    "I exined to the girl that she needed papers from the guild before she could sell but, as she did not want the hassle at her age, she decided that eating it with the children here would be of more immediate benefit. Summer fevers, you know. We were discussing soup with Sarel when you entered. Without invitation."

    The chill in the boy''s words was not immediately evident due to the faade of courtesy that he all but radiated into the space around him. Sarel wished he would stop doing that. Even with sun-tanned skin and ordinary clothes, this particr overly-courteous mask and too practiced elocution gave the game away.

    Sarel studied the dockworker again. She had not seen the boy this angry since the first day. Who was this person and what had he done to Defi? She resolved to keep an eye on him.

    "It was necessary, you see, as some unscrupulous soul was trying to get her to sell it to him for twenty uds or he would bring her to the guild."

    "What? I said nothing about bringing her to the guild!"

    The guild official''s face went through a raft of angry emotions, ended in eyeing the dockworker in distaste. The two behind him had lost the geniality in their expressions.

    The man saw these expressions and his face grew ugly. He stared at Defi and said, lowly. "We are not done, you and I."

    He pushed his way outside.

    Sarel saw Defi''s eyes sh momentarily.

    The official turned to them stiffly. "I apologize. We were misinformed. The crab is of course, viable to be given as a gift to the children. In celebration for these three joining the orphanage, I imagine? I will report it so."

    He nodded at them all and left.

    There was silence for a moment.

    Sarel sighed audibly, made for the inner door. "I''ll get Lergen to bring out his biggest pot."

    "Wait," said the girl-child, who had paled as the guild and the idiot entered. "Ithe crab was"

    "I hear your rtives left you with one solstice, in care of this orphanage, to be used to benefit your future," said Defi calmly. "The people running the ce would be happy to give you an ounting."

    The girl stared at him. "Yes."

    Herpanions sighed in relief. "Thank you."

    "You''re wee," Defi looked away.

    Lergen appeared in the door with arge pot. "I hear we have crab?"

    She rolled her eyes at him, almost childishly. How long had he been listening? She couldn''t be bothered.

    Her mind was already going through avable ingredients. Lergen had salted some fish recently, hadn''t he? There were the fruits, too.

    Zaziphos Lake Soup, she contemted. It sounded good.

    *

    There were ten children in the orphanage. The added three certainly did not make a dent in the fact that every corner Sarel could see was crawling with children.

    The dinner of vitality-rich soup only made the situation worse, as the children started recovering from the summer fever and rushing energetically about the ce.

    Defi took a seat at the table and sprawled over it with a familiar air of exhaustion. Turq the slime bumped him inmiseration. "Youe here every sennight?"

    The disbelief in his voice soothed her. Atst, there was someone who understood. She hummed her agreement, in a better mood.

    "You''ve made an enemy," she murmured. Are you sure, she did not ask.

    "He was enemy long before this day," he said quietly. "I merely made certain he was informed."

    Informed? She nearlyughed. The boy''s stance on honor could be strange at times. "I''m not fishing you out of the river twice."

    "If I wait at the banks of the river, will my enemies float past?"

    "It''s ''live''," she said tartly.

    "What?"

    "Do not pursue enmity, but live a life by the river long enough to watch the bodies of your enemies float by."

    He was silent.

    They watched Turq methodically roll over remnants of sable crab and fish. It was slower than normal. Defi offered it a scoop of the delicate green roe rarely found in sable crabs.

    Sarel sighed. "That roe is more expensive than the crab itself, you..."

    Didn''t he know that the roe had the highest concentration of vitality in a sable crab?

    "Turq is my good-luck charm. Didn''t you say I was lucky to buy such a wonderful crab for only a solstice? Turq deserves the best food."

    Oh well. Let the youth be idiots, didn''t someone say? Let them be idiots in the present and see wisdom grow in the future.

    The slime glowed as it finished the roe. She leaned back in reflex, to see the also bewildered look under the watchful serenity of Defi''s face.

    The glow split. And then there were two slimes on the table.

    One was obviously Turq. The other was a greener, smaller slime, with a smattering of ck spots down itsterals.

    They stared.

    "I''m sorry," Defi said atst. "Next time, I''ll feed them outside?"

    She stared at him nkly, shook her head. The luck of idiots was unfathomable.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    In Ascharon, the cost to feed a single person for 1 year (364 days) to a healthy standard (3000 calories a day including all basic food groups) usingmon ingredients is about 40 bronze uds.

    To feed a family of 5 for a year (2 adults, 3 children) to the same standard costs around 1 gold solstice.

    Disimer: These calctions are only an approximation based on current market prices formon ingredients. As the average Ascharon family often grows their own food and also at times purchases mystic ingredients, the actual cost to feed the average family fluctuates.

 Chapter 11: The Feel of a Page

    Chapter 11: The Feel of a Page

    Defi was intrigued about the way Turq suddenly split in two, or was it ''birthed another''? Sarel said it was the normal way slimes reproduced. They split when the vitality within them was too much for their bodies.

    But then shouldn''t Jar be simr in looks and size or temperament to Turq? Obviously, in all three, Jar was distinguishable from Turq.

    Jasper, or Jar as the small children in the orphanage insisted, was a bit more energetic than Turq. It was not content toy on its summoner''s head all day, and preferred inanimate objects to sit on when resting. It also ate more suirberries than Turq did, despite its smaller size.

    Did that mean different slimes had preferred diets? Had Turq only been eating suirberries because it was the only food Defi provided?

    "There are publications on known mystic beasts." Sarel finally got tired of his questions. "The Lowpool has a library. Not sure you''ll find anything on slimes but you''re irritating me so go spend the day elsewhere."

    So Defi was once more taking the scow to the Lowpool, along with another load of zaziphos to another buyer  the baker this time.

    "You gave it away?" The incensed yell startled him out of his conversation with the baker. A man and a woman were walking down the street. Well, the man was walking rather calmly. The woman was all but jumping around him while vibrating with anger. "And what will we eat for the next month, eh? The abominable excuses for vegetables you can''t even grow well?"

    "They''re hybrid herbs, Leraine. And would you grudge a hungry child the food?"

    "They have parents to take care of them! As you promised mine when you married me, or have you forgotten? Oh," shemented loudly. "we''ll truly starve this time. Because of you and your failed research!"

    "Pay them no mind, Defi," said the baker, as the two passed by. "They do this every now and then."

    "All the time," muttered her fellow baker and husband.

    Defi nodded, turning away from the couple. "What is he researching?"

    "Mystic herbs, I think? Something about agricultural evolution"

    "He thinks he can crossmon herbs with mystic ones," drawled a customer. "So they can grow outside a blessednd, and without a treant. The Lowpool has sable crab where there isn''t a hint of blessednd nearby. He wants to duplicate it."

    "Is that even possible?" wondered another customer.

    "Not likely."

    A nearby customerughed. "Everyone knows the Lowpool''s blessednd is under theke."

    "No wonder they had to sell their farm off bit by bit."

    Defi listened a while to the gossip, as he finished the transaction with the bakers. Blessednd? Is that where mystic nts and animals grew? Where Turq came from? Was the slime used to eating mystics? Fascinating.

    He walked to the library, having it pointed out by the bakers Dyene and Reon.

    He noticed that the people referred to the town and theke in the same manner. Did the town really not have a name?

    The librarian, a tall and thin man with a bristly beard and a voice unexpectedly as low and growly as a bear''s, grumbled the answer while not looking up from his book. "It''s Sottc Town, officially. Apparently ''Lowpool Town'' was not grand enough for his lordship the Marquis."

    "The town is part of a marquisate?" Books written about Ascharon by certain Ontrean schrs said the empire''s caste system was haphazard: there were thirteen ranks of social status, with the emperor at the top and themoners at the bottom, but it was possible to move up and down the ranks in a person''s lifetime. A marquisate was mid-high in the rankings.

    "Not anymore," the librarian looked up finally, took a second to eye Turq before continuing. "his heirs squabbled over territory and got on the old emperor''s nerves. We''ve been independent for twenty years now. An interest in history?"

    "I''m looking for information on slimes, and someone to read it to me."

    "Most people," rumbled the man, studying him curiously, "would not be so sanguine in admitting within a library that they could not read."

    "To hesitate because I am ashamed of a skill I do not have is a waste of time better spent on looking for what I want to know. I can pay whoever, if it helps. Not a lot, though." He did not regret spending the majority of his Ascharon coin on the sable crab, but it also meant he was once more at the mercy of tight ounts.

    "A practical point of view." The man hummed. He unfolded his body from the chair. "Slimes, was it? There should be something in the old sections. Take a table. I''ll send someone with the books."

    Defi took the nearest chair. He tapped a finger on the table surface, contemtive. He looked around, the ce unfamiliar but hauntingly nostalgic.

    The walls were not ster and stone, but wood and paint. The lights in the dark corners were not carefully ss-enclosed oilmps but glowing glyph designs. Even the scent of books and ink were not the alike. But it was a space of learning just the same, a collection of knowledge transcending worlds, a connection betweennds and peoples and times.

    He sighed.

    It was past time he learned how to read Ascharon letters. It had been foolish not to immediately seek the knowledge. He was not afraid to admit that.

    In his haste to distance himself from Rimet, he had tried not to be himself.

    But this was now undeniable: he was a schr. It mattered not if he had been raised to be or came to love it. It was what he knew and he loved it.

    Even if he never left this town in his lifetime, even if nothing more ever happened to him, this was something of him that would not change. He could leave behind his noble titles and his blood, but not the craving for the feel of a page beneath his fingers, for arcane knowledge and obscure fact.

    This was something of himself that made him happy.

    He smiled at finding something he enjoyed that would please Maryiz and Casmiref. He reached up and patted Turq  it was because of the slime that he was here after all.

    A pile of books thudded on the table and the woman, some few years older than him, raised a brow at Defi disdainfully. "You needed information on slimes and someone who could read?"

    The woman was as thin as the librarian, but not as tall, though her neck seemed too long for her head. An academic, Defi decided.

    "I did," he answered neutrally. Turq bounced onto the table. Defi quickly blocked his path to the books. "Those aren''t for you."

    The woman scoffed. "Who even summons that trash these days?"

    "Who said it''s a summon?"

    "Why else would it follow you around?"

    "It could have been tamed."

    Another look of disdain. "You can''t tame a mystic animal."

    "Are the stories of griffin-riders a lie, then?"

    "Those are summons too, you idiot."

    "Indeed? They say that like griffins, frost-tigers have to be caught before a summon-bond can be made."

    "That''s not taming!"

    "No? My mistake then. As expected of an expert, to be so decisive. Then the slimes who are not even part of the summon rankings should be easy. The parts on diet should be read first, please."

    The woman looked superior. "Everyone knows slimes eat anything."

    "Even then, aren''t we going to start?"

    The woman grit her teeth, loomed over Defi. "Look, you ignorant peon, this is a waste of time. Why would anyone ever do a study on a trash summon like a slime? Even "

    "A hundred years ago, slimes were a level-two summon."

    The womanughed, contempt evident. "I get it''s your first summon or whatever, but you don''t have to make up lies so you''re not ashamed of the weak little--."

    "The fact that it is true is not part of your consideration, is it, Een?" rumbled the librarian. He was carrying several books on one arm, frowning.

    "Cousin!" she quickly cated the librarian, "Of course it is, just that these days who cares about slimes? And people who can''t read should have the grace toe here. They''re making work for the rest of us!"

    "I suppose that if you do not want to work, there''s no reason for you to be here."

    The woman''s eyes widened. "Cousin, are you taking his side over mine?"

    "This is a ce of learning." He stared her down.

    After a long moment of disbelief, she huffed and sat down at Defi''s table.

    "Diets, was it?" she forced out unenthusiastically.

    "And habitat," agreed Defi. He did not care about what she thought of him, or the insults slung in his direction, only that she did the work well. She did not know him, and he did not know her  in the face of that, hostilities were insignificant and irrational.

    If she did not want to be here, he was certain the librarian would rmend others. As the woman''s cousin and employer, he had some responsibility for her actions after all.

    Still, it was not his nature to blindly trust.

    "Why are you staring at me?" the woman, Een, demanded after a while of going over various books.

    "You don''t want to be here, and your dislike for uneducated people is marked. It''s just reasonable to make sure the information you''re passing on is urate."

    She sputtered. "You think I''m going to lie?

    At his silence, she reddened in added indignation. She calmed herself visibly. "Look, idiot. This is a ce of learning. I''m not going to anger my cousin because some illiterate farmer walks in and wants to waste my time."

    "I find the information useful actually. If you feel your time is wasted, then send someone else next time." The books said slimes were naturally drawn to bodies of water and often are found in wends. Still, information about specific diets was sparse. Should he look at edible ingredients around wends and rivers next?

    He nced at the other.

    She looked like she was biting back a retort, probably another jab at Defi''s ignorance or the fact that he wasn''t supposed to be here. He was just mostly amused now. What he''d heard in the children''s court had been eminently worse.

    "We''ve gotten through most of the books. What''s left is just spection."

    "It''s far from sunset yet. Might as well finish." He tapped his fingers on Turq''s back. The springy, firmly soft outer shell was unexpectedly soothing to touch.

    It had been two hours or so, and nearly mid-afternoon. He was about ready to call it a day, a multitude of ideas to better care for Turq and Jar already in swirling in his mind.

    However

    He heard his employed reader stifle a groan of dismay, and tried not to smirk.

    *

    *

    [excerpt from the journal of a beast hunter]

    <strong><em>13th First Spring, D532</em></strong>

    <em>It was not perhaps the best idea to hunt watercats in the swamps during the season of rain. We are constantly damp and near to rotting, I say. We have had both the silent slime and the generally docile myconid attack us unprovoked.</em>

    <em>Marku is of the mind that they build territories. A preposterous notion.</em>

    <em>The only good thing about this trip is that we have found the watercats. Unfortunately, they have in return found us.</em>

    <em>Marku and I have discovered that under rain and in the blush of the season, watercats are infinitely more aggressive than normal.</em>

    <em>Certainly we have found many.</em>

    <em>Also certain, we have near lost our lives to many.</em>

    <em>I have advocated for the postponement of the hunt, that we may return at a more opportune time. But Marku cannot be dissuaded, and therefore we must go on.</em>

    <em>Even with me quite out of humor with him, he is optimistic.</em>

    <em>The increasing numbers of slime and myconid have given Marku the idea that these creatures live in a sort of symbioses with the watercats. I cannot countenance his theories. Certainly none of the schrly works have mentioned these three species in the same habitat as each other.</em>

    <em>But it is rain season, and the rise in waters have likely washed some few of the small mystic creatures from their naturalnds.</em>

    <em>Marku has returned.</em>

    <em>He is in loud hysterics about a gigantic serpent in the swamp, of the same persuasion as the watercat but with the translucence of a slime. He is determined to go out again, into the rain and damp of this forsaken ce.</em>

    <em>Evolution? He grows more fantastical by the day. I fear some strange powder or air has touched him.</em>

    <em>I must prevail to change his mind.</em>

    <em>We must leave this ce.</em>

    <strong><em>--- Parval Berggare, Esq.</em></strong>

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    blessednd -nd that is so abundant in power that it sustains mystic nts and animals naturally. There are only pockets of blessednd avable and they are rare, not even 1% of the area of the empire. One square mar of blessednd, if bought or sold, will run to the hundred thousands in gold solstices.

    treant - a mystic tree being that helps protect and grow mystic nts and animals, even outside a blessednd. It lives in symbioses with small mystic monkey creatures called tree imps.

    level summon - there are ten levels of summon beasts, ranked using an algorithm that assesses power, utility, and danger with level ten beasts being the most powerful and dangerous.

    beast hunter - exploratory hunters of mystic animals. Summon beasts have to be studied first before glyphmasters can create the emblems used to summon a particr species.

    Esquire (Esq.) - themon address for untitled nobility in Ascharon

    [In Earthen units, a ''litr'' contains a volume the equal of 1000mL. In the same system of measures, the Ascharon ''mar'' is of simr property as a ''metre''.  from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions]

 Chapter 12: Seakrait Bone is a Fools Trophy

    Chapter 12: Seakrait Bone is a Fool''s Trophy

    Since the first trip to the Lowpool, Sarel had been leaving most of the town deliveries to him, and had increased their frequency to nearly every day. It''s not like he hadn''t the time, now that the suirberry harvest was done and Falie only needed his help in the mornings. The wages were of course, also cut in half.

    He used the time in town to increase his knowledge of the Ascharonnguage. To Een''s ire, he kept returning to the library.

    It would have been faster if he had been writing down the information he collected, but most people in town already thought of him as a farmer''s child from the south, associated with Sarel''s family or something simr.

    Him writing fluently in a strangenguage would soon spread if he took notes on Een''s lectures. To be a farmer attempting to learn how to write was less gossip-worthy than a foreigner seeking to learn their nativenguage.

    Ascharon letters did not reallypare to Ontrean characters. Even if the Ascharoniannguage had only forty-nine letterspared to the hundreds in Ontrean, the structure and spelling of its words varied so widely it was near illegible. There were fewer rules than Ontrean and that only served to make the writtennguage that more confusing as different dialects of thenguage came up with differing and arbitrary rules.

    The empire, some decades back, dered that writers must write in the words of the empire rather than the former schrly Abrechalnguage, which was diminished enough that less than a thousand people spoke it.

    Good for themon Ascharonian, but unfortunate for him as the books with the most information on slimes were written at least a century ago. That meant to see what schrly documents there were about Turq''s species he needed to learn yet anothernguage.

    He decided to learn the Abrechal writtennguage first, as most of it had be the Ascharon letters anyway. It didn''t matter if he could not speak Abrechal, only that he could understand the words written in it.

    Then his interest in the sorcery of Ascharon sent him on yet anothernguage hunt, this time for thenguage of the glyph-makers.

    Since it was a sorcery craft based on imbuing symbolic art with power, he of course was interested. One of Ontrean alchemy''s more obscure branches was called eikonography, in which images were imbued with Current. The ve mark was a particr example.

    He decided to look more into it after he learned all he could to make a better owner for Turq and Jar. It was better not to do too many things at once.

    In any case, he already knew spoken Ascharon; learning how to organize forty-nine letters into some semnce of sense would be easier than learning Ontrean had been. He gave himself two months to learn Abrechal, another month to learn the current written Ascharonian, and the rest of the year for glyphs.

    With these goals for the next several months set, he stretched from the library chair in contentment. Een stood up with a sigh. He waved at her with an innocent smile, only to be answered with a silent glower. She turned her back on him.

    "See youter," he added, just to salt the festering sore.

    Walking back to the docks, he looked around the streets. There was no inn in the Lowpool, he had already found. That was not ideal. It was less than a week before Seral''s month of grace would end.

    He caught sight of someone he knew and without hesitation called out.

    "Reon!"

    The baker looked around,rge bag in his arms. His brows lifted in surprise at the sight. "Defi?"

    "I wanted to ask," he went straight to the point, "if you knew somewhere in town that''s renting a room?"

    "Not many peoplee here," answered Reon doubtfully. "I''ll ask around. I should have something by the next shipment."

    "Ah, if possible could you make sure they''d be alright with Turq and Jar?"

    "Your slimes? Sure."

    "I''m grateful."

    He helped Reon load his pullcart and headed once more to theke. He slipped two ronds to the dock-master and untied the scow from its mooring.

    He waszily poling himself back to Sarel''s homestead when the serpent attacked.

    The scow ripped out from under him. From the calm flower-strewn summer riverbank, he suddenly was staring at his reflection in the water. The familiar weight on his head was gone.

    His eyes widened. "Turquoise!"

    The water was calm around the Lowpool, as calm as it could be being part of the Little Treachery, and most times a gentlyppingke.

    But now the watershed about, pale forms disturbing the tranquility. Defi could not breathe for the panic, memories strangling him. He knew then, that he would drown to the mockingughter.

    Was it to happen again?

    His hand brushed bumpy scales.

    A serpent.

    It wasrge enough to make a mouthful of him.

    To be eaten? His mind suddenly went to the baskets of suirberries, absorbed into Turq and Jar''s bodies.

    No. He would rot on his own or not at all.

    He would not die here.

    Not before he purged theughter from dreams of death.

    He yelled and, despite the futility, struck the serpent with all the strength he had. He could only see the scales dent a little.

    One blow. One blow struck underwater. A sess.

    He smiled triumphantly, a faint curve of his lips. His eyes closed as his body sank.

    He struck something. Soft and firm, like slightly leathery grape-skin.

    He forced his eyes open, to see bluish-green in front of him.

    Turq?

    Air forced the water from his lungs. He choked, instinctively fighting it before he came to his senses and forced himself to take a breath.

    He was

    He was floating on the river, on a giant slime that was the same color as Turq, rising from the waters.

    What?

    He pushed himself up. "Turq?"

    Under his hands, under the water dripping off his soaked form, within the translucent body of his pet slime, were the coils of a serpent.

    Incredible. A slime could do this? Heughed in delight, grateful to the core of him. The beasts of Ascharon were the best pets!

    Then a thought struck him.

    "Turq!" His distress was genuine. "What if it was diseased?"

    Turq, possibly due to some form of homing instinct, propelled itself upriver to Sarel''s homestead. It did not seem to have any averse effects from eating the massive serpent, so Defi let the matter go.

    Defi had not even known it could move within water, though with the amount of literature that said slimes were often found near bodies of water he should have expected it.

    Why else would Turq have such a sleek and streamlined body structure?

    He slowly rxed on Turq''s body, his pounding heart gently returning to its steady beat. He had nightmares of falling off that boat and he felt his aversion to the water was natural. He hadn''t expected he''d fear so powerfully being submerged in water. After all, he''d been bathing in the river all this time, hadn''t he?

    He lifted his hand, as if viewing it for the first time. He''d moved. He''d at least struck a blow against the enemy while in the grip of fatal fear. It was small, it was insignificant, but great epics were a collection of small victories weren''t they? He did not expect to live an epic, merely to live.

    He curled his fingers into a fist and raised it to the sky.

    Within him, the Current radiated.

    *

    *

    Sarel was visible, holding a fishing pole while leaning back in her shaded chair, when Defi realized he''d lost the scow.

    Ah. She wouldn''t like that. She''d probably make him borrow the next farm''s boat and go make certain it had survived. Surely he should have some leeway? A giant serpent had attacked them and the scow was the only casualty  wasn''t that a good thing?

    Sarel caught sight of them and was staring nkly.

    "Is that a seakrait," she asked with impressiveposure, as she peered into Turq. He had not been so unruffled.

    "Are theymon?"

    She eyed him. "Not even going to tell me why the slime has a monster in it?"

    "We met it when we wereing back. I think it was hungry. Turq was hungrier, it appears." Defi smirked as he patted the slime''s back.

    "It''s not amon urrence," Sarel answered his earlier question, "but ocean beasts sometimese up the great river. They''re usually captured before they reach the Overpool though. I haven''t heard any seakrait stories in the Lowpool anyway."

    Defi smiled. Was Sarel warming up to him? She was more talkative now than before.

    "Tell me he''s not going to stay that size."

    "He''s always returned to the same size before."

    She stood and started clearing away. "Might as well stop here. You''ve scared away the fish."

    "What''s for dinner?"

    Not stopping in her actions, she asked tly. "What happened to the scow?"

    "I''llpick more zaziphos tomorrow?"

    "Start today. It''s not sundown yet."

    Defi leaned back against Turq with a groan. He patted the newly giant slime''s skin. "At least we''ll be outside together."

    Turq gurgled and spat the intact skeleton of the seakrait out onto the pier.

    "Well," said Defi, after a moment, "it would make a good trophy?"

    How was this uneptable to Turq when it ate crab shells and fish-bones equally, he wondered.

    Maybe it was the size?

    He should really get some writing supplies. Turq and slimes became more interesting by the day! Noting down his observations would make it easier to care for them in the future.

    "you''re not keeping that." Sarel called as she exited the shed.

    "Don''t you want it?"

    "Go sell it to some glory-seeking fool in the Lowpool."

    Oh, good idea. He did need the funds.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    eikonography - the art of imbuing power into images; an Ontrean traditional artform.

    pullcart - wheeled transport cart usually pulled by a person or people

    seakrait - sea beasts that often gue the coasts and deep waters of the Morblu Sea. A rare summon as they are temperamental and difficult to control. May grow from the size of the averagend snake torger than a trade galleon, andmonly seen in shades of blue.

 Chapter 13: A Day to Remember

    Chapter 13: A Day to Remember

    The docks of the Lowpool were by far the least that Besan had ever seen. It was almost insulting for someone like him, who had seen the harbors of Albcasso and Terren and of the great capital of Carmedel, to be looking for work in the Lowpool docks.

    It could not be helped. He needed to stay somewhat in good stead with the people here.

    This day was looking better than others, however.

    "Besan, you''re here today?" A dockworker greeted him.

    Jerac, he recalled, some years younger than him. He grunted.

    "Natan''s calling in all hands," the dockworker Jerac added with a grin. "That never happens."

    Never happens <em>here</em>, Besan sneered. Not in this tiny forgotten town. But he only nodded to the other dockworker. "Sounds interesting," he lied.

    "You look happy about it," Jerac fell into step. "Running out of ale money already?"

    "Unlike you, I don''t have a wife to spend my money."

    Jeracughed. "What else is money for?"

    Fishermen here had it easy, Besan snorted inwardly. So much that even if the guild regted the amount of the catch and the number of fishing boats on theke, they were still wealthier than the farmers. He curled his lip in derision. Of course they were. People who wallowed in the dirt for a pittance were obviously soft in the head. And there was that herb guy who wanted to do it better?

    This ce had some wealth. Look at him, who had striven for a better life and gotten out. Anyone in town could save up a little money from illegal fishing in a couple of years. It wasn''t like it was difficult not to get caught. Get out and make a name somewhere. But this idiot couldn''t even envision a life where there was no leech of a woman chaining him and all his potential down?

    "Besan, Jerac," a voice interrupted them before Besan could mock the idiot for his incredibly small thinking. This forsaken town, he was disgusted. He was d he left it behind. Why would he want to stay like this? He almost regretted telling Derwain about this ce.

    Almost. Soon, he would be able to leave the mud of it behind for good.

    "Telebrae''sing in with a full hold," the man who had osted them said. "They''re paying extra for speed."

    Telebrae? That old bucket? Sometimes fools got lucky, he supposed.

    He eyed the man who had spoken. Natanel, this strutting idiot, was rumored to have been a high-level soldier in the imperial army.

    Hah, doubtful. Why would an imperial soldiere to this backwater just to be a dockworker, even if he was the leader? Evidently he bragged about himself well, he silently sneered at the man. How proudly the boaster stood, head up and shoulders high, as if looking down on them all.

    Much like that mudgrubbing boy from the other day. He seethed at the memory. But in the end, it was Besan who had thestugh.

    This Natanel

    The idiot did not even recognize the superior existence that was Besan, right in front of him. But it was not long now, before Besan could show how exactly high he was above all the mudshrimp here and even that arrogant head would lower.

    "Natan," he smirked at the dockboss. "It''s just one ship. Telebrae isn''t even eight metons. Why are you calling everyone?"

    "They''re running ahead of Windfisher and Carine. Coming in from the same area. It''s going to be a busy morning."

    The Lowpool wasrge enough that the fisher''s guild had ten sixteen-mar fishing vessels operating  each with a discement of four to ten metons. Those ten ships brought in a total of four or so meton of fish a day, enough to feed the whole town. That was not even ounting for the several hundred vessels smaller than ten-mar which collectively brought in about the same.

    But for three of thergest boats toe in with full holds  that meant at least fifteen metons of fish. Enough to glut a small city.

    There was a blessednd somewhere within theke, ording to local lore, which ounted for the ck crab. So theke was more productive than evenkes twicerger. Sudden bursts of abundance like this were not an impossibility. But it not in summer, not in any season other than spring.

    He saw why Natan had called in everyone. Fifteen metonsthe twenty or so dockworkers normally stationed on the town wharf would not be nearly enough to unload and pack that in a day. Much less the few crucial hours needed to get the fish to the guild coldhouse.

    He smiled, his lips a thin unpleasant line across his face. Did his seakrait scare the life out of theke that much?

    "Besan! What are you standing around for?"

    He did not let the braggart Natanel lower his mood. He moved to the dock the Telebrae was approaching. He sparked his Shade in preparation for the work. Embers fell around his frame, as if within him there was a bonfire hidden. Red me, of course, the color of the strong.

    There was a murmur from the other dockworkers. It was umon for a person to be able to manifest their Shade color visibly when not using sigilcards.

    He smirked.

    The sun was not even fully showing itself over the horizon, and he just knew this day was going to be one to remember.

    *

    *

    In the morning, Turq was still massive. Defi wondered why, as the inside of the slime looked free of krait.

    He could not help his examination of Jar in his curiosity. But no matter how he poked and prodded, Jar did not give up any slime secrets.

    "You look like you''re going to slice it up next," said Sarel from the other room, where she was frowning over a book.

    "Do I? I won''t."

    "Slimes are akin to mobile carnivorous nts. You won''t hurt it. They cannot feel pain, if that''s what you''re worrying about."

    "There are carnivorous nts in Ascharon?" He bounced Jar between his palms. This was akin to a nt? He pressed Jar between his palms, gently rotating as if massaging the slime. It felt like no nt he had ever encountered.

    "There are carnivorous nts everywhere."

    "My nativend was and where nts were eaten, not the other way around."

    Then Jar took exception to beingpressed between Defi''s palms and attacked.

    Defi sputtered. Liquid stung his eyes. It tasted like sour wine. He put Jar down gently then made for the water barrel.

    "Why does it smell like a vat of vinegar in there?"

    Defi sshed his face with water. "Slimes spit vinegar in defense, apparently."

    "Does that mean my kitchen is doused in slime acid?"

    "At least it''ll be cleaner after."

    There was a silence from the other room.

    "I''ll do my next examinations outside the kitchen," he sighed.

    "...go do the deliveries."

    "The boat is gone."

    "How did you get back then?" Sarel flipped a page of her book idly.

    She expected him to carry the baskets downriver on Turq? Where was herpassion? "I would think, that one who has given herself to the earth would spare more thought to its creatures."

    "I''m a hermit, not a sage."

    "Knowing the cruelty of the human world, you would propagate it?"

    "Knowing cruelty makes the average being more disposed to create it. I make no im to be exceptional."

    Defi gave up that line of persuasion, took up another. "Turq is such a size now, but have you given thought to the idea that it may revert to usual in the middle of theke?"

    "You are a summoner," she drawled.

    He paused. "I can do that?"

    The question came out involuntarily and momentum was lost. He groaned, gave up. "I brought suirberries for Jar. Will you feed him while I''m gone?"

    He had given in to curiosity first after seeing that Turq was still floating on the river when he got back from the farm.

    "Not calling them grapes?"

    "Unless there is a decent wine made from the fruits, then no."

    Sarel''s mouth nted, a half-smile. "Not yet."

    "So much faith in your friend? She would be inspired by it."

    "Go away."

    And that was how, on a balmy afternoon, Defi found himself floating down to the Lowpool with half a score of fruit baskets on a massive slime.

    *

    *

    There was amotion nearby. Besan raised his head to look, and froze. The mudgrubbing boy had just docked, baskets of fruit on a slimerger than he''d ever seen. Wrapped around the baskets, for all to see, was the skeleton of a massive snake.

    This was impossible.

    How could the boy still be alive?

    A team of three, strong in the Colors, could barely win against a full grown krait. The boy had shown no aptitudes at all.

    He was so distracted that a swinging bucket nearly hit him. There was a shout of apology.

    Toote. The slick deck was treacherous. He fell into a hold of wriggling fish, buried up to his thighs.

    Besan hid his fury asughs sounded.

    "Maybe you should less time eyeing the girls, eh?" called down one of the fishermen.

    There were indeed women who worked the docks, mostly fisher families.

    He scoffed inwardly. Who would look at a woman who stank of fish? Another reason he hated returning here  there were no brothels.

    But Stahlchausses and Mown, at the head of the great river, were ces he could not return to just yet. There were suddenly people all over the ce looking for something or someone. Escaped ves, was the gossip. Unlikely.

    He was afraid someone would turn up his doings and Derwain sent him here, his hometown, for a few months.

    "Stop wasting time." The workboss said. "The day will not wait, and you''re holding up the others."

    Besan tried not to punch the man. Holding up? He was better than every man here, who hadn''t even managed to get out of this tiny town.

    He boosted himself back up to the deck, red at the slime and the boy. Trash went together, he supposed. The dock-master was gesturing them to a scow. Even the boy''s scow hadn''t been crushed?

    He grew even madder.

    He still had a whole pack of seakrait in his keeping. Derwain wouldn''t mind if two or three got loose, would he? They were uncontroble beasts after all, and the drug wouldn''t keep them sleeping forever.

    So he waited.

    It was not hourster that the scow showed itself in one of the deeper pools on the river. He touched his Shade into the sigilcard that kept the krait immobile, then tossed a ball full of scent-bait close to the slime putting after the scow.

    The container opened. The krait shot out, circled once, before going straight at the bait.

    His lips thinned in a smile.

    His sight dimmed to darkness.

    What?

    *

    He woke up in a chair, the room red with the light of the setting sun.

    He stood, confused, circling on the spot.

    "I didn''t expect a lovely stroll through the countryside when I came to see you, Besan."

    He whirled, the pupils of his eyes quickly expanding in fear. The beautiful voice, the entrancing tone - a voice unforgettable.

    Three people stood behind him.

    Besan''s eyes roamed suspiciously. The man was never this alone. Never.

    "Derwain," he greeted. He had not expected the man toe here this soon.

    "Is this what you have been doing with what I''ve entrusted to you? ying around with boys?"

    Fury rose, sudden and clinging. "I killed him! He humiliated me. The fisher guild won''t even deal with me now. Don''t they know who I am?"

    "Yes, yes your father was an important man. But respect trickling down from better people only goes so far. You have to earn it, Besan. You had the chance to earn mine."

    "What? No, no! We had a deal!"

    "I would use your little town to store my things, yes. And you would be my diligent keeper. Which of us, I wonder, has broken this deal."

    "No"

    "I will not kill you. But it appears this town, it is very quaint, isn''t it? It would make a nice stronghold, I think. Even a little trade in mystic crab as a bonus. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Besan. Your sins are forgiven. But do note barking into my presence again."

    Besan looked around again. There were three more people than were visible earlier.

    His Shade sparked in vain.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Meton  a measure of weight that contains 1000 kilogar in total

    Shade  the personal sorcery type of an Ascharonian. There are seven basic powersets in Ascharon, matched to the elements of the deity of rainbows: red me, orange earth, yellow sunlight, green restoration, blue water, indigo air, and violet moonlight.

    Sigilcards  created by glyphmakers, these are special cards inscribed with a power focus that directs sorcery to particr action. It''s basically a contained spell that needs to be initiated or sparked by the user''s energy.

    The Colors  an Ascharonian term for sorcery, as the use of power is often apanied by a show of light in the colors of the rainbow. A term taken from the patron deity of Ascharon who gave the people power, who is at times called the Seven-Colored.

 Chapter 14: The Lowpool Invasion (1 of 6)

    Chapter 14: The Lowpool Invasion (1 of 6)

    "Congrattions on finally escaping Sarel''s clutches," Lergen chuckled teasingly. "I was beginning to think she''d keep you chained forever to the picking baskets."

    Defi nodded. Escape? The man could not hear hismentations. How could he look at ordinary food forever when he had tasted Sarel''s cooking?

    "I''d like something of an arrangement, in fact," he addressed Sarel. "I''ll pick fruit if I can have some baskets for Turq and Jar."

    Zaziphos fruited all year round, so he would not worry about not being able to feed his pets.

    Falieughed. "You''re determined to feed them fruit, Defi? You must have the most spoiled slime in the whole empire. Well, the grapes have stopped fruiting for the summer already, so I can''t help you there until the first frost harvest."

    "I''lle help you then, of course." The first frost harvest was at the end of the fall season  some types of nts in Ascharon took the time to seed onest time during the initial chill of winter. Suirberries were one of them.

    "You''re staying in this dinky town that long?" Sarel twisted her lips in a half-smile, as teasing as Lergen. "I thought you looked more the crazy adventure type."

    "The seakraits were not my fault." It was not the first time he said it.

    The othersughed. They had gotten the long-suffering exnation from Sarel, when they asked about the giant slime the town was gossiping over.

    "Why did I have toe with you this time?" He stifled a sigh, but he went along with the humor. He did not mind, as he could feel that all of them looked upon him with friendly warmth. He could not help but return their warmth.

    He knew why, of course. Sarel just didn''t want to admit that she''d organized a leaving feast for him. He''d learned over thest month that Sarel was the kind of person who was deviously affectionate with people she saw as friends. This gathering was timed with the group of friends'' regr meeting at the orphanage. It was Sarel silently letting them know she approved of Defi as well as letting Defi know he was wee in her circle. It delighted him and also gave him an unexpected mncholy.

    "If I leave you in my house," said Sarel bluntly, "a seakrait might slither up out of nowhere and destroy it."

    Of course, in most other aspects of her life, the woman moved with such directness.

    The othersughed again. Hames, Falie''s husband, even cracked one of the few smiles Defi had ever seen on the man''s face.

    "Ah!" Aire, Lergen''s wife, made to stand. "The fruit and jelly must have set by now. I promised that children that"

    Her words were cut off by a delicate chiming, like a score of small bells rung in a marching melody.

    "Beast attack," Aire interpreted quickly. "The docks. Defensive orders."

    "That''s rare." Lergen stood. "Get the children inside."

    Aire started closing the windows, locking the shutters. Defi helped her as the others went to gather the children.

    "There''s not been a beast attack on the Lowpool in half a century," said Aire. She forced a smile at Defi. "Do you want to hear the story?"

    It was obvious she was attempting to calm herself. Defi could only assent.

    The story went, that there was once a nest of winged lions near the town and so the people here suffered regr attacks. Then one spring, after a year of famine following a year of plenty, the starving lions who had flourished in the year of plenty but could not find enough food in the famine attacked the town, which even then was fat on the fish from theke, and many people were lost.

    The mayor of that time lost his wife and nearly lost their only child. His vengeance-fueled crusade wiped the winged lions from the vicinity of the Lowpool. Then after the town andke area was made safe, he erected the stone statue of a crocodile in the town square. "Beware the Lowpool," he said, the words that were struck in the stone of the pedestal forever. "for only blood can lift the head of the crocodile."

    "There were never any crocodiles in the Lowpool, I think, only in the southern parts of the great river, so I don''t know where he got the words," she admitted. "But the story is told to every child when they teach us the warning chimes."

    "It''s a fine story," Defi said, sending her a smile as they barricaded the doors. "What else are we supposed to do?"

    She shook her head. "Now, we wait for someone to send the chimes saying it''s safe."

    A loud thud startled them. "Open up!"

    Defi stepped forward, pulling the woman away from the door. Aire frowned as she moved. "I don''t recognize that voice."

    "We''re from the caravan!"

    Defi only partially removed the barricade, keeping the lower bars on the horizontally-split door. He nced at Aire, who nodded. The top half of the door was yanked open nearly immediately when Defi slid the upper bar away.

    The man outside smiled in relief. "There are seakraits attacking the docks!"

    Aire let out a noise of shock. "Most seakraits don''t survive the Little Treachery. Come-"

    The hand on her elbow stopped her.

    "And you ran here, all the way from the docks?" Defi lips curved upward. "You must have been very frightened."

    "Of course," the man shuddered. Hispanion, now visible, grimaced. "There''s six seakraits there, you know."

    "You even took the time to count them, in your fright." Defi calmly praised. "You are observant."

    The man stared at him. "What''s that have to do with anything?"

    "I''m just curious," Defi answered. "That your very observant eyes did not go first to the school, which on this street is closer to the docks than this building. You will have noticed, certainly, that it is stonework, one of the very few safest buildings in town. You couldn''t have missed it, of course?"

    Hispanion leered. "Ya letting us in or not?"

    Defi smiled brightly. "Sorry, no."

    Something crashed into the door, cracking it. The man outside grinned. "Who said we needed yer permission in th''first ce, boy?"

    He kicked a powerful boot into the door again.

    A vase crashed into his head and broke into small pieces. The man howled and reared back. A piece of ceramic dug itself into his forehead and blood trickled down.

    Defi nced back. Aire was ring at the men outside, arm still raised, another vase in her other hand. "They''re after the children?"

    "Is there any way to warn the town again?" The seakraits were only a distraction, and greater malice was at work.

    His lips thinned. There were very few reasons for an attacking force to bother with orphan children in a civilian town. The most likely reason in this case - a show of strength. The shape that show might take...there were no good options.

    Aire answered his question in the negative. "The rms are at the docks, the town hall, and the school. We are not an important town. With the dangerous beasts gone, who would want to hurt us?"

    The door exploded.

    Defi pushed Aire behind him. "Go warn the others."

    "If you think you''re facing them outnumbered"

    He looked at her, letting her see his eyes sharpen. "I have been trained as a warrior since I was six years old."

    Aire''s lips thinned. A shadow darkened the door. She viciously hurled the vase in her hand at the figure in the smoke. There was the sound of breaking and a snarled curse. "You better be alive when I return, Defi, or I swear"

    "You''ve weakened them enough for me to prevail."

    She snorted and ran for reinforcements, heart pounding.

    Of course, the difference between an adept who has not been trained in the Sacred Arts, and a true warrior-priest of Ontrea was asrge as the gap betweennd and sky. Defi stepped away from the main doors, half concealing himself beside it, thinking.

    There were three doors into the orphanage. The enemy would have sent enough to subdue Lergen and Aire and then take all thirteen children. Not more than a dozen, divided between three doors. He would be facing at least three people who were armed and ready for violence.

    He took a deep breath, falling into the Fifth Circle, letting the Current flow through every part of him. His ears sharpened, his muscles rxed, his feet became light. His senses caught the scuff of leather on wood.

    He reached into the smoke, eyes half-lidded, and pulled the man sharply forward.

    The man grunted, swung fists wrapped in iron and leather. A brawler. His bnce already disrupted, the man staggered as Defi evaded.

    Enemy head in reach, Defi mmed the side of his fist into the other''s temple.

    The other side of the man''s head connected with the wood of the doorway.

    He dropped.

    A de slid along Defi''s torso. Even with Current-enhanced senses, he barely evaded the enemy. The sword cut and thrust in experienced movements.

    Defi twisted, leaped away. He grabbed a piece of the broken door, hefting it just as the sword came at him again. The point thudded into the wooden beam he held at chest height.

    Out of the smoke came a woman. Above the shine of the de, her eyes were cold. Her face was set in harsh and beautiful lines.

    She pressed her de into Defi''s defense. The thick piece of wood bent at the pressure she exerted. The edges of her lips lifted as Defi held his makeshift shield steady with both hands, even against the force of her dominance.

    But even so hardy, wood gave way to edged steel.

    Defi''s shield would notst. He let himself yield. There was a sh of disappointment in her eyes, which was ignored as Defi twisted the piece of wood around sharply. It broke.

    But the sword ttered against the wall, wrenched from the woman''s hand.

    Without hesitation, another de came at him. Defi evaded the dagger, once, twice. The Current swirled around him, speeding his movements, soothing his pain.

    The dagger scraped against his corbone. He inhaled suddenly, disrupting the rhythm of his breathing. He hurled the wooden pieces still in his hands at her. An undignified move. His instructors in the art ofbat would have died in shame at the sight.

    She pressed close, cold eyes never moving from him.

    His back hit the wall, and he flinched. She took quick advantage. He moved quickly enough that only the dagger point entered his shoulder. His hand was at her throat, squeezing.

    "Inizar."

    One calmly furious word and his opponent was sted off him and into the wall in a torrent of red.

    Defi released the breath he''d been holding in exertion, gasped fresh air back into his lungs. He inhaled, exhaled, again. His breathing calmed.

    Lergen stalked after the thrown body, disappearing into the hole created in the wall. Red sparks flickered around his body.

    Hames and Sarel stopped by Defi, looking grim at the devastation.

    "The other doors?"

    Sarel snorted. "Small fry."

    Defi nodded, bent and took up the enemy woman''s sword from where ity.

    Hames turned, glimmers of blue ying about him. "I''ll head to the docks."

    He rummaged in the remains of a cab, took out a parasol. He stepped out the door, snapped the parasol open as if he were going on a pic. He looked over his shoulder at the two of them. "There are three more here. I''ll leave them to you."

    Then he was gone.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Inizar  the safety word for mass produced sigilcards, also known as the standard ''activation word''. The safe words are added to prevent activation idents with sigilcards that are not custom-made. Custom-made sigilcards can be made to activate only with the touch of the owner''s power

 Chapter 15: The Lowpool Invasion (2 of 6)

    Chapter 15: The Lowpool Invasion (2 of 6)

    The attack on the Lowpool started quietly, with the spread of ''traveling merchants'' through the town. They dispersed to specific areas, specific buildings. Hours before the townspeople knew of danger on their doorstep, they had already been infiltrated.

    Sorza Mareble, Esq., current mayor of the town officially named Sottc, watched as a group of them leaned against the wall outside, not even making a faade of anything but insolent challenge.

    She was too old for this, she decided.

    It had been thirty years since she returned to this town with her children and was suddenly raised as mayor, a grieving widow with babies to care for. Having the granddaughter of Daren il Mareble, the yer of lions, ennobled as an armiger for extraordinary acts in service of the old marquisate, elected to mayor was enough to calm two hostile factions who wanted their candidate on the seat.

    In the small town that the Lowpool was then, the pittance the empire paid to an Imperial officer was fought over viciously. Not so much the amount but the stability of the pay. The sry of officials would be disseminated regrly unless the empire fell.

    These days, there were more ways to earn money in the Lowpool. The mayorship was paid not even half what a good fisherman would gain. She was more troubled by finding someone to take over than sparking another election battle.

    Her stay in office had been remarkably mundane for thest few decades. And then this.

    She''d known their suspicious movements, but had only expected a raid, as bandits were wont to do now and then. She readied the town guards ordingly. She didn''t expect the gently smiling man sitting opposite her desk.

    He leaned back in his chair. "A fortunate arrangement for the both of us, don''t you think?"

    Sheughed lightly in response, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes deepening, showing none of her fury. The presumptuous brat.

    She''d gone soft. Thirty years in this slow-paced, peaceful town had blunted the edge she''d honed through a decade of flitting between the warring borders of various nations. There was a time when she would have seen himing, would have been prepared more than this.

    Still. Those thirty years of peace were not something she would ever regret.

    "I''m afraid I have to decline."

    A hardness, a darkness, entered his eyes at her answer.

    It had not been so long that she had forgotten how to read people. This man, this smuggler offering a partnership to the mayor of a town  she had seen his ilk before. Maniptive, obsessed with power, inflexible, driven. Herte husband not the least of them.

    The difference that had set her beloved Carac apart, was that he knew the value of the human heart. Even mired in the deep darkness that shadowed human wickedness, he somehow kept his ability to know joy and love close and protected. Long after her heart hardened and its light dimmed, he saved it and brought freshness and vitality back into her life.

    This man, he had no heart to shine behind those cold eyes. No trust to give for trust, no thought not given to dominance and power.

    How could she deliver her own people and her town into his hands?

    Unthinkable.

    "Reconsider,dy mayor. I am not a patient man, nor given to excessive negotiation. We will settle this here."

    "I know. My answer will not change." She smiled slightly. "Are you certain yours should not, Derwain?"

    He stayed in his seat, still smiling the smile that had not changed since the start of this unexpected meeting. A smile more unnerving than threats would''ve been. They would get to the overt threats, she was certain. She was also certain that the smile would not falter even then.

    Heughed, a mellifluously rich sound. His eyes half-closed and he threw his head back, letting golden hair shimmer in the light. A manufactured warmth. "No one told me you had this kind of humor!"

    "Why should anyone?" She said it idly, her thoughts racing in various directions.

    She considered the group lounging outside, of small groups spreading around the town dressed as merchants. She had no doubt there were other people having unexpected meetings this morning as well. At least the twelve members of the town council.

    The empire had centralized administration even if government posts could be inherited. No matter the force they used, an independent party could not simply push out elected officers of his Imperial Majesty. Therefore, legal procedures had to be observed. The town council had to rmend the candidates for mayor to the provincial government, and only upon approval would the names be submitted for local elections.

    The smuggler Derwain was not content with hiding in the shadows. He wanted legal control of the town.

    There was a reason that the phrase ''brigand towns'' came into being. These things happened. The empire wasrge and unwieldy. The military could not be everywhere.

    Sorza engraved her resolution in her heart. For her sins, she would die before the name of the Lowpool would join the ranks of those towns.

    Her jaw tightened as she contemted how they had known which houses and buildings to target. Even with her skills so diminished, she would have heard of strangers loitering about town and asking questions.

    The man before her would have nopunction to torture.

    Cold eyes looked her over, smile still in ce. "I thought you were just an old granny that old man set up as a doll to cate the masses. You''re not are you?"

    She raised her brows. "Is there a reason to think that?"

    "Are you saying you don''t know one of your councilors is Kaska of the Bloody Barrage?"

    She was silent, nonplussed. That was an appetion she had not heard applied to Kaska for a while now.

    He snorted. "I was surprised when I saw him here. Rumor said he was dead. ying lord in his old age? How luxurious for the former head of a criminal group." His fist mmed down on the table. "I can''t stand it! The old coward. People like us should die in the darkness."

    Sorza blinked. Was that idealism she heard? She shook the thought away. Of course she knew of Kaska. She would not have had the reputation she did in the old days if she missed who was living in her backyard. As long as the town and its people were safe, what did she care of others'' pasts?

    She did not expect others to know, as these were the central regions of the Imperial maind. The reputation of the Bloody Barrage was predominantly known in the harsh mountains of the north, where the reach of the empire was weak and people turned to the underworld for sor. For Derwain to recognize him, he must have been in the underworld at a young age.

    She felt a sh of pity that she quickly shook away. A life in the underworld was not the life a child should have been subject to.

    He thought Kaska was ruling the town from the shadows? It wasn''t that illogical of a conclusion, she thought wryly, if one hadn''t taken the rest of the town into ount. Kaska would get augh out of it, certainly.

    He looked at her. "Does the man who can kill a hundred people with a single technique think he can while his years away in the light? I can''t stand it. What a bonus, hm? I wanted this town because it was a natural stronghold. To take it away from that old coward will be a singr pleasure."

    Sorza was silent for a moment after that, then only asked. "Tell me, have you heard the legend of how the Lowpool came to be?"

    He tilted his head, the dark fury suddenly subsumed into a mask of curiosity, the smile returning to innocent proportions. A chill wended down Sorza''s spine at the swift ease of the change.

    "I have no time for old wives tales."

    She kept herposure. If she should die here, so be it. Her children were grown and her grandchildren were happy. And the man before her had not the ability to make the Lowpool bow.

    "No? A pity then, for you have never heard the words that would save your life."

    Across the town, in the homes of all the people who sheltered in the embrace of the Lowpool, warning chimes sounded.

    *

    *

    Across the town, people stopped in their work or leisure and methodically started shuffling the more vulnerable members of their households into the more protected central rooms.

    Others took up weapons and headed for the docks, or dug out their sigilcards.

    Others, who had suspiciously watched the so-called merchants walk the streets, bared their teeth. The chimes were tantamount to setting them loose.

    The schools started barring their windows and doors with metal, confident in the knowledge that the stone walls would protect the children.

    Across the town, groups of smugglers started on the next part of their orders. Still in the guise of merchants, they hid with the people, then started causing trouble.

    The first fire bloomed into an inferno in the eastern side of town, aided by gleeful smugglers with stolen fish oil. Smoke curled upwards from other ces  the wealthy district, the market streets, the docks  first as thin delicate tendrils, then thick columns.

    The first councilor ran out of his house choking in smoke, the child in his embrace quickly ced in a neighbor''s arms with a silent plea. The people who came out at the sight of smoke quickly closed ranks around the child before a smuggler cameughing out of the burning house to drag her uncle away.

    Themerce ministry associate to the Lowpool was having a leisurely morning with her family when the rms sounded. Before they could even stand, the house was invaded. The woman was taken away, face and hands bloody from where she had tried to defend her family. Only when the smugglers held the children hostage did she go quietly.

    Across the town, simr scenes happened even as the warning chimes rang of monsters on the border.

    In the central square, a man sat leisurely on the steps leading to the monument of a crocodile. His hair was fair as the sun, his face was handsome, and his eyes were bright.

    He watched with a never ending smile as person after person was brought before him.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Armiger  the lowest rank of titled nobility in the empire. Unlike other noble titles, an armiger is not givennd or military obligations, only a coat of arms and a lifetime allowance from the Imperial Throne. Moreover, the title onlysts for the lifetime of the recipient, subsequent generations losing the title and the nobiliary particle but keeping the surname and the right of having their names inscribed in the Imperial Book of Names as part of the nobility.

    The nobiliary particle ''il'' is used for all titled nobility ranked count and under. Under the rank of count, there are five titled ranks. From highest in status to lowest: viscount, baron, caster, patrician, armiger.

 Chapter 16: The Lowpool Invasion (3 of 6)

    Chapter 16: The Lowpool Invasion (3 of 6)

    "Inizar!"

    A wall of me, bright and scorching, met them as Sarel, without breaking stride, almost negligently tossed a t card at it. Stone grew between them and the mes.

    The orange colored glow of Sarel''s power steadied Defi. He settled into a rhythm of exhale and inhale, viciously crossing weapons with a man who used two des.

    It was not a style of swordsmanship Defi had ever encountered before.

    How interesting.

    Quick strikes, quick retaliation, a swift and deadly style, but also  Defi ducked and kicked at the man''s knees  quick to destabilize. He staggered back at the opponent''s too quick recovery.

    He was not fast enough. des slid against his, nicking flesh.

    The man grinned. "Too slow."

    Defi parried, parried again, slowly being pressed back.

    "Inizar!" He heard the word again; it was swiftly bing familiar.

    "Sarel!"

    "I''m busy! You haven''t finished that one yet?"

    He had thought himself a good swordsman, a fair dueler. And yet, he faltered here? Should he me it on the unfamiliar bnce of the stolen sword? The unfamiliar style of the opponent? The strange sorcery of the people?

    His lips curled up, baring teeth. After what he said to Aire, this was the extent of his training?

    Not hardly.

    Sharpen your mind, harden your body, steel your heart. And behind all, the soft epassing flurries of the Current.

    He had not trained since the Treachery. But he had done all three just the same, had not forgotten the old oaths. His body moved and his sword shed as he stepped into a dance.

    He moved between and around the des, letting them slide past, ignoring the numerous slight cuts, viciously taking what openings presented themselves.

    "You''ve got some skill, you. But still, aren''t you bleeding a little too much?" To match his words, his eyes leered feverishly at the blood staining Defi''s tunic. A pale pink tongue licked lips blown dry by panting breaths.

    "I''m not the only one."

    The manughed. Sparks fell over his body, the pale color of fine jade.

    He ripped off his sleeve unexpectedly, baring the wounded arm, andughed.

    Defi understood the action when therge wound started to close.

    In Ascharon, there was even sorcery like this?

    Ontreans used the Current to benefit both body and mind. Each sessive tier of mastery gave an adept chances to grow faster and stronger in body, quicker and more powerful in mind, more understanding in wisdom, but nothing to the effect Defi saw happening before his eyes.

    A show of invulnerability, a trick to demoralize.

    Defi smiled slightly.

    The man''s brows wrinkled together in confusion, anger. "What''s so funny?"

    Defi attacked, fiercer than ever, blows harder, strikes more precise. The most brutal dance, relying on strength and ruthlessness to overwhelm  what did two des matter when the wielder could not take advantage of the openings?

    Still, such a dance could not be held for long. And the moment Defi let up, those twin des would once moree at him like a windstorm.

    He hesitated.

    No.

    The moment he began this attack, it could only end in this.

    Even with arms likely battered by Defi''s blows, the man partially blocked the sword aimed directly at his throat. Blood gushed down the dirty white of the enemy''s shirt.

    The enemy snarled. "How are you!"

    A dark shadow shed in his peripheral vision. Defi ducked, instinct roaring to the fore.

    The arrow struck the earth like a message from heaven, and exploded.

    "Sarel, archer!"

    Had that been aimed at his head?

    How harsh...

    The twin ded swordsman recovered quickly,unched himself at Defi.

    Defi lunged.

    The sound of a de sliding into flesh and bone was indescribable. Horrifying. Unforgettable.

    It clung to Defi''s ears even as he turned away without hesitation, rushing one of the two sorcerers throwing all they had at Sarel.

    Another arrow whistled past Defi.

    He ignored the explosion, drove the sword into the sorcerer still standing. The me-user dropped with a cry of pain. The other, distracted and already massively injured, wasn''t able to stop thence of stone that pierced him through.

    Another keen whistle. They ducked. Explosion.

    Sarel cursed.

    Defi slumped against the garden wall.

    The archer had not aimed at them, but at the building. The explosion scorched the outer wall of the orphanage, half blowing up one of the shutters.

    It was clear provocation.

    "Roof across the street," said Sarel. "I''ll take care of it. Stay here."

    Defi''s lips twisted, but he swallowed the protest. She was the more mobile of the both of them. He could barely move through the pain of numerous cuts.

    She took out a card, pped it against the ground.

    It disintegrated, and a tremor shook the buildings on the whole street violently. Defi idly hoped the people in their houses had their important ceramics secured properly.

    No one could keep their footing in that earthquake.

    Sarel sped across the street almost faster than Defi could blink, disappearing into the building.

    Defi waited.

    His eyes were on the sky.

    Three dead bodiesy nearby, two directly his contribution.

    The bloodit felt so sticky on him.

    It was one thing to learn from a lecture that on the battlefield, survival depended on cing your life above that of an enemy. It was another thing entirely to feel this knowledge mix with the self-loathing and exultation that came with having experienced it in real life.

    The building across the street crumbled into itself.

    Defi stood slowly, limped toward the destroyed door. He paused, then turned back and gathered the cards strewn around the bodies of the two sorcerers.

    Aire and Falie would know how to use them, certainly.

    *

    *

    Natanel, former captain of the 3rd armoredpany of the 37th Imperial Division, had never thought to find himself fighting beside a known rebel.

    "I''m retired," she said,rger than usual incisors showing in her smile. "Now can we blow those things up, or are you going to detain me, imperial dog?"

    Natan turned away. "I need to get closer."

    She smirked, tossed a sigilcard onto the water. She stepped onto the solid surface it formed on top of thepping waters. "No talent making emblems that do anything other than kill?"

    "I use mass-produced." He stepped onto the translucent tform beside her.

    "Chelua, you''re boring."

    He studied the bands of water crawled up his legs. He moved, testing the resistance of the water-bands. Loose enough. He knew the basics of glyphmaking well enough to make modifications to the mass-produced sigilcards. He just never saw the point of making his own. His sword had been more than sufficient of a weapon for his years in the military.

    They sped through the water, forming a sharp wake.

    Natan took out his sigilcards. Most mass-produced cards never went above a level three. With a little tweaking however, any me-aligned card could explode with power greater than its level rating.

    The seakrait hissed at them as they neared and lowered itself into the water. The danger of seakraits was their speed beneath the waves, the reason why more than one person was needed to subdue one.

    Hispanion tossed out a watercage, negating that advantage. The rebel Emra was known for her tactics and trickery, he recalled. The seakraitshed and writhed violently inside it.

    His eyes gleamed. "My turn."

    The water exploded around them.

    "I thought you used the cheap stuff!"

    "I do."

    Sheughed, ignoring the seakrait blood and bits all over her. "Maybe you''re a bit more interesting than I thought."

    "I prefer boring."

    Sheughed harder. He impatiently directed her to the next target. It had been a while since he used his sigilcards.

    The level ranking of a mystic animal depended on utility, power, and danger. Admittedly, it was more thetter two that was taken into consideration. Level ones were the weakest and mostly were summoned for utility like striped bulls for draft animals and monkey-hawks for post. Level tens were the most dangerous, and needed entire expeditions to capture or kill them.

    A seakrait was a level four. Aggressive, difficult to control, with the strength and swiftness to hold off a team of experienced hunters.

    So when the dockworker boss Natanel saw six  six!  seakraits rise from the waters of theke, he immediately had the warnings sounded and all the people capable of helping called to the docks.

    He knew some of the residents of the town came to live here because of the rtive istion and independence of the Lowpool, but he''d thought violent criminals would be less tolerant of the slow pace of life in the town.

    Shows what he knew.

    "What in the name of the Seven-Colored is that?" hispanion yelled.

    He turned.

    A massive slime rose from the waters and engulfed one of the seakraits.

    "Ah," he said. "That''s...Turq."

    He had wondered if the krait skeleton the boy Defi had sold some days ago to the fishers guild was in fact the reason the slime he had was such arge size. This was confirmation. But then, if the seakraits had been in theke for days, why did they choose to attack now?

    The slime propelled itself near them and engulfed their target.

    Emra yelled in protest. Natan pushed down his matching disappointment.

    Shouts sounded nearer the shore.

    Anotherrge slime, greener and with dark spots speckled in a line across its sides, was floating on the water. Natan could just barely make out the pattern of coils inside it. How many slimes did the boy have?

    Thest seakrait was embattled nearer the shore. Kern and Hames, both farmers if he recalled, had it restrained in chains made of water while others attacked it. A long, pale blue seakrait corpse was floating nearby.

    "Let''s go back."

    "We barely did anything!"

    "Do you want to continue this lovely cruise on theke?" He waved at the battlefield. The fight had gone more smoothly than he expected.

    She pushed him into the water.

    Thankfully, it was near the shore.

    He pulled himself up the docks, to see the others defeat thest seakrait. Movement near the warehouses caught his eye. Instinct red.

    "Enemies!" he roared.

    Emra attacked immediately. As did Hames. But too few of the people here were battle-savvy enough to immediately arm.

    Toote.

    Within seconds, a number of his dockworkers had des to their throats. Those who had heeded his warning unconscious and restrained.

    He cursed at himself for not seeing it. He always had been more focused on the immediate problem, which was why he had never sought to rise above the rank of captain.

    The greater problem now was: What were the odds that a pack of seakraits would have survived the damned Treachery intact?

    He snorted inwardly.

    Lower than the odds of there being an attack on the Lowpool, to be certain.

    He eyed the mass of armed men surrounding those who had fought the seakrait. Half of them were showing Colors openly. Idiots. Why waste your energy on showing off?

    Still.

    His people were battered and exhausted, despite the slimes taking half the seakraits for their own. He made a note to gratefully thank the boy summoner. Their only casualties were broken bones. For a civilian town facing a pack of seakraits, this was an unbelievable victory.

    But this, against humans

    This was not a fight to be won head-on.

    His shoulders tensed and rxed. "We will cooperate."

    He nced back. The waters of theke were still and clear, no sign of slimes or seakrait corpses. His lips twitched.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Inizar  the safety word for mass produced sigilcards, also known as the standard ''activation word''. To prevent activation idents with sigilcards that are not custom-made.

    Emblem  the overall design used to focus power into a particr effect. Theponents of this design or pattern are made of glyphs.

    Colors  an Ascharonian term for sorcery, as the use of power is often apanied by a show of light in the colors of the rainbow. A term taken from the patron deity of Ascharon who gave the people power, who is at times called the Seven-Colored.

    [In certain other worlds, an emblem would simrly be called a ''runeworking'' or a ''seal array'' or various other terms appropriate to the locality.  from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions]

 Chapter 17: The Lowpool Invasion (4 of 6)

    Chapter 17: The Lowpool Invasion (4 of 6)

    Silver utensils clinked on fine ceramic, ringing delicately in the silence.

    In front of the four people seated at the table, the lone servant prepared a pot of tea.

    He measured out the dried stalks of verchai into the ss teapot, the fine red-brown color of each stalk a testament to its quality. Done, he tamped the wooden cover of the tea-chest into ce. It had to be firmly closed, to protect the precious contents. Setting the tea-chest aside, he took up the next items on the table and started swiftly peeling the blood-apple. The apple peel fell into the teapot, coiling against the next of verchai stalks in a single long piece. The peeled apple was submerged into a ceramic bowl filled with herbal liquids.

    The servant then took up the hot water kettle, the contents slightly cooled to the appropriate temperature. He efficiently and with impressive ir poured a spiral of water into the ss teapot, the water swirling around the verchai stalks and blood-apple peel gently, topletely marry the vor of the two ingredients with the water.

    With the teapot filled, he put the gold-filigreed cover on the opening and left the tea to steep. He refilled the water kettle and set it to boil again, ready to refill the teapot.

    He took out four small tes. With tongs and a sharp knife, he took the peeled blood-apple from its herb bath and swiftly sliced it into thin translucent strips. He skillfullyyered the strips until on the four tes were four pale roses that looked like they were carved out of moonlight. He swished a mist of vinaigrette over each of the flowers and served them.

    His grey mustache twitched as he turned to take a small, carved box from a cab. None of the four people spoke so much as a word. He took a subtle breath as he carried the box to the table. It fit neatly in his palm. With a touch of his Shade, the box opened, revealing a sieve made of the finest silver wire, a small pestle, a small pair of tongs, a small bowl, and a box even smaller than the first.

    He gently separated the cover of the small jade box and took out one of the dried berries with the tongs. He ced the small berry in the bowl, then reced the lid of the jade box. He opened the cover of the teapot, letting the fragrance of the steeping tea seep into the room.

    Some of the tension washed away with the pleasing scent.

    The servant took the small tongs once more, then ced the single dried berry into the small sieve. With the pestle, he ground the berry gently against the sieve. Surprisingly, as the dried berry looked hard and solid, it crumpled with the gently pressure of the pestle, the fine powder falling into the teapot below.

    The fragrance of the tea changed near immediately. Where it was merely pleasant, the scent transcended the clouds and attained divinity. The red-gold color of the steeping tea turned into a rich purple, hints of red and gold swirling within its depths.

    The four at the table inhaled reflexively and the servant breathed easier.

    Something exploded above them, and a tremor shook the room.

    The teapot tilted precariously.

    A green-gloved hand shed over and took the teapot by its gold-filigreed handle, lifting it from the table until the tremors stopped.

    "Ah," said the lone woman of the group. "I thought after all the drama I wouldn''t get to take even a sip."

    "That would be a shame, wouldn''t it," the green-gloved man said. "former first chef of the Imperial pce staff, Guinsarel il Camarene?"

    Sarel''s brow twitched in irritation. "What precisely do you mean by that, former tenth chef of the Imperial pce staff, Malo the Poisoner?"

    "I go by Lemat now," the man pointed out.

    "Far from the point"

    One of the others coughed. The two subsided.

    The servant finished pouring the tea, arranged tes of edible flowers on the table, bowed, and retreated. There was another, more appreciative silence after the first sip of the vitality-rich mystic tea.

    "A fine day," hummed Kaska, the town councilor.

    "Yes," Malo agreed. "Are you not concerned we''ll report your unsubstantiated wealth to the town treasurer?"

    Sarel, in her corner of the table, rubbed her temples against a sudden headache.

    Kaska onlyughed, patted his substantial belly. He winked. "They''ll have to catch me first."

    Malo nodded. "I see."

    "Your deplorableck of social understanding has not changed one bit," Sarel muttered.

    "Aren''t you a hermit?" he muttered back.

    The fourth, who had been leaning against the back of his chair with head tilted back and eyes closed, spoke for the first time. "Most of the town''s fighting force has been captured by now."

    "Oh?" Kaska stirred a flower absently into his tea. "You would know? Our delightful mayor, I presume?"

    "Hm," the man grunted lowly. "They released the seakraits to draw the most powerful fighters to the docks, to exhaust them."

    "Let''s hope the good captain doesn''t do anything rash," Kaska murmured.

    The librarian, who gave his name as Orain, smiled briefly. "Yes."

    "I saw some people running around the roofs," said Malo, no introduction. "They looked like they were small."

    "Let''s hope they still have themon decency not to attack the schools," Orain growled.

    "Or that the children have not overpowered the adults and are running an insurrectionary operation out of a toyhouse," added Malo.

    They paused at that sally.

    Kaska nced at Sarel.

    "The orphanage should be fine," she said. "Defi is more level-headed than most kids his age, and the other two can be vicious harpies. The smuggler who survives them and that pack of feral gue-carriers is blessed by the Harmonium."

    "One of the wives wanted to know how much of a discount she could have if she used my mushrooms to make explosives," Malo who called himself Lemat yawned. "I told her she needed to buy more than I had in the store. I gave her the whole barrel of dderroot paste for free though, so I don''t think I lost a loyal customer."

    "Who would buy a cask of dderroot?"

    "Why would I know her name? Someone who wanted to heal the coughing sickness of an elephant?"

    "Why do you even have a shop?" groaned Sarel.

    "Who would be buying cough medicine when buildings on the shopping street are burning?"

    "You can also use it to put people to sleep, I suppose."

    "Another group of rebels then."

    "Some of the fishers have holed up in the Witchbeds," Kaska offered, "If you''re looking for fighters."

    "Lergen''s been running around between the groups that have formed," added Sarel. "There is an appreciable number of former soldiers among the farmers."

    "We do not have the strength for a fair confrontation," grumbled Orain. "But organizing some semnce of cooperation between the groups would be an excellent help."

    "That would be difficult to implement."

    "This is a great time to bring up the idea of building sewers to the town council," Malo said absently. "So that next time, the valiant defenders can move without being seen."

    "We are under the docks," said Sarel, over that suggestion. "Can we modify the emblem for the warning chimes? It''s connected to every house, isn''t it?"

    "It''ll take time, but we''ll try. Too bad we can''t just use the songs."

    "They seeded too fast," agreed Malo. "Too much information. Ever heard of this Derwain before?"

    "Possible," Kaska hummed. "He might be from the north, but my information from that area is regrettably less than before." He stood. "I have a copy of the rm emblems somewhere here, I believe. My, how this little ce has grown. The first time I found it, it was just one room, do you know?"

    "I don''t suppose you also have a town map?" Orain asked dryly.

    "Why certainly," Kaska grinned at them, bright eyed. "Everything you need to stage illicit protest against the oppressive might of the nobility and the uncaring hand of authority."

    "Please think of your position, councilor."

    "Allegedly," tacked on Kaska obligingly.

    Malo leaned toward Sarel. "He''s certainly more useful than the prancing turnip that reced you as first chef."

    *

    *

    Derwain would be more irritated at his subordinates'' failure to secure thest of the people he needed to advance his ns. But now that he knew Kaska, formerly of the Redwings, was in this town, he was mentally salivating over sweet thoughts of the underworld leader''s death.

    Of course, he also wanted the town. "Where''s c?"

    "Orphanage, boss."

    "That was two hours ago."

    Rogan nced around. "I''ll go look for him."

    "If he stopped at a tavern again, cut him loose." Subordinates that could not be trained were dead weight.

    Rogan smirked. "Sure thing, boss."

    Derwain leaned back against therge steps to the monument behind him. This was taking longer than he wanted. He''d expected to be arranging caravans and organizingborers to make the road he nned.

    No matter. Lowpool was isted, no military wasing. When they did, he''d make them regret being idiots and stupidly not seeing the potential in this town.

    His legend was going to start here, in this sleepy fishing town.

    Still, it had been too long.

    "Gerd, send people to collect whatever baubles this town has. Pile them on the space there."

    The hulk of a man nodded.

    "Tell Inra''s group to start a fire. Take the food and cows where you can find them. A roast sounds nice, eh?"

    He tilted his head back, relishing the burn of the sun, the hottest part of the day.

    There was a rush of running feet and angry cries.

    He smiled.

    "Let them through."

    It was the hottest part of the day. He needed some refreshment, eh?

    There were cries of protest from the prisoners, the hostages.

    Heughed.

    Brilliant yellow glowed around his body.

    Blood spilled across the stone of the monument.

    The councilors ran to the three men cut down in an instant.

    "Healer!" cried the old mayor.

    He allowed it.

    "I ept all challengers," he said. "Don''t stop them."

    Those of the townsfolk who had some knowledge looked ill.

    He smiled.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Verchai  a type of tea, one of the more expensive varieties in the empire. The stalks are from a mystic grass that only grows on one mountain in the north of thend. Its vital qualities are top notch, able to reinvigorate the exhausted person and imparting a ''refreshing'' healing into the blood and muscles.

    The Harmonium  yet another name for the deity of rainbows, in the capacity as patron of music, wine, and fortune.

    The Witchbeds - a series of deep water-filled sinkholes that arepletely covered in algae, so they look like little meadows. Their appearance has fooled many unknowing passer-by toying down to sleep, only to slowly drown as they unknowingly sink into the depths.

 Chapter 18: The Lowpool Invasion (5 of 6)

    Chapter 18: The Lowpool Invasion (5 of 6)

    Defi leaned around the corner. Seeing no one on the street, he slid through the hidden gap in the fence.

    He stopped. The sight that met his eyes had been repeated several times in thest half-day, but it did not stop being terrifying.

    Aire caught sight of him and smiled brightly. "Defi, wee back! We caught a lot this time!"

    The children around her waved in wee,ughing, widely grinning.

    Had she been talking about fish or fireflies or butterflies, it would have been a charming picture of summer. But without doubt, the mound of defeated enemy smugglers they all proudly stood over was some truly questionable ''fish''.

    Rather, it looked like the lower half of an Ontrean traditional painting: the image of an evil spirit cheerfully corrupting the children of mortals to evil paths.

    Falie clicked her tongue from behind him. "Why are you so happy about it, you hag? Don''t teach the children strange things."

    Defi moved aside so she could enter. Unexpectedly, Falie yed the part of the upper half  the divine spirit shining benevolence and wisdom onto the mortal world.

    Considering that Falie was the one who suggested they turn the orphanage building into a massive trap maze and nned most of the brutally effective distractionsah, these mortal children were doomed.

    They were not in the orphanage, but the pretense of the building being upied was diligently kept up by the children using string and an ufortable amount ofrge puppets that had been left by Aire''s brother. Apparently the man was part of a traveling entertainment troupe.

    Defi put the bag of food on the ground. The town was gripped in fear, shops were closed and doors refused to open to strangers. It was a good thing Falie was with him or he''d have had a more difficult time convincing them he wasn''t with the enemy. They were smugglers, if the rumors were true.

    Falie''s trap maze had been appallingly sessful.

    Because of it, Defi knew they could not stay here forever. The trap maze n had only been suggested to distract the children, while Sarel and Lergen searched for information.

    The fact that so many smugglers had been caught suggested that the children were more important to the smugglers'' ns than Defi had earlier thought. Or perhaps, the smugglers'' ns had changed enough that the children''s participation grew more important. All the more reason to keep them out of enemy hands.

    "This was all the shopkeepers had to spare," Falie lowered her own sack. "The smugglers were rounding up food and cooks. They dug up the rose garden for a firepit, can you believe it? Why didn''t they just set up stoves in the square?"

    "They''re not leaving? Haven''t they plundered most of the town by now?" Aire sobered.

    "I don''t think they n to leave." Falie crossed her arms.

    It was obvious that the man was nning a take-over. Thest they heard, the smuggler leader was collecting the town''s most important people. The mayor and nine of the twelve councilors were detained in the central square, along with the heads of the guilds and wealthy families.

    Their families would have emptied their coffers by now if the reason for abducting the town leaders was ransom.

    Moreover, the smugglers were obsessively pursuing the remaining free councilors. It would be more reasonable to pige the councilors'' houses for wealth than hunt them. Surprisingly, the townspeople were stubbornly managing to keep thest three councilors and their families hidden from the eyes of criminals who were supposed to be good at subterfuge.

    A coup had to happen quickly, before opposition had the chance to take root. It had to overwhelm, that the people conquered would be swept along in the momentum. It had to be total and devastating.

    But three councilors were still free. That alone broke the smugglers'' momentum. In addition, they were running against time.

    It was nearing sundown. If the Lowpool were asrge as a nation, it would not matter if a coup took days. But this was a small town. To conquer it totally should have only taken hours.

    If the councilors were savvy enough to stay hidden until the next morning, then the smuggler leader must do something drastic to keep momentum, to keep power. If not, he would lose even this seemingly firm grip on the town.

    Defi did not want said drastic action to involve the orphanage. But the world did not cater to the wants of people. To attain what one wanted, it must be ripped forcefully from the hands of Fate.

    "Aire," he started. "this sleep-inducing oil we''ve been using, can it be modified?"

    "In many ways," answered a voice that was not Aire.

    Defi jumped, then shot a dark look at the suddenly appearing speaker. "Lemat."

    "Lemat! How are the others?"

    "They are well and there is plotting afoot, plotting everywhere! Is this not the Lowpool? Truly shadows grow in the quietest ces," the manmented before he looked at Defi innocently, earnest and inquiring. "What modification do you require?"

    The man took some getting used to; it was difficult to pin down his true personality. Defi felt somewhat nostalgic. He shook off the ache and turned his mind to the problem at hand.

    "Can it be made airborne?"

    *

    *

    The central square divided the town into the dockside in the north and the hillside in the south. The dockside had the reputation of being the poor side, due to the scent driving away those who could afford to move. It wasn''t precisely true. But undeniably, more people boughtnd on the north side of town which meant that the houses were closer together and the streets narrower.

    It was a good thing. That is, it was easier to filter a small group of people through the alleys of the north side than the wide streets of the south side.

    They had worked all into the night, and the paper-wrapped balls of sticky paste that Defi was now distributing along the boundaries of the central square were the sessful results of Aire and Lemat''s alchemy. It was not called alchemy here, the creation of power-infused salves and unguents, drinks and oils  it was just another function of an apothecary. Most of Ascharon''s ''alchemical'' efforts went into mystic cooking and the results were not as advanced as the alchemists of Ontrea.

    "Defi." Mureil was the oldest of the orphanage''s current roster, at thirteen.

    He followed her gaze. In the half-light before true dawn, a group of smugglers was returning. Falie''s section was in their path. No. This was no time to give thought to worry.

    "Why are they doing this?"

    The smugglers dumped another load of precious items and weapons on therge pile already in the square. Were the farmers and fishers of Ascharon really allowed that many des?

    "It''s a show of power," Defi answered. "Their ns did not seedpletely yesterday. Having the leaders of the town sit out here all night, having the prisoners kneel, openly plundering wealth, epting challenges, arranging all this to look like their leader is a lord conducting court  all of it diminishes the power of the townspeople while growing their own."

    "That''s not what she asked, idiot."

    Defi looked back from where he was concealing a paper-wrapped explosive.

    Mureil was contemting his words, like she usually contemted the words of any who answered her questions. With her cautious thinking, she''d have done well as a priestess in Ontrea.

    Een was looking at him like he was an idiot. The orphanage group had met the librarian running from smugglers looking for her cousinst night. She''d been so mad she agreed to work with Defi as long as she got retribution.

    Oh. It had been a more general question then. He turned back to their assigned task, mulling over his answer.

    "Power is something people seek  power over one''s choices, power over oneself, power over others. It is a natural thing, to find advantage, to seek power. Power is addictive after all; one taste and a person will crave it forever. Greed for power is treacherous  the fastest way to gain power is to use power, to show power, and the fastest way to lose power is to use and show power. What is happening here is happening because the most crude and direct way to show power is to make others suffer."

    "What in Chelua''s name are you teaching the child?" hissed Een.

    "Mureil has submitted her name for military training," Defi responded. "An army is a structure in which disys of power aremon, and often more subtle than people expect. It is better that she learns these things."

    "How would you know?"

    Defi contemted not answering as they moved, alert and quiet, to the next location. He had revealed parts of his background to more people than he liked at this point. He was just lucky they were Sarel''s friends. They hid behind a wall as a smuggler passed by, yawning. Once the man was gone, he shrugged. "I was raised in a ce where disys of power weremon."

    He didn''t lie, but his statement didn''t give much away.

    "Can you have power and not use it on others?" Mureil asked.

    "In a military hierarchy, that is unlikely to "

    "Can we spare the lecture forter, when we are not ten steps away from people who want to capture us and most likely torture us for information?" Een looked jittery as more and more smugglers entered the square.

    She had a point.

    "You may ask me questions at any time," Defi assured Mureil. He had been missing the philosophical discussions of the learning halls, had been looking forward to restarting them after the assurance that his presence was weed into thepany of his former teachers. He quashed the homesickness.

    Amotion drew their attention. Orain and Sarel were pushed none too gently into the square. Een made a wordless, snarling noise.

    "We knew something like this would happen," Defi quickly said to her. "All we can do now isplete our part."

    Een red at him, but said nothing.

    Defi nced at the square. The leader was sending his people out to hunt.

    That was not ideal. The sleep bombs had a limited area of effectiveness. More smugglers within the square when they went off meant less smugglers for the rest of their ragtag resistance forces to deal with.

    He turned away. As he told Een, they had a job to do.

    They had nted most of their sleep bombs when the smugglers spotted them.

    "You there," called a suspicious voice. "What are you doing?"

    Without a word, they ran.

    "Hey, they''re here! Lark, they''re heading your way!"

    Defi and Een nced at each other. Een indicated the small windowing up. Thankfully it was open. They slowed and grabbed Mureil.

    "Wha-?!"

    "Quiet," snapped Een.

    They boosted her up to the window. Mureil was not a fool. She scrambled to enter. "But!"

    "I said be quiet."

    "No time." Defi turned, just as smugglers burst from the two sides of the street.

    They were cornered.

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting for the book on .

 Chapter 19: The Lowpool Invasion (6 of 6)

    Chapter 19: The Lowpool Invasion (6 of 6)

    "And who are you?"

    The voice was cultured and calm. It was not at all the voice Defi would have attributed to a man who had just yesterday maimed a dozen people with the yful air of someone indulging a child.

    "Nobody important." Defi answered. "Sorry for disrupting your morning."

    "I might believe that," the man said, "if not for this."

    He reached into his coat and brought out a very familiar paper-wrapped ball. "I found it unexpectedly."

    Defi''s blood ran cold. Did someone get captured? He heard Een''s shocked inhale from beside him.

    The man''s cold gaze immediately went to her. "You appear to dislike me."

    Defi nced at Een, who was ring. "Does she? I thought her eyes were always like that."

    Een''s re turned slowly to him.

    The smuggler leader tilted his head, studying Defi. "You are not afraid of me."

    That was not true at all. But Defi soldiered on. "It''s truly difficult to be afraid of someone who cannot capture a small group of poor orphan children, even with a hundred unscrupulous criminals under hismand."

    The cold eyes ttened, what light in them draining away even as the man smiled wider. "Is that so?"

    Defi looked up at the sky. The blue of the morning was evident now, the clouds tinted with the heralding rays of the rising dawn. The others were taking too long, weren''t they?

    "Something to think about," he smiled at the man, causing the other''s brows to crumple thunderously.

    "You are Kaska''s."

    "I do not know who that is."

    "You lie."

    "Is that a challenge?" He shot back. "I ept. I''ve not seen you wield the sword at your belt. Do you even know its use?"

    The man stood, stepped to them slowly. "Do you know who you''re talking to?"

    Defi moved forward one step, Een now behind him. "Did we not already establish the fact? I do hope you''re not senile in addition to ipetent. It would make for a very poor challenge, don''t you think?"

    Sunlight burst across the central square, even though the dawn sun had not yet touched the tops of the buildings.

    Defi knew well how the sun could be cruel, knew that the benevolent light killed as much as the dark of night. Was he not a child of Ontrea?

    The man that stood before him now radiated the oppressive scorching of the sun''s harshest rage.

    Defi felt like he had been dropped into the middle of the Sarkier wastes. No trees around him, no life on the surface of the world, only bare stone, steaming sand, the expanse of emptiness stretching in the four directions, and the punishing sun above.

    Even with the Current as his sor, he was wounded still. How long could he hold

    A voice rolled smoothly across the wastnd, startling.

    "Well now, is there really a need to be so rough on the young ones. I heard you were looking for me?"

    Kaska stepped into the square, his red coat bright and eye-catching in the shadows that the morning had yet to illuminate.

    Finally.

    The smuggler leader didn''t turn to face him. "Give me a moment. Puppies should learn not to yap so loudly."

    "I have one thing to say to that," Defi forced out of a dry mouth. "Only learned it very recently. This seems an appropriate time."

    The man curled his lip. Before he could say anything else, Defi took a breath, touched the Current within him. The card in his sleeve wasfortingly stiff, within easy reach. He spoke one word, echoed by the triumphant voice of the woman beside him.

    "Inizar."

    The ball still in the smuggler''s hand burst into a cloud of smoke.

    The man snarled and his power swelled into a shine again. The cloud of modified sleeping oil dissipated. The man drew his sword and his face contorted from its usual smiling cast to an unpleasant scowl.

    Defi smirked.

    He swayed, his eyelids drooped, having been too close to the explosion. But it was no matter. From the edges of the square, a fog of sleeping gas burst into being, engulfing smuggler and townspeople alike.

    Feeling aplished, he crumpled to the ground to lie beside fallenrades.

    *

    *

    The story would be told, a popr tale still, generations in the future. How a smuggler came to the Lowpool, his force hundreds in the counting, to take the town and people as his own. How he spread the blood of the Lowpool on the cobbles without knowing what it meant. How the children of the Lowpoolughed from the shadows and devoured his forces one by one. How the blood of the Lowpool spilled to the sunlight gathered into the shape of a crocodile, brightly burning red, that ate the smuggler and drove what remained of his forces out.

    Do you know the legend of how the Treachery came to be, children?

    Of course you do.

    You will not forget this else you perish: the Lowpool is the head of the Crocodile, and it is the head that carries the animal''s fangs.

    *

    *

    Defi woke to an unfamiliar ceiling.

    He blinked sleepily. The sound of waterpping against wood was incredibly soothing. The curtains fluttered in the breeze. He groaned at it. The mountain was so cold already. What need was there to keep the windows open?

    Unreasonable.

    Some distance away there was someone telling a story, about how a monster was punished by the gods and became a river.

    He shot up straight, wincing at the twinge of pain at his side. He scrambled out of bed as carefully as he could. He had left Turq and Jar in the river!

    He was nearly out the door when he realized he was half-naked. He grunted in impatience, and nearly turned the room inside out searching for clothes. He found his belt in the wardrobe, but the clothes weren''t his. He wavered a moment, then pulled on the shirts and trousers, followed by the thick coat. The boots kept in the lower part of the wardrobe were thankfully familiar.

    He sshed some water from the basin onto his face, and ran fingers through his hair. The mirror told him he was only barely presentable.

    He wanted to sneak past the room where the voices came from, but could not bring himself to be so impolite. He coughed awkwardly in the doorway.

    "Oh! Defi, wasn''t it?" A woman he didn''t know greeted him, surrounded by half the children of the orphanage. He rxed a little.

    "Yes, thank you for the use of the room."

    Lergen blinked at him blearily from a chaise in the corner of the room. The man smiled wryly at him. "Don''t talk so stiffly, Defi. This is Merel, Aire''s sister. She''s helping house the kids while the old ce gets fixed up."

    Oh. He bowed. "Sorry to have put you through so much trouble."

    "Oh no. It''s no problem. Now that the hero Lergen and his charges are staying here, I don''t have to put up with people wanting me to host their gatherings. It''s been great."

    Hero? He looked at Lergen. The man grimaced. "The house is made from rare wood. The scent is said to be lucky."

    "Grandfather didn''t think it was a rare tree until after it was built. Since he made it for grandmother, he didn''t want to dismantle it."

    That wasn''t what he''d wanted to know, but he let it go. If Lergen was being hailed as a hero, then the town had prevailed. "The others?"

    "They''ll be fine. Turq and Jar are clogging up the docks, so you better go see them."

    Defi sent the man a grateful smile, bowed toward Merel and the children.

    The house was not too far from the dockyard. The ce was as busy as always, but there were a lot more people than normal. Between the sounds of the usual fishwives and carters, there was construction. He ducked between several tree trunks being carried toward the warehouses from aden barge.

    Scorched timber here and there still carried the faint smell of smoke. The town was rebuilding already. How long had he been asleep?

    There was a disused pier half-broken in two, at western edge of the docks. Near it floated arge blue shape.

    Defi nearly fell over from relief.

    He steadily moved along the broken pier until he could reach to pat the slime. "Turq! You''re alright! Where''s" Arge green slime lifted itself above the water surface. "Jar?"

    Did Jar eat a seakrait too?

    Heughed suddenly, reached out to pat Jar too. "Aren''t you growing too fast?"

    It hasn''t been a month since Jar was born after all.

    "What do you think you''re doing?" Someone called from the docks. "Don''t bother the slimes!"

    "Oh? Don''t tell me, you''ve been getting others to feed you? You''re shameless, Turq, Jar." He waved at the speaker, called. "Thanks for taking care of them!"

    He jumped onto Turq. Therge slime moved into theke. "Turq, you''rerger than before? How many kraits did you eat this time?"

    He settled down on Turq''s back and finally rxed. Despite just having woken up, he felt a little tired.

    "I held a sword again, do you know?" he told the two slimes. "It felt strange."

    He had not thought he ever would again. And here, after leaving behind everything that would''ve made him a warrior, he had killed with a sword.

    The sword, the woman''s sword, he had dropped beside the bodies. He didn''t know what had happened to it. He hadn''t even honored it properly. Didn''t know the woman''s name or fate.

    The sound of Turq moving was like rushing water, smooth and unconstrained.

    He closed his eyes and let Turq take them away from the town.

 Chapter 20: A Lake is Not a Constrained Sea

    Chapter 20: A Lake is Not a Constrained Sea

    Turq somehow understood his need to be alone, and so they were floating in the middle of theke. The Lowpool wasrge enough that the closest shore was nothing more than haze on the horizon. The few fishing vessels that sailed past did not bother them, perhaps detecting the cloud of mncholy looming about Defi''s location.

    He had killed before, seen his arrows and his spears strike with deadly intent, seen blood spreading from the corpses, and felt only satisfaction and joy in the act.

    But never another human being.

    This had been no hunt, gave him none of the usual aplishment and enthusiastic energy. There was only revulsion, after the fleeting feeling of triumph.

    Why was it different?

    The school of the Grass Sage said there was no difference between killing animals and killing humans, that each brought the same retribution on a soul.

    He could see why the school attracted its prizing reputation. One side may have said: how could it be the same, when it feels so different? The other would go: if this is what it feels like, to take a life  then all life is sacred and must be protected.

    The warriors of Ontrea, trained from a young age, would find the first side more in harmony with their teachings and beliefs. But the noble warriors were also trained to be priests, and therefore the second side would be considered with great thought. The warrior-priest caste of Ontrea were leaders of the people, and therefore more efficiently followed the practical and political school of the Red River almost to exclusion. The philosophies of the Grass Sage were left to academics and administrators.

    His stomach growled.

    He didn''t feel like going back to the town. Should he go to Sarel''s homestead?

    He shook his head. It was not her obligation to feed him. Not to mention, he''d forgotten he needed to show up at the homestead and Falie''s farm for work.

    Just this day

    He would take this day for himself and work harder tomorrow.

    He sat up on Turq''s back. There were farms on the far side of theke from the town, weren''t there? Someone would surely sell him fruit.

    "Turq, let''s go that way."

    The slime started moving. Ever since it ate the seakrait, Defi had noticed it was understanding him better. The summon bond between them was growing, ording to the few passages on summoning that Een had read to him. But slimes were notoriously untrainable. Nothing in the books said slimes were able to devourrger animals either. Possibly it was a trait a small subset instead of a general ability of the species? Was it possible that subsuming creatures might stimte greater sentience in slimes?

    There was no way. Nature did not work in that manner, did it? He smiled at the thought, self-deprecating. He''d long since found that nature in Ascharon worked somewhat differently than what he was used to.

    Besides, Turq was infinitely more awesome than its owner. The possibility that Turq was a rare slime was not null. But the most logical exnation was, former slime summoners did not want this ability published. Defeating a seakrait in a single gulp was an incredible thing after all.

    He heard the sound of a bell. Were they close to shore already?

    A boat was zipping toward them in a speed that was impossible to achieve considering that the boat had no mast or sail. Defi watched curiously. He''d never seen the like. The boat was long and narrow, with a canopy over its deck. As it passed them by he saw that people were seated under the canopy. He waved.

    A passenger boat.

    His interest was engaged. It was so fast. He made a note to ask someone about it.

    "Turq, there''s a pier over there."

    It looked old, but the sturdiness was evident. Defi jumped onto the discolored wood. It appeared little used.

    "Oh? You are Defi, aren''t you?"

    He whipped around to face the speaker. A man was standing in the trees, looking at him apprehensively. He had long brown hair and a thin face. There was arge wood-framed travel pack at his feet, open and with part of its contents neatly stacked beside it.

    "You are the mystic nt researcher." Defi ced him after a moment''s wary scrutiny. "Good afternoon," he greeted politely.

    "Yes, hello. I prefer Kern, in fact." They stared at each other for a moment, unknowing what to say. The manughed briefly at the awkwardness. "I don''t suppose you could not let on that you saw me today?"

    "Of course. Your business is your own." Defi looked back toward theke. "I would ask, the boat without sailsis itmon on theke?"

    "The ferry. There is only one. It''s for transporting farmers between town and the northeast farms." The man knelt once more to reorganizing his travel pack. "Mayor Sorza had glyphmasters and boatbuilders here for a whole year making it, ording to the stories. It was some decades ago, but the ferry is as effective as ever."

    "Are there many farms in the northeast?"

    "Oh yes. Apart from the area around the town, it''s the biggest piece of arablend on theke. The Lowpool is contained by a ring of mountains, you see, and viable farnd on its shores is sparse. Unless the town is willing to forge a way up one of the cliffs and brave the mountains to build a settlement."

    "They''re not?" Nobles in Ontrea enthusiastically sponsored viges in order to increase their trade. Though with the isted nature of the Lowpool, possibly a vige was not as lucrative?

    "It''s been proposed more than once. Fruit orchards aremonly productive in mountainous areas. But apart from the cost of sting a way up the cliffs, and building structures to support the first wave of settlers, there is the fact that few young couples would choose a life of such istion. The town isrge enough to give them a taste of what they''ll lose if they move to a vige settlement." Kern frowned at his travel pack. "I may have taken too much."

    "Are you traveling?"

    Kern paused, a basket in his hands. "Do you mind if I feed your slimes this? They''re herbs, nothing harmful."

    Defi took the basket from him, not minding that the other evaded his question but growing curious.

    The man sat on the edge of the pier, feet dangling over the water, as Defi tossed herbs to Turq and Jar. "What are their names again?"

    "The bluer one is Turquoise, the greener one is Jasper. Turq and Jar, in short."

    Kern smiled at the two. "Thank you, Turk and Jar."

    At Defi''s curious look, heughed.

    "I was at the docks when the seakraits attacked," he said. "Six of them, or was it seven? Some terrifying number, and only Natan and Emra braved the water to confront them. I thought I was going to die. Then Turq swallowed one, and Jar another. Of all the seakraits, they got three. They really saved us that day. I''m very grateful."

    "Turq and Jar are awesome, as always" agreed Defi. Which of them got the third seakrait? He eyed the two slimes. Why was he even asking? It was Turq, of course, the glutton.

    The manughed again. Then he sobered, a smile faint on his features. "Do you know why the smuggler Derwain wanted to make the town his stronghold?"

    "There is no way I would know that."

    "I was one of those who went through the caravan they used to infiltrate the town. ording to the data, there is a path from the Lowpool to the headwaters of the Fergaur. It''s a river," he rified. "runs down to Albcasso Cove, on the eastern coast, one of the great ports of the Empire."

    If Defi remembered correctly, the mountain range the Lowpool was situated in separated the eastern coastalnds from the rest of the maind empire. "A smuggler with a secret ovend route from the great river to the eastern coast"

    "The thought is horrifying," agreed Kern. "I have those papers with me."

    "You...want to travel using a smuggler''s map?" Surely not?

    "Few people know of it, and it is unused as long as the Lowpool does not develop it. The only concern is the monsters, and I am stronger than I look."

    "You know your strengths," Defi said, bewildered at the earnest look Kern was sending him. Like the man thought Defi was going to stop him. "But why are you telling me this?"

    "I want you to give a letter to Leraine."

    His wife? Defi waited but Kern said nothing more. Ahjust that? "I see no problem withplying"

    "Thank you," Kern looked relieved, pulled a folded piece of paper from the inner pocket of his coat. "My mind is eased that you say so."

    The man''s expression seemed too relieved for it to be a simple matter, but still. Defi put down the basket and took the letter. He carefully tucked it into his belt. It was a simple delivery. His suspicions were no reason to refuse, were they?

    "Did youe to this side of theke for anything specific? Did Sarel perhaps need herbs?" Kern looked troubled as he asked the second question.

    "No, though I''ll be sure to tell her you are unavable for the future. Could you direct me to "

    His question was interrupted when the two slimes floating near them glowed brightly.

    Oh, this was familiar, wasn''t it?

    Sure enough, when the two stopped shining, there were four slimes hopping onto the pier. The two new ones were distinct at first nce. Jar''s splitting was also green, but of a shade with stripes of darker green and lighter green circling its body. Turq''s splitting was all shades of blue, the light blue of the summer sky.

    Or the pale blue of a seakrait, thought Defi.

    "You''ve returned to normal size too." Defi knelt to take all four into his arms. Turq bounced into his usual position on Defi''s head. He smiled at the familiar weight.

    "Amazing." Kern watched the four, fascinated. "It''s not often you see something like this, even in slimes that are known to reproduce quickly. I''m happy to have seen it. Thank you, Defi."

    "It''s not something I could control," Defi refuted. "I should ask, those herbsthey weren''t mystic herbs?"

    Kernughed. "No, still failures. But their vitality is greater than the average, howevermon they are."

    Defi nodded, making a note of it.

    His stomach growled.

    Kern stifled anotherugh. "You came here to look for food?"

    Defi refused to feel embarrassed. "I did."

    "Then, just follow this path. You''lle across the farmer warehouses soon enough. It''s mid-afternoon, so they''ll be gathering there. Just ask anyone for help. If they trouble you, tell them I directed you there."

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    The school of the Grass Sage  a school of thought in Ontrea, heavily weighted toward respect for life and nature

    The school of the Red River  a school of thought in Ontrea, geared toward political, military, and socioeconomic philosophy

 Chapter 21: What River Can Compare to My Desert

    Chapter 21: What River Can Compare to My Desert

    "Buy?" The burly farmer who had introduced himself as Gelim snorted. "What talk! Come,e, there is plenty for everyone."

    The farmer warehouses that Kern mentioned were exactly at the end of the path. It looked like a vige made ofrge single-level buildings.

    Samr, a grizzled man who held himself like a soldier, nodded as he grilled fish and snakes. "It was a vige before, but the ferryboat made sure the travel to the town was only one hour. It used to be three hours by sail, see?" He smiled wryly. "Of course, the children preferred to live in town."

    In the hottest part of the day, the farmers took an hour or two to eat and rest, gathering at the small vige to cookmunally. Everyone brought something from their farm, a bag of small crabs or frogs or snakes from the irrigation channels, a basket of wild herbs and flowers gathered from beside the road, sparrow birds and insects caught in traps, edible lichen, and so on.

    Defi, who had offered to help with the preparations since he was not allowed to pay, learned more about foraging in the wild than he ever hand in years of attending the hunt. The four slimes with him appeared to be content with scraps and the parts that were discarded like fishbones, snake skin, and crab shells.

    He was a little reluctant to feed them haphazardly. Thinking about it, the both times his slimes had split, they were given vitality-rich food. But Jar was the green of the suirberries he had fed Turq, not the blue-green of its parent. Jar was also raised on suirberries and its splitting was a simr green. Turq''s second splitting was in the blue shades of a seakrait.

    Didn''t it follow then, that the child splittings were influenced by the diet of the parent in some manner. He should be more careful what he fed them.

    Unfortunately, there wouldn''t be any more suirberries until the fall harvest. He had already secured a supply of zaziphos as long as he helped Sarel with the picking and delivery. What would a child splitting from a parent fed on zaziphos look like? He should source other things to feed them, he decided, that do not depend on harvest seasons or monster attacks.

    "Are those slimes rted to the ones at the docks?" A farmer questioned.

    Defi looked up from feeding crab shells to the four. Was there a reason to hide? People who saw him and the slimes would ask anyway. He''d rather not lie. He lifted his first slime to show the farmer. "They are. They''re not thatrge normally. Only, Turq ate a seakrait some days before the attack so he was that big."

    Two seakraits, in fact. But Sarel told him to bury the second skeleton and ''not be so conspicuous, you brat!'' He took it as good advice.

    "Oh! I though it looked familiar! I saw you bring in that krait skeleton." The farmer grinned. Very good advice, it appeared. She patted Defi on the shoulder. "Thanks to your slimes, my brother and his wife are still alive."

    "What?" called another farmer. "The slime thing was true?!"

    "Why would anyone lie and say it was a slime, of all things?" retorted another.

    "They could be hiding some secret weapon, you know? It''s the mayor after all."

    Some others nodded at that.

    Defi''s brows rose. What kind of mayor did the town have, that a secret weapon powerful enough to decimate three seakraits wasn''t surprising?

    The farmer who had patted his shoulder saw the look on his face. "The mayor''s an incredible person. She knows a lot of important people, and the town council she''s put together are all scary. Thanks to her, thesest decades of the Lowpool have been prosperous."

    She was interrupted by a mor for the others to tell the story of the attack on the docks.

    The woman gave a briefly amused smile. "You''ll hear some rumors about her. Don''t mind them. Some people don''t understand; she''s blood of the Lowpool and so are most people in town." She tapped his shoulder again. "My name''s Hanna. If you need anything, find me or my brother Bron."

    It was a warning, as kind as any warning could be. Defi nodded, made a note to ask Sarel what ''blood of the Lowpool'' meant.

    "I am Defi, and these are Turquoise, Jasper, Larimar, and Mchite. Turq, Jar, Lar, Mal." He had only just decided the names after some thought. Mchite for Jasper''s splitting, and Larimar for Turq''s.

    Hanna grinned at them all, then went to tell her own version of the story.

    "How about the part where the orphanage kids buried a score of smugglers alive? Is that part true as well?!" cried one of the farmers.

    Samr sat down beside him, a te of grilled fish in his hands. He slid a whole fish into Defi''s bowl before starting to eat himself. "Don''t mind them. When the attack happened, the ferryboat was sent away by the warning rms, and most of the farmers spent the night here, without news and worrying. This is the first day we came back to work, so we''re still uneasy. What if something happens while we''re gone again? You were in town when it happened?"

    Defi nodded, silently reached for the bottle of farm ale left near him and poured a cup for Samr.

    "No, no!" a voice rose. Was that Gelim? "After the sleep smoke, Kaska confronted the smuggler lord. But the thugs that were looting came back and that was when Lergen led the rest of the fighters against them!"

    "What? Are you sure? It wasn''t the mayor''s secret army?!"

    "Lergen? Isn''t he the orphanage owner? What is he teaching those children, to bury people alive!"

    Defi stifled augh and settled down to listen, contentedly slurping down an intensely vorful porridge further made delicious by smoky grilled fish. He would be here for hours still. He''d been told the ferryboat didn''t stop by until a little after sundown.

    *

    *

    Kern and his wife Leraine had a farm on the river, though closer to town than Hames and Falie''s ce and on the opposite bank. Lergen told him the three-hour walk from the town to their farm was beautiful, especially in the fall.

    Defi thought he should deliver the letter as soon as he could, before visiting the people Reon said would be amenable to rent out rooms, so he hired a scow from the one-eyed old woman that always loitered around the docks. He found that she made most of the scows in town herself.

    He''d been met at the docks yesterday by a limping Lergen and a scowling Sarel, then scolded thoroughly for going missing so soon after waking up from two days of unconsciousness. Sarel had threatened to cut off his zaziphos supply if he went to her homestead to work before a full week had passed, saying Falie expected the same.

    The witches, what did they think he was going to feed his pets?

    He could not deny the warmth that grew in him at the concern they showed, despite his faint irritation. He was of age, didn''t they know? Still, he felt guilty making Lergen walk around in search of him when his leg was still healing, so he asked for directions  indirectly telling the man where he was going. He also left three of the slimes with the convalescing hero, whose recovery appeared more like hiding from the public than anything else.

    The view on the southern banks of the river was certainly pleasing. Defi pushed a pole into the water, practiced and smooth after a month of experience. Would he still be here in the fall, when the river was at its most beautiful?

    Fall was three months away, ording to the calendar in the library. Surely he would not be here so long? He felt an ache at the thought.

    He knocked on the door of the cottage.

    It opened nearly immediately.

    The woman who stood in the doorway frowned. There was a flicker of expectation in her eyes that faded at the sight of him. "Yes?"

    "I have a letter," he brought out the folded piece of paper. "from"

    She snatched it to her face before he could finish. Her face descended into grimness as her eyes flew down the page. "You saw him."

    "I did."

    "That idiot!" she nearly screamed.

    Defi startled, leaned away with eyes wide. There were tears in her eyes, of rage.

    "Does he think he can just leave me with this? After all that happened?!"

    Defi had hoped it wasn''t something like that. But Kern had seemed likable, and there was a wretchedness about him that Defi resonated with. He bowed, apologetically. "I''m sorry to have conveyed a thing so upsetting."

    "You''re sorry?" sheughed, little humor in the sound. "He didn''t even tell you what he was doing?"

    "He said he wished to travel to the coast."

    "The capital? I knew it. He''s hiding something from me, writing letters to Carmedel all the time! Does he have another family there? Does he?" Her eyes bored into him.

    Carmedel was the capital of the empire, and sat at the junction of two rivers in the south.

    Defi could only rify, showing his distress at having gotten caught up in this. "The eastern coast. I do not know why, nor did he tell me his business. We only met and parted by chance."

    She mped her lips shut and stared at Defi for so long that he wondered if he should be impolite and just leave.

    "How much money do you have on you?" she asked suddenly.

    Ah?

    Before he knew what was happening, Defi was dragged back to town.

    *

    "You want to transfer your property to this person," the clerk repeated slowly, staring at the scowling Leraine. "For whatever rond and ud coins he has on himself right now?"

    Her gaze turned to Defi, who was still trapped by an unyielding grip.

    "Please say it''s not possible." He kept his face and voice neutral. How could this be a proper transaction?

    The clerk inclined her head. "I am afraid to say it is. The farm is in Madam Leraine''s name. It is hers to do with as she sees fit."

    Leraine red at Defi, still magnificently furious. "I am leaving. <em>You</em> will not stop me."

    "Then at least let me put together fair price." The words just flowed out of his mouth, as if he were not the one speaking. He forcibly swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat, the sudden fear clogging his chest. His jaw clenched after saying the words.

    The clerk looked taken aback by the sudden nkness of his eyes.

    The other scoffed. "Thend is poor, the nting has not started. The soil is weak. What is fair price for that?"

    She was honest.

    Defi studied her, silent. Her features were not fine, the skin of her hands leathered by sun. And yet, she stood tall. A woman steeling her spine with determination, refusing to break. What endurance, what beauty. He could not rmend the course of action she was taking, but could not condemn it either.

    And yet, why should he help her? What right did she have to force him to do what she wanted? He was--

    No.

    He wasshing out because he was afraid. The fear in him was no fault of hers. He was no longer what he was born to be, but he was still of Ontrea. And Ontrea was and of warriors.

    Something in him calmed. But other things rose to mor in its ce. He stifled them forcibly. His fear was only one part of the problem. But the whole could be dealt withter. This part, he could deal with now.

    He met her gaze, pitiless, fathomless. "I will pay the survey price. If it is less than what iron and bronze coins I have on me, I will pay your original demand. Do we have a deal?"

    The clerk''s brows shot up.

    Defi ignored her, keeping his attention on the woman whose grip on his arm was still bruising. Leraine opened her mouth, then firmly closed it without a word. She nodded, a quick decisive action.

    He looked at the clerk. "I will need it in writing."

    "The transfer documents are temted," she said, not hiding her bemusement. "Both parties only need fill in the information and sign. The surveys were conducted only three years ago, and allnd transactions are recorded. It will be less than half an hour to get the documents together. Madam, I assume you have your copies?"

    She did.

    "Thend in Madam''s keepinges to a little over three hecte. If by ''survey price'', you mean the cost of thend based on the size of the property, then all in all, one hundred and seventy-five uds. The price of development would increase--"

    "No." Leraine interrupted with a sh of her hand. "This is the agreement. Even then, the price is too much."

    One hundred and seventy-five uds? That came to eight silver crescents and fifteen bronze uds. An acre in Ontrea would cost at least three silver fingers. Eight crescents was too low a price, wasn''t it? And she said it was too much? How cheap wasnd in Ascharon?

    Defi had sold the seakrait skeleton to the fishers guild for a hundred and twenty-five uds. It now hung above the guild hall. Adding the coins he found around the river and his wages, he had enough. He nodded and started counting out the coins.

    It was a good thing he put off buying writing materials or he would have had to exchange Rimet currency somehow. Schrly materials were expensive in the Lowpool. Twenty uds for a ream of white paper, a shock. It was only 200 pages too. Paper was cheaper in Ontrea. Perhaps the requisite materials were rarer in Ascharon.

    Why was he thinking of paper? A reflexive self-distraction. But he should not take his focus away from an official contract signing. He wrenched his attention to the papers the clerk was taking out, her exnations.

    Half an hourter, he was leaving the town hall, newly confirmed owner of a diminished farm.

    What was he doing?

    The question washed through his whole being, a flood battering at the barriers he had erected around his roiling emotions.

    "I will be leaving today," said the former owner of thend deed in his hand. "You may take possession of the house andnd tomorrow."

    He slipped a single gold Rimet coin into her bag and hoped she didn''t discover it until she was long away.

    What was he doing?

    He walked to Merel''s house in a daze.

    "Defi?"

    He ignored the rmed call, the bumps against his legs that were the slimes calling for his attention, went up to the room he slept in.

    <em>What was he doing?!</em>

    The barriers in his mind flooded.

    In a single motion, he hurled the deed against the wall. The wooden cover that protected it cracked. Bile rose to w at his throat. He vomited into the room''s washbasin. Turq bounced onto his shoulder, twice, then thrice. Aforting gesture? Defi could not smile.

    He was once again tied to a piece ofnd by name.

    Were things really so easy to rece?

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Rimet coin  this story has using this seemingly interchangeably with Ontrean coin. It is and it isn''t. Unlike in Ascharon, where the same styles of coin are minted all through the empire, Ontrea has several sets of coin minted by different powerful territories. The territories containing a World Gate, of course, have distinct designs for their coins.

    One Rimet gold finger was exchanged by Marmon Chacort to five Ascharon gold solstices. There are ten silver fingers in a gold. There are twenty silver crescents in a gold solstice. Judging by the Chacort exchange rate, then 1 Rimet silver finger = 10 Ascharon silver crescent. Not to mention there are 2.5 Ontrean acres in one Ascharon hecte. So yes,nd in Ascharon is <em>seriously</em> cheaper than Defi is used to, mostly because arge part of Ontrea is desert, really.

    You can''t even call 8 crescents cheap, considering a single person can eat off it for three years.

    ording to Marmon Chacort''s exchange rate:

    1 Rimetian gold finger = 10 Rimetian silver fingers = 5 Ascharonian gold solstice = 100 Ascharonian silver crescents

    Disimer: Other people might buy for different rates.

 Chapter 22: A Lifes Work (1 of 2)

    Chapter 22: A Life''s Work (1 of 2)

    "I hear you bought out the Garge homestead."

    Defi didn''t look up from the pile of fallen zaziphos fruit he was sorting. He grunted nomittally.

    "Then you rented out old Berka''s bedroom." Sarel eyed the tree they were both under casually. "When you have a cottage you bought so suddenly?"

    Defi hummed a non-answer. He ced both Lar and Mal in the basket full of damaged zaziphos, letting them eat at their leisure. He moved to the other side of the tree, and started picking up more fallen fruit and carefully examining them.

    Sarel threw up her hands silently, then started to sort zaziphos as well. She frowned at a hole in the fruit she was inspecting. "Merel was worried her hospitality wascking."

    That got Defi to pause. His actions would, in fact, have given his hosts that sort of impression. He sighed. He hadn''t really been thinking. "Not at all. I will apologizeter."

    Sarel peered around the tree at his form. "Something wrong with the ce?"

    Defi''s shoulders slumped at Sarel''s insistence. "No."

    Sarel studied him, the defiant cast to his jaw, the drooping shoulders. She turned and leaned back against the tree, rolling a zaziphos fruit between her palms, eyes cast distant against the far horizon. "Food is essential to the soul of Ascharon, do you know?"

    Defi briefly lifted his brow at the tree trunk that separated them, not stopping his sorting. If he did not know by now, he was the blindest idiot in two worlds.

    "My father was a cook at the imperial pce in Carmedel. Never rose above third chef though. It''s a particrly precarious rank, high enough to be greatly coveted, low enough that it is just on the cusp of the imperial family''s attention. Father always came home exhausted, having to defend from the suspicious chefs above maintaining their ces and the ambitious chefs below attempting to increase their rank. He just wanted to cook."

    Defi was silent as Sarel gathered her thoughts.

    "I was invited to the imperial chef examination. I refused." Sarel''s lips lifted at the edges, humorless. "I would not be Father, who withered in the imperial kitchens, who subjected himself to over a decade of abuse. For what? It was only yearster that I realized I had hated my father. That I, his own child, feared his fate enough to deny myself everything that was his life."

    Defi''s hands stilled, his face nked.

    "I refused three invitations to the imperial examinations before I was informed that a fourth refusal would have consequences I would not be able to escape." Sarelughed lowly at the self she had been in the past. "Though at the time I felt like I was being caged, even as I was forced to y their politics, even after I''ve been driven from the imperial kitchens like a stray dog, I found that I could not regret taking the examinations."

    Sarel smiled at the blue afternoon sky. "My father only ever wanted to cook. Now, I understand him more than I ever did when he was alive."

    They were silent, the smiling woman leaning against tree with her face to the sky, the weeping boy kneeling on the grass with his face bent to the ground. The only sound, for a long while, was the river-cooled breeze rustling the leaves of zaziphos trees. The pleasant scent of fruit and flower curled around the scene, as if thend was cradling it with the arms of the wind.

    *

    *

    Sorza, mayor of the Lowpool, put down the report. "Is there news from Kaska yet?"

    "He said the smuggler Derwain didn''t appear to be part of arger organization, but had agreements with a few underground families in the north. He''s waiting on several of his contacts still."

    "That''s one thing to not worry about."

    Her secretary put down another report. "This is the review on most of the people involved in the incident."

    "Anything interesting?"

    "There are people not on thest census, but all of them appear to be harmless. There are a few that may be problems in the future. A former rebel named Emra has made contact with Natanel in the docks. He recognized her."

    Sorza sighed. "She knows how to be discreet, or she would''ve been caught in the five years since she left the border. And Natanel is more likely to consult with Orain before he reports her. On this issue, it''s best we do nothing at the moment."

    "A young man of unknown background calling himself Defi has acquired what remains of the Garge homestead. It appears he was reluctant. It ties into mestre Kern disappearing and madam Leraine following."

    "Unknown background?"

    "He was first noticed helping deliver Sarel''s usual. He sold a seakrait skeleton days before the attack on the docks and his slimes...ate three of the attacking seakraits. If you remember,dy mayor, he apanied the young miss Een that morning."

    She did remember the two young people who triggered the cloud of sleeping elixir. Who knew it could be made into a bomb? Luckily for her stress levels, Lemat and Aire had assured her it was not something just anyone knew how to do. "That''s a somewhat remarkable list of aplishments for someone of unknown background, don''t you think?"

    "The report on him has a few notable spections. I would bring your attention to the events in Mown and Stahlchausses a fortnight before his appearance with Sarel."

    "An otherworlder? None of the others have made trouble. It''s not like many of them enter the Gates to stay."

    "Begging your pardon,dy mayor, but most of the people who stay are fleeing ves. The reasons a Rimetian freeman chooses to stay in Ascharon, let alone the Lowpool, must be investigated thoroughly. More suspiciously, he appears to hold simr opinions on werefolk as the others, though he maintains a neutral faade well."

    "So diligent, Er," she teased. "Keep an eye on him then. The seakrait skeleton?"

    Er ignored her teasing, long familiar with her idiosyncrasies, and answered. "Innocent on his part. However, Besan, son of Faran, has disappeared. We cannot find him, and he has not returned to Stahlchausses."

    "I see. Faran''s son." An expression of mncholic reminiscence appeared on her face before she shook it off. "Keep looking. Anything more?"

    The secretary nodded, looking apologetic. He handed over a set of papers. "The three children who Lergen and Aire epted into the orphanage have been identified."

    Sorza''s expression ttened at the information in the papers. "Rmendations?"

    "Lady mayor, you are well known to his lordship the count"

    The elderly mayor chuckled, somewhat grim. "Can''t just ignore this, hm?"

    "Sorry."

    "We can''t return them either. Keep an eye on them as well. Unless the count contacts us specifically, we have not seen them. I assume their trail to the Lowpool has been taken care of?"

    "If anyone looks, they''ll be led down the great river."

    "Good. To more pleasant topics, how is the celebrationing along?"

    "We should be ready tonight. The rewards and announcements have already been prepared. All those injured previously are well enough to attend."

    "Excellent. The town needs a little cheering up, I think. Let''s give them the chance to stomp the stink of smuggler from the central square."

    "There is dancing nned."

    Sorza nodded and stood from her desk. "That''s enough for work today. Tell everyone to go home. Don''t they need to prepare? Come along, little one. Let''s go see what the cooks have nned for tonight''s feast."

    "Please don''t call me that, gran."

    *

    *

    Defi sunk his fingers into the dirt, scooping up a handful. It crumbled in his grip, dry and dusty. For a homestead on the banks of a river, it was unremarkable.

    Leraine had not exaggerated. The soil was weak. It would not hold another harvest for at least a year, likely more.

    If this was the result of trying to cultivate mystic nts on ordinarynd, he understood why others did not do it, why the people in town thought Kern a fool. A farmer definitely would not allow hisnd to deteriorate to such an extent. How would the average farmer support himself and his family if he could not properly care for thend? Even the parts of the property that had not been sown with Kern''s experimental nts had withered abominably.

    He sat in the shade of a flowerless tree. Three hecte of mostly uselessnd, four slimes, a cottage, a warehouse, and river ess  all he had in the world.

    Now what?

    He squeezed Turq and Mal in his arms, gaining a measure offort. Jar and Lar were exploring the stunted trees.

    He should buy a scow of his own first. It was the most useful transport on the river. There was nothing he could do with thend except fertilize it and let it grow fallow.

    Could he use the Current?

    There was little difference in the way he used the current in Rimet and here, and it had not balked in any manner. Zevran of the March, philosopher, historian, schr, said that under all gods was one god, under all sorceries was one power, under all living beings was one soul.

    The gods of this world did not appear to disdain the Current, the Creator''s gift. Well, there was only one way to make sure.

    He sat up straight, put Turq and Mal on his folded legs, and closed his eyes.

    The philosopher-priests of Ontrea say the Current was named so because it ebbed and rose in seemingly random cycles as it flowed through the worlds of existence and nonexistence, like a river bubbling toward an unrealized distant sea. Where it ebbed, life diminished. Where it rose, life flourished.

    Defi sank himself slowly into the Current, and started the familiar process of gently coaxing power into thend. He concentrated on the tree at his back.

    The power of thend of Ascharon was different and normally would have resisted at least a little but here, it was so starved that it drew Defi''s energy to itself inrge swallows, in huge gulps, and still wasn''t satisfied.

    Defi withdrew, a little perturbed at the hunger of thend under him. That depleted his energy far faster than the damagednd of the old spice farm.

    "Defi."

    His eyes shot open to see Sarel looking at him quizzically.

    "I did tell you I wasing by. The others are already at the house."

    "Others?" he croaked. He reached for his waterskin, wet his dry mouth. How long had he been within the Current? It felt like only a few moments.

    "Merel was insistent that she apologize for the misunderstanding," Sarel looked exhausted at the mention of the other woman. "When she learned you were here, she organized a house-warming. Everyone is here."

    "That''s"

    Sarel nodded, the hermit understanding his wordless hesitation at the thought ofpany. She looked apologetic.

    He waved it away with a shake of his head.

    "Also," Sarel murmured, looking up and behind him. "I don''t suppose there is an exnation for this?"

    Defi nced behind him and twitched, shock painting his features for a second.

    The formerly flowerless tree he was sitting under was festooned in bouquets of pure white blooms, as if life had suddenly burst out its withered branches and polished its drooping leaves.

 Chapter 23: A Lifes Work (2 of 2)

    Chapter 23: A Life''s Work (2 of 2)

    Defi hefted Jar in his hands. An idea had been niggling at the back of his head for some time now.

    He ced Jar in the wooden bucket and started vigorously kneading the slime like he''d seen Dyene do to dough. The ball of dough eerily looked like a pale yellow slime at that time, he''d been surprised.

    He counted in his head. Just past the hundredth count, Jar burst out with the same clear fluid as that time in Sarel''s kitchen.

    "Gah!"

    Most of the liquid was retained in the bucket.

    Defi carried Jar to the table, then went to wash his face, squinting his eyes against the sting.

    He should have made a cover for the bucket. Leather maybe, so his hands could move freely while shielding his face properly.

    Even then

    The first try was a sess, of a sort.

    Sarel was right, the slime juice did smell like vinegar. He touched the tip of his tongue to the skin of his hand briefly. The acidic sourness was the same, but there was a certain hint of sweetness in the taste, and a heavier, fuller vor than the vinegar he''d tasted on both Ontrea and Ascharon so far.

    He poured the liquid into a ceramic jug, using a funnel and a filtering cloth. Jar had been particrly aggressive in its defense, as the slime vinegar filled over half the three-litr jug.

    He could use cloth in ce of a leather covering, couldn''t he?

    There was some linen cloth in the store-room, which was formerly one of the three bedrooms in the house  the one that looked like it had seen the most use.

    Defi had been hesitant moving into a house so recently vacated by strangers. Also, by the looks of it, Leraine had only taken essential travel items and personal items, then left all the rest. He''d been ufortable at the look of a lived-in house and was grateful now that there had been other people to help him move the extraneous items from all over the house to the room containing clothes-chests still half-filled.

    The room also served as storage for the house-weing gifts he''d gotten from various people he''d met in town. He''d made sure to learn their names. It was only right to return the favorter.

    The house was a little bare after Merel, Falie, Aire, and Dyene had gone through it, tossing various knickknacks at the men to take to the store-room. They told him to go over the embroidery and weavingster, to see if he wanted to disy some of them.

    He''d rather not.

    Maybe he should have told the others to take what they wanted with them?

    The wood of the walls had a natural pattern that pleased him. He would buy a few carvings or sculpturester, to ent the rooms. He''d had some woven wall hangings in his luggage that his mother had made.

    His lips thinned; he shoved the thought away.

    He pulled an expanse of white linen from one of the numerous storage chests in the room, returned to the kitchen.

    He folded the linen cloth to a sizerger than the mouth of the bucket, then tacked the cloth to the opening. He grabbed Jar again, pulled the cloth over the bucket and his arms, started kneading the slime.

    The slime fluid generated this time was half the amount of thest, even after wringing the linen cloth of the moisture it caught.

    At least he didn''t have a face full of stinging liquid this time.

    He put Jar into a basket containing zaziphos fruit, as reward. Defi didn''t think he would be able to squeeze so much fluid out of him.

    He poured the fluid into the waiting filtered funnel. The jug was nearly full. He removed the funnel and filter cloth, stoppered the jug with a wooden plug.

    Sarel would know if it was edible, wouldn''t she? He''d askter.

    In the meantime

    He turned a curious gaze to the other slimes.

    *

    *

    Sarel looked sceptical.

    Defi had to decant some of the liquids into smaller containers for easier transport. Three bottles now sat on Sarel''s table,belled with thin strips of cloth in Jar green, Lar blue, Mal blue and green. There were three tasting bowls in front of the bottles, with samples of the contents. Two of the tasting bowls contained clear fluids. Thest a white-tinged liquid substance.

    He couldn''t bring himself to milk Turq, so there wasn''t a fourth.

    "I guarantee freshness and quality," coaxed Defi.

    "When did you manage to make vinegar? It hasn''t been three days since you moved in, and you''ve been working like a demon."

    "I''m very diligent. And Falie said most of the work is done so she doesn''t need help until fall harvest." It had freed up his mornings.

    He''d been testing how much fluid could be produced per day, whether the amount of fruit eaten would affect the amount of liquid exuded, and several methods of extraction.

    He''d even ced Mal into the small wine press he''d been gifted by Falie and Hames.

    He''d gotten the most juice out of that method, but he had the strange sense that Turq was looking at him reproachfully, so he abandoned the idea. Admittedly, cranking that handle and feeling Mal being slowly ttened down by the weight of the press made Defi feel like a torturer.

    He needed the zaziphos more than ever, so his afternoons had been about gaining as much fruit as he could.

    Still suspicious, Sarel lifted the tasting bowl. She tilted it here and there, eyeing the liquid. Incidentally, it was Mal''s sample.

    "The scent''s good," she murmured. She pressed the edge of the bowl to her lips, letting a drop slide to her tongue. She ruminated for a moment. She put down the tasting bowl. "It''s a nice light vinegar. Good acidity, fresh taste. Doesn''t have the harshness the usual un-aged home-made vinegar."

    He leaned forward. "It''s good?"

    "If you can make it consistently, there is a market, yes."

    She took another bowl, lifted it to her nose. It was Lar''s. The milky juice the blue slime produced was more viscous than the other two. "You say this is vinegar?"

    "Possibly lotion." He showed her his smooth hands. The calluses had been softened slightly and the cracks in his nails repaired.

    "You don''t know what it is?" Sarel put a hand to her temple, exasperated. "Which slime is this from?"

    "AhLarimar, the blue one." She had seen through him just like that. That was...scary.

    She saw the look on his face. "I told you I worked in one of the most rigorously testing ces in the empire when ites to food and you didn''t think it would be evident how you made this, considering my knowledge of what resources you have?"

    "In hindsight," Defi said sheepishly, "I was wrong. Forgive me for the little test of your skill. I apologize."

    "You know, if you could stop talking like that," she muttered, "you''d almost be mistaken for a farmer."

    It was the first time she''d voiced such a statement, but he''d seen the sentiment in her eyes more than once. He''d long since given his trust to Sarel, who had never asked his circumstances but had helped him anyway, so this much wasfortable.

    "I thank the bronze of my skin every day," he grinned. "But the talking will take some time. Shall we just designate that one as inedible, then?"

    Sarel sent him a quelling look before she turned her attention to the small bowl in her hand. She dipped her finger into the liquid, rubbed it between the pads of her fingers, then massaged the liquid into the back of her hand. She brought the bowl to her lips and tasted it, nodded.

    "If you''re nning to sell this as a skin cream, you might want to add a bit more scent. It smells faintly of zaziphos, but would likely be scentless to most. The feel is not unpleasant, which is your strongest selling point. Not greasy, lumpy, or gritty."

    He grimaced. "Are you sure it can''t be sold scentless?"

    She snorted. "Didn''t have fun meeting the prominent citizens of the Lowpool during the celebrations?"

    "It was mostly fine."

    There had been a time when he thought that heavy perfumes were simply a part of social life, had thought the scentless air of the rural countryside to be sadly uncivilized. His unexpected reaction to the cloud of perfumes of the elite townspeople had forcibly confirmed that he was different now.

    The myriad mingling of strong scents made him subtly avoid them lest he retch in front of the entirety of the town leadership.

    "The werefolk with naturally strong noses would buy it." Sarel said thoughtfully, tilting the bowl and studying the way the fluid slowly moved. She didn''t catch the slightly conflicted look on Defi''s face, then the hint of resignation, before the emotions were subdued into the usual mask of genial disinterest.

    "There are professions that would like a scentless skin lotion," she continued. "And with the right marketing, it would sell well with men in the cities."

    "It could be sold as a healing cream for skin."

    "Hm."

    Sarel put the bowl down and took up thest.

    She immediately brought it to her lips to taste, paused, put it down. She was silent, contemtive, for a long moment. "This is from?"

    "Jar."

    The vinegar from Jar was thicker than that from Mal. Defi thought it tasted better than any vinegar he''d had before, but then Ascharon was and of gourmets. He waited patiently.

    Sarel sighed. "This vinegar is going to cause trouble."

    He tilted his head.

    "There are only three types of vinegar on this level, and all their producers are exclusively contracted to the imperial court. In addition, none of them is as clear as spring water. How much of this can you make?"

    "A guaranteed litr a day." If he fed Jar at the regr rate. Two litr if he worked ''like a demon'' as Sarel mentioned earlier. Now that he was regrly milking the slimes, production was only a little less than a litr and a half every day, even Lar''s milky-colored lotion.

    A thought came to him. Considering Lar''s splitting circumstances, should he be feeding it sea creatures? He''d seen the piles of discarded fish-bones at the dawn market near the docks once, so it would not be a hardship to source the slime''s food. And there was blueke shrimp, which was cheap and plentiful, mostly used for bait or ground into the fermented shrimp sauce that the Lowpool residents seem to ther on every type of viand.

    It would lessen his need to work on the zaziphos trees.

    Definitely something to seriously consider.

    "Not a lot then," Sarel frowned. "Unfortunate. It will only emphasize the uniqueness."

    Now, however, there were more important things. He smiled at Sarel, innocent and bright. "Shall we talk price and percentages?"

    A brow was lifted in his direction.

    "I thought to talk directly, to convey my sincerity at a partnership with a merchantpany." He continued, undaunted.

    The second brow joined the heights of the first.

    He smirked faintly. "Or should I speak to Falie more, Madam Mysterious City Purveyor of Terrible Wine? Wouldn''t she like to know that her beloved grape products are being sold as condiments instead."

    Those brows thundered down into a scowl. "I''m not even going to ask how you found out."

    By staring out your rented bedroom window forlornly at the right time, and inadvertently eavesdropping on two merchantpany porters taking a snack break in the right ce. Defi wasn''t ever going to tell her that, however.

    He leaned back, satisfied as a cat in a bird sanctuary. "Shall we talk business?"

    Sarel studied him, then an rmingly amused grin stretched across her face. "Are you certain?"

    Well, Defi thought, a little more wary but with a sense of anticipation for the sh, what is life if not lived to the full?

    **

    **

 Chapter 25: Budding Plans

    Chapter 25: Budding ns

    The Garge homestead had been called such for about five centuries, ever since the lord of thend called for settlers to develop the Lowpool. The arablend around theke was carved into homesteads that over the centuries fractured and fragmented into smaller properties.

    The old properties still called ''homesteads'' were the sites of the original stone and wood houses. Even if three hecte ofnd was less than a tenth the size of the original homestead, it still had the old house and, more importantly at the time of creation, direct ess to the river.

    The floor of Defi''s new single-storey cottage was in fact the original stone, polished to a gently smooth finish by centuries of wear.

    Defiy spread across that smooth stone like a starfish,pletely rxed. Thoughts of noble poise and dignity discarded, he was enjoying the coolness of the stone after a morning spent clearing out the unused warehouse which had also been used as a storage space for tools and broken furniture.

    He recognized parts of an old watermill in the stored items, though the building was long gone.

    Apart from the house, the only buildings on the property were the warehouse, the outhouse, and the well-house that also held tanks and barrels of water as well as washing tubs and soap.

    He was somewhat disappointed.

    Sarel''s homestead had no washhouse, but there were several calm pools that the river regrly flowed through. A bather could float in one of the pools and enjoy the scenery for some time. It was not so different from the bathing pools of Ontrea.

    After inspecting the property, the things needed to be done were listed mentally, though not in any particr order:

    *

    <em>1. <strong>Buy morend.</strong></em>

    He had dropped a chest in the storeroom and discovered small bags of seedsbelled ''Naranj herb, #23f'', ''Liongrass, #2e'', and ''Shyleaf, #56m'' as well as several handwritten nting journals. He wanted to know if imbuing thend with the Current would have any effect on Kern''s hybrid nts.

    His slimes needed mystic ingredients in order to create splittings. A vitality-rich herb was something that would greatly benefit them, and him.

    But he needed newnd to nt them on.

    Healing the vitality-depletednd with the Current would take too long. He wanted to concentrate his energy into reviving what he was assured were fruit trees. The sansu nted on the property covered about half a hecte, twenty-six half-withered trees.

    Zaziphos and suirberry had worked to his favor; he wanted to know what a slime could produce with sansu.

    By his calctions, healing thend the sansu trees were nted on would take two months. The Current was infinite, but his body was fallible and needed rest. He could only use the Current in such demanding circumstances for two or three hours, twice a day.

    He breathed in, breathed out.

    The thought of buyingnd for himself did not now send him into hysterics; he was relieved at the development. There had been a single painful talk with Sarel after that afternoon, that helped him put some of his ghosts to rest.

    The act of healing thend also helped. Bit by bit, it felt like thend was truly bing his. It was an affirming feeling.

    <em>2. <strong>Build a bathing pool.</strong></em>

    The floor of the well-house was paved in stone and there was a drain channel for wastewater that devolved into a sand pit on the shore of the river.

    But as a bathing house, it was greatlycking.

    A pool by the side of the warehouse would not be a difficult task, surely? If it could be elevated and a ce for burning wood built underneath, he would even have a heated pool.

    It would be the perfect thing to chase away the mountain chill. And he knew heated massages helped take away exhaustion. There were no masseurs that he knew in the Lowpool but now that the idea had sparked in his mind, a hot soak was something he started to crave.

    Oh wait, instead of using wood, there was likely an emblem that could heat water. That would make things easier, wouldn''t it?

    <em>3. <strong>Raise more slimes.</strong></em>

    It had taken a month for one slime to fill two quartels with slime extract. And Sarel had called that only a sample. He needed to produce more than that if he were to sign a contract with a merchantpany.

    It would be difficult to recreate exactly the same circumstances where his current slimes split, but he could generally see the paths:

    a. Turq had created Jar after eating a few dozen baskets of suirberry, some zaziphos, and parts of the mystic sable crab including its powerful roe. Jar now produced a top quality vorful vinegar.

    b. Jar had created Mal after eating baskets of suirberry, more baskets of zaziphos, a seakrait, and half a basket of hybrid mystic herbs. Mal now produced a good quality light vinegar.

    c. Turq had created Lar after eating baskets of zaziphos, four seakraits, and half a basket of hybrid mystic herbs. Lar now produced a viscous fluid that could be used as skin lotion.

    He could not make any of the four split more without spending a heap of silver on mystic ingredients. But he still had a summon-tablet that was rated for multiple slimes. Turq had been the first to be summoned. He would not be thest.

    He made a face at the thought of feeding a battalion of Turq''s rtives.

    Unfortunately, for slime food, Defi currently only had zaziphos. The sansu would not bear fruit for months yet. And he would not have suirberries until the frost harvest.

    That was the reason for the next item on the list.

    <em>4. <strong>Find alternative sources of slime food.</strong></em>

    He needed cheap, plentiful, resources that were easy to acquire the whole year round. He didn''t know what kind of extract would be resulting from different foods, but he was interested in finding out.

    Who knew whatbinations of different food would produce? He couldn''t wait to start!

    The immediate n, of course, was to increase the production of at least the vinegar. Finding seakraits to make more lotion-producing slimes seemed too much trouble.

    <em>5. <strong>Build individual slime kennels in the warehouse.</strong></em>

    Tuq, Jar, Mal, and Lar had been fine inside the cottage or Sarel''s zaziphos orchard. They were easy to keep track of. But if he added more slimes and needed to track the food of each single beast, keeping them separate would make raising them easier.

    He could build it in the style of stables, but ount for the slime''s ability to climb walls. Slime habitats were wends, so the warehouse being built close to the river was an advantage.

    He could build each stable simrly to Ontrean garden pools, likely. They were everywhere in Rimet. It was simply a series of stone basins arranged in a pleasing manner, sometimes half-buried, sometimes elevated on pedestals or hanging, with waternts growing in and around them; an attractive addition to the gardens of the wealthy.

    The concept would do well as a slime habitat.

    Though, wouldn''t they eat the decorative nts? He had to make sure they didn''t eat anything other than the food he gave them.

    *

    Defi got up from the surprisinglyfortable floor.

    There were several designs he needed to put on paper. The warehouse habitats must be the first to be dealt with, before all the others. They would take some time to build.

    He paused.

    That meant the slimes were getting bathing pools before him, didn''t it.

    He revised the designs immediately.

    If the builders were making small pools anyway, arger one nearby wouldn''t be out of ce, hah.

    He tapped the pen on the table, frowning.

    The reward money wasn''t enough to renovate a whole warehouse. The building was not small. It showed that the homestead had been greatly productive in the past.

    He still had his personal cache of six gold fingers and twenty silver fingers. The gold alone could be converted to thirty Ascharon solstices. But that was dependent on the moneychanger, and how much he had to pay to keep their lips sealed. Who would believe him if he said he found the coins?

    He trusted Sarel above all others in the Lowpool. But did he trust her this much?

    There was no way around it.

    He needed to increase production of slime extract, his only resource at this point. To do so, he needed builders and glyphmakers to renovate the warehouse. He needednd. He needed time. To acquire all that, he needed more coin.

    He sighed.

    He was fine with subterfuge; he would be dead if he didn''t learn it. It was falsehood that he had trouble with. What kind of born noble was he, Defi thought self-mockingly, to abhor lying this much?

    *

    *

    The dinghy skipped across theke waters, only slightly assisted by the single sail.

    Most vessels on theke depended greatly on emblems to propel them through the water. But the masts and sails of the vessels were a precaution as well as an aid. Were the emblems to be damaged, the boats could still move by sail.

    "Isn''t this too far for a farm?" Defi contentedly patted Turq, who for once was on hisp. He didn''t want to chance the strong wind blowing the slime away from its usual perch.

    They had been two hours on the water already, and the dinghy was nearly as fast as the ferryboat.

    "The idiot likes his privacy." There was an exasperation to Sarel''s answer. "His livelihood does not depend much on the Lowpool."

    Somewhat simr to Sarel''s situation, then?

    He''d told the woman he needed someone to change foreign currency and not ask questions. Sarel had huffed and mentioned it was about time she checked in on an idiot anyway.

    A few days after that, Defi and Turq were on a hired dinghy and jetting across theke.

    Defi''s brows nted in distress. Wasn''t he depending too much on Sarel? It was difficult to bear, when he had done nothing to repay her yet. Even helping with her fruit orchard was more a benefit to him.

    He breathed to clear his head. It couldn''t be helped at the moment, bitterly weak as he was. He just needed to be more reliable in the future.

    They came up on a small jetty at a wooded shore. The close-growing trees of the wood obscured any hint of habitation. Only the wood and stone jetty jutting out into the water gave evidence that there were people there.

    Defi tied off the dinghy. Sarel took up her bag and jumped onto the jetty easily. Turq tucked into one arm, Defi followed.

    They walked the path winding through trees. It was a peaceful and refreshing walk, sunbeams shining through the tree trunks and the fragrance of flowers rising with the morning heat. Defi felt a little partial to the owner.

    He heard bleating in the distance. Did Sarel''s friend keep goats or sheep?

    The house showed through the trees after a short stroll. It wasrge, three storeys of wood and stone with several other buildings scattered nearby. There were flowers in nearby gardens and beyond the house was an expanse of neatly delineated fields.

    It wasn''t sorge a farm, thend constrained by the cliffs only about ten hecte or so. But it looked like something out of a painting, the charming country house.

    A heavy sound of beating wings made Defi look up.

    His eyes widened.

    He had not thought to see a winged goat again. Thest time he saw one was months ago in Stahlchausses, and back then he had wished to ride one of the flying animals of Ascharon. The desire had not abated. Unfortunately, while there were summon-beasts in the town, none of them had wings.

    It was an excellent treat to see another winged goat after all this time.

    He was smiling as Sarel knocked on the door. A girl opened it, beamed. "Sarel!"

    "Is your uncle here?"

    The girl, maybe four or five years younger than Defi, looked at the bag by Sarel''s feet. "Did youe to make food?"

    "For you, of course."

    The girl brightened, opened the door wide. "I''ll call him!"

    She rushed away, door still open.

    Sarel looked at Defi, then sighed. "You''ll like him, I think."

    Defi, from the pleasant walk and the winged animals, was already predisposed toward whoever Sarel''s friend was. But it was too soon to say ''like''...and why did she say it like it was a trouble to her?

    A tall figure filled the doorway,ughing. "Sarel! I have been missing you!"

    Defi could only stare at the man, dressed in colorfully entric clothing. The edges of his lips lifted in irony, a reluctant amusement slowly bubbling up within him.

    "And who is"

    Defi saw the moment the man recognized him.

    "Marmon Chacort," Defi greeted, with a lightugh. "I am happy to see that you are well."

 Chapter 26: The View Differs Where I Stand

    Chapter 26: The View Differs Where I Stand

    "Come in,e in!" The assayer grew a little somber but still invited them into his house heartily. He ushered them into one of the rooms, gestured them to sit.

    Immediately a man appeared at the table, and poured wine for the three of them, and arranged a te of thinly sliced meats within easy reach. That done, he ced the wine bottle in a cradle and disappeared.

    Defi was impressed by the silent service. It would not falter before the ability of servants for the Ontrean courts. He ignored the curiouslyrge non-human ears growing from the sides of the man''s head.

    "Delos of Rimet," their host greeted, now that they were ensconcedfortably within his house. His eyes were sharp, though not using.

    It appeared Marmon Chacort knew a little of the trouble shadowing Defi. The assayer was a highly intelligent man, despite the outward mask of loud joviality. There was no need to hide what could be easily deduced from the fracas at Stahlchausses.

    Defi inclined his head, respectful, to both the older people at the table. "I was born Desif, and now go by Defi. I can no longer use the name of my birth, but would prefer Defi over Delos." He turned to the assayer. "I hope my sister did not give you too much grief?"

    "That terrifying child," sighed Marmon Chacort. "She was very polite. I told her everything, of course."

    "I would not expect less." Defi nodded. It was the smart thing to do, after all. Besides, the man had likely only told Ymirin everything that was verifiable by public witness.

    "She was confused about the baby. Does your family not know you had a child? She asked quite a few questions about it."

    Defi paused as he was reaching for a piece of meat. Across from him, Sarel, who had been silently watchful as more of his background was revealed, had to drain her wine goblet to hide her shock.

    "Ymirin asked about the baby?"

    "I think she only wanted to confirm rumor, and was surprised that it was true."

    Defi reached for the wine bottle instead of the meat tter. He poured a generous amount into his goblet. He took arge sip, before rifying, "The baby is not mine. But there was no logical reason two servants would take their child through the Gate, so we pretended. Do I truly look like I could be a father?"

    At his slightly despondent question, Sarel snorted in amusement. Marmon Chacort grinned wide. "Truly, you have an air of paternality about you"

    "Please stop."

    "Do you know he has children stalking him whenever he goes to the orphanage?" Sarel put in, drawling the question.

    Marmonughed.

    Defi gave her an annoyed nce. She smirked at him.

    He did not know that, in fact. A few childrene up to him from time to time, especially Mureil and her friends who were interested in his views on joining the military, but he would not call it stalking.

    "But really, the old man that was your interpreter, he is the father?" Marmon''s amusement abated, though his eyes still gleamed.

    "Garun is only sixty, despite the white hair, and Samti not close to forty. It is not so surprising." He knew people who were still fecund enough to wee children every few years at the age of eighty.

    "They do not appear to be with you?"

    "We separated in Stahlchausses. They''re somewhere south, setting up their farm." At least, Defi hoped so. They should have had at least a day ahead of any pursuit Ymirin could mount.

    "I see. You will stay for the mid-day meal, certainly. I am not a bad cook, you know! But of course, as Sarel is here, I will bow to her expertise on food."

    Sarel gave the fleshy man a look. Marmon only grinned back.

    That sally soon saw all three of them taking over the kitchen. Sarel''s bag had a number of pots and bottles, her personal mix of spices, herbs, and other condiments, plus several ingredients that she nned to use today.

    One of the few kitchen workers started heating uprge pans nearby, at Sarel''s instruction.

    "Oh, is this Grozier cheese?" Marmon lifted a chunk of brown and yellow, one of the things taken from Sarel''s bag, crumbled some pieces into his hand, and inhaled. "It is! Sarel, you truly do like me!"

    There were tears in his eyes, the hand with pieces of cheese cradled close to his heart.

    "No," refuted Sarel immediately, as she chopped the shallots into fine pieces. "It would go bad if I left it longer, so I brought it here."

    Marmon sighed deeply, then looked at Defi for sor.

    Defi ignored him and kept washing ingredients and cing them in sieve baskets to dry. Horn m and bearpaw m, blue shrimp, river crab, catfish, white turnips, different kinds of beans, spinach, chard, and a few other vegetables and herbs he didn''t know.

    Despite the cheap ingredients, it seemed today''s mid-day meal was going to be more outrageous than usual. Just the smell of spices sizzling in oil, already permeating the kitchens, made his mouth water.

    Seeing no help from the younger man, Marmon tossed the cheese into his mouth as if to heal himself from these cold personalities that shared his kitchen. He mumbled to himself, "Delicious, so vorful, and the texture not too refined. Excellent, excellent cheese."

    He wandered into a small doorway, muttering all the while. Defi took a moment to be concerned.

    But secondster, the man rushed out the doorway, pped arge silver-blue carp onto one of the four cooking areas in therge kitchen, took out a knife and started descaling the fish even as it pped on the stone counter, still alive.

    Sarel sent a meaningful re at the man who was gracefully descaling the fish that was longer than a whole arm in a manner that the scales fell directly into a refuse bucket. But she only spoke to one of Marmon''s kitchen workers, telling the man to bring added ingredients.

    Defi finished at his station. He opened the water barrel, lifted the filtering cloth protecting the water. It needed refilling. He turned, then nearly ran into a woman carrying two full water buckets. "Oh, sorry. Good timing."

    He uncovered the water barrel and helped her pour her buckets in. It did not fill even half the barrel. He lifted down two buckets from a stack for himself. "Where is the well?"

    Was the cooking together part of Ascharon negotiation custom too? Garun didn''t tell him that. But as it rted to food, it would be important anyway. He didn''t know how to cook, so he might as well make himself useful in other ways.

    The woman smiled at him, a brief lifting of the lips. "This way."

    She led him to the back of the house. The view from the back of the house was more expansive.

    Only part of thend was used for farming, he could see now. The rest of the small pocket ofkeshore was kept to woond.

    It was very idyllic.

    They passed a series of one story houses. Outside one of them, an old man lounged, white haired and knobbly fingered, nearly skin and bone but with lively eyes. He peered at them.

    "Little Gide, this young man cannot be Gosseu?"

    Defi carefully did not react at the casual use of Ontrean.

    The woman shook her head, replied in Ascharon. "Gosseu is still in Agamarl, elder. This is"

    "Defi. Grace be to your day, elder." It was said in Ascharonian, but it was a traditional Ontrean greeting.

    The old manughed, jewel-colored eyes scrutinizing him. "And to yours, young Defi."

    "He returns the greeting," said the womanGide?

    Defi smiled in acknowledgement.

    She turned to the elder, "Madam Sarel hase by."

    "A good day to eat good food. Go, go, I will not keep you longer."

    "That''s Old Jahaf," Gide murmured as they continued to the covered well that was visible nearby. "He''s been here for decades now, first with Mestre Marmocha''s father. Gosseu is his grandson."

    Defi nodded, mired in thought. He clearly saw the scars of a crudely removed ve mark on the old man''s arm. It still spelled the same familiar phrase.

    "What work does he do?"

    "He used to take care of the winged goats. He still spends time in the stables, but most of his duties are now Omfe''s. He''s more a retired elder for everyone here. Mestre Marmocha is very kind."

    "Yes, I thought so."

    She beamed at him, happy at the praise toward her employer.

    "Are there many winged goats here?"

    "Just the two teams, and the two oldest. The goats were bred by Mestre Marmocha from his parents summons. He made the summon emblems for them on his own. He uses them for travel, as his business brings him all over."

    If by ''team'', Gide meant the four he saw in Stahlchausses, then there were ten winged goats around.

    "Is flying faster than a sailboat?"

    She did not mind his questions, so they talked easily as they drew water to fill the buckets. The old man Jahaf was asleep on his chair on the porch when they passed on the way back.

    As they passed, an amethyst-colored eye, dulled by age but still bright, cracked open and followed their progress.

    *

    *

    "I thought that was why you came," Marmon looked troubled, when Defi told him he needed to change coins. "Rimet coinage is selling dearer than ever, but the exchanges are now scrutinized more by themerce ministry. That sister of yoursshe''s unrelenting."

    Defi frowned, a headache forming. Ymirin gained enough influence in three months to have such a hold on an important branch of the imperial government?

    "It is within her capabilities," he said. "but only in Rimet, where the family is known."

    Even if she was so capable, here in Ascharon she was only a twelve year old foreign girl. "What leverage did she use?"

    Gold or information would be the most--

    "It is being whispered that she is a princess of Ontrea."

    That was indeed good leverage. There were two World Gates that connected Ontrea and Ascharon. Nobles do not go through the Gates. The trade deals between Ontrea and nations beyond the Gates had always been conducted throughmoner merchants.

    To have an Ontrean royal descendant in Ascharon...

    It was incredibly good leverage.

    Defi opened his mouth to deny it, then frowned. The lords of Rimet were not royals. There were clear delineations.

    But here in Ascharon, those delineations did not exist. The current lord of Rimet''s mother, Defi''s paternal grandmother, had been the daughter of a former king of Ontrea and a born princess with the official bloodline seal to prove it.

    In Ascharonian tradition, ruling emperor''s children were archdukes and archduchesses, his grandchildren would be princes and princesses. The title of ''prince'' or ''princess'' persisted for three generations then lost royal status and became part of the ordinary nobility.

    "By Ascharonian culture, indeed, Ymirin would legitimately be the daughter of the son of an archduchess." She was a daughter of the first wife of the lord of Rimet.

    That was too much trouble to process. Defi''s headache increased by just saying it.

    "But not in Ontrea?" Sarel lifted a brow.

    "In Ontrea, royals are only limited to the immediate family of the ruler. Grandchildren do not count unless they are the children of the designated heir to the kingdom."

    Once royal status was lost, it could not be returned.

    Because of that one enduring maxim, the descendants of the brothers and sisters of the ruling king or queen could not inherit the kingdom even if all the royals were lost. If the royal family died, the kingdom would die with them. The nobles of Ontrea so immersed themselves in the idea of the kingdom that literally no one, even the king''s enemies, wanted that.

    If Ymirin was going around being called a princess, even in another dimension, the king would surely have a few words with the lord of Rimet.

    Was his father so unreasonable that she went so far just to find Defi? Or did she have other motives? Was it even her doing?

    Defi sighed. Well, as long as Ymirin never actually called herself a princess, and only used the rumors to increase her status, then things would be fine.

    For her, that is.

    For Defi, this development only made him dread the inevitable day he would see her again.

 Chapter 27: Lets Start With a Slime Warehouse

    Chapter 27: Let''s Start With a Slime Warehouse

    "You want all this in stone?" The builder was skeptically looking at the papers that held Defi''s designs. "It will take some time to quarry."

    Defi went to see the only builder of houses in the town, and the man wanted to see the site first. They were now in Defi''s kitchen, the only room that had arge enough table to spread out the papers.

    To the side, a bottle of springwine the builder brought stood, two yet unused cups nearby. A collection of preserved foods that Defi''s housewarming had gifted him and a basket of newly bought bread was beside the bottle. It was all the food Defi could offer, which was better than greeting the builder with none.

    "I need a material that will not break down in water, as the channels," Defi pointed to the canals running throughout the drawing, "will be constantly running water. The walls and floor must not sumb easily to acidic fluids."

    "That could be done in wood," Karles, the builder, shrugged. "Faster and easier to process. I won''t say it would be cheaper. The emblems for durability and resistance aremon but difficult to put together, especially in a design like this. Houses that have to guard against rot and pests are more straightforward."

    Karles tapped a finger on the design, which was a series of stone walls and metal wire in flowing shapes, with a garden outside the divided enclosures. A water channel ran through all of the divisions, through a grate. "This is a pen for summoned beasts, I imagine? I''ve only built pens formon animals. What kind of beast is it?"

    "I''m nning on raising slimes."

    Karles stared at him.

    Defi only smiled, patting Mal who he held in an arm.

    "A slime pen?" Karles shook his head then scrutinize the designs again, thoughtfully. "That''s a new one. But I see why you wanted stone. It''s easier to rece wooden walls though, in case of idents. Can''t it be built like stables? That would be faster."

    "That is true, but if one has to create something thatsts, it must have fine aesthetics, yes?" Who would want to walk past an eyesore every day, much less build one on their property?

    Karles almost smiled, but he didn''tment. "The warehouse needs some shoring up. As it is, it won''t contain the water channels. And this structure beside it"

    "A few water pools," Defi moved to pour the wine. His throat was getting parched. If the man did not bring wine, he would only have water to offer. His pantry was not ready for guests. But since there were workersing, he should stock up, shouldn''t he? "I''d like for one of them to be constantly heated."

    His designs had grown more borate the more he thought, so he''d stopped before he made something he would regret. He''d exchanged all his gold and silver with Marmocha but for several kept as a reminder. It was a small fortune in Ascharonian coins, but it would not do to be rash in spending it.

    Karles epted the cup with a nod of thanks. "To rece the wash house?"

    "Yes, in some respects." Defi was thankful the man understood. He was still keeping the building. It was useful, but he did not want to be constantly recing the water in the tanks and barrels to prevent staleness and water pests.

    "If you''re nning on diverting water from the river like this, it''s going to cost. You''ll need to talk to the mayor about it."

    "I am informed that this property being a homestead means I can do anything to the riverfront as long as it does not negatively affect the river."

    "This is a homestead? Ah, you''re the one that bought the Garge homestead. I should have known." Karles nodded. "Since that is the case, the work will go faster than I thought. I have some suggestions about the water source. It would be prudent to move the warehouse closer to the river, and dig a curve that would run through here and here. You could then reconstruct the pier here means easier and safer ess, and adding this would help drain thend when the river overflows."

    Defi put Mal in the basket containing the rest of the slimes and started slicing bread as he listened to the man''s ideas, only interjecting here and there. He put together preserved ingredients over the slices of bread. He had smoked fish, dried shrimp kes, arge ceramic jar of red-colored jam.

    He''d bought the steamed loaves today, which were softer and airier than the baked ones.

    He was used to tbread wrapped around viand or greens, so he could only serve the bread in this manner. He offered the bread topped with fish and jam, sprinkled with shrimp kes, to Karles.

    In the corner of his eye, he saw Karles look over the offered food in interest. It appeared that bread was not served like this in Ascharon. Defi quickly folded one side of the bread over the other, and bit into it.

    The smoky saltiness of the fish immediately filled his nose, then the sweet and sour jam spread over his tastebuds, racing ahead of the salt and smoke. The shrimp kes crunched lightly and almost melted as he chewed further; the added texture a pleasantbination with the firmness of the fish, the fluffy soft bread, and the jam that bound them together.

    Karles imitated Defi''s folding of the bread and toppings. An Ascharonian would always eat something new at least once. He bit into the folded bread. His brows rose, and he took arger bite.

    Defi smiled to himself and folded another slice.

    He couldn''t cook more than an average dish, and wasn''t nning on employing a cook anytime soon. But if it was something this simple he could bet on the worth of his tongue, which had been raised on the highest quality and widest range of local and imported foods in Ontrea.

    "We''re still busy, at the moment," Karles said, polishing off another bread wrap. "but I can send people to start on the foundations at least. Tomorrow, if that is fine."

    Defi nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it. But if it pulls people from urgent constructions, my project can wait."

    He didn''t show his surprise at the dy. He had not taken into ount the rebuilding efforts. The docks and the orphanage had been so quickly rebuilt that he''d taken for granted that the rest of the rebuilding was done in the same manner.

    He hadn''t been thinking.

    Of course the docks were rebuilt so fast; most people in town used it for their livelihood. Of course the orphanage was speedily built; who would want to skimp on the residence of the hero Lergen, the ce that rendered nearly a score of smugglers unconscious without casualty? Defi had an inkling that donations would be excessive to the orphans of the Lowpool for some time.

    Karles shook his head. "The mayor negotiated some assistance from Ecthys for the most critical problems. Most of the projects right now are the ones that are simpler to handle. You''re right that this project is less urgent, but it is still important to you as the client, correct? It will take a week before we finish enough of the other work to get to yours. We need to collect materials as well. It will take two to three weeks to build the warehouse to your specifications, if nothing changes."

    The man was being honest, so Defi wasn''t bothered. "That''s fine. I''ll pay half the price now, to help with workers and materials, then half when the construction starts in earnest."

    "You''re very reasonable." Karles had a stoic face, but Defi could see the curiosity.

    "You have good reasons for not being able to start immediately. Should I yell at you, curse fate and beat my chest? For what? It would not lessen your workload or make you more inclined to put my project before that of others."

    Karles snorted in agreement. There were probably those sorts of people among his clients too.

    Defi had other ns that needed attention. Even starting next week, the slime warehouse now needed little of his input toplete and he could put more focus on other things.

    "The price, I''ll have a quote for you by tomorrow, as well as apleted design." Karles stood up. "I''ll start on this, but you are aware that with raising slimes you won''t recoup the cost of these renovations?"

    "Don''t worry, I''ll be fine."

    Karles scrutinized him for a moment, nodded. "I''lle tomorrow, same time. There''ll be three or four people with me."

    "I''ll look forward to it."

    When Karles left, Defi slumped into a chair beside the basket full of zaziphos and slimes. He took Turq from the basket and started squishing the slime gently between his palms.

    The bouncy firm form of the slime was a faintly entrancing texture, so soft. Having something to do with his hands helped him think.

    For tomorrow, he needed to stock food for the workers. More bread and smoked fish would not go amiss.

    The warehouse taken care of, he now needed to think about addingnd to the homestead. Preferably on the side furthest away from where Kern had nted his experiments. He felt some sympathy toward whoever owned the property bordering that side. It was mostly woond trees, but they were also yellow and sickly despite it the now constantte afternoon rains.

    He was slightly uneasy about it. If he nted the hybrid herbs and could not sustain them, the vitality of anynd he bought would be lowered greatly and the sansu trees he''d painstakingly revived would once again start to wither.

    Surely all thend Kern used hadn''t wilted in a single growing season, though. He''d best start slow, nt one plot per seed, then determine whether the Current would sustain them. The herbs grew fast, ording to Leraine''s journals. A month and they''d be ready to harvest.

    He decided to visit the town hall tomorrow.

    It was about time to go to work.

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting on .

 Chapter 28: A Towns Early Morning (1 of 2)

    Chapter 28: A Town''s Early Morning (1 of 2)

    Defi gently washed Lar and ced it in the basket full of zaziphos with the rest of its brethren. He patted the blue-colored slime. "A bit more than usual today, good work."

    He poured the slime extract from the bucket into the collection barrel. Sarel had given him four quartel-size barrels per slime this month at Defi''s request. He wanted to know how much he could push production without impacting the health of the slimes, when imbuing a bit of the Current into the zaziphos fruits. The fruit did not hold energy well, and he did not want to push the Current directly into a living being.

    Healing with the Current was an advanced technique, one taught only after passing the Trials. He did not know it, so he could only increase the vital energy of the fruits a little.

    So far, there were seemingly no bad effects to the slimes. But Defi took meticulous notes.

    Outside, the sun fully breached the horizon and the rosy clouds of dawn melted away. The farmers and fishermen were probably already hard at work, and in town, the shops were starting to open their doors while the taverns closed theirs.

    Defi needed to buy food for today, didn''t he?

    He went to wash up. He''d bought some Ascharon clothing recently. The northern-style breeches were just too tight for him. They chafed on his skin. He was thankful that there was a southern style that was looser, baggier, closer to the pantaloons that he was used to. Would it kill them to extend the hems all the way to the ankles thought? It was a good thing emblems could be embroidered or death by freezing wind would be moremon.

    He liked the tight coats however, how they cradled the upper body securely. The materials were all thick and double-lined, which he was grateful for.

    He put on his boots, which he was assured were cork-soled, which apparently made the boots morefortable. Certainly the soles were flexible, even if he didn''t know what ''cork'' was. Whatever it was, the boots protected his feet from water and cold. He did not miss his sandals in this chill.

    "Turq, we''re going out." He scooped Turq up, grabbed the travelsack, and jogged out the door.

    He made it to the town in fifteen minutes, a third the usual time, after poling enthusiastically down the river and edging daringly near the faster currents. His confidence in navigating the river had only grown in thest months.

    "Oi, Defi," called out one of the dockworkers as he tied his scow off in the area for personal boats. "Not enough workers today, so if you''re deliveringter, you have to port it yourself."

    This had happened several times already, so he wasn''t surprised. He was only one scow, so most of the workers were set on the fishing boats that needed quick unloading and transport. "Can I get a pullcart set aside, though?"

    The man snorted. "Boss likes you. Sure."

    "Thank you, Jerac!" He waved as he jogged off.

    Because of Natan, the dockworker boss, his docking fees had been waived since the smuggler attack. The man came by once in a while to see Turq. He''d even offered to teach Defi the sword once. He didn''t know what his face looked like at that, because then the man had gently thumped his shoulder instead of offering to teach him again.

    The docks were busy, as always. He weaved between pullcarts and basins full of wares, to the central square and the shop street. The morning rush at the nearest bakery to the docks had abated, somewhat. He still needed to get in line however.

    The kilogar-sized steamed bread loaves were twelve ronds each, slightly cheaper than the baked loaves. An Ontrean warrior would eat half a loaf in a sitting, with meats and side dishes. Eight loaves would be enough for Karles and the workers, probably.

    "Eight?" Dyene lifted a brow as she slid his loaves into individual bags.

    Typical of Ascharon, even the paper sacks were painted with emblems. Waterproof, cleanliness, freshness, and warmth, in the case of the bakery. He had only looked through the book called ?????? ????????? that he bought from Orain but the prevalence of emblems in town meant he was easilying to recognize the mostmon ones.

    He started carefully packing the bread into the travelsack. "I have peopleing overter."

    "You''re making friends? That''s great, Defi," she grinned, then her tone turned teasing. "They are your age, aren''t they?"

    He gave her a dry look. It was not his fault that all the people he knew in town, with the exception of Een, were so much older than him or so much younger. "Do you know where I could get good smoked fish?"

    The food in the house had all been gifted to him.

    "Bad luck," said the customer behind him. "The best is sold by the Widow Bendis. It goes fast, but you just missed her." He pointed toward a corner of the square. A middle-aged woman was packing her stool and baskets.

    "I''ll be sure to be earlier next time."

    "Shees by once a week, no regr day. She''s more likely to be here on the day of Seers, however." Dyene told him. "As for the next bestthe shop near the eels?"

    "That one''s gone bad," one of the women in the line snorted, indignant. "The daughter took over. Go to the one with the red circle g, just across the tea seller."

    "What are you saying, your tongue''s been pickled too much," retorted another. "That one tastes like ash and it''s hard as wood. Young man, go to the seller that usually sets up in front of the wall with the diamond pattern."

    The line devolved into arguments.

    "There''s a lot of shops for smoked fish, isn''t there" Defi turned to the baker, who smiled wryly as she pushed thest loaf at him.

    She discreetly pointed to a blue-painted building, leaned closer. "Just go to the shop between that and the woodshop. There''s a good selection, and they choose their suppliers well."

    He smiled in thanks, shouldered the travel sack, and slipped away to get a good distance first. "Thanks for the advice," he hollered back at the line and then ran.

    He heard Dyene and the customer that was next in the line snicker as several of them called out: "Wait, which one are you going to?"

    He slid out of sight behind another line of people. It was slightly more chaotic than the arguments at the bakery. But at least he had nothing to do with it.

    "Fresh savras, fresh and selling now. Savras! Cure for wounds, and coughs, and ills, cure for nearly everything! Fresh savras! Fresh and cheap savras! Twelve bronze ud for a kilogar, fresh and cheap! Three ud for a quarter-kilogar! Fresh savras for sale! Get it now! Fresh stock only twice a month, twice a month!"

    He stepped closer to the front, curious.

    There were severalrge barrels propped up against a wagon. Out of them, two women and a man were selling packets of green leaves, while a second man kept up the sales talk. Were they mystic herbs?

    "Is it really cheap?" The green leaves only looked average. He''d found out that in the Current, there was a faint difference between mystic ingredients and ordinary ingredients.

    "Savras usually sells for fifteen ud a kilogar," said one of the people in line. "It''s the cheapest healing herb in the world. Looks like the usual caravan has a surplus this time."

    "The problem is," added his friend, who grinned at Defi, "the efficacy starts to wane once it''s picked. In a week, they''ll be nothing butmon grass."

    "Cheap medicine?" Defi said doubtfully. There was such a thing? He knew that most medicines in Ascharon were ingested as delicious food, but they were all mystic ingredients and they were worth their weight in silver coin.

    He briefly immersed in the Current and reached his senses to the green leaves. It was only slightly higher in vitality than the silver-blue carp that Marmocha and Sarel cooked. And the carp was not a mystic animal.

    Possibly the standard for mystic nts was different from the standard for mystic animals?

    A womanughed. "You must be thinking of the more effective healing ingredients. This one minor wounds, rashes, minor coughs and illnesses, headaches and such, just things like that. It may be weak, but illnesses can grow slowly, you know. Best always deal with small problems before they grow bigger."

    "The best part? It''s so weakpared to other mystic ingredients that the rich don''t hoard it, don''t mind themoners monopolizing it. It''s a weed that grows everywhere near a blessednd. They don''t even cultivate it, it just grows." There was a hint of envy in the words.

    Defi could understand the envy. He too, would like to gain profit without working. It was currently impossible, so he had other concerns than a blessednd. "How do they transport it when it loses potency in one week?"

    "Don''t you know anything?" snorted a teenager.

    "Shut up, Harke, not everyone is a merchant." A girl nearby shot at the speaker. She looked at him. "It''s the one-year casks they''re using. Preserves the contents for an average of one year''s time, depending on what''s stored. Savras grass, it won''t reach more than six months probably."

    Defi''s brows lifted. "Do they sell these casks in town?"

    They sounded massively useful.

    A couple of peopleughed, the others smiling. "Give up, boy. Even a quartel-size one-year cask costs at least a thousand ud."

    "The woodworks would have them."

    "What''s the use of telling him? He didn''t even know what they were."

    "Hm." Defi ambled away, lifting a hand in farewell.

    Cheap medicine. It was just the kind of thing he''d been looking for. If he fed a slime with savras until the grass saturated its body or it split, would the slime extract produced be some kind of medicine?

    He wanted to try it.

    He could not let himself be known as his sister did. That meant his only way to close the gap between their power right now was to gather resources in rtive obscurity, and find allies he could rely on.

    The savras was what he was hoping for with the hybrid herbs he was nning on nting. Something that a slime could produce that would be in demand but needed little cost to produce.

    As for Defi''s production, he just needed the right kind of slime food.

    He smiled.

    He was definitely buying all the savras he could get.

 Chapter 29: A Towns Early Morning (2 of 2)

    Chapter 29: A Town''s Early Morning (2 of 2)

    The shop between the blue building and the woodworks did have a good selection of preserved seafood. Defi could only swallow saliva at the scent of the ingredients  salty and savory, with some like shrimp having an added sweetness.

    Ontrea had less than thirty miles of coastline, or in Ascharon units it would be forty-five kilomar or so. Fish and various seafood were prized. Rimet, further from the coast than some, had mainly preserved seafood reach their tables.

    He''d never been presented with the sheer variety that was in front of him at the moment. The preserved seafood overflowed the numerous baskets, hung from hooks in the ceiling, bundled together in piles on shelves.

    He inhaled the lovely scent, sighed. He couldn''t take them all to eat. But maybe just a few more things than the smoked fish he was here to get.

    He looked carefully.

    He''d learned from an incidental conversation between Marmocha and Sarel that differentmon ingredients had varying levels of vitality. He also found that a small application of the Current could be used to sense the vitality in ingredients. He theorized that it was because ''vitality'' was what Ontrean priests called an ''imprint'' - a phenomenon that happened when the Current impresses upon a material object. Or something simr.

    In any case, the ability was useful.

    Now that he was not living at Sarel''s homestead, he needed to eat better, with an eye to vitality. He''d sensed that most of the food Sarel used was not ordinary, even asmon ingredients.

    Defi had too few resources to pit against his sister should she find him. At the moment, he could only advance the resources he had, which was the farm and himself. The people of Ascharon were stronger, faster, more flexible than the average Ontrean, a consequence of a regr diet full of vitality.

    He needed vitality-rich food for himself and the slimes.

    "Young sir, may I assist?" A boy younger than him by a year or so smiled from behind the counter. "Good morning. I''m Haral and this is my grandfather''s shop."

    Defi returned the greeting, introduced himself, and got down to business. "What is your best smoked fish? Also, your best seller in terms of taste? And I''d like some of those tentacles, those pickled fillets, and that, whatever it is."

    It was a covered jar on one of the shelves.

    The boy leaned over to look before answering. "Krilfry sauce, sir. Abination of tiny shrimp and fish, fermented, from the coastal fishermen. It''s salty and a bit sweet."

    "Yes, I''ll have that." It sounded interesting.

    "Wait, is that a slime?" Haral blinked at Turq. At Defi''s confirmation, he grinned. "I thought it was some strange hat. A woman came from the capitalst summer, and she had dead birds in her hair. Southern people are odd. Why a slime?"

    "Southern?"

    "You got that southern tan, don''t you?"

    "So I do." He suddenly recalled what Garun told him when they first crossed the Gate, and felt a tinge of mncholy. "There are odd people everywhere, I think. For example, why would you embroider a pig on your shirt?"

    Haral looked down, and reddened. He buttoned his vest up. Defi stifled a snicker as the halves of the vest came together to form a pack of striped mice running across Haral''s torso.

    "Sh-shut it! It was a gift, alright?!"

    "Sure. The mice as well?"

    "Mice?"

    Defi pointed.

    Haral let out a sound of anguish. "Why is it always my clothes?"

    "The embroidery''s good though." Defi said, a grin on his lips.

    "Doesn''t that mean the images are clearer? That doesn''t help at all!"

    Defiughed, all traces of the earlier mncholy gone. "It''s not so bad. The pattern matches the one on your vest, at least. Theposition is good, the colors subtle. If it was as eye-catching as the pig"

    Haral paled at the thought. He red at Defi. "Knowing so much, you embroider?"

    "My sisters liked to paint."

    "Wished mine did," the other grumbled, running a hand over the collection of mice frolicking across his clothes.

    "People would pay good prices for embroidery like that."

    "She tried. But apparently she''s bored with flowers. Would women pay for mice or worms running around their dresses?"

    "Depends on the theme. But if your sister likes animals, why not birds or insects?"

    "Birds?"

    "Birds sell better than mice, right? Insect wings have some interesting patterns. I''ve worn coats woven in moth-wing designs before."

    Haral looked sceptical, but he said, "I''ll tell her that."

    "Or mystic beasts." Defi smiled innocently, patted the slime on his head. "Turq would make a great model, don''t you think?"

    "No way."

    "No what?" came a voice. An old man emerged from inside the shop, bowed over, thin with age. His eyes swept over them like a wave rolling over the shore.

    "Grandfather! I wasI was telling this customer that there was nono way he would have better dried tiger zander in his life than the one we sell here?"

    Haral turned mechanically to Defi, coughed, and in his most professional voice continued, "Our best smoked fish is the sunstripe bass. Great vor, and tender flesh. You won''t be disappointed. The best taste is the same, but I would also rmend the sage-cured tiger zander. Grandfather makes it specially."

    Haral took up tongs and grabbed a piece from a basket of sweet-smelling amber-colored dried fish. He offered it to Defi. "Please try it. Like I said, you''ll never have better in your life."

    Haral''s eyes were slightly panicked.

    "We''ll see." Defi, amused, took the piece of fish.

    He inspected it for a moment, noting the pleasant look and smell. He brought it to his mouth.

    The crunch was expected, but not the sweet herby taste and the hint of spice. The flesh was crunchy on the surface, tender inside. It nearly fell apart once the outeryer crumbled. Delicious. He caught Haral''s eye. "The pattern on the back of this fish is very nice, a tiger zander, isn''t it?"

    Haral''s eyes narrowed but he couldn''t speak with his grandfather there.

    Defi decided to stop there with the teasing. He didn''t want to get the other in trouble after all. "I''ll take it. How long does it keep?"

    The old man answered, his voice rasping roughly, with a slight croak. "For everything in the shop, I suggest no more than six months after buying to retain the best qualities. But our goods will keep longer if needed."

    Six months after buying? The shop probably had preservation emblems on its containers. If he bought in bulk, he wouldn''t have to worry about not having food for visitors.

    Come to think of it, where was the food storage room in the house he bought? Or was Sarel, a chef, the only one in town to have something like that built?

    He shook his head. He''d ask Karles to add it to the renovations.

    "I''ll have two quartel of the smoked bass, one quartel of each of the ones I mentioned, and three jars of the sauce. Also, the shredded squid and the shrimp kes."

    "A quartelof each?" Haral looked disbelieving and relieved at the same time.

    Defi nodded. "Or whatever the equivalent in kilogar."

    "Ah, no, we do sell in quartel barrels."

    "I''ll buy three kilogar of smoked bass to carry. Can you deliver the rest?"

    Haral smiled, excited. "Of course! Two quartel smoked bass. One quartel each of tiger zander, octopus tentacles, pickled whisker snake, shredded squid, and shrimp kes. Three jars of krilfry sauce. In all, seventeen ud and sixty rond. To where do we carry it, young sir?"

    Did Haral have all those prices in his head? He calcted fast. Defi thought it was a good skill to have. "Garge homestead. No rush. Tomorrow or the next day is fine."

    "We''ll have it to you at sunset today," Haral''s grandfather said, with a brief nt of pale lips. "Three kilogar of smoked sunstripe bass, forty-eight rond."

    Defi walked out, a paper packet of smoked bass added to the wares in his travelsack, to Haral''s cheerful "Thank you,e again!"

    Embroidery, was it? He nced at the sleeves of his shirt, bare of all marks he''d been used to seeing there. He could have Haral''s sister embroider just a band of squares around the lower arm, to indicate schrship.

    He sighed.

    He shouldn''t. It would be recognized too easily, and now Defi was aware there were former Ontrean ves in the Lowpool. It wasn''t like he''d achieved anything in Ascharon yet, even then.

    Still, now that he was thinking about ita band with the likeness of Turq marching along, that was a pretty good design. If the slime farm idea worked out, maybe he''d have Haral''s sister embroider Turq on his sleeves.

    He smiled at the thought.

    Coming out from the cloud of salty sea-scent of the shop, the smell of wood from next door refreshed him. He studied the woodworking shop, sawdust spilling out into the street.

    Wood could be incredibly delicate. Weren''t they worried the smell of dried fish would sink into their goods?

    He entered the woodshop.

    "Here to have something made?" He was greeted casually. A woman was carving something into a piece of wood with long, sure strokes. Curling slivers dropped around her feet.

    "Do you sell one-year casks?"

    The woman nced up. "We''re out of cental size. Medial size too."

    "Quartel''s fine."

    "Thousand one hundred." The woman stood, put the piece of wood on a shelf set against the wall, sheathed her carving knife on a thigh holster that held several other knives of varying sizes.

    Defi agreed. The person in line said the cask sold for at least a thousand ud, so it sounded like a fair price.

    The woman led him inside the shop. The shop products were mostly furniture, in a variety of styles.

    There were a few sculptures, mostly water-themed. He paused to study the detail on the back of a leaping fish. It was part of aposition, several fish in a variety of poses, beset by a storm of delicately carved waves.

    The woman stopped at a line of quartel-size barrels. She looked back to say something, then noticed that Defi was preupied with therge carving. "You like it?"

    "It''s got excellent detail. If you stain it with color, it woulde alive."

    The woman nodded. "Come by to see it anytime. No one wants to buy it anyway."

    She turned to take down a cask from the stack.

    Defi nced around at the other sculptures. "What''s wrong with it? It''s the best one here."

    The womanughed, eyes crinkling in amusement. "Not at six hundred uds, it''s not. No more or less, no negotiation."

    Defi''s brows shot up. That was less than he expected. In Ontrea, a sculpture like it, even without the staining, wouldmand up to twelve silver fingers at auction. Especially since water themes had been poprtely.

    He looked at the sculpture thoughtfully, then noticed arger cask on the shelf above, about twice the size of the quartel.

    "How about that one?"

    "That medial cask''s defective."

    "It''s still on disy."

    "It won''t show, but the innermostyer was put in wrong, couldn''t correct itpletely. If it''s jolted on a wagon, the emblems might crack." She frowned. "Boss says it''s a minor problem, but it''s still not something I want to sell."

    "This one''s fine though?" Defi considered the quartel cask before him.

    "Best in shop," the woman grinned, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

    "Oh?" He settled in to negotiate price. He wanted the medial cask as well. He was certain he could get it greatly discounted. He was not taking it on any long journeys, so the chance of breaking was minimal.

    When the woman found that he was stubbornly insisting on buying the medial cask, she stomped off and returned with a pot of tea.

    Ascharonians were really strange, Defi thought, as he sipped the soothing hot beverage.

    They were sat on a table in the corner, slightly elevated to view the whole of the workshop.

    He exited a littleter, havinge to an agreement. Emer, the woman, helped him set the medial-sized cask on his shoulder. He did get it at a steep discount, with the rest of his purchases to be delivered.

    She eyed him sharply for a long moment. Nodded, and went back into the shop. "Don''t regret it."

    Defi looked around. Karles would be at the homestead a bit after mid-morning. He still had an hour or so.

    The line of people buying savras had thinned considerably. Considering the speed they were selling at earlier, Defi wondered if he''d missed out.

    He hefted the cask, secured the travelsack, and got in line. It was only a few minutes before his turn came. "A kilogar, young sir?"

    "Do you have enough to fill this?" He ced the cask down.

    "I" The now lone seller blinked at it. He turned to stick his head into the covered wagon. "Didn''t we have a cental more?"

    "I can''tugh right now, Jacar. We sold more than we thought, but we''ll barely break even on this trip." The voice that groaned feelingly was a woman.

    The seller, Jacar, smiled brightly. "Not joking."

    A woman with hair the color of wheat jumped off the wagon, looked at Defi. "You''re buying bulk?"

    "Enough to fill this cask."

    "Not a whole cental?"

    "Unless you sell me the cask that goes along with it, I won''t be able to store it."

    The woman sighed ruefully. "No, I suppose not. Three hundred uds worth of savras, one moment while we transfer it. I''ll give you a ten percent discount, since it''s thest we have."

    "Will you save me another medial for the next time you''re here?"

    She looked surprised, then grinned. "Sure, kid. Two weeks, same day. Be here at dawn."

    "Don''t make it sound like an honor duel, Pele." Jacar untied the ropes from Defi''s cask, opened it, and started loading the grass carefully.

    "It''s Defi."

    They were efficient. In no time, Defi was heading back to the docks, fullyden.

    "Defi, wasn''t it?"

    He looked up. On a barge nearby, Karles had a sack of tools in his hand.

    "Good morning. You''re early?"

    "Still have to load." The man smirked. "Help us carry this and I''ll give you a discount."

    "I won''t believe that." Heughed lightly. "But I''ll help."

    He stowed the cask of savras and the waterproof travelsack on the scow before leaping lightly onto the pier where the barge was located. Turq, as usual, was generally unfazed by Defi''s jumping around.

    Defi grabbed the tail end of a stack of wood. "Lead the way," he told Karles''s workers.

    His heart was light this early morning. The sun was rising to warm the day.

    There was a path clearing up before him. It was still a bit misty in the distance, but the cobblestones under his feet were firm.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Barrel sizes - a quartel has 25 litr of volume, a medial has 50 litr, and a cental has 100 litr

 Chapter 30: Strengthening Bones

    Chapter 30: Strengthening Bones

    Defi sat beneath the flowering sansu trees, immersed in the Current. Slowly, thend beneath him was recovering. With this recovery, his unconscious reluctance toward owning thend eased bit by bit, and the burdens of his heart lessened.

    The sky lightened enough to stir his closed eyes.

    He took a deep breath and slowly lifted himself from the swirling depths of the Current. It had always filled him with warmth and security, since the first time his tutor had guided him to wake the wellspring within him and feel the barest ripple of energy underlying the material of the world.

    He smiled and stood. Another tree flowered this morning. He walked to inspect it, touching the smooth uncracked bark, rubbing the vividly green leaves. He inhaled the fragrance of the newly flowered sansu blooms and his smile widened.

    As of this morning, there were nine healthy treesfortably sustained by thend. It would take another day of healing before it could sustain another. It was a fast pace, really. The month he spent sitting under the first and only flowering sansu, strengthening thend underneath the small orchard and stimting its vitality, was worth it.

    Thend was recovering faster than he thought, after that first month. Maybe in a week or two, the vitality of thend would be strong enough to revive one tree every day.

    He stretched, tired but feeling aplished.

    It was still false dawn.

    "Shall we take a short walk this morning, Turq?"

    The slime on his head bounced to his shoulder.

    "That''s a yes, isn''t it?" Heughed a little. Turq was always energetic after each healing session.

    Defi walked through the sansu orchard. There were seventeen still in poor condition, made even more unsightly by the healthy ones blooming beside them. He patted an expanse of cracked bark as he passed. "Don''t worry, you''ll be as beautiful soon enough."

    Not far from the orchard was the northwestern boundary of the property. It was marked by a simple fence  posts pounded into the ground with nks and ropes nailed across them. Thend beyond the boundary was poor, though it fared better than the orchard.

    Thend was obviously in use, but it had not been tilled yet after the harvest. That was odd. It should have already been nted by now. Pity it was owned. A farmer couple, their child, and an elderly father lived there.

    The neighbors had showed up to wee him a few weeks after he moved in. He had two neighbors to the south, one a single middle-aged herbalist, the other an older couple retired from trade. They were happy to see him, as the southern end of the homestead had fared the worst. They had both bought parts of the Garge homestead five or so years back, as had the farmer couple who owned thend he was looking at now.

    Thend to the west had been sold to the town more recently, which had set tongues wagging. The town boughtnd at cheaper prices than the market should. It was a failsafe for poornd-owners, a sort of loan, with the expectation that they could buy theirnd back.

    Thend directly west of the farm had fared better than the southern end. He nned to develop his illicit herb garden there. There were no nearby farms in that direction as well, so there wouldn''t beints. What furor would there be with the neighbors, if they knew he was going to nt Kern''s hybrids?

    Defiughed dryly. They might petition to throw him out of town. From the gossip around the couple''s disappearance, it was only because Leraine''s family had owned the Garge homestead for generations that they hadn''t done it to Kern.

    He made a round of the northwest boundary, then walked back to the house.

    From a distance, the house didn''t look like anything special. It was wood, with a foundation of stone. The house had changed over the centuries, ording to Aire, who had some knowledge of the town history. It had been rebuilt a few times, and at itsrgest once topped three storeys.

    Some decades ago, there was a fire that reduced the family to poorer circumstances. That was the reason the stone floor foundation was extensive while the current house had only one level.

    Yesterday, Karles had even found the food storage room, its entrance cleverly concealed in the kitchen alcove where therge pots were stored. It had been built underground, and was over a quarter the size of the entire floor area of the house.

    Karles determined it was also a room where the family members hid when threatened. Bandits used to bemon around theke. He inspected the stone walls of the hidden store room and said they were sound, would evenst a few hundred years without too much maintenance.

    It was colder under the house, the air surprisingly not stale or damp, empty but for a few sacks of grain. Defi had cleaned it out and used it to store the barrels of dried seafood, the one-year casks, and the jars of jam that Lergen and Aire kept sending him.

    Did he look that much like one of their orphans?

    Still, he never failed to go to the day of Suns gathering without something in hand for the children. He''d sleptte one day and they all turned up at the homestead to drag him to the orphanage.

    So, the house didn''t look like much on the outside, but inside it was sturdily and carefully built.

    The walls were wood, with an outeryer to protect against the weather and make it easier to rece without unduly diforting the inhabitants. The inneryer was unpainted, but with a polished shine. Possibly a wax of some kind. The strong beams and posts were carved with emblems which were carefully positioned to best advantage both function and aesthetic.

    Karles said there were emblems hidden everywhere. The visible ones were the most obvious protections. His grandfather had been the one to build the house, so he knew much about it and was stoically enthusiastic about telling Defi. It was adorable, so despite his disinterest in architecture, how could Defi stop him?

    A house so carefully built, and thest owner had tossed it at Defi for love or anger

    He felt a little like he''d taken advantage of a woman out of her mind. But then, hadn''t she used him simply because he was the person in closest proximity?

    He had not wanted the property.

    But it had given him a path to tread.

    He entered the kitchen, caught sight of the blue of Larimar nestled next to the green of the other two. Oh, he would have to try out an idea that had been running around his mind for a while. Fed on zaziphos alone, the viscosity of the extract from Lars was thinning a little, only just noticeable. It was also growing more fragrant.

    He readied the cloth-covered buckets marked for milking slime extract. Each slime took less than a quarter-hour of kneading to be agitated enough to burst.

    He tested the two types of vinegar. They had changed somewhat, simrly to that of Lars. The extract from Mal and Jar was incrementally bing sweeter.

    He poured the extract into the appropriate quartels, then washed the cloth and the buckets, and ced the slimes in the basket of zaziphos.

    The slight difference in taste wasn''t too bad now, but it was evident he needed to adjust each slime''s diet.

    "I''ll have to go to the dawn market." He patted the slimes. Should he leave Turq here? It hadn''t eaten yet.

    He nced out the window. The sun had not breached the horizon yet. The dawn market was already in full swing at this time.

    He needed to hurry if he wanted to catch the sellers. "Turq, Jar, Mal, Lar, I''m going out."

    He shouldered the travelsack; it was getting more use these days than he imagined.

    He pressed his fingers against the emblem-powered bar on the door, to make sure none entered. Security in Ascharon was convenient, wasn''t it?

    He jogged to the pier. Nearby, the warehouse was gutted, piles of debris around it. The three workers that Karles promised had begun repairing the foundation. They would be here again at mid-morning, so he needed more bread.

    The design Karles had made in one night was levels above what he thought up, and Defi was pleased that he found nothing toin about.

    He could stop worrying about the warehouse.

    He turned his focus to the river and in moments he was pushing away from the pier. He maneuvered toward the faster waters a bit further from the bank, and pulled in his pole as the scow got caught in the current.

    Eyes sharp, he watched the river.

    Apart from obstacles and the asional giant fish, he didn''t want to get pulled closer into the center of the river, too far from the bank.

    This was, after all, still a part of the Little Treachery. He had escaped fate twice in these waters. He didn''t think he was that lucky.

    The dawn market was mostly fish, from the fishing boats returning with their catches before heading out again. They handed over the catch to family members or the fishers'' guild who sold it immediately, fresh and still wriggling, to the eager hands of the Lowpool townspeople and the roving merchants who suppliednd-locked towns and viges.

    The market was full of hawkers, noisy and lively, with people both good-natured and viciouspeting for buyers.

    Fish of many kinds were abundant in the morning markets, with sunstripe bass, purpleback carp, and green tiger zander being the most sought after. Of the popr catches, there was also the whisker snake, the blue shrimp, and the ironhead rockworm. The sable crab, the lone mystic animal in theke, was of course the most hunted and the least caught.

    He moved through makeshift counters, people deftly scaling and filleting fish. There were even a number of people offering to cook the fresh seafood for the morning crowd. The scents of smoke and cooking enticed more than a few to take a break from the hectic scenes of barter around them.

    Defi could not resist buying a freshly grilledke squid. It was doused in a sharply sour fruity red-brown sauce and ced in a paper holder. He blinked in surprise. He thought he would have to try at least a dozen fruits in the market beforeing across one like this.

    "What fruit is in this?" he asked the griller.

    The man handed out a few more squid, and looked quizzically at Defi as he flipped the squid on his grill. The noise of the market meant a number of people were making gestures tomunicate.

    "What fruit is in the sauce?" He spoke louder.

    The man grinned. "Starcherry! Delicious?"

    "It''s great!" Defi sent the man a happy smile and a wave, leaving to make way for the other customers. The grilled squid was popr.

    He finished the squid long before he found the sellers he was looking for. A pair of old women who sold filleted silver-blue carp.

    "How many kilogar?" asked one of them, while the other readied the de.

    "I''d like to buy the bones, actually."

    Defi''s research on seakraits did not give him much to work on, other than that the beasts came in several colors and they were mostly bone and skin with no edible flesh. Their delicate rib-bones which were thin and numerous were melted to make wax.

    They were vicious and swift, and catching them was difficult. They also mainly stayed in the sea.

    The odds of Defi regrly sourcing one to feed Lar was slim.

    In the end, all he had to go on were folktales.

    There was a children''s book of old legends that said a silver carp once breached the garden of a deity and leaped into the pond. The sacred water of the pond seeped into the carp and made it into a blue seakrait, trapping it in the small body of water. The deity took pity on it and made it into a water dragon so it could fly free but not abandon the waters where it grew. The carp turned seakrait turned dragon served the deity faithfully from then on and went on many adventures.

    If Een knew he was doing this, she''d probablyugh viciously and deny all association with an idiot like him. But Defi had no other data. At this point, he was willing to try anything.

    The two old women were looking at him disbelievingly.

    "It''s for my pets," he said.

    "Ah." Their faces were enlightened and the disbelief waned. "Are you experimenting with feed? It is good for young people to be diligent."

    "If it goes well, you might have something new for the beast breeders, hm?" The old woman started slicing off the guts from the fish skeletons in the refuse pile.

    The silver-blue carp had blue-tinged bones. They were very distinctive.

    "I''d like all of them. Every day, if possible, as much as you have. I''d be willing to pay ten rond per kilogar."

    "That''s too much! Don''t waste your money, young man. Have some care! We''ll give them to you."

    So he was scolded for extravagance but managed to at least pay for the barrel and the emblem that prevented the fishy smell from spreading. They were in the market every day, in charge of their family''s carp catch.

    Learning that their family were fishers, he sourced discarded crab shells from them. Jar''s vorful vinegar was influenced by the mystic sable crab, so he thought lesser crabs would at least maintain the distinct taste.

    Unfortunately, Defi didn''t manage to a wholesaler of starcherry in the market, or any other fruits that approximated the taste of suirberry.

    He pushed his scow away from the docks after adding another eight loaves of bread to his purchases.

    He needed to head for the dawn market everyday from now on, but the boat ride in the morning was pleasant and he was progressing in his understanding of slime diets. It was worth the effort.

 Chapter 31: Summoning and Unsummoning Slimes

    Chapter 31: Summoning and Unsummoning Slimes

    After getting back to the house, he quickly separated Jar, Lar, and Mal into individual baskets.

    Jar''s basket, Defi filled until nearly full with zaziphos and finished with ayer of crab shells on top. Lar''s basket, he filled half with zaziphos then the other half with the bones of silver-blue carp. Mal got the basket with in zaziphos.

    He was disappointed that the stall owners at the fruit market said the starcherry seller wasn''t present today. All three slimes would have benefited greatly, in terms of extract.

    He still had most of the quartel barrels of crab shells and carp bones left. He covered the barrels and pped the paper pieces that contained preservation and scent-dispersing emblems on top. Both emblems wouldst only three days, ording to the old women, who were the elders Grenia and Marte.

    It was a good thing slimes ate so much. The house would start stinking of fish and crab in three days if not.

    ording to his experimentation, to make sure that the second milking in the evening produced the same amount of extract, he needed to feed each slime at least ten kilogar of food a day. He''d been managing with zaziphos only because Sarel''s trees never stopped fruiting and she only had six regr buyers in town with no inclination to acquire more.

    If Defi didn''t know that Sarel was the founder of a merchantpany that specialized in condiments, and was still regrly researching taste and vor to add more items to thepany''s offered products, he would have sourced a few other buyers for her. Thezy hermit.

    He sighed.

    Why did she nt that many zaziphos trees?

    Each tree bore about five kilogar of fruit each month. With so many trees, even if Sarel picked fifty kilogar of fruit a day, by the time she got to the end of the orchard the first trees she picked would be fruiting again. Before Defi came along, more than half the fruits were rotting on the ground. Luckily, the fruit rotted quickly and the scent was unexpectedly fragrant despite the underlying musty odor of decay.

    He entered his bedroom, knelt and dug into therge storage chest that also served as a low table. He pulled out the summon-tablet, ran fingers lightly over the reliefs of emblems on the surface.

    He''d originally wanted to summon just one to feed with savras. But with the abundant resource that was the dawn market, he could start the process to increase his production of vinegar and lotion.

    Defi wasn''t worried about the samples sent to the Bluzand Company. But once they were approved, the amount of extract he produced now wouldn''t be enough.

    "Should I summon more than one so soon, Turq?" The warehouse was not yet in construction. He didn''t know if the crab shells and carp bones would work well. He didn''t have a supplier of starcherry. He only had a single medial-size cask of savras tost for two weeks.

    Summoning more slimes at the moment was a gamble. Right now he sourced at least forty kilogar of slime food every day. Just thinking of doubling that was daunting.

    Turq bounced onto the storage chest, crept toward the summon-tablet.

    Defi watched for a moment, then smiled suddenly,ughed. "You''re right. I am someone who should not falter here; someone who before had bled for training and study, who had crossed a Gate forbidden, who treasonously freed ves. What am I hesitating for? If I do not have at least this much determination, what worth would my future in this world have?"

    He scooped Turq into his arms and marched out of the house, summon-tablet in hand.

    "Turq, we''re tripling production!"

    He did not know yet, if this was a path to happiness that would honor his mentor. But it was not a path he wished to turn away from.

    *

    Defi had been enthusiastic, but

    How many slimes made a ''n''?

    He touched the tablet with the Current. It started to shine. The glow he remembered from that day months ago at Sarel''s house made him a little nostalgic.

    A ball of light rose from the tablet, curled into itself, and a dark green slime popped into being.

    Defiughed in relief.

    It worked.

    He let the slime creep around the grass, and started summoning more.

    One after another, slimes popped into existence.

    After the fifth, a pale rose colored specimen, Defi was no longer worried about not being able to summon enough. There was energy around the tablet, which made him think he could call upon much much more and they would appear.

    He finally summoned the eighth and exhaled. There was a strain in his energy simr to the feeling of having healed the sansu orchard for a quarter of his usual sessions.

    It was surprisingly a lot, for eight slimes.

    He put the summon tablet down, watched his eight new farm workers gallivant silently in that slime-like manner. They were mostly varying shades of green, but for two. One was rose colored, like a gentle dawn, and another was yellow, like the ripe mangoes of Ontrea.

    "Aren''t you happy, Turq?" Defi lifted his first slime from his head and let him inch along the grass with the others.

    He stood, readied baskets and buckets. There had been a lot of containers in the warehouse  sacks, bottles, baskets of varying size. It appeared that the Garge homestead, apart from grain and fruit, used to keep milk goats.

    Most of the usable buckets, baskets, and bottles were now stored in a shed the workers had set up. The fiber-woven sacks were a lost cause.

    He put each slime in a bucket.

    He wanted to know what kind of extract a natural-fed slime would produce.

    He flipped the cover-cloth over his hands and started kneading. The slime was dark green with a line of blue spots. It took even less time than usual for the slime to erupt in defense.

    Defi withdrew his hands, brought them to his nose. There was a faint bitter smell, like medicine. He frowned at the extract in his hands, then licked. He grimaced and spat.

    It really was bitter.

    That wasn''t a good thing. The taste would affect his products.

    They couldn''t be all bitter, could they?

    He washed his hands and reached into the second basket before a thought stilled his motion. Slimes ate everything; what would a yellow slime eat that might have affected its color?

    In retrospect, it was probably a good idea he hadn''t tried to milk Turq.

    Defi retracted his hands and went to the shed. He''d seen arge mortar and pestle in there. The wooden pestle was slightly less than a mar in length. He cleaned off the dust and used it to knead the slime.

    The yellow slime erupted. Defi cautiously peeled open the cover-cloth. Surprisingly, the scent was light, nearly odorless. He tapped a finger against the wet cloth and brought it to his mouth. Mostly nd, with only a slight grassy vor.

    He immersed himself into the Current. There was no stirring of rm.

    The extract wasn''t poisonous.

    Defi looked at the other buckets, and silentlymented that his studies into the Current were too shallow. A master, even a high adept, would have known if the extract from the other slimes were harmful without needing to ingest a sample.

    Heposed himself. This was no time for self-pity.

    In any case, the yellow slime passed the scent-and-taste test he suddenly was now conducting. The scent and taste must not be too heavy or it would overwhelm. Well, a fragrant slime would probably be the best to produce lotion extract.

    He cleaned the pestle and moved on to the next bucket. The slime in it was of a green paler than Mal, nearly white, the color of fine jade.

    He started kneading the slime.

    His thoughts wandered. Did jade exist in Ascharon? He''d heard Een talk of jewels in various terms, an attempt to exin when he could not differentiate between colors because Ascharonians often had several names for different shades of the same color, but not jade.

    He put the pestle down as the cover-cloth suddenly sagged with moisture, indicating that the slime had erupted. He bent to open the cloth, then jerked back as the smell hit his nose.

    For a slime that looked like it was worth ten times its weight in gold, it smelled foul.

    White jade slime, failed.

    He gingerly fished the slime out with a piece of t wood and ced it in a clean bucket with the dark green bitter slime. The four slimes he had regrly huddled together happily, so these wild slimes probably wouldn''t eat each other. Probably.

    He continued with the test. The next slime, also green, was unfortunately a sludgy slime and so went into the discard bucket. He continued with the next, and the next.

    In the end, of the eight slimes, only three passed the scent-and-taste test.

    Defi determinedly took the summon tablet. He needed eight slime workers and eight slime workers he would have.

    The tablet glowed and slime after slime appeared.

    He summoned and kneaded and tested, then summoned all over again.

    By the time he had the eight he wanted, his energy was strained, his arms were limp from kneading and lifting the pestle, and there were over thirty slimes summoned.

    There was a mass of green piling out of the buckets around him, with the asional show of other colors.

    He didn''t realize Lar had such a rare hue. Even Turq

    Defi realized his head was free of the familiar weight. Had he identally lost Turq in the battalion of green slimes summoned? He looked around.

    "Turq? Turq!"

    A slight weight fell on his shoulder. He looked at the green and blue slime. Of course it wouldn''t be lost. Turq was the pet that had been with Defi the longest, his first ever summon.

    He sat down to rest, the basket with the eight chosen slimes beside him.

    "What in the Harmonium is this?"

    Defi turned his head to see Barrey, one of Karles'' workers, looking at the slimes in perplexity.

    Defiughed lightly. "Do you know how to unsummon a summon beast?"

    "I''ll get Tholme." He jogged back down to the pier.

    Tholme had a summon beast, a one-horn mule, so his assistance was wee. Defi wanted to ask a few questions since he learned that the mule was the man''s summon. He didn''t think he''d summon this many slimes in one day however.

    Tholme and Racard loped into view. There was a stand of trees separating the warehouse and pier from the house and the sansu orchard, so there was a certain level of privacy.

    Racard snorted at the slimes. Lifted a brow at Defi. "Be in actual danger next time."

    He sauntered back down the path.

    "I didn''t say anything about danger. I just want to learn how to unsummon beasts."

    Racard just waved.

    Tholme, left behind, looked around inprehension and chuckled. He wasrge, with a chest like a barrel. His clean-shaven face was smooth and hard nes, marred by a crooked nose. "First summoning?"

    "Second."

    "Unsummoning''s not hard. You just want them to be gone, return to where you pulled them from. With the more sentient summons that people prefer these days, the summon beast unsummons itself when it''s not needed. But slimes don''t have desires other than to eat. It''s what made them great pets. Had one as a kid myself. You''ll have to direct the unsummoning."

    Defi heaved himself up tiredly. "Just want them to return?"

    "It helps if you concentrate on the summon emblem when you do that."

    Defi lifted the summon-tablet to look at the design. "What aplicated emblem."

    "That''s for sure." Tholme leaned over to look at the tablet. "An heirloom? People don''t summon slimes these days, much less use a tablet for them."

    "I found it on the river."

    "Ah, treacherous treasure." He chortled at Defi''s confused nce. "They say there''s a lot of treasure in the Treachery, if one can survive the finding of it. Myself, I think what treasures there''d be dashed to pieces against the stones by now. Still, things float down to the Lowpool all the time, mostly unimportant. But every now and then someone something worthy of being called ''treasure'' and the stories start again. This tablet should be pretty old. Miracle it''s not been cracked, really."

    Tholme waved at the slimes. "Well, try the unsummoning. Best not let them escape. Don''t know what''ll happen to you if all the fish in the area are eaten."

    Defi huffed augh at that, but considered at the tablet again and focused.

    He traced the lines of the summon emblem with his eyes, then looked at one of the green ones and did his best to send it back. It disappeared.

    "That''s it." Tholme pped him on the back. "With that lot, you''ll get good practice, eh?"

    "I''ll set out some shredded squid today, in thanks."

    Tholme sent him a surprised but pleased grin as he started toward the warehouse. "Heading to the Dimm homestead?"

    "The fruit won''t pick itself." Defi unsummoned another slime. Sarel''s ce was the Dimm homestead, ording to townspeople.

    "See you in the afternoon, then."

    Defi smiled at the man. His first impression was that Tholme was the friendliest of the three workers, Racard the most skilled, and Barrey the quietest. It hadn''t changed so far.

    Once he got used to unsummoning, it was a simple matter to unsummon groups of slimes. They were gone in half the time it took to summon them. He''d been summoning one by one. Next time, he''d try summoning in groups.

    Defi started to clean up, washed the tubs and buckets, left them out to dry.

    He hesitated with the slime extracts, but in the end he carefully washed a number of bottles and poured all the samples into them, carefullybelled.

    He was not an alchemist, but he''d been Maryiz''s assistant for six years, during which time the alchemist Casmiref had dragged him about as a pseudo-assistant as well. Keeping odd substances for testing was not a foreign action for him.

    Perhaps he was just being sentimental.

    He put all the bottles in the underground storage room, promising to find a way to test them at ater date.

    Cleaning up had taken another hour, and he needed to set out baskets of bread and smoked fish, plus jam, the shrimp kes, and the promised shredded squid. He wouldn''t be here during lunch, and it was discourteous to leave the workers without food.

    This was Ascharon, after all.

    He poured thest of his store of zaziphos into eight baskets. Then he mixed other things in with them. In two, he poured all the crab shells. In another two went the carp bones. Another two got savras. Thest two baskets were all fruit.

    He distributed the eight new slimes into the baskets and went to prepare the food.

    He was a littlete for work already.

 Chapter 32: Pork and Beans with Rice

    Chapter 32: Pork and Beans with Rice

    Waving at the workers, Defi pushed away from the pier.

    The scow ride to Sarel''s ce took an hour, as he was pushing against the current. Keeping to the calmer waters of the river was essential to speed and efficiency.

    The part of the Treachery that Sarel and Falie and several others decided to farm in was livelier than the river nearer theke proper. The Garge homestead where Defi lived was in fact ced just before the calmer part of the river ended.

    Past the Garge homestead, few people wanted to build homes there. The river waters were a bit too dangerous for them.

    That''s why those who settled there were recluses.

    He knew there were others, but apart from Falie and Hames, Defi had not met other people there.

    Sarel was already picking fruit when he strode up the path from the pier.

    "Good morning." He lifted Turq from his shoulder and ced the slime on the ground, where there were still fallen fruits.

    She nodded at him in return greeting and nced at Turq, as he took up baskets of his own. Defi was used to her bouts of silence, so only smiled and headed into the trees.

    Sarel liked her solitude, so Defi mostly tried to work in different areas of the orchard from hers. Because of this, she sometimes forgot he was there when she got too much into her thoughts or too focused on some problem or other.

    Leaving Turq near her was so she didn''t get surprised when he emerged from the orchard, or forget to make food because she was tinkering with the vors of the spicebinations sold by the Bluzand Company.

    Defi inhaled the scent of zaziphos flowers and fruits. A tree that fruited every month of the year would''ve been prized in Ontrea. He had thought so many times. Much of the fruit grown in Defi''s homnd was dried for transport to drier parts of the country.

    Defi had not seen much dried fruit in the markets. He made a note to explore the shops a little more, as most of his familiarity was confined to the market stalls.

    The fruit of the zaziphos tree grew on long thin branches that bow and droop with weight as the fruit forms. It made the harvest easier. There was not much fruit on one tree, but there were enough trees that in an hour Defi had picked two baskets weighing around ten kilogar each.

    He brought the baskets to the gathering area near the house, where four filled baskets already stood.

    Usually, Sarel sorted ten baskets twice a week for delivery to the regr customers. Defi''s arrangement meant she generally left the picking and delivery to him, while he cleared the orchard of as many defective fruits as he could take away.

    He wondered if he could ask for just the sourer fruits. Probably not. He usually took an equal amount from all the zones.

    Sarel grew the trees in a specific pattern, where fruits from different areas should not mix.

    Defi tied painted pieces of wood to the baskets he already picked.

    Purple, for the area near the east rock pile.

    Months of picking had already made him familiar with the twelve zones that Sarel carefully kept separate with posts containing emblems that made sure each area would not contaminate another. Each zone had twenty to forty trees, and assigned different methods of care.

    As Defi was only the harvester, he had not much to do with the actual raising. He didn''t even know what Sarel was growing them for. While the varieties she sold varied per buyer, there were others that she didn''t sell.

    He took more baskets and returned to harvesting.

    He bit into one of the red fruits. The zaziphos in the purple zone were the sweetest.

    When twenty baskets were gathered, Defi went to wash his face and hands. He looked around, spotted Turq lounging in the roots of one of the trees.

    It was past mid-day already. The slimes generally preferred shade when the sun was the hottest.

    Defi stretched, muscles pulling in contentment at having been used. He bent this way and that, loosening them even more.

    Sarel should have finished with the food by now. He entered the kitchen to help with the preparations, and stopped in his tracks.

    The food today was pork belly, glistening with delicious tender fat and slow-cooked with a mix of spices and beans. The scent was intoxicating.

    Defi stared.

    Over a quarter of the farms in the Lowpool grew fruit trees, mostly milkfigs and frost melons  the most sought after fruits in the empire. The rest grew grain, greens, beans, and mushrooms. Most of the farmers regrly trapped birds and small game but of the over one hundred farms in the Lowpool, only three raised meat for food. Only two raised cows and goats for milk, cheese, and cream.

    That is to say, meat was often quickly sold out in the Lowpool.

    Defi, raised on the hunt, had been pushing the craving for actual red-blooded, fatty meat into a corner of his mind for months. Faced with the reality of it, his mouth watered painfully. He could not take his eyes away, entranced.

    "What are you waiting for?" Sarel asked. She was looking at him curiously.

    Defi shook his head. There was a te in his hands. Had he set the table while in a trance? He sat down. It was meat. Meat! Glorious pork in spice and beans.

    When was thest time

    He decided to stop thinking and started filling his te. He paused at the other dishes. Was that rice?

    He didn''t even know it existed in Ascharon. It was even steam-boiled the way Ontrea made it. He took a serving and tasted it.

    Ordinary water hadn''t been used, the subtle scent of zaziphos flowing around it.

    He nced at Sarel, who was already mixing the spiced pork and beans into her te of rice.

    "Does Ascharon grow much rice? I haven''t seen it in the markets."

    "Rice?" She pronounced the Ontrean word Defi used, nced at the te in his hands. "Ah, it''s cloudgrain. The empire has a colony in the continent of Clouds across the sea to the south, so most of it is imported cheaply. Not many grow it in Ascharon, too difficult. If you want some, try the grain shops."

    Difficult? Defi nearly gaped.

    Rice was simpler to nt and harvest than wheat!

    A farmer only needed to nt it once and it would benefit that farmer for half a century. With the vitality within thends of Ascharon, rice should produce double the usual, more plentiful per hecte than all the grain varieties in the empire.

    Even if the climate of Ascharon was colder than Ontrea or the continent of Clouds, Defi was well aware that rice could adapt. There was a variety of rice grown in the steppes in the farnds to the south of Ontrea that was both vorful and fragrant, even eaten in, one of the most sought-after varieties in several kingdoms.

    He hadn''t heard that rice was one of the prohibited Gate export items in Rimet. So why did the Lowpool, a waterden ce in close proximity to the Gate, not nt rice? Maybe Rimet merchants only sold the polished grains?

    Then again, there was a ban on selling information, so it was not that far-fetched that Ascharon, trade partner to Ontrea for nearly a millennium, would not know how to grow rice.

    Cloudgrainhe''d seen that in the farm journals of the Garge homestead  another of the crops that used to be nted there. He resolved to take a closer look.

    His stomach rumbled.

    He scooped another serving of the rice, and arge helping of the pork.

    The first bite froze him, like a lightning strike. Had he really missed meat so much? He forced himself to chew, forcibly holding back his emotions. His first kill had been a boar; since then the sweetest meat he had ever tasted. But this...

    He took another bite, chewed, swallowed. Then another, and another.

    He tried his hardest not to embarrass himself by stuffing all of it into his salivating maw like a starving bear.

    Despite his powerful restraint, Sarel quirked an amused smile at him. "Rimet and Egrenua also trade cloudgrain, don''t they? But the quality is middling,pared to Cloud continent imports." She nodded at his te. "What do you think?"

    At the question, Defi slowed down from all but inhaling the te. He rolled the grains around his tongue experimentally. He''d noticed of course. Compared to what he was used to, the rice was springier, a pleasant pressure on the teeth as he chewed. The grains were slightly plumper, with the perfect firm tenderness that was difficult to achieve with regr Ontrean rice.

    A quick check with the Current told him that the vitality in the rice grains was high, but only half that of savras. "Cloud continent does mystic cooking as well?"

    "Not as overarching as Ascharon''s cooking, but yes."

    That meant the vitality of the Cloud continent was simr to Ascharon. He pushed his spoon against the rice grains on his te, seeing them distort from the pressure and recover, contemting the differences. The scent of zaziphos aside, the Cloud continent rice had a fragrance that trumped Ontrea-grown rice as well. The taste rivaled Egrenua''s top quality silvergrain rice.

    It was like someone had bred all the best characteristics of the rare rice variety delicacies in Defi''s world and put them into a grain with perfectly excellent texture.

    The gods of this world, he thought with some humor, did they have a vendetta against the rice in his world?

    "It''s the best rice I''ve eaten," he said atst, honest.

    If he could grow Ontrean rice in the vitality-richnds of Ascharon, would the taste change. Somehow, he wanted to know. If he asked, Marmocha could easily secure unhulled rice from Rimet.

    Unfortunately, growing rice wasn''t something he could do at the moment.

    "You''ve never cooked rice in the time I''d been here."

    Sarel shrugged. "You talked with Marmon a bit about the food in both worlds. I wanted to know if this dish would suit the Ontrean tongue."

    "Suit?" Defi tried not tough. She had managed to create one of the most widespread dishes in Ontrea from a single conversation. He was certain he didn''t talk about that particr dish with Marmon Chacort. "It more than suits. There is a dish of pork and beans with cloudgrain in Ontrea,mon in the street stalls, served with shredded lettuce and vinegar. But this level of skill in cooking, only the king''s kitchen woulde close to recreating your version."

    "I''d prefer the street stall."

    Defi huffed in amusement. It would be just like her to spurn a king and then open a street stall, wouldn''t it.

    He served himself another helping of rice, ate slower, testing the taste of all the side dishes he''d ignored earlier. Most of them had varying levels of tartness, which refreshed the tongue.

    The pork was deliciously oily and sweet; the side dishes only made him want to eat more.

    He spooned slivers of pickled bellpepper over the pork on his te. The sharp smell reminded him, in fact "Do you know someone who grows starcherries?"

    "No one does. It grows everywhere."

    That was promising information. "What does it look like?"

    "There''s a patch of the bushes near the log bridge. If you spread the damnable things closer to the trees, I''ll toss you off the bridge."

    Defi held his spoon up in acknowledged surrender, and they both went back to decimating the food.

    After the meal, Defi spent a few hours sorting the best fruits for delivery.

    It was just edging past mid-afternoon when he loaded ten baskets into Sarel''s scow. It wasrger and sturdier than the scow Defi bought for himself, so best suited for the deliveries.

    "Turq, we''re setting off." It was the hottest part of the day, but clouds were already gathering fast on the horizon. He plopped one of the circr hats Sarel liked so much onto his head and lifted Turq into an arm.

    He ced the slime on the seat of the scow, checked the bnce of the load once again. He adjusted a few of the baskets, then the ropes, checked again.

    With no more obvious problems, he waved at Sarel, who was just setting up her fishing gear. She would be there until past sunset, themp beside her lit.

    With a scowden with baskets of fruit, Defi and Turq set off for town.

 Chapter 33: Red Lady Ale

    Chapter 33: Red Lady Ale

    It was, again, a busy day for the workers at the docks.

    The daily rains had agitated the denizens of the river and theke. Several species of frog, insect, and worms were in the frenzy of mating season. With how much food was avable, therger fishes and predators in the waters of the Lowpool surfaced in great numbers.

    That meant Defi had to load and pull the cart himself.

    His lips lifted slightly. What would his family think, to see a scion of their august line pulling a fruit cart quite contentedly?

    He could list of a few of them who would expire from the shame. Being a farmer was one thing, an honorable upation to care for the Creator''s bounty, but a cart-puller was the upation of ves and the low caste.

    Defi adjusted the woven circr hat on his head, ncing at the now overcast sky.

    Rain was imminent.

    He settled Turq on his shoulder, protected by the hat''s brim. Though, the slime would likely not mind theing deluge.

    The first delivery for the day was to one of therger taverns in town, situated at the junction of severalnes of shops. The second was to Dyene and Reon''s bakery.

    Defi grasped the crossbar of the pullcart and started moving.

    The pullcart was made of wood; it was so constructed that the heaviest of its parts were the wheels. Compared to the carts that draft-animals pulled however, it was light.

    Still, Defi had to focus so the momentum of the cart behind him would not get ahead of his pace. He''d already experienced stopping from a jog, only for the wheels of the cart to keep turning and the cart to crash into him from behind.

    That had been an embarrassment he did not wish to relive. The client at that time was in fact the same tavern-owner he was delivering to now.

    Unluckily for Defi, the man happened to be there when it happened. Adan had quickly helped him up off the ground and did notugh. Too long, that is.

    Defi maneuvered the cart through the alley between the tavern and the tenement next to it. He stopped by the kitchen entrance to the tavern, made sure a wheel of the cart was stopped with a loose cobblestone, then stepped to the door and thumped a fist on the thick wood.

    He tilted the hat back. A fat drop of rain sttered on his hand. Then another. Dark spots of moisture started to dot the grey cobblestones and the wood of the cart, then expanded, as if the stone and wood were sucking at the water thirstily.

    The door behind him opened.

    "Ho, it''s going to pour today eh? Pull that thing around." Adan waved Defi to follow. The burly man easily lifted the heavy lock to a wooden-gated entryway some steps from the kitchen door and waved Defi in.

    The gate opened to a small covered yard filled with nts. There was another door into the tavern tucked in the rear of the yard.

    Adan helped Defi settle the cart as the rain started in earnest, the heavy drops of falling water sounding like a distant roar on the shingles above.

    Defi thanked the man. The rain usually fellter than the deliveries, so he''d never seen this yard before.

    "No bother, no bother." Adan was already inspecting the fruit in the baskets, then cing them into arge washing tub.

    Defi settled back against a tiered series of flowerpots to wait, cing his hat on one of the baskets and holding Turq in his arms.

    The tavern-owner always looked preupied, as if his thoughts were constantly distant from the present. With the carefully-shorn beard and the contemtive air, if his body were not so muscled the man could be mistaken as a schr rather than a tavern-owner.

    Adan liked to scrutinize the delivery carefully. It was why Defi preferred when Rocso, Adan''s father, took delivery.

    With Adan, Defi had to wait until all six baskets of the order were examined.

    The door at the rear of the covered yard creaked open.

    Defi nced toward it, then stood to greet the elderly Rocso.

    The wrinkles on the man''s face deepened as he smiled, evidently a person used toughter. Despite the silvered hair and the limping step, the old man stood straight as a young tree reaching unencumbered to the heavens; the posture of one trained tobat and horsemanship.

    The old man''s gaze was focused and sharp, quite unlike his son. The only point of simrity, if rting to looks, was the stormy blue color of their eyes and the neatly-trimmed beards.

    The older man brightened as he looked at the younger. "Adan, Isene is here."

    Adan sent a doubtful look at the old man, then silently returned to the fruits as if the older man''s words were a passing breeze, easily ignored.

    The brightness of the elder''s gaze only shone more, this time in amusement and slight indignation. He turned to Defi,mented loudly. "What a poor man am I, that my only son won''t give me even one grandchild."

    Adan made a wordless sound of disdain.

    Yet, the atmosphere was not hostile. Defi had the feeling this conversation happened all the time, in infinite variation.

    Rocso sighed in mostly mock-despair. "Come inside, young Defi. We have a new ale. Leave the lonely silence to this overly picky brat."

    "You honor my ancestors by invitation, elder, but I would be remiss in duty to linger long." Defi said politely. "It is no hardship to stay in silence and with Turq here, there is no loneliness that would dare show for even a moment."

    The old manughed and pped Defi on the shoulder. "So formal? Don''t waste the flowery talk on this idiot." He eyed Turq. "A slime, hm? I had one as a pet when I was a child. Surprisingly good eating, if you''re starved. I don''t suppose there is another you could part with? An old man like me could get lonely, you know."

    Wasn''t he just talking about his son''s loneliness? How did it be suddenly his?

    Also, Defi had never even considered the edibility of a slime.

    Possibly something to look into.

    "Wild-caught slimes often have toxic substances in their bodies." Thinking about the thirty slimes he summoned this morning, Defi wouldn''t mind giving out a pet. But still, considering the man''s words, he gave a warning.

    "I''m not going to eat it. Didn''t I say I wanted a pet? If you salt the juices out, it makes a nice change from the daily gruel. Pah, who said soldiers couldn''t cook? In my day, we didn''t even have a mestones to cook on. All our rations were cloudgrain, cheap ale, and salt. I tell you, we became the best foragers in thend. We made do! Kids these days are so picky! Are we not Ascharonian?"

    Somehow, him saying he wouldn''t eat the slime was not at all believable.

    "I''ll bring one with the next delivery," Defi decided. If the old man ate it, Defi would have a point of concrete data on taste and texture of slime flesh.

    "You will? Good, good, not even beast procurers could be bothered selling slimes these days. Will one crescent do?"

    "I''m not nning on selling them," Defi refuted. "Please take it as a gift."

    The old man steered Defi toward the door. "You really should try our new ale. The rain is heavy, wait for the worst of it to pass. Don''t worry about the fruit; Adan won''t touch the baskets he shouldn''t."

    That was in fact why he wanted to stay in the yard. If the baskets he deliveredter to the bakery were picked through, with only the lower quality fruits remaining, it would be embarrassing. Of course, the fruit sorted for delivery were the best from the picking but they couldn''t be perfect every time.

    He didn''t show the slight awkwardness he was feeling, only asked, "What sort of fruits is the good sir looking for? Possibly, we can choose the fruits more carefully from the orchard for you."

    Rocso looked thoughtful. "That would help."

    Adan tilted his head, slightly frowning. He pulled two fruits out of a basket. "Which of the two has less sweetness?"

    "Therger," said Defi promptly. "Therger one''s flesh is nder than the smaller ones, but the skin retains the tangy vor so it''s more refreshing. However, these particr baskets were specially picked from the sweetest trees in the orchard. If you want zaziphos with more tartness than these, it can be arranged."

    Adan nodded. "Add two baskets of the sourest fruit to the regr order."

    "Of course," Defi said. "You''ll get the additions starting next delivery. If there are any changes to vor you want, please tell me or Sarel. Zaziphos fruit has a range of sweetness."

    Adan looked a lot happier. He turned to wash the fruits he''d inspected, not eyeing the four baskets that were to go to the bakers anymore.

    "Hm," Rocso maneuvered Defi through the door firmly. "I didn''t know Sarel grew different varieties."

    Were there different varieties of zaziphos? All the trees in the orchard looked the same. Defi only knew that Sarel cared for the different zones specially.

    "More than different varieties, the difference in thend could also affect vor." Garun told him once, that despite being the same tree, a mango nted in the south was sourer than a mango grown in the north.

    "I see." Rocso nodded. "I''ll trust in you and Sarel then. Adan is looking for another new ale. A sourer one would be good for summer, wouldn''t it?"

    "Didn''t you already have a new one?"

    "To stay on top, a business must always look for new things. Our ale selection is the best in the area. No tavern even in Ecthys can boast this many original vors. Of course, the meals can''t change as fast, but they are hearty and filling. Our cooks and recipes can''t be considered poor either." Rocso waved in demonstration at the two people focused on stoves and several ordinary kitchen workers flitting in and out of the kitchen.

    Rocso brought him through the kitchen and to a table near the long counter.

    Defi was happy to sit down. His morning had been more exhausting than usual, and he had not properly rested since the mid-day meal.

    "It''s not too busy right now, so ask whatever you want." Rocso pointed to the day''s specials listed therge board near the counter. "Of course, this time, the cost is the tavern''s responsibility."

    Defi protested immediately. "I can pay for myself, elder. You are too kind to strangers."

    The old soldier snorted. "Strangers? You saved my son some work. We didn''t even think to ask for sourer fruits. Take it as gratitude. For the pet slime I''m about to get as well. Are you refusing? If you don''t buy at least three dishes, I''ll see it as offense against my recipes, you know."

    Said like that, there was no way for Defi to protest more. "Then, I''ll take advantage of your kindness and eat a lot, elder."

    Theugh lines on Rocso''s face creased in satisfaction.

    "I''ll get the ale. I''d like your thoughts on it." He waved to a server as he left, then gestured to Defi''s table.

    Defi pretended not to notice, studying the listed offers on the writing board.

    He nced around at the diners.

    The food was truly hearty; a serving could feed two people. The old man wanted him to eat three of those? That respectable-looking elder, with the kind wrinkles about his face, was actually a fiend.

    He felt like he wouldn''t be surprised if it suddenly became the case. After the invasion, and he learned that the simple people in town actually weren''t so simple, a tempter from the depths of Gehen and a saint from the heights of Awenn living in town wouldn''t be surprising.

    Unsurprisingly, there was no meat on the menu.

    He sighed. Just as well. It would pale to the memory of Sarel''s spiced pork and beans anyway.

    The server came to attentively stand by Defi''s table as he contemted which dishes wouldn''t burst his stomach. The more expensive the dish, the fewer the volume of ingredients in it, right?

    "The moon mushrooms and knife-m soup, the spice-grilled sunstripe bass with starcherry sauce, the deep-fried blue shrimp."

    The others were average in price, but the bass was the most expensive thing on the menu. In addition, it seemed like a regr item. It caught his eye because of the starcherry sauce, really. He wanted an excuse to ask where the tavern got their supply.

    "Good choices." Rocso thunked arge stein of ale on the table.

    The stein was made of ss, taller and somewhat more delicate-looking than the usual mugs.

    Defi had always been impressed by the crafts of this other world. ss in Ontrea could never be so clear; it didn''t even have the faint greenish tinge of natural unstained ss. He flicked a finger against the ss, confirming the sturdiness despite the gentle flowing design.

    Within the ss, the ale was red with a transparency that made one think of a gem, a ruby. A fine foam, slightly golden, topped the ale, giving the entire thing an elegant presence.

    "Our newest ale, the Red Lady!"

    Defi paused, studied the presentation again. "Are you sure you want my opinion on a drink you made for women?"

    The elderly lifted his hands, palms up, a shrug. "Women, men, is their tongue not the same?"

    "Judging by the fact that you developed this, no."

    "Ah, I cook what has always tasted good. I leave the drinks to Adan." The old man eyed the red-colored ale. "This is sweeter though? I prefer ginvar."

    Defi nodded, then took the handle. To his surprise the ale was warmed. The scent was aromatic without being too heavy.

    The alcoholic liquid slid smoothly down his throat, warming him up. The bitter notes were evident as the ale touched his tongue, then a sweet fruity aftertaste bloomed to diminish much of the bitterness.

    Defi wasn''t a drinker of ale, but it tasted good.

    Rocso smiled when Defi told him so.

    "Not so bitter, but not too mild either. You can taste the zaziphos in the sweetness. Don''t sell it only to women, elder. I''d like to have the option to drink it from now on too."

    "It is a pain telling people that it''s only for thedies when they order," Rocso sighed agreement. "It''d be easier just to sell it to everyone. Whoever doesn''t like it shouldn''t order it then. That Adan, saying we should be more weing to a wider variety of peoplethis ce used to be a proper hard-drinking tavern"

    "Was it a better tavern then?"

    Rocso nced at a family of five sharing dishes at one of therger tables,ughter that was clear as tinkling bellsing from the children. "It had its benefits. But I''m old, and the direction the next generation is taking is interesting. I would like to see more."

    Defi followed his gaze. He doubted the parents would let those young children enter what he imagined Rocso termed a ''proper'' tavern.

    "Oi, barmaster, another of the ckrock!"

    Rocso nodded at Defi. "Enjoy the food. Berolt is the server assigned to this area. Just tell him what you need."

    He returned to the drinks area,ughing at the people waving empty steins at him. "Are you so impatient? What beauty is waiting for you back home."

    His sally was met with a round of simr insults. Rocso was not fazed. He joked with each customer as he poured drinks.

    Defi''s attention on the raucous scene at the bar was interrupted by the server cing arge bowl of m and mushroom soup before him. The savory aroma wafted around them. As Defi expected, he would be stuffed if he finished it, forget the other two dishes.

    The server Berolt next slid a te before Defi, followed by a bowl and spoon. "Anything else, young sir?"

    He opened his mouth to say no when the door to the tavern crashed open. A slight figure rushed in.

    Defi recognized the child. The sable crab girlRenne, wasn''t it?

    Her eyes, panicking, looked around the tavern. She twitched at the looks bent on her from the other customers, but did not falter much. Her gaze fell on him, and she looked surprised but cautiously relieved.

    "Brother," she called, voice tight, slightly shaky. "I''ve been looking for you."

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    mestone  the primary heating element of the me-less stove. Can technically be used as a grill/broiler, but much safer used with a stove to control/contain the heat. A stone, etched/engraved with emblems to create heat.

    Gehen  the ce where the evil of the world lies, ording to the religion of Ontrea. A ce that corrupts.

    Awenn  the ce where the good of the world lies, ording to the religion of Ontrea. A ce that exalts.

    Ginvar  a twice-distilled spirit, vored mainly by the bitter-sour notes of junver berries.

 Chapter 34: The Tavern Fight that Never Happened

    Chapter 34: The Tavern Fight that Never Happened

    Defi nced at the open doorway of the tavern, the door slowly closing on its own.

    It was obvious the girl hadn''t been looking for him, onlytched on to the opportunity. He didn''t need to read deeply to see the fear on her face.

    He gestured her over. "Renne,e eat before we go back."

    From her expression, she hadn''t been sure he would assist her.

    He ignored the shocked relief on her face, and spoke to the server. "Could I have another set of cutlery?"

    Berolt, the server, chivvied the girl into a seat before he left.

    Renne sat down opposite him, her face only lightening when the door fully shut. She grasped the edge of the table with wet, shaking fingers.

    "S-sorryfor interrupting. I''ll go. I have to "

    Berolt quickly returned with spoon, bowl, and te. He even had a nket to drape around the drenched girl''s shoulders.

    "Later." Defi spooned soup into his bowl. "Eat first."

    He wasn''t going to send a child into that heavy, hammering rain.

    She already looked like a drowned cat.

    Or a drowned dog, Defi nced at the pointed ears, fur the exact same shade of mahogany as the strands of hairs falling down her shoulders. Both fur and hair looked ck now, water dripping off the ends of sodden locks, gathering at the tips of the ears pressed nearly t to her skull.

    Berolt put a smaller ss mug of ale beside Renne.

    Defi just looked at the server. "She''s ten."

    "I''m twelve!" She red at Defi, the retorting so quickly he believed she''d heard simr observations before.

    Defi lifted a brow. "You don''t look much older than your toddler brother. You''re tiny."

    "I''m not tiny! I''m just like this, alright?!" She reached for the mug of ale, and took arge defiant gulp. Her eyes widened, she swallowed with some difficulty.

    Defi sipped at his own ale, nonchnt.

    Her eyes narrowed. Her furred ears flicked in irritation. She set her jaw and drained the mug, needing to tilt it up with both hands. She put the mug down and inhaled deeply. "Itit''s warm."

    Defi nodded, poured adle of soup into her bowl. "Eat. Your small body can''t handle even that amount of alcohol without food."

    At twelve, he''d already been drinking wine that wasn''t watered down. This ale was fine for twelve years in age, wasn''t it?

    She red at the bowl full of m and mushroom, but the scent had her swallowing in anticipation, her mouth watering. She took up her spoon without a word. Curious, she dipped it into the soup, tasted the liquid. Her ears pricked up in interest, even though her brows were defiantly scowling.

    Such honest ears.

    She pushed the wooden spoon against the solid ingredients. It looked like she didn''t know what they were.

    "Knife m and moon mushroom." Defi grabbed a m from his own bowl and tipped the meat and juices from the shell into his mouth.

    Renne reached to imitate him, interest sparking in her eyes.

    The door crashed open.

    The m in her hand dropped with a ssh into the soup.

    Defi eyed the obviously furious man dripping all over the entranceway. "Isn''t that door a little too noisy?"

    "It''s supposed to be like this, young sir," said the attentive Berolt, also looking at the newest customer.

    They both did not miss how Renne cringed at the sight of the man.

    He dressed like the average traveler, with sturdy boots and a wide cloak over waistcoat and trousers. The expression on his face, however, was a snarling pout, a child who was told he had to put away his toys when he never had before. That entitled expression, Defi had seen it in numerous variation, across numerous faces; an expression onlymon to those who knew they could have anything they wanted.

    Another, closer, inspection of the traveler''s attire and Defi could see the inconsistencies. The waistcoat was brocade, he could see the patterns even in the shadow of the cloak, and the trousers, though in, creased softly in that way only high-quality wool did.

    The cloak was rougher make, likely a concession to subterfuge  a smaller target for bandits  but the bootsthey were polished to a proud shine.

    Despite the mud covering the soles, it was a dead giveaway.

    Itpletely negated the cloak.

    An idiot, then.

    The man''s eyes narrowed on Renne. "There you are," he growled. "Come child, we are leaving this ce."

    Renne stood and backed away, heading to the kitchen entrance.

    "I beg your pardon, who are you?" Defi drawled, posture rxed, almost lounging on the bench. "Please stop menacing my sister like a cheap criminal. Chelua, are others so unmannerly these days?"

    There were a couple of nods from the people watching, and more people took notice of them.

    "Sister? Do you take me for a fool? I have been looking for this girl for months. I will not mistake her for another!"

    Defiughed, amusement evident, a sudden loud sound. "You will not mistake her? You say that in the same breath you admit to not being able to catch a child for months? Good sir, I tell you, how can you not be mistaken?"

    The man reddened at the susurrus of a roomful of snickering.

    "Be silent! Do you know who I am?" He drew his sword, but pointed it at the floor. "Stand away, boy. I will be taking the girl to her father. Obstruct me, and there will be none to care for your corpse."

    Was he so unlikable, Defi thought, idly. Shouldn''t it be on the third meeting that people threatened to kill all the people who ever loved you?

    "And I say, stand away, foolish servant of a foolish man. My sister is no daughter to your master." Defi took a spoonful of soup leisurely. "I have no liking for violence, so let us end this like rational men. Walk away, servant. There is nothing for you here."

    "Boy, you are brave. You would call me a servant? You would even call my lord a fool? Do you think I would let that pass?"

    "Truth is no insult. A father who lets his child run away, what else could he be but a fool? The subordinates that failed to find a child for months, are they stillpetent? It appears I must agree; you are no servant. To call you so is an insult to those who so nobly and capably serve. You are nothing but a bootlicker yapping at the heels of a fool."

    The sword swung. The spoon in Defi''s hand sheared in half, therger part falling into the bowl of soup. Defi''s eye twitched imperceptibly.

    "Boy," the man''s tone was ck, raging. "Face your death on your feet. I am Fretharic il Magmont. I know not why you protect her; she''s only the child of a werefolk whore. For whatever your reasons, you will die today."

    Defi was still ambiguous about werefolk, which is why he subtly kept away from the three children after the sable crab incident. But werefolk or not, Renne was a child and nothing he saw contradicted that. Not to mention, he had some negative thoughts on being dragged back to one''s father after running away.

    "You''re still harping on her identity?" Defi stood as heined. He lifted Turq from his shoulder and gave him to Renne. The girl hugged the slime, ring at the man who said he would return her to her father. "Even saying I''ll die? I have no stomach for death, so I must decline."

    "I have no liking for violence." Defi repeated as he smiled brightly at the man. "But for insulting my sister''s mother, you will beg forgiveness."

    The moment he was properly standing, the man attacked, a straight lunge. He knew from just the way the man was standing, the person before him only saw the sword as an essory of his station. Defi used to think like that as well, but at least he was never as pathetically untutored as this.

    Defi slid past the sword, batting the weak attack aside, and brought his fist up into the man''s gut. The lunging of his opponent met the force of a Current-assisted punch. He once saw an instructor end the arrogance of a ssmate in the same manner.

    Fretharic il Magmont dropped his sword, his face bulging with pain and disbelief, his arms instinctively cradling his vulnerable gut.

    Defi pulled him up by the cor of his expensive waistcoat, turning him to face Renne. "Apologize to her, for your disrespect of her mother."

    The man spat, eyes hateful. "You still im she is your sister? Then why would my men see her in this town''s orphanage?"

    "Orphanage?" Defi casually rolled his shoulders. "Ah, the house of noisy children. Admittedly, I do regret renting rooms in the vicinity of that racket. Is it not natural for a child to seek out ymates of the same age?"

    "You lie--!"

    Defi hit him in the nose. The man sprawled on the floor. "Once more, take back your words. Know this, you attacked an unarmed opponent and, by doing so, excused yourself from noble conduct before a score of witnesses. Do you understand me, Fretharic il Magmont, servant of a fool?"

    The man showed a sh of unease. "Pitifulmoners," he still said. "What should I care for their testimony?"

    Defi bent, as if to pick the prone man up again, and with his face hidden, smiled in triumph as he met the other''s eyes. The man jerked back in fear. "Apologize."

    "Y-yes"

    Defi hauled the man up. Two people approached to help, dark looks on their faces. He waved them away gently. Their res turned to him. He smiled apologetically at them. For this to work, the townspeople must not touch the man.

    He pushed the man toward the table where the soup was now cool, where Renne watched with a pale face.

    The man bowed to Renne and forced a sentence out. "My words were poorly expressed."

    Renne nced at Defi, reluctant, and nkly returned, "May the Weaver guide your path."

    The man straightened from his bow, brows furrowed and lips curled.

    Defi jerked him about before he could say anything. "Should you choose to resume this dispute, look for Zoros of Agamarl."

    He pulled back a fist.

    This time the man dropped and stayed still, unconscious.

    Defi all but sighed as Rocso neared. He nudged the unconscious body with a toe. "Do you mind if I leave this here?"

    Rocso smiled grimly. "It''s fine. The inns near the road say the men he came with are still in their rooms, so you should go and see to the little one. This one will know the hospitality of ''pitifulmoners'', eh?"

    There were dark mutterings from the nearby tables, as some of the customers returned to their seats.

    "I do need him to report back," said Defi apologetically.

    It was a thin scheme, his n, but the man was an idiot. He would believe that Defi was from somewhere else. As for Agamarl, Defi was still only starting to study local geography and cartography just yet. Agamarl was just the nearest city on the River Indar, bar Ecthys. It was the first ce that came to mind.

    "Don''t worry. He''ll live."

    Defi left it at that. "Sorry about themotion."

    Rocso smiled widely,ughed. He turned to the room, and asked loudly. "Whatmotion? Did I miss a fight?"

    "Bad luck, old man," yelled one of the people in the bar. "Not only was there no fight, there''s some pansy from the city conked out without paying the tab!"

    There wasughter around the room.

    Rocso pped Defi on the back. "That''s not what this one said!"

    "Who cares what some city nobody and his sister said! F*cking Agamarl, all barking and no teeth!"

    "We''re still prettier than you!" Renne yelled back, despite her face still being pale from the confrontation.

    Defi raised a brow. Was she from Agamarl?

    Laughter sounded at her sally.

    "F*cking Agamarl," was the return retort. "Full of pretty pansy boys!"

    Defi''s brow twitched. Did someone just call him a pillow boy? The people in the range of his smile leaned away in rm.

    Rocso snorted in amusement. "The ce is used to this. No fight happened here. Come by again, I still owe you three dishes."

    Defi made a note to have someone else with him when he ate at the tavern next.

    He waved Renne to his side, exiting through the kitchen. "That, by the way," he pointed at the unconscious body. "is why if you ever pick up a sword, you must learn to the level where the disadvantages of wielding a sword inbat are minimized."

    She looked at him doubtfully. "Isn''t the sword the best weapon?"

    "If you want the greatest return for battlefield training, you''re better off with a polearm. A sword is too light, its reach too short. Its wielder must train harder than others, more precisely than others. If you cannot, pick up a halberd or a bow instead."

    She frowned. "Is the random weapon advice why Mureil and the others can''t stop talking about you?"

    Defi huffed augh.

    Adan was still in the yard, and though he looked curiously at the girl, did not ask questions.

    It was still raining heavily, but they could not stay. Adan let them borrow waterproof capes, and a hat for Renne. Turq returned to its perch on Defi''s shoulders.

    Defi sighed as the gate closed behind them. That went better than he expected. He knew at the start of the fight that he needed the tavern customers'' support. He didn''t expect Rocso to back him up that way. There were holes in the narrative, but...he resolved to choose the best slime he could for the old man.

    Now, he and the three children should remain out of sight for some time, and they still had a fair chance of convincing Fretharic il Magmont''spatriots that their prey was further south and not in the Lowpool.

    Defi put his hands on the crossbar of the pullcart and started to move.

    There was a scuffle of feet behind him. A smaller figure came to stand beside him, just fitting between the struts of the pushcart, and smaller hands ced themselves on the same crossbar.

    "Why would you help?"

    "Hm?"

    "You don''t like me. Me or my brothers. Why would you help?"

    Oh, Defi''s self-control was getting slovenly if a child could get that much off him. He could only be silent in his surprise. Her posture drooped when he didn''t answer.

    "It is not you that I dislike," he said atst. "Or your brothers. I grew up in a ce where werefolk were notwell-liked."

    "Oh." The sound was soft, despondent.

    "Do not think much of it. They were only stories after all. I''ll get over it, probably."

    "But not now, huh"

    The child was perceptive. But she was not wrong. How did he slough off the teachings of a religion that had always been with him since birth? When the Creator''s Gift was curling warmly within him, a pir of his existence, proof undisputed of the Holy Teachings?

    Impossible.

    But then...the eyes of mortals were not the eyes of gods.

    "Renne, give me your hand." Defi stretched out his own, palm up.

    She looked at it in suspicion, but slowly reached to touch her fingers to his palm.

    He immersed himself in the Current.

    The Teachings said the Creator was ever averse to the demonborn. But Defi sent the Current swirling in the direction of the girl.

    He felt her gasp and the vitality that wasmon to every living thing in Ascharon jumped as if to defend. Still, there was no darkness or evil, no immediate sense of enmity, not even a hint of the epic opposition he expected from an enemy of the Creator.

    The Current swirled around the girl like it moved about every living being under the Creator''s gaze.

    Defi took back his hand, breaking the connection.

    "What was that?!" Renne looked diforted.

    "Proof."

    "Of what!"

    "That werefolk are not the abominations spoken of in the stories."

    Renne stared at him, silent. Then put her hand back on the crossbar and helped him push.

    They walked in thete afternoon rain, simply two children whose wandering paths crossed momentarily in the infinite roads woven by fate.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    ''May the Weaver guide your path.''  a benediction, for children mostly. The Weaver stands for crafts, so it is said to people who have not yet found their life''s work, or to those who need a reminder to get on the right path, or those looking for a new direction in life.

    Basically, when Renne, a child, said it to Fretharic, who is both older and already certain of his destiny, he saw it as an insult. But he had to take it because of customary rituals of politeness.

 Chapter 35: The Day Ends

    Chapter 35: The Day Ends

    "What are you two doing walking in the rain?" Reon ushered them into the oven-dominated workspace of the bakery. Renne looked around curiously.

    Defi heaved a basket of zaziphos inside. "We''re in a hurry," he said ndly. "There was a scuffle at Adan''s and we''re not involved. It never happened, in fact, and we don''t exist."

    Reon gave him a look as nd as his exnation. He grabbed the basket from Defi. "My former philosophy teacher would like you. I do not suppose that there is a name that does not exist involved?"

    Defi looked surprised, pleased, at the other''s understanding. "Zoros of Agamarl."

    "Don''t underestimate the amount of borate dramatics involved in keeping the university ignorant of a student''s activities," Reon said, seeing the surprise. "I paid the tuition by gambling, and that method was tame inparison to others."

    Ascharon''s universities were something Defi equated to the Philosopher''s Court in Ontrea  a collection of masters passing on their knowledge and abilities. For those who wished to pursue schrship more thanbat, it was an option presented to those who passed the Sacred Trials.

    Advanced education was offered to only the brightest minds, so Defi surmised Reon was no ordinary baker either.

    Was there even an ordinary person in the Lowpool?

    An exmation of delight shook him out of his thoughts. Reon was smiling at Renne, who had some sort of pastry in her hands. A sweet scent of nuts tickled Defi''s senses.

    Reon stuffed a pastry into his hand too. He could not do more than bite into it. It was hot; only just out of the oven, in time for theborers to trickle by as their shifts finished with the sunset.

    The taste of nuts ground into paste and mixed with spice and sugar, then folded into ky bread filled him with homesickness. It was nearly simr to bvec, but not enough to quell the sudden craving. He finished it quickly.

    The Ontreans who lived in this other world, did they feel this mncholy too? Those who ran away from all they ever knew, did they ever feel so ill-fitting to this world?

    Defi felt something being ced into his hand. He looked down to see Renne frowning at him, pushing another pastry into his hand.

    His control was truly getting slovenly.

    He bit into the second pastry. The taste of sweet hot fruit spread into his mouth, chased away the taste of nuts. "Thank you. What is this fruit?"

    "Apples, with sweetleaf and cinnamon." Reon carried a basket of zaziphos past him. The werefolk girl quickly helped him empty the baskets into the barrels set aside for fruit.

    "They''re excellent."

    Reon beamed, and once the delivery was done, when he could not convince them to wait out the rain, pressed small bags of pastry into their hands.

    Defi recognized the waterproof emblem on the paper bags.

    "Get into the cart and use the baskets to hide. We''re rounding the shopping street before going to the orphanage. Can''t associate Zoros and his sister with me, the average dock porter."

    He he''d taken the alleys between the tavern and the bakery, and had met no people. This time, they were getting on a main street.

    Renne followed without question, stacking the baskets around her. Defi used the ropes to tie baskets together in a canopy above the sitting girl. He gave Turq to her temporary care.

    He should choose a blue-green slime for Rocso, he thought idly.

    He rounded the cart, frowning critically. The pile of haphazardly leaning baskets looked innocuous from the outside. They just looked a bit too empty, but that would be fixed shortly.

    Defi nodded in satisfaction.

    The bakery was in fact part of the three official shopping streets the town had. The grain shops he wanted to visit were on the next street over.

    Rice, or cloudgrain as Ascharon called it, was rtively inexpensive despite being imported; only three rond for a kilogar of the least quality variety, the top quality variety in the grain shop being twelve rond per kilogar.

    Of the rest of the grains, the least wheat averaged at seven rond per kilogar, millet and barley at two rond, maranthus seed at ten rond.

    "I would rmend the dawn variety of cloudgrain," said the proprietor. "For excellentpromise between fragrance, texture, and price. Only five rond per kilogar."

    The dawn variety was what Defi knew as brown rice, or golden rice, depending on how deep the color was.

    "I''ll take a small sack of each." The smallest grain-sack contained fifteen kilogar. Defi only wanted a sample of this world''s rice.

    "Each of the five types, of course, young sir. Five ud, fifty-five rond. The pullcart outside?"

    "I''ll deal with the loading, thank you." He paid and hefted two sacks into his arms.

    He''d grown stronger thesest few months. Sparse use of the Current on his bodypared to before the Gate made his muscles be a little more evident. Ontrean warriors prided themselves on their deceptively slight bodies, sleek and lean despite being powerful. The constant use of the Current to assist most strength-rted tasks enabled Ontrean youth to keep the favored physique until old age.

    "Pleasee again."

    Defi ced the sacks into the empty baskets surrounding Renne. The pile of baskets looked more natural now. "We''re heading to the orphanage," he murmured as he pretended to retie a rope. "Be quiet."

    His body tensed slightly as they neared the building.

    The man Fretharic said he had people watching the orphanage. Defi''s eyes sharpened under the circr hat. There were few people on the streets, but none that lingered enough to catch the eye.

    He entered therge yard of the orphanage.

    It used to be an inn belonging to Aire''s family. But after the marquisate was destroyed, the travellers that came to the Lowpool for sport fishing declined and the inns in town went out of business. When Aire and Lergen married, it was given as Aire''s dowry. Determining that they could not have children, the couple turned it into an orphanage.

    He knocked on the door to the kitchen entrance.

    The housekeeper, called Gran Lari by everyone because of the prematurely grey hair, blinked at him and the seeminglyden cart in surprise. "Defi? Was there a delivery today?"

    "No, Gran, but I need Renne''s brothers toe with me." He didn''t think he''d be having guests at the house this soon. But the Garge homestead was far enough away from the town that anyoneing up the river or searching along the banks would be noticed immediately by the locals.

    A realization crossed her features. "That issue? They''re still getting ready. One moment."

    She moved away.

    "What issue?" They were getting ready for what? Defi tensed. Were they toote? The only reason for that would beFretharic il Magmont had an aplice in the tavern.

    But then, wouldn''t there have been more men sent to the orphanage? In addition, Gran Lari''s anxiety was less than if the house had been invaded. She was still recovering after finding out that on her trip to the city, the town had been attacked.

    He followed Gran Lari into the house, alert.

    Aire ttered down the steps, two of the older boys following her with armfuls of nkets. "Defi! You have Renne with you?"

    "Yes," he answered, bewildered. "How did you know?"

    "Rocso sent word. We''re nearly ready."

    He watched as she stuffed the nkets into arge sack.

    "Rocso was a friend to her father," Gran Lari exined. "They spent part of their military service together. Rocso stayed in the imperial army longer, but Gil only went for the three years."

    The towns and viges of the empire were required to support a certain number of soldiers for three years every decade, depending on poption. There were two thousand people in the Lowpool, which meant the town needed to equip and feed a hundred soldiers for the required years.

    This massive cost, without the support from the marquisate, had caused the Lowpool to slowly decline, kept afloat by itsrge fishing fleet and its reputation for producing the mystic sable crab.

    Defi''s lessons in local history had naturally started with the Lowpool.

    "Done!" Aire beamed at Gran Lari, who had helped force thest of the bedding into the bulging sacks. Aire looked expectantly at Defi. "Aren''t we going?"

    "We?"

    Aireughed. "We saw your house, Defi. Have you started furnishing it yet?"

    Defi had not. But there were beds. "They''d only be staying a fortnight."

    Gran Lari patted him on the shoulder, looking at him in pity. "You''ve never taken care of children, have you."

    Despite having fifteen siblings, no. Defi had been raised as an only child.

    "You''ll need at least this."

    Defi looked at therge pile of sacks and wooden crates in the room. "I''llbow to your expertise? You are always wee at the house, of course."

    Aire sent him her patented bright smile and ushered the two young boys, who had been standing to the side looking a little stunned, toward the kitchen.

    Defi shook his head, lifted a crate to his shoulder. After Gran Lari helped him settle itfortably, he grabbed two of the sacks in his free hand and followed.

    Aire was already arranging the baskets again, had moved the pullcart closer to the door to ount forsightlines from above?

    Defi hadn''t even thought of that.

    The open upper levels of many houses in the Lowpool, covered by a nted roof held up by pirs, were the perfect ces to spy on the streets below. At least, if a person could ess the upper floors of the buildings.

    The same security concern was the reason the numerous balconies of Ontrean architecture were closed with mesh or brick walls with patterned openings and the ledges of the rising stone domes were added to guard patrols.

    And he, who once had cause to carefully consider such security concerns, had not thought of it.

    He really was rxing too much wasn''t he?

    He moved toward the pullcart, and Aire used the baggage he held to shield the remaining possible sightlines. Soon enough, the two boys were stuffed into the cramped space with Renne. The crates and sacks added to the pile, making the one-man pullcart lookicallyden.

    Aire donned a simr hat and cloak ensemble as Defi and led the way to the docks.

    At least the bedding weighed less than whatever was in those crates, or Defi would be huffing and puffing in exhaustion before they reached thekeside.

    Natan looked silently the absurd pile of baskets and sacks on the pullcart, after Aire flitted off to hire a second scow. Hemented mildly. "It can''t take that much."

    "Half of it is cloth," defended Defi. The pullcart belonged to the docks after all; if it was damaged, he''d have to pay for it.

    Natan''s eyes flickered.

    Defi didn''t tense. He turned toward theke casually. "Followed?"

    Natan hummed nomittally. But he caught the eyes of another dockworker and made a brief sign. The dockworkerughed and slung an arm around the shoulders of a friend, gesturing wide as if boasting. They promptly swaggered off, likely to drunkenly challenge whoever was making suspicious movements in their territory.

    "You do this much work, even in the rain?"

    "Norge waves on ake," Natan shrugged. "Deep, though."

    "I heard there was a training school for prospective soldiers in town. You teach there?"

    Natan''s lips nted, half grimace. "Too much trouble, and too many people."

    Defi nodded. It was better to keep a master''s ss small, to focus properly on each student''s growth.

    "Why not the orphanage then?" Most of the orphans who wanted a chance to get out of town joined the imperial army. It was a respected upation, and if they became officers, their lives would be assured.

    Natan considered.

    "The children there ask very good questions," Defi said with a wry smile. The questions he could not answer because ofck of experience, he was sure Natan would understand and know.

    Defi knew the theories, of course. But this world''s children had not been raised to revere the Creator or trust the Current. He could not equate teachings in the other world to teachings here.

    Aire joined them, slightly disgruntled. "I have a boat. Why does that old woman not trust me with her scows? Destroy a pier one time and be associated all your life with" She waved an arm around, speechless.

    Natan chuckled. "I heard that story. I wouldn''t trust you with a boat either."

    "What are you two doing anyway, we should go." She red at Natan.

    "Waiting," Defi answered.

    "Mm," Natan agreed.

    Aire looked nkly at them. When they said nothing else, she turned toward theke, grey and dark under rainclouds. She put a hand to her chin.

    "Hmmmmn," she said, mocking them with a faux thoughtful manner. "In the meantime, cramped and ufortable under a heavy load"

    A shout sounded behind them. They turned to look.

    "Whatya call me?!" A dockworker cursed. "Y''think I''ll let ya get away w''that!"

    "I''ll let you get to it." Natan walked toward the confrontation.

    "Defi, quickly." Jerac was already pushing the cart toward the pier Defi normally used.

    "We were followed?" Aire swanned casually after the cart.

    "Just a precaution." Defi thought it was likely it was that man''spatriots though.

    The cart''s contents were transferred quickly. Jerac didn''t even blink at having to hide three children in two scows. Defi slipped him several uds in appreciation.

    The dockworker pocketed the coins, winked at them, and sauntered away with the empty pullcart.

    Soon enough, two scows were moving upriver.

    Despite theint earlier, Aire''s movements were smooth and practiced. She probably knew the currents better than he did. The children in town grew up ying in theke and river after all.

    Defi let the Current support his tired body as he pushed the pole into the water. He kept an eye on the docks until they were lost to sight.

    Nearly an hourter, with the grey of the western sky tinged a red that said the sun had already set, they docked. The rain had abated to a drizzle.

    "What is this ce?" Renne had been in damp clothes for over an hour, and her shivering was concerning. She was squeezing Turq in arms pulled tight against her body.

    "Garge homestead." Defi handed over sacks and baskets to Aire, who stacked them neatly on the pier. "I live here."

    "You were sick when the others came to drag him to town," added Aire, with an amused smile.

    Defi groaned feelingly at that, and said nothing.

    Renne looked curious. She looked at the other two, who also looked like they wanted to ask more. Aire winked at them. Defi covertly red at her, but she only grinned back.

    The scows emptied, Defi pulled the secondary key from his belt and handed it to Aire. It would allow entry to specific people when the owner was not present.

    "I need to return Sarel''s scow. Renne, give the smaller bag of bread I got at the bakery to the workers. They leave about this time, I think."

    "Did you buy food?" Aire asked as he pushed away the scow.

    He pointed at the sacks of rice. "Don''t put the slimes in different baskets."

    The children wouldn''t be able to resist touching them.

    *

    Sarel was still sitting on the pier when he got to her ce, herrge parasol open, and a dimmp at her side. In the river, an underwatermp swayed with the current.

    "Good catch?"

    "Interesting. Some fish from the great river are getting washed down the Treachery."

    He smiled gratefully as he saw baskets of zaziphos already on the dock. He quickly carried the empty baskets to the shed andid them out to dry.

    "Ah, Adan says he wants two baskets of the sourest zaziphos with the next delivery."

    Sarel turned to look at him.

    He shrugged. "He''s making a new ale. The tavern''s order might increase if he seeds. They just came out with a new one called the Red Lady. You can smell the fruit. Also, do you mind if I bring three children here tomorrow?"

    "Babysitting?"

    "Got caught up in something. They need to stay out of sight of the town for a while."

    "You as well?"

    "If I leave Turq when I go to town, half the people who see me won''t recognize me."

    Sarel huffed. Whether in amusement or derision, it was too dark to make certain.

    Defi heaved thest basket aboard his own scow. Sarel didn''t say no, which meant she was curious enough to agree to at least a day with the children in the orchard.

    "I''ll bring food tomorrow," he said in parting. He wouldn''t bringpany without the means to feed them.

    Sarel stood. "Take themp. You haven''te thiste before."

    He secured themp she held out to the bow of the scow. "Thank you. I''ll bring it back."

    "Hm."

    Smiling, Defi sped once more down the river. This stretch of the Treachery, at least, he could navigate in low light. Themp didn''tpare, but it allowed him to steer confidently.

    The Garge homestead house was noisier than he was used to when he entered.

    Aire looked at him, faceplicated. "You really did nothing to the house at all. Everything''s still bare."

    "I''m waiting for the right sculpture toe around and be the centrepiece theme."

    "Sculpture?" Aire''s face settled on resignation. "Why a sculpture?"

    "In a house with this many alcoves, it is only right to have sculptures." He put down the baskets of zaziphos.

    Aire gave him a look, aware he was answering half-heartedly.

    "I had high hopes for you." She looked at the baskets of damaged zaziphos. "Are you feeding that fruit to the slimes? You treat your pets better than yourself."

    "I do have food," he protested. The dried seafood he had was delicious. And now he had rice, which was suitable for any meal.

    "I thought to go back to town tonight, but this is really..." Aire gave a sigh that was, Defi thought, entirely unwarranted.

    "You are wee to you stay the night." He wasn''t going to send her off down a rain-swollen river in the dark. "I insist."

    She nodded, likely knowing the dangers of the water more than he did.

    "Do you mind if I use your kitchen? The children don''t have much of an appetite. I thought to make cloudgrain tea, since you bought the raincloud variety. Fitting for the season, don''t you think?"

    "Tea and bread sounds better right now than what I was nning to cook."

    With Aire in charge of the kitchen for tonight, he returned to the pier, themp tied to his belt, to get the rest of the baskets of zaziphos.

    The cloudgrain tea was made by roasting the rice, bringing out the nutty vor of the ''raincloud'' variety of the grain and a smoky distinct fragrance. Steeped in water, the roast grains colored the tea a golden brown.

    A in tea that Defi had never thought could be made with rice. It paired excellently with the fruit and nut stuffed buns from the bakery.

    Tomorrow, he wanted to make samad.

    When he went to bed that night, the bedding seemed much softer than before, pulling him faster into sleep. It was probably the fatigue of the day catching up to him.

    Summoning too many slimes was something to be avoided in the future, he decided sleepily.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    samad - a drink with a base of ground rice or ground nutsedge, water, and sugar. It is milky white in color, and can be served hot or cold, though it''s best ice cold. Additions of nuts, spices, or other ingredients can be made.

 Chapter 36: The Mad Inkseller

    Chapter 36: The Mad Inkseller

    Defi eyed the eight slimes and eight baskets arrayed on the floor of the room beside the kitchen.

    It was supposed to be a dining area, but he thought the table there was an eyesore. He''d relegated it and the matching chairs to the store-room.

    It wasrge enough for the baskets of zaziphos and barrels of slime feed for the eleven production slimes arrayed across the room.

    He woke up several hours before dawn, as usual, and did the morning healing session of thend under the sansu orchard. He''d already milked Jar, Lar, and Mal.

    The quartel barrels were almost full of their extract.

    He needed more barrels. He would buy them himself, but the quartels Sarel had been providing him had a different emblem than ordinary barrels.

    The average barrel had glyphs for durability and a minor preservation of the contents etched on the lids and running horizontally around the barrel circumference. He''d alreadyprehended the design.

    The one-year cask had its emblem hidden within theyers of wood, but from what he could see, it spread across the whole of the inneryer. It was thergest emblem he''d seen yet.

    The paper emblems people in town kept throwing around for minor considerations were generally less than a hand-span in size.

    The barrels from the Bluzandpany were a little moreplicated. The emblem stretched from the lid and ran in three vertical bands down the side toe together at the bottom.

    It had taken him over a month of study to understand the glyphs. The books Orain provided were heavy on theory, and only provided the mostmon emblem designs. But he was confident he could recreate the emblem on the Bluzand barrels. The glyphs used were basic, even if the configuration was not so simple.

    Defi had learned a lot from the design of that emblem.

    A visit to the woodshop was in order. And an actual glyphmaker''s kit and inks rather than just the pens and ordinary writing ink he''d been using to practice would not be amiss as well.

    "What are you doing?" Aire yawned behind a hand.

    "Running out of barrels. Where can I buy glyphmaker''s inks?" He settled Turq in its own basket, containing only zaziphos.

    "You can buy glyphmaker''s tools from Jast''s, near the guard tower," Aire answered, still slightly sleepy. "His selection of pre-made inks is only until No.4, however. And if you need rare ingredients, you''re out of luck."

    Glyphmaker''s inks were infused with ground mystic ingredients and essences, and were powerful. Pre-made inks were sold in a range of power requirements/outputs, the least of them being No.1 ink, best for emblems of short duration, a day at most.

    The minor preservation tags that Reon and Dyene stuck to their paper bags to keep bread fresh and warm were an example of short duration emblems.

    Defi set out freshly brewed cloudgrain tea, a loaf he''d been storing in the carved breadbox, jam and dried whisker-snake. "Are the three waking up as well?"

    "We don''t usually wake them until seven. Children need their sleep."

    "Then it''s fine to leave them alone in the house for a few hours?"

    "They''re not misbehaving pets, Defi." Aire looked like she wanted tough. "Renne and Markar are fairly responsible, you know. And little Breget is very sweet."

    "Breget?"

    "Bree''s full name. Quite distinguished, very historical."

    Defi sipped his tea, watched Aire spread jam on her slice of bread. "The people after them seem numerous."

    "I''ll be talking to thedy mayorter. She probably knows who they are." Then Aire''s slips nted wryly. "I''m not certain she''ll tell however. Mayor Sorza prefers to take on the consequences herself, especially if the town is involved."

    "Not the usual politician."

    Aire tilted her head. "You''re difficult to read, gosh."

    "She''s interesting."

    "nd. Too nd. I grew up with her as mayor, you know. To my generation, the Lowpool means fish, the waters, and Mayor Sorza."

    "I''ve no concrete opinion for now. We''ve only met once." The talk he heard on the mayor was mixed.

    "From the boy who only listens to Sarel, I''ll believe that."

    "That''s not true." Was it? Defi frowned. "I listen to you and others too."

    Aire smiled. "The you of two months ago were a block of stone, Defi."

    "Am I now then a block of cheese?"

    Her smile widened. "Not sure. You''d never have joked like this though. Perhaps a block of wood."

    "Do you mean to say that all options still make me a blockhead?"

    "Not saying," she teased.

    "Are you not ten years older than I am?"

    They bickered all the way to the dawn market. Defi left empty barrels that used to be filled with crab shells and carp bones with Grenia and Marte, before heading to buy what Aire said were necessities.

    Milk, vital water, liver, beans, shellfish, eggs, cheese, a variety of greens, and more smoked fish  all of which she imed were essential for a growing child.

    That was before her lecture on baths and proper hygiene and the children''s education. Defi managed to slip away in the middle of a rant on thecking durability of type of cloth that shops rmend as best for rowdy children, and acquire a supply of unmarked barrels from Emer at the woodshop.

    Aire showed him all the best parts of therge market and shopping area for food and clothes however, as well as any other product that came to her mind.

    He even found a few baskets of starcherry, thanks to her. The fruit was a deep red, six nges growing from a central core that made the cross-section of the fruit look like a six-pointed star.

    Defi was grateful the grocers and shopkeepers were willing to deliver up the river to the Garge house.

    The mindboggling thing was, she managed to impart history, geographical data, product quality, best seller analysis, and so much more in the space of an hour.

    Defi''s head was stuffed with information he likely would never use, from determining the correct temperature of baby milk to the origin and length of travel of the most popr caravans entering the Lowpool.

    When they finally parted, it was in front of Jast the glyphmaker''s shop. Aire had to return to the orphanage.

    "I''ll visit in a few days," she murmured. "You better not have starved the children, or yourself."

    Defi thought of the mountain of food that was to be delivered to the Garge homestead today. "I don''t think that''s possible even if you did not visit for a month."

    *

    "Are you a glyphmaker?"

    That was the question that greeted Defi as he entered the shop.

    He looked at the young child sitting on the counter.

    "Do I have to be," he asked curiously, "to enter?"

    "If you''re not, why would you enter?"

    "I could be buying for another."

    The child pouted. "Good glyphmakers choose their things themselves."

    "And you," Defi returned, "are not a child."

    "What? Are you saying I''m a beast?" The child teared up. "I''ll tell Papa! He''ll throw you out of the shop!"

    "You''ll have to get your creator to show up first."

    The child melted away, to show a short and slightly plump man leaning against the counter, looking disgruntled. "What gave me away? People usually get hopping mad and leave before they buy anything."

    "Won''t you lose money then?"

    "I''m protecting my investment!" The man waved an arm at the shop full of jars and boxes  liquids and powders were visible, mostly. "If they get baited by the illusion, why should I sell my precious things to them? To be used in substandard work? No!"

    "You made all these? Are you Jast, then?"

    "I am," the man nodded with pride. "Glyphmaker, what supplies do you need. I can sell you up to level five in ingredients, but level four in glypher''s inks."

    A smile touched Defi''s lips, wondering if he''d be thrown out for his next question. "What would you rmend, for a beginner?"

    Jast stared. "You''re not a glyphmaker?"

    "Not yet."

    He crossed his arms. "I don''t sell to skill-less fools. You need to be able to make a level-one emblem first."

    "Will you test me then?"

    The man''s eyes narrowed. "What do you think of today''s cards?"

    "They''re a half-centimar narrower than the optimum size for the best activation synergy, likely because a narrower card is easier to handle."

    "What do you think should be done then?"

    "Cut them a half-centimar narrower still. And leave the activation synergy to personal control of internal energies."

    Jast looked nk, then he smiled. Then heughed, rather like a hyena. When hisughter abated, he coughed out, "You know, they tried that."

    Defi frowned. "That was not in the history books."

    "Because it was the Barbossa Imperial University that did it, and the consensus was that most low-level sigilcard users did not have enough control over their power to do so. Why would they publish that? There''ll be an uproar. It''s easier to let the activation glyph on the card regte the energy needed."

    "I thought each sigilcard had reserves of power, depending on how it was made." Didn''t it just need a spark? It was not difficult to activate the card without touching it.

    "Yes, but there are cards that are unstable by design. The internal energies of living things are chaotic, and people learn control of their Colors gradually. It is not unusual for even a controlled person''s Color to spike with hidden emotions."

    "Do you not teach control at a young age?" He''d started meditations when he was six.

    Jast shrugged. "The mental techniques of control require advanced understanding. How do you exin them to anyone who isn''t at least fifteen? I hear there are countries who teach mental control young, but they''re all crazy and battle mad."

    Defi had nothing to say to that. It appeared Ascharon did not have meditation the way he knew it.

    Jast chuckled at his silence. "Still really a beginner eh, even with an answer that a university professor was determined to implement. Just for reminding me of that experiment, I should throw you out. But you have some potential. Who is teaching you?"

    "I read books."

    "A self-taught glypher," Jast sighed. "Very well. It''s not like I sell advanced materials."

    He started taking out wooden boxes of various sizes, in but sturdily made.

    "A pen set, for any level of glyph-making  six pens, from fine to broad tip, instructions for care included. A kilo of No.1 ink powder, instructions for use on the lid of the box. Ten pieces of crystal salt, instructions for use included. Twenty packets of glyph paper, instructions for care included."

    Defi had the feeling Jast dealt with a lot of beginners.

    "A box of No.2 and No.3 ink powder as well, please." He didn''t know what sort of ink powder was used on the Bluzand barrels.

    Jast paused, straightened.

    "I will sell you one box of No.2." His voice was cold. He pped a slim booklet on the counter. "If you manage to make the second of the emblems detailed in this manual, I will be inclined to sell you more."

    But then he added two more boxes on top of the pile, crystal salt and glyph paper. "I have the feeling you''ll need these."

    Jast put all the boxes and the booklet into a chest, then touched the glyph on the lid. The chest shrunk to a fourth the size.

    "Is that standard?" Defi couldn''t help but ask, hiding his shock. Ascharon had truly interesting sorceries.

    "For purchases above ten solstices, yes." Jast looked at him, half-assessing, aloofly professional. "Twelve solstice in total, young sir."

    Defi could not help wonder how much of the total the resizing chest cost. He paid, took the chest under an arm, then left without furtherment. It was obvious he''d managed to offend the man by asking for higher rated ink powder as a beginner.

    Did he want to do whatever was in that booklet though?

    He was familiar with instructors setting punishment tasks. With the level of indignation the man radiated even as he remained coldly polite, Defi could only imagine the difficulty of whatever emblem the man had set him to create in rpense.

    But was this Jast so honorable as his old teachers? On the surface, the task appeared simple. He did give Defi added supplies.

    Well, it would not disadvantage him to see what the man had set as a punishment. The book had mentioned thatprehending the construction of advanced emblems would advance his skill.

    Not to mention, it would be difficult sourcing his glyphmaking supplies from the city.

    He''d just spent three fifths of his store of coin.

    This venture would be worth it.

 Chapter 37: Samad, Ascharon Style

    Chapter 37: Samad, Ascharon Style

    Defi added bread to his morning purchases again, more to assure Reon that he and Renne were fine. His scowden once more, he returned to the homestead.

    He put away the things he could then returned to the earlier conundrum, before Aire interrupted him.

    Hebelled the baskets in the dining room devoid of furniture, and then mixed in starcherry, crab shells, and carp bones with zaziphos. He didn''t put in the eight unnamed slimes yet.

    The food ratios he calcted were such:

    Jasper, 1, 2  50% starcherry, 25% zaziphos, 25% crab shells

    Mchite, 3, 4  50% starcherry, 50% zaziphos

    Larimar, 5, 6  50% zaziphos, 50% silver-blue carp bones

    7, 8  70% zaziphos, 30% savras

    If he kept the ratios, he''d need a lot of slime food every month: 1638kg zaziphos, 210kg of crabshells, 840kg of starcherry, 420kg of carp bones, 168kg of savras.

    Turq was not a production slime, but Defi fed it about 200kg of varied food a month.

    Slimes were truly big eaters.

    But it was doable.

    The added eight slimes increased his need for zaziphos by ten times less than the amount he''d been dreading. And in truth he only needed to pay for the starcherry and savras.

    He was already nning a zaziphos grove of his own, in order not to bother Sarel too much  the constant smell of fallen and rotting zaziphos around the orchard was starting to dissipate because of the slimes. Soon, the amount he picked off the ground for them would not be enough.

    The great thing was he didn''t even need to grow the trees from seed as Sarel thinned the orchard of problematic saplings every now and then. There were already young zaziphos saplings set aside for him.

    He had the ability to speed up the growth of trees using the Current  he could have full grown zaziphos ready to fruit in months rather than the two years it took normally.

    He only needed to buy freshnd.

    A small problem at the moment was the savras. He''d bought 50 kilogar of it and was now using 6 kilogar in total a day. In 8 days, he''d be out of savras; that was five days before the sellers returned. Even padding the slime''s food with zaziphos, he needed 84 kilogar of savras every fortnight.

    Expensive, but he really wanted to see a medicine slime.

    If he could make at least one effective medicine slime, then he needn''t worry about resources to feed the slimes or expand the farm. Medicine was just one of the products that appealed to everyone, constantly selling.

    Another small problem was the supply of starcherry. The seller did say they could pick more for Defi, but it seemed the amount was not certain. He needed 30 kilogar a day.

    What he was contemting when Aire interrupted earlier in the morning was: should he milk the eight wild slimes today or start when the slime diet had taken more time to integrate into their bodies?

    The substance that the slimes exuded when their bodies were irritated was affected by diet. If he milked them now, would it mean the current diet would integrate with their defense system faster? It sounded logical, as the diet would rece the old one.

    But Jar and the others had been feeding long before Defi thought of milking them. Would milking too early affect the taste or quality of the slime extract?

    It was still too early. There was too much he didn''t know.

    He decided to feed the eight wild slimes for a week before attempting to milk them.

    He nced to the side, the doorway leading to the central hall of the house. The dining room he was using as a slime eatery had two doorways, one to the kitchens, the other to the central hall, where most of the decorations to impress guests should be disyed aroundfortable chairs.

    Defi''s central receiving rooms were bare of the usual decoration, holding only shelves and some armchairs. There was a small figure in the doorway.

    "How long have you been there?"

    Markar dusted off his sleeve, fastidious movements. "Long enough to ask you whether the meaning of life is in a slime?"

    "A sage once told me that life had meaning in everything," Defi started to clean up, cing the unnamed slimes into each basket and putting the woven basket lids on. "And nothing."

    The baskets were tough, he thought idly, to withstand the all-consuming slime. Was it the pest control glyphs?

    "What does that mean?"

    "I have no idea." Defi quirked his lips at the boy. "Have you eaten?"

    The boy made an ambiguous motion.

    Markar was quieter than Renne, but they were both intense for their age in their own ways. Renne was the type to stride forward sharply, Markar the kind to hang back and assess calctedly.

    Defi nced at the window. The sun was rising, it was past the time Aire said they woke up the children. But yesterday had been tiring. Surely a bit more sleep would help.

    But this one was already awake. An initial sally, a probe of Defi''s intent.

    Defi did not mind it; the boy was only protecting his siblings after all. "Come and help me set up, then."

    He walked to the kitchen, gathered ceramic jars and tools, cing some in Markar''s arms.

    "Put them on the table outside."

    Markar looked out the kitchen, into the yard. There was indeed a table set up there, under the sun and rain. There was also a stack of stones that was hollow in the center, like a shallow rectangr well.

    The boy nced at Defi.

    Defi didn''t answer the silent question, but took out the glyphmaker''s box and cut a strip of glyph paper from therger sized sheet. The book said that for a simple emblem, a tenth of the regr-sized sheet was enough.

    He ground up some of the crystal salt and mixed it with vital water, then brushed it over the strip. He left it to dry.

    He gave a mortar and pestle to Markar and two bowls. "Grind up cloudgrain to fill therger bowl, white almonds to fill the smaller."

    Markar set to the task without question.

    Aire was right, they were sensible children.

    He ground up a small bead of ink powder slowly, carefully added vital water, watched as the brown powder swirled into a blood-red liquid. This was indicative of No.1 glypher''s ink, so it was normal. The other inks had different colors too. No.2 was red-gold, No.3 was orange, No.4 was gold, No.5 was silver, for example.

    He took up a pen and dipped the tip into the ink, letting the wool of the pen nib absorb all the liquid.

    It was rmended to use only one different type of ink with one pen or the inks would contaminate each other, so he couldn''t use his practice pen. It was difficult to clean a glyphmaker''s penpletely of the ink used.

    The strip of glyph paper waspletely dry, and was stiffer than before, with a subtle shine on the surface.

    Defi inscribed the fireburst emblem on the paper, noting that the paper surface was more slippery than he was used to. The fireburst emblem was a public design, used for signal res.

    Defi had modified it a little. It wasn''t different enough to warrant a new name; the burst of me was just more contained instead of streaming upward like the original was supposed to do.

    He stared as the lines of the ink settled into a design and sank into the paper until it looked like the paper and emblem had been enameled. He inhaled in satisfaction.

    It worked.

    His first inscribed emblem.

    He carried it outside, half in a trance of happiness.

    He put it inside the rectangr fire pit and stacked wood over it. A touch of the Current and the strip of glyph paper burst into a ball of fire, igniting the wood around it. In one minute, it would reduce the stack of wood into hot coal, which was what Defi needed.

    He could not stop the wide smile that took over his face.

    He allowed the smile to spread for a long moment, looking at the burning pile of wood inside the stone pit, beforeposing himself with some embarrassment.

    He went back into the kitchen and carefully covered the head of the pen, efficiently packing the glypher''s kit. He noticed Markar ncing at the kit in longing.

    There was no way he was going to let children touch the box of glyphmaker''s tools. But then Aire''s tirade on education earlier in the morning returned to the forefront of his mind.

    "You''re wee to read the books in the hall," Defi said, before leaving to secure the glypher''s toolbox in his room.

    He already learned, at the beginning of his stay in the learning halls, not to keep bookshelves in his room or he would stay up reading until near dawn. Most of his early years in the Church halls were spent with dark bags beneath his eyes. There were just so many books.

    So he ced the books he bought from the library in the central hall of the house, with all the armchairs. The house didn''t have a study room or a library in any case, and the other rooms were too small to fit a more than a small number of bookshelves and stuffed chairs.

    Defi''s bedroom only held a writing desk.

    There were no suites of rooms in this farmhouse. Why would there be? The family that built it was pragmatic  apart from the master bedroom which was now the store-room for linens plus the decorations and furniture that Defi disliked, the four bedrooms were onlyrge enough for two beds and other essential furniture.

    Defi removed the other bed in his room, and gained the space for the desk.

    As for the central hall, did he really need a receiving room? He was not nning to be that social.

    He put out milk and vital water on the outside table of the kitchen courtyard, along with a bit of sweetleaf extract. In arge three-footed tureen, generally meant for serving soup, he mixed all the liquids. The traditional samad recipe didn''t call for milk, but Aire told him to let the children drink milk everyday.

    The addition wouldn''t hurt the recipe.

    "I''m done with the cloudgrain."

    Defi nodded and motioned the boy to bring the bowl to him. He stirred the ground grain with a spoon, but there were no irregr particles in the powder. "Good work."

    "I''m doing the almonds next." Markar turned to re-enter the kitchen, but Defi caught the sh of a red cheek. The rounded ears on the child''s head bent low.

    How adorable.

    His eye twitched. He remembered being told he blushed so easily when he was younger. Was this why Maryiz and Casmiref had, in those early years, teased him relentlessly until he learned to stoically take their bothering?

    Those teachers, he''d be their entertainment so young?

    He poured the rice powder into the tureen and stirred vigorously, venting. The liquid turned slightly pearlescent with the addition of the ground rice powder. Hedled up some of the concoction and took a sip.

    Ah, delicious.

    The nostalgic taste, with added creaminess from the milk, washed away his slight resentment. It was not too sweet, and the familiar warm prickle of vital water added another dimension to the experience.

    Samad, he thought, Ascharon style.

    Defi downed the wholedle.

    He nced at the firepit, noted that the wood had nearly all burned down, and went to get the metal mesh he had a cksmith make.

    Fire-proof, assured the man when he bought it.

    Well, it had yet to rust, and the soot scrubbed off it neatly to show the shiny metal, so he could believe it.

    The mesh covered only part of the firepit opening. He added more wood, and ced two metal rods on the grooves at the other side of the pit. Momentster, spices, cloves, and fat were sizzling in the pan he ced over the rods.

    He brought out the vegetables and chopped them into small pieces while he waited for the fat to infuse the spices.

    When he was done, the air was redolent with the scent of smoke and spices.

    He inhaled with a smile, then added the vegetables to the pan and mixed deftly.

    He checked the warmth of the mesh, then opened a packet of smoked bass. He sliced the bass into smaller pieces and ced them onto the mesh.

    The smoke lingering about the kitchen courtyard became even more fragrant.

    He reached for the pot of steamed rice he''d cooked early in the morning. He''d thought to offer it to Aire, but one look told him she preferred a lighter breakfast.

    He was scooping the softened grains into the pan when a voice spoke.

    "You have a meless stove, you know."

    He nced at the kitchen doorway to see Renne. Seven year old Bree yawned behind her, the feather crest on the top of his head upright, glinting in the morning light.

    Defi paused.

    Renne quickly determined his line of sight. She casually stepped in front of her brother, hiding the feathers.

    "Would I be able to smell this delicious smoke, if I used the meless stove?" Defi asked lightly, to hide his awkward embarrassment.

    Even with the Current''s confirmation that werefolk were not the abominations in the legends, it was still something to see animal traits actually on people.

    "You can do that with a cigar."

    Defi grimaced. "No thank you."

    He''d never liked the scent of tobo, or the burning herbs that philosophers sometimes smoked during gatherings.

    "What are you making?" Bree climbed up to stand on the bench, to better see the pan. Renne came over to grab his shirt, steadying him. The feather crest had gone down, now less conspicuous as a line of long feathers that started from the top of his forehead, swept sleekly up the top of his head, and fell to his nape.

    "Fried rice, ah, fried cloudgrain." He mixed the rice with the spices carefully. Samti had taught him how to reheat rice like this.

    "Is it delicious?"

    "Yes."

    Renne looked doubtful.

    He left the rice to warm, and flipped the smoked bass.

    "Sit down," he told Bree. "It''s almost done. Renne, cups and tes."

    The girl nodded, made sure her brother wasn''t going to fall over, and went inside.

    Defi cracked several eggs over the rice, and deftly wielded the wooden spoon. The rice dish was tinged gold in moments. He removed the pan from the fire, ced it on the side of the table furthest from Bree. He sprinkled thin slices of starcherry over the rice.

    "It smells good."

    "Of course," he smiled at the young boy. "It''s a recipe that has endured for six thousand years."

    "What are you telling my brother?" Renne arranged four ces on the table.

    "It''s a simple dish, easy to modify, so of course it has been passed down the generations."

    He''d steamed the rice on the meless stove, in fact.

    The stove was a recent purchase. For the first few weeks, he made do with the firepit until Sarel came by and forced him to buy the stove, saying a pit was a waste of firewood when it was so close to winter.

    It was still summer then and the house had temperature regtion emblems, so Defi assumed it was an Ascharonian thing  a house without a stove or three was heretical, or something simr.

    Defi had been raised to the hunt, and was in fact used to cooking meat and foraged food over a campfire, so it hadn''t mattered that much. A good Ontrean hunter knew how to make use of thend''s bounty, after all.

    "It''s a Cloud continent recipe?" asked Markar, who was carefully holding a bowl full of ground almond.

    Defi realized that rice in Ascharon had been an import for only several hundred years. "I don''t know about that. Maybe?"

    A continent whose main grain was rice would probably have a dish like this, wouldn''t it? He took the grilled smoked bass off the mesh, arranged them on a te.

    "Where''d your six thousand years go?"

    Defiughed softly. "The next world, I suppose."

    "It died just like that?" Renne looked dissatisfied.

    Did she like stories?

    Defi took the almonds from Markar and added them to the samad, then poured each of them a cup.

    Renne gulped down her first cup, and her eyes lit up. "This is good."

    Defi''s lips lifted. "It''s called samad. It''s said the first version was made to reward the saints that crossed over to the realm of the gods. Of course, this one does not have any divine ingredients."

    Bree made an interested sound and looked half in awe at his drink. "Divine," he murmured to himself.

    Markar took a small sip, then a longer one. He smiled faintly.

    Defi sat down, sipped his own. The almonds made the drink all the more nostalgic.

    He gestured for them to start serving themselves.

    It was not strictly in line with Ascharon propriety, but Ontrean hosts served themselvesst.

    "It really is smoky," Renne muttered. She took another spoonful of fish and rice.

    Defi smiled.

    The first morning meal with the children was a sess.

    It wouldn''t do if they told Aire he wasn''t feeding them properly.

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting for the book on .

 Chapter 38: A Walk in the Countryside, With Children

    Chapter 38: A Walk in the Countryside, With Children

    After cleaning up the morning meal, Defi''s usual routine was to read until it was time to go to Sarel''s orchard. But the increase in his need for slime food made him pay more attention to the farm.

    He wanted to see for himself what the western boundary was like. It would be bad if he boughtnd he couldn''t use. The glyphmakers'' tools had cost more than he initially thought.

    "I''m going for a walk," he informed the three. Turq was lounging on his head as usual.

    "Can wee?"

    "Certainly." The western boundary wasn''t too far away. He only had three hecte ofnd after all. He could stand on a small hill and see that all of it won''t even reach the horizon.

    "Are those flowers? In the rainfall month?" Markar muttered to himself.

    "Sansu trees. They were withered, so they''re likely taking advantage of the abundant rain." He led them away from the trees, past the skeleton of the warehouse and the debris surrounding it. The workers had removed all but the bones of it.

    Had it rotted so badly?

    He poked around the warehouse skeleton for a while, and found stacks of termite-infested wood in one corner. Termites. Ontrea had them in great quantities, the drynd seeming spawning them instead of nts. It was one reason people chose to build in stone.

    There was a pest-control emblem on the house. He wondered why the warehouse had not been simrly equipped. Possibly the emblem had deteriorated and the previous owners hadn''t known.

    "Are you building a house?" Bree looked like he wanted to climb the warehouse frame.

    Defi continued on quickly, not wanting to tempt the seven-year old more. "Yes. I''m building a house for my slimes."

    "So big?"

    "There''s going to be more."

    "You like slimes that much?" Renne asked.

    "Hm. They have hidden qualities." He patted Turq''s side fondly.

    The path he was taking wound by a pine grove where he assumed the house got its firewood  cones and needles and branches.

    He stopped. He still hadn''t checked if there were pine nuts. "Did you know some pine trees have edible nuts?"

    "Are we looking for some?" Markar asked with some interest.

    "Just one pinecone each. It mustn''t be too old, and the scales, the petals of the cone, shouldn''t be spread all the way." He made his way into the grove, toeing the needle-strewn earth. The children scattered.

    Defi picked up a pinecone. It wasrger than his fist, the scales spread out beautifully, almost artfully. Veneered, he could scatter it around the house with a few others as a rustic decoration. Come to think of it, a few pinecones thisrge would look good in an Ontrean water garden.

    He put it back down. Maybe if he found one that looked better, less damaged. Besides, he was hunting pine nuts. It would be better to climb the trees, but he wasn''t going to endanger the children. The branches of the pines looked a bit brittle.

    Not surprising, really.

    Some minutester, he found himself heading back to the path with no pine nuts and instead carried arge cone with scales having an attractive dustiness on the top and like shining silk on the underside. The damp of the earth hadn''t yet damaged it, nor had the fall from the tree.

    "Children," he called. "Five"

    He was interrupted by the three popping out from everywhere. He twitched. And yes, that was Bree wriggling out from under a bush. He went immediately to pull the boy out.

    He looked at the cones the three brought.

    Renne''s was perfect for pine nuts, the cone looked to have just ripened and the scales just started spreading. There was sap glistening on the twisted twig connected to it however. She had definitely climbed a tree for it.

    He gave her a look. She crossed her arms, unrepentant.

    Markar''s was he blinked. Markar had also chosen his cone based on aesthetics. It was pleasing to the eye, the longer scales at the top of the cone spreading widely and regrly, and the shorter ones making a pleasant star shape when looked at from the bottom.

    Bree''s cone was all closed, but it was thergest of all. It would be good for pinenuts as well, but Defi couldn''t be sure whether the nuts inside would be good or not.

    "It looks like only two brought pine nuts."

    "I beg to differ," Markar smiled smugly. He pointed to his cone, a specific spot. Defi leaned in. Sure enough there was a singlerge nut clinging to the cone determinedly.

    He huffed augh. "Just me, then. Very well. I''ll choose the good food for lunch."

    "Are we eating the nuts?"

    "Too few. But we''re bringing them back to the house anyway." He noticed Bree''s look of disappointment. "What''s wrong?"

    "Mine''s not big."

    "Bigger isn''t always better," said Defi. "Like"

    "Mushrooms!" Markar said.

    "Yes, like mushrooms. The sellerdies in the market said that palestave mushrooms are better when smaller, because they''re crunchy rather than the squishiness of the big"

    "No," Renne tugged on his sleeve, rolling her eyes. "Farmer''s mushrooms, look."

    Under the pines, around the exposed roots, were golden mushrooms, fresh and still spreading. He''d seen farmer''s mushrooms in the market, both fresh and dried, so he knew they were edible.

    "We''re taking them, right?"

    "Later, when we return." Defi said. He hadn''t known mushrooms grew in pine groves. What a good discovery.

    "Bigger isn''t always better," murmured Bree as if memorizing it.

    Defi patted the quiet boy on the head. "It''s not. But do you know, something small like this cone you picked, if it was allowed to grow, and hadn''t fallen early, it would be bigger than all the cones we have today. This cone that you found, it has potential."

    "Hidden qualities," Bree beamed.

    Defiughed. "That''s correct. It has hidden qualities."

    They decided to leave the cones there, and return for them and the mushrooms on the way back.

    Thend rose sharply near the western boundary, stone and steep hills reminding Defi that the Lowpool was a water body bounded by cliffs.

    Defi mbered over a pile of rocks that was the marker for the western boundary, and admired the delicate yellow flowers that spread across the former farnd.

    The vegetation was sparse however, a mark of how far-reaching a few patches of semi-mystic herbs could drain thend''s vitality.

    The farnd sloped a little, but evened out in ces. There were hills to the north and west, marking the former reach of the Garge homestead.

    To the southwest, thend ttened again, a tiny valley, before rising into gentle hills which even from where they stood looked evidently cultivated. Those farmed hillsides formed into long winding terraces that were pleasing to the eye, contoured about the rollingndscape.

    He''d been wary because this part of thend had been sold to the town. Didn''t that mean it was poorer than the other parts of the homestead?

    So far it didn''t look that bad.

    He stepped into the meadow and pulled out a flower by the roots. It came up easily, with a few tugs, despite the long trailing roots and the growing rhizomes entangled in said roots.

    Even this close to the boundary, the soil was starting to recover. He smiled. It really wasn''t bad.

    He turned to see the children had disappeared.

    "Children!" he called, hoping they''d pop up from the scenery like they did earlier.

    They didn''t.

    Creator, what would he tell Aire and Lergen if he lost them?

    He hadn''t been distracted that long. He''d have seen them if they went in the direction of the trees or the meadow. That meantthey went up the rocks.

    Of course they did. Why not choose the most dangerous path?

    He peered up the steep, rocky hillside and saw the hint of a trail. An animal trail. Did they follow it, those curious children? Even only acquainted with them, he could not help noticing their umon perception.

    Was it a trait of werefolk?

    Defi stepped on the narrow trail, quickly following.

    He sighed in relief as the soft earth on the side of the trail, near a bush, showed signs of footprints. The earth around the prints showed small cracks, the exposed soil fresh and moist. It had not been long since someone passed.

    Or three someones.

    The path wound higher, narrower. He looked down on thend below, marvelling at the verdant freshness that stretched all the way to the horizon glorious and unbroken.

    Was there a view like this in Ontrea?

    He kept walking.

    It was possible. Defi had not seen all of Ontrea after all. Perhaps this natural grandeur of greenery would not be found even in Rimet, but in the far south where the rivers converged.

    Voices ahead broke him out of his musing.

    He quickened his steps, going through a copse of trees he could not identify.

    He stopped at the treeline asughter from three children sounded in the air. He looked around quickly and hid a grimace.

    How could someone be so happy so near the edge of a cliff?

    He must have made a sound, because theughter cut off.

    He stepped forward to see them looking in his direction. He let a wry smile lift the edges of his lips. It appeared they were as wary of him as he was of them.

    "Tell me when you go somewhere," he only said. "I''d like to know if there is a need to alert the search parties if you disappear. Also, where did you get that?"

    He pointed to the handful of starcherry in Markar''s hands. They wereughing earlier and the contortions their faces went into at the sourness.

    Renne pointed. "That way. Also, did you see this view? You can see all the way to the end of theke."

    Defi moved with studied nonchnce to the edge of the cliff, braced his hand on a jutting rock nearby. The view was truly worthy of stopping a moment.

    To the west, mountains rose, majestic spires encircling. To the north, a jaggedndscape of rising mountainsides, stooping hills, and trees. And far far on the horizon, a haze of blue mountains shrouded in mist.

    Just below, the river woundzily, with the eddies at the center gaily cavorting. As if to the northwest, nearing the great river, the same tributary did not roar against its constraints and rush furiously against the banks, did not sweep away all within its path, did not take life so easily that a body turning up floating in the Lowpool was considered amon urence; as if it was not called the Treachery.

    To the southeast, a part of the Lowpool showed clearly, glimmering in the sun, a fine sapphire edged in green. They were high enough to see part of the pale cliffs that bound theke, and so it looked like a jewel set in silver and bone.

    "Dangerous and beautiful," he said.

    One of Renne''s ears perked up. She studied him. "Are you afraid of falling?"

    That was not what Defi referred to, but he answered just the same. "I am not afraid of the fall. I am afraid of the certainty of meeting the ground thates after the fall."

    She snorted augh. "Isn''t that the same thing?"

    "With the right preparation, you need not meet the ground." Defi moved away from the cliff edge. "There are ces where the canyons are deep and the wind rushes through the gaps as wildly as the rushing river, where I have seen people ride the wind."

    "Do you jest?" Markar said doubtfully.

    "When I was younger, my mother took me to see the wind-dancers inI forget the ce, there are many canyons," Defi coughed before he continued. "They made wings out of treated cloth, like the flying squirrel, and strapped discs of thin wood to their feet. They jumped from the cliffs and the wind lofted them above us. That dance, it was the most graceful, most mournful thing I have seen."

    "People can fly," Bree murmured.

    "I''m not sure it can be repeated with only sorcery and without the specific location and paraphernalia," said Defi immediately, looking at Bree as if the boy would run toward the cliff edge and jump.

    "People can fly," repeated Bree, happy.

    "With the right preparation," Defi stressed. "Anything can fly. An ancient teacher said this. It is taken to mean that in time, all problems will gain solutions. If you want to fly, you must firstuh, you must understand thenguage of the wind."

    Renne and Markar raised their brows at him, unimpressed. Defi had truly not seen their blood rtion until now.

    "I''ll grow bigger and learn to understand the wind!" Bree dered. That quiet child, to think that his first firm and loud assertion would be half an impossible task.

    Defi felt a little guilty.

    The boy was only seven, he told himself. Surely he would forget something like this.

 Chapter 39: You Stole My Land!

    Chapter 39: You Stole My Land!

    Defi had lived alone on a farm for two years with only Garun as a regr visitor. He was constantly surprised how difficult it was to adjust to having people around, after that.

    Sarel was a hermit herself, and didn''t mind him going off on his own at all hours. Falie chattered as they worked, but it was more him listening than anything else. He''d learned much from her constant stream of talk, in fact. He''d even improved his Ascharonian ent. In contrast, her husband Hames had barely said two sentences to him in the entirety of their acquaintance.

    He wasn''t blind to the fact that Sarel introduced him to the orphanage because she didn''t think he should be a recluse at his age. Maybe he should tell her that cloistered sages were very respected people in Ontrea?

    She would probably call them idiot hypotheticians, with some rant on how a person could know the world if they did not walk it end to end.

    He did learn from Garun that the average Ascharonian view to bing a master of life and fate was connected to travel rather than cloistering  giving oneself to the world rather than secluding oneself from the world.

    Defi thought that if Maryiz were here she would say, with a twinkle in her eye, that both approaches were one and the same. Then she would engage Defi in a teaching debate to prove and disprove her statement. She was a philosopher, a priestess, a respected teacher and elder.

    Defi missed her.

    She wouldugh at him being in charge of three children, then give him the advice he sorely needed.

    He didn''t think what inviting three children into his house would entail, only thought to get them away from the town.

    In the three days since Aire and he made that sunset trip up the river with three children hidden in scows, he''d possibly corrupted the youngest at least twice a day, lost said youngest once a day, got the quizzical looks from the two oldest ten times a day, regrly answered numerous questions in the range of ''what are you doing?'' and ''why?'', and had to constantly find ways to tire them so there would be less questions and more sleeping at night.

    He settled with chores as the solution.

    On the positive side, he now had several nter pots seeded with the three varieties of Kern''s hybrid herbs, the house was more free of dust than when two matrons had gone over it in the manner of two small hurricanes, the stones of the floor and the wash house were scrubbed to shining, and he had several hands to gather starcherries from thend near the western boundary.

    Apparently starcherry bushes were considered undesirable as a crop, more a weed as it really did grow anywhere. It had little vitality, and its only use was to make sauce and juice. Even then, there were tart sauces and sour juices aplenty of better quality and taste.

    It really was perfect for Defi''s needs. It cost nothing butbor and time.

    "Are we going back to the orchard?" Another constant question. He nced at Markar, who had an expectant look on his face.

    That first day, Sarel had been remarkably tolerant of the three, considering he once heard her call the orphanage children ''noise-making gue-carriers''. His peace offering, a quartel each of fresh snow squid and blue shrimp, was epted with only a critical hum.

    He''d made sure to buy the squid with the highest vitality on the market. It was not from theke but had been transported up the River Indar from the coast.

    The blue shrimp was, despite the inexpensive price, the most vitality-rich Lowpool product after sable crab and sunstripe bass.

    During the mid-day meal, Sarel''s spice-roasted squid with sour zaziphos sauce and the shrimp cream soup paired with fresh soft bread was a revtion to the children.

    Defi very much understood the awe with which they looked at her. The woman was certain to be some avatar of a deity of cuisine or something in that vein of thought.

    Then Defi thought of how Sarel made him climb the house to re-shingle her roof for three days straight because ording to her ''they looked crooked'', the hours she made him cut cabbage until he got callus on his fingers, the initial days she made him do the deliveries but only told him the names of the clients and not the locations. How many people were named Charol in the Lowpool? Because Defi met fourteen and none of them were the client.

    The three were going to live with him for weeks. He should spread the joy of suddenly having children, yes? His lips curved.

    "We are," he answered the boy. "Tomorrow."

    Tomorrow was a delivery day for the couple who owned the courtyard house built around a fragrantly blooming purple tree that was simr to a jacaranda. He would say it was a jacaranda, but these mountains were too cold for it and the flowers too reddish.

    Like Lergen, the couple made zaziphos jam. They were in fact responsible for most of the many jams the townspeople regrly used.

    Tomorrow, he''d let Sarel deal with the children. After all, it would be rude to deny guests who were sincerely wanting to help. In addition, it was only polite for guests to lend assistance to their host.

    His smile widened by an infinitesimal degree.

    "Really, we are?" Renne was looking at him suspiciously.

    "Sarel is a private person," he said, beatifically. "Grumpy, brusque, frowny. But she won''t eat you."

    Maybe just gnaw on them a little. Metaphorically, of course.

    But the children were astute. They''d survive.

    Renne''s suspicious look abated only a little.

    See? Very astute.

    "I''m going to town. Don''t bother Tholme and the others. They''re taking down the roof. If you must watch, do it from a distance." He put Turq in one of the baskets of zaziphos.

    Barrey hade by earlier to warn him they were doing just that, and that they were also starting to dig a channel to the river.

    The warehouse wasing along nicely, it seemed. If only other parts of the farm would be as simple to manage.

    *

    Defi entered the town hall.

    It had taken him a day more of exploring the western boundary before he knew whatnd he wanted to buy. He''d let the children pick baskets and baskets of starcherries as he explored. They were happy ying around the bushes, and it took so much of their youthful energy that he found them sleeping in the meadow.

    Yes, yesterday had been a good day.

    Defi looked around the town hall. It seemed he had to wait a few minutes for the clerk to be free.

    He didn''t mind; there were more people in the town hall today than usual and people watching was one way to learn to blend in. Most in the building were average townspeople, but one or two had the more borate clothing that city-people and the wealthier townspeople preferred.

    Not many people came to the Lowpool, as the roads were scarcely maintained and bandits were only barely kept at bay. But there were a few in town today.

    Rocso once said there was one thing that differentiated a wealthy Lowpooler from a city cosmopolite: the Lowpooler knew better than to wear velvet shoes in thends of the Treachery.

    Even if the shoes were the more durable kind of cotton velvet.

    Defi was studying various footwear with half-lidded eyes when the clerk finally smiled him over.

    "What is your name?" He greeted her. "I feel remiss not knowing until now. I am Defi."

    "Karis, young sir. How may I help you today, now that you have no guide at your side?"

    The clerk was the same person he''d been meeting for several major changes in his life. This time as well, was his first experience buyingnd in both worlds.

    Actually, even had his father not interfered with the Trials, he doubted he would have the experience of buying his ownnd  as an adult member of the family, he could have requisitioned an estate or two for his own use with a letter of rationale to the man who''d been one of thest to see him in Rimet: Janef, the rtive who managed the family properties.

    He gave a brief smile to match her amusement, acknowledging that being dragged into the town hall by determined women was out of the norm for the typical town hall experience. "Is there a procedure for buyingnd?"

    "If you have your residence papers, I can help you right away. Do you know the plot number or the owner of thend you want to buy?"

    He shook his head. "I just want to expand the western boundary of the property by fifty mar or so. A small purchase only, but I do not know the plot number."

    It would add a bit over two hecte to the homestead, if his calctions were correct.

    "That''s fine." She brought out a map.

    Defi added, btedly. "Ah, I was told it was sold to the town some years ago."

    "Oh! Then you are repurchasing from the town?" She brought out a different map.

    "Repurchase? I thought that was only offered to the original owner?"

    "You live on one of the first three hundred steadings. The deeds from back then are different, and the emperor affirmed thews of the old marquisate after the Fall, so you might say the Garge homestead is the original owner."

    There was a gasp behind Defi.

    "You!"

    The single word shrieked through the hall. It couldn''t be ignored.

    A woman, in too-borate dress and cotton velvet shoes, pointed at Defi in indignant usation.

    "You stole mynd!"

 Chapter 40: For the Warmth of Camaraderie and the Eating of Food

    Chapter 40: For the Warmth of Camaraderie and the Eating of Food

    Defi studied the woman.

    Truth rang in her usation, and in her eyes burned genuine anger. There was an apprehensive satisfaction in her re that he could not understand, but it did not matter at the moment.

    He''d just been used of theft. He, who had been raised in the ts of the Church to lead and protect, to be an example.

    "I would ask your name, as I believe we have never met before." His voice was even, his face arranged in a genially curious cast.

    He had been half-expecting something like this since he took residence in the homestead, but it was monthster and he was little startled.

    The woman looked slightly taken aback.

    Was she expecting him to react as she might, that he would shriek denials and p her face?

    His lips lifted at the corners. She was too used to going against women simr to herself, it seemed.

    "Madam," he started again. "I would know the name of the person who uses me of heinous crime. I am Defi, son of Emi, and a hundred generations before her. You are?"

    "Why would I want to know your name? I want you to give back my house!"

    "What house would that be?"

    "The Garge ce! Leraine had no right giving it to an outsider! I am her cousin, am I not? The house is mine by right!"

    The townspeople around them started to talk in low voices. Defi carefully bent the Current to his hearing. It was difficult and dangerous to enhance the physical senses using the Current, but he needed information.

    "Oh, that would be Old Brun''s daughter, wouldn''t it? What was her name?" Whispered one of the men.

    "Ebris," muttered his femalepanion in correction, voice low, "the one who married a shopkeeper in Ecthys, remember? But this would be Ebris'' daughter, I think. She''s nevere here before, or I''d have heard it. She does look a bit like her mother."

    He heard simr snippets before he let the Current subside and the murmuring voices once more grew indistinct.

    Brun was the name of Leraine''s grandfather. The possibility that this was indeed Leraine''s cousin was high.

    Defi nodded.

    "I did not realize homesteads had to pass to heirs of blood. I see. If I have inadvertently got in the way of such a session, I shall of course step aside for the rightful owner."

    "What session?" cried the woman, still unnamed. "It was my mother''s ce, her family''s! She always told such stories. It''s my family''s house! Why would Leraine sell it to you?"

    Oh. Defi had made a miscalction. The Garge homestead of course was not entailed to blood heirs, so he thought he could destroy the woman''s ims with a simple application ofw.

    He forgot that bonds of kinship could be more prized than mere adherence to coldw. It seemed the woman knew that more than he did.

    Now she had the upper hand, the townspeople''s regard more on her side because she was the granddaughter of one of their own.

    The support of the town was crucial. Even if he won, he would be known as the one who stole the Garge homestead away from the family who had lived in it for generations.

    He rather liked the offhand wee he was generally subjected to because he was affiliated with the orphanage, and because people had been saved by Turq and Jar, because they knew he''d fought for them as well. He found himself loath to lose it.

    Even then, some people would keep her words in mind. In addition, his words had set him apart, too much like a noble would say. That would stick in the minds of his detractors as well.

    This was the Lowpool, full of people who had seen a marquisate fall.

    His mind roiled, discarding half-formed ns.

    It was odd though. He was certain it had been simple greed in the woman''s eyes.

    Now Defi studied her more. He did not miss her nce to the side, again in the same apprehensive satisfaction of earlier.

    In that direction, standing with the cksmith''s family, a woman dressed in finer cloth than this cousin of Leraine''s. Under her cloak, she wore subdued colors and subtle patterns. A woman raised to the views of a certain ss, it appeared.

    Oh, it was greed after all; a greed of particr shape.

    Even if he had not joined the court of Rimet, the struggles of the children''s court mirrored it. Children with less influence, power, wealth, ability, charisma, falling to the sway of those that had what theycked, looking for patronage and friendship of those who would benefit themselves and their families.

    Defi was born with the highest status a child could have in Rimet and yet, because he was the son of a former ve, those that approached him only did so for the influence his father''s name had and not for the friendship that Defi wanted.

    Once he discovered that, he''d secluded himself into books and training in humiliation and anger and from then forth refused to countenance any overture, an offense that inadvertently secluded him from the games of status the noble scions yed.

    Hisck of influence among the scions of the nobles was likely part of the reason his father could do what he did.

    He understood of course, why this cousin of Leraine''s would stand before him to so viciously set herself into a conflict with him.

    Garun had intimated that status in Ascharon did note from bloodline alone, but from education and wealth as well. Land was the greatest material wealth in Ascharon and Ontrea both.

    He understood why. But Defi could not so simply let this incident pass.

    He had been used of theft.

    Even the most venomous of the status-seekers in the pit of vipers that was a noble court would hesitate before putting forth such an allegation, and then only in the most dire of situations.

    Theft was the greatest crime in Ontrea, punished in three stages: the offender was first whipped, then made to ride through the streets to kneel at the house of the offended for three days with the cuts on their back bleeding and untended, and then if that ordeal was survived, the offender would be banished from the kingdom.

    In Ontrea, in epics of heroes, the best moment to use someone of theft is when you have already destroyed all that they built, heard the weeping of their women, suborned their men, and see them on their knees before you begging for sour. That is when you say: ''Thief, you have stolen my ***.'' and then subsequently cut off their head.

    And this woman before him, she used him of such a crime just to gain an infinitesimal increase in status?

    He leaned against the counter, casual, smiled to hide the chill he knew was in his eyes.

    "I am no thief. I did not want thend, but you must have seen your cousin, all those months ago, heard her plight. How could I not help a woman in need? If you havee by then, if you had asked even a month after, I would have given you the homestead. But do you know, it is so easy to love the Lowpool. The rushing river, the birds in the morning, the scent of pine and fruit and seafood, the bustle of the dawn market. Theke isrge, do you know? If you look from the right ce, it would be as if seeing an ocean."

    The murmuring started again. It was mixed, but at least there were people standing up for him.

    "This smallke, like an ocean? You should travel to Carmedel before saying that. I will pay you enough for the little bit ofnd you hold in a little town. Enough to travel to the greatest city in the empire and buy a ce by the dockyard if you like smelling of fish. You''ll even get to see what real seafood looks like. What do you say?"

    Defi was silent. If one had looked closer, they would see that his eyes would be slightly wide and his jaw ck.

    The murmurs of the townspeople had stopped. There was a quiet in the town hall, uncharacteristic.

    It was justhe had prepared a raft of words tobat her cunning, had multiple paths to possible victory, had primed for a protracted campaign and days gaining the support of the townspeople.

    And the enemy had, with a single speech, in the first hour of the first day of the war, all but defeated herself.

    He could see people starting to frown at her.

    He grasped for words. This was not an oue he had expected.

    "What did you say?" he could only ask, weakly. It was almost blurting out the words.

    He regretted immediately, mentally berated himself for saying anything at all. He truly had been too rxed.

    She smiled, as if she did not see her blunder. Where was the cunning maniptor that had tugged on the heartstrings and values of the townspeople?

    Creator, was it a fluke?

    He searched her eyes. There was an urgency there, tucked in the corners, that he had not seen earlier. Was there something else beyond forcing Defi to give up thend?

    Her smile widened at his involuntary words.

    "How about one solstice for everything? A gold solstice, that''s a full four hundred uds." She patted his shoulder. "It''s about the value of thend and house, isn''t it? Leraine said you paid less, so this is a profit for you."

    On paper, he did pay less than half a solstice. This woman was so certain in victory that she wasfortable enough to think that insinuating he was poor, that he had never seen gold before and only dealt in bronze coins, would be insulting to him.

    It was so senseless it was baffling.

    More so because he knew a time in his life where the gold in his hands could not alleviate his poverty, and only increased it.

    "What," he asked. "what is your name?"

    "Agreine. My husband is a wine merchant in Ecthys. We can transfer the property anytime you wish."

    Heposed himself. "Madam, you''re mistaken, I believe. I am not selling. That is to say, I do not wish to leave."

    She sputtered, speechless.

    He turned to the clerk, who was eyeing the woman neutrally. "It is possible to extend the western boundary?"

    She looked at him, her face professionally impartial. But her eyes warmed slightly. "It is."

    "Wait, please." The woman in fine clothes standing with the cksmith''s family stepped forward. "My friend spoke perhaps too rashly, but if I could ask once more for you to countenance her plea, it is her family''s home after all. I am sorry for intruding, but I could not see my friend in distress. I have traveled much, and could rmend beauty in other ces. A trade, might you be more inclined to one? A house for a house."

    Defi smiled at her. "You are generous, and you love your friend. But I am afraid, any house you offer me, even in the streets where the nobles of Ascharon build their homes, will notpare to the cottage and three hecte I have now. The people here have been kind to me. I have seen enough of their courage and love to fill a legend with praise. I find that I could live a lifetime here, and a lifetime again after that. The house can be traded, this is true, but the people cannot."

    He heard the truth in his words even as he spoke them, and was surprised. He had not thought his attachment to the Lowpool was so deep.

    But then, where else could he find a town like the Lowpool, with people so understanding of the things he had to hide? There was likely no ce else in Ascharon like the Lowpool, a town where shadows and light danced around secrets and their owners so casually.

    The woman sent him a dissecting look, then nodded in acquiescence. "You are wise, young sir. I hope you do not mind that in the future, we might ask again?"

    Defi almost smiled. Was that a deration of intent to continue this war? Nobles were truly the same everywhere.

    "Lady, Madam, I cannot prevent you from asking, but I hope you are not too offended if the answer remains the same."

    She nodded and looped her arm around the silently ring Agreine''s limb, tugged her friend away.

    Defi turned back to the clerk. "I''d like to increase the boundary by two hundred and fifty mar, please."

    It would add over ten hecte to the homestead instead of two. He hoped it would not be so expensive, as he was running short on money again. But it did not even enter his mind that he would not fight back.

    Besides, if he left the Lowpool, where else in Ascharon could he inadvertently gain the forbearance of a retired imperial pce chef and be able to eat their food everyday?

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    ''Theft is the greatest crime in Ontrea.'' It''s actually an overarching category of crimes that includes theft of life, theft of choice, theft of blood, theft of property, and so on. It''s the greatest crime because despite being vers, there''s an element of free will running through the philosophies of Ontrea.

    ''and a hundred generations before'' -- an example of Ontrean traditional low-key boasting, formoners. Defi''s mother was a ve, but her lineage has been recorded in the annals of Ontrea for millenia. Nobles introduce themselves with the phrase ''the honor of a thousand generationses before me'' or something simr.

 Chapter 41: Turq and the Northern Farm

    Chapter 41: Turq and the Northern Farm

    "You''ve taken in three children?"

    The elderly grandfather from the farm north of the homestead squinted at the three, his six-year old grandson peeking out from behind his knees. The old man''s name was Fabar.

    The three scrutinized them back.

    Defi had been examining the sansu trees when the old man came to lean over the fence in curiosity.

    "Good afternoon, elder, little Darmund. I''m taking care of them for some weeks. These are Renne, Markar, and little Breget."

    The feather-headed boy moved closer to the fence, peering through it at the other. "I am Bree."

    The other nced up to see his grandfather''s smiling encouragement. "Dari," he returned shyly.

    "Do you like mushrooms?" The usually silent Bree started a quiet conversation.

    "How abouting to the evening meal, eh, young man? You and the small ones." The grandfather, who was watching the two children interact, suddenly said.

    "Not small," muttered Renne under her breath.

    The elder had sharp hearing for his age, because heughed.

    "All werefolk are small when young, eh? It''s just how it is. So what about it, youngdy? My son got a rockboar in his trap this morning, he''s been lucky this year. Wife''s pregnant again, can you believe it?" He leaned closer, spoke lower. "And not to disparage my wife''s cooking, but my daughter makes a very very nice roast."

    He touched his fingers to his forehead and flicked them upward to the sky, with a sly grin.

    Defi had seen the old man do it once or twice, as the man regrly walked the boundaries and often stopped to chat with Defi. He had asked Sarel, who was one of the very few who knew he was not native to Ascharon, what it meant and got half an hour of lecturing on themon gestures in the empire.

    The one the old man did, it was a gesture of respect to the dead, he learned.

    Defi flicked a brow at the two older, then nced at the uncharacteristically chatty Bree. Renne shrugged, though she was watching the two. Markar nodded infinitesimally.

    "I''ll bring some dishes," he told the old man.

    It would not do to have a pregnant woman cook for three children and a teen, all with terrifying appetites. It was no exaggeration. He had the excuse of the Current, what was the children''s reason?

    Were all growing children in Ascharon like them? How rming for Ascharonian parents.

    "Excellent!" Old Fabar pped his hands together once, as if sealing a deal. Anothermon gesture. "The little one and I are only rounding the copse today. Join us. The meal will be ready just as we get back to the house."

    "I''ve some few things to do first, elder. It''s fine if I leave the children to you for a while?" He put Turq into Renne''s hands.

    "Of course, of course. Leave them to me and Dari, eh?" Heughed as his grandson ducked behind his legs again, attention of everyone having been ced on him.

    "I''ll go help Defi," Markar announced. Of the three, he was the one most averse topany. His siblings weren''t surprised that he chose to dy interacting with others.

    Defi eyed him as they parted with the others. "Leaving your siblings with strangers?"

    "I''ve already assessed the neighbors," Markar said.

    Defi paused, then his lips curved. "Fair."

    He left it at that.

    He was not their parent, nor did they need to be coddled. The older two were independent and practical, the younger was greatlyposed for his age. They''d settled on a silent workable agreement. He only needed to house them and give some lessons in reading.

    They reached the house, and Defi immediately headed for the kitchen.

    "You''re cooking? I thought there was the stew left."

    "Let''s not bother a pregnant woman more than it can be helped." Defi started arge pot to boil on the meless stove and started washing rice. "Crescent m soup and steamed cloudgrain should do it."

    "Another seafood soup?"

    "I learned to cook while hunting, not as a chef. If you''re looking at me to match Sarel''s cooking, wait another lifetime; we might both get lucky." Camp cooking was simple: roast, stew, steam, and fry. "You were to help me, was that correct?"

    He brought out an array of herbs to be chopped and sliced. He considered the spices, but a pregnant woman likely would not be able to eat something too vorful.

    Markar inclined his head and started to work.

    An hourter, fragrant cloudgrain was being transferred into a clean wooden tub and the soup was being removed from the stove. Defi put the lid on and tapped a paper emblem on top of the tub of steamed grain. Three lines of script expanded from the emblem as the glyph-paper faded into nothingness, a design etching itself onto the wooden tub.

    Defi had grown more proficient in preservation emblems needed for food, but his calligraphy was stillcking and needed practice. The Bluzand barrel emblem was, despite hisprehension of the technique, still out of his reach.

    Markar poured the m soup into another tub, its light broth exuding an invitingly tempting aroma. He carefully ced the lid on, tamping it down firmly.

    Defi pped another paper emblem on top of it. Like the rice tub, it spread into the visible form of a minor preservation and anti-contamination emblem. He was slightly disappointed that he couldn''t put a warming glyph in the pattern, but he found that the foods spoiled faster if he did.

    Defi stacked them, had Markar carry a package of smoked bass and a smaller package of savras grass, and they were off.

    The walk to the house of the northern farm took only a quarter-hour at a brisk pace. Defi noticed that the fields were nted, a bitter than Leraine''s journals warranted.

    The farmhouse came into view, sporting golden thatch and wooden frame.

    A scream shattered the mundanely scenic picture.

    Defi put the wooden tubs down.

    Markar tossed his packages on top of them as he ran past.

    Defi quickly followed.

    A seakrait, glimmering red in the light of the setting sun, lifted its head above the farmhouse, then dove downward.

    Markar yelled his siblings'' names, fear shrilling in his tone.

    But Defi had seen the color, and felt a familiar bond as he saw the seakrait.

    "It''s Turq." He ran faster. The only reason Turq grew sorge thest time was that there had been a threat to his life.

    He jumped a low fence, skidded past screeching chickens, and rounded to the back of the farmhouse, Markar on his heels.

    He stopped.

    Turq''s coils wound around arge animal he could not identify. It had a single horn on its nose, and what looked like ms growing from its back.

    He took a moment to look at his first pet. It really looked like a seakrait. Slimes could even do something like this, he wondered in admiration.

    Markar saw his siblings unhurt, did not stop his headlong rush until he stood before them.

    "Renne. Bree." He grabbed their hands and did not move as his sister leaned into him and his brother grabbed him tightly about the waist. Markar reached out a hand with a sigh and patted the head of the third child, who huddled into him as well.

    Defi stopped between them and the monster in Turq''s coils. "What happened?"

    Farbar spat in the direction of the creature. "Shell rhino. Likely came up the mountains from the eastern coast. Tsk. I thought you had a slime?"

    "I do. It''s never been this form before."

    "Seakrait, wasn''t it?" the younger of the two men of the farm had his arms wrapped around a massively pregnant woman. "Like those things few months back."

    "Considering Turq ate four of them" Defi shrugged. "The books didn''t say slimes could take on the shape of their prey though."

    "Old stories," Farbar grinned. "You ever heard the tales from near the swamps, there''s a lot of spection about it. There''s a saying: If you lose someone in the swamps, don''t go back there. Water-ghosts, they call them. Hah, never thought they''d be true."

    "Do you think it might not eat the shell rhino?" Allise questioned.

    They looked at her.

    "You see, rhino bone tes can be sold for armor. The horn is carved for drinking cups. They say the meat is good too." She blushed a little at the old man''s widening grin. "I''m having another child. I need to think about these things."

    Defi turned back to the tableau of struggling monsters. "Turq."

    The slime''s coils tightened. A loud wet crack sounded, and the rhino fell limp.

    Its back was broken.

    Turq uncoiled slowly, sliding toward Defi.

    "Good work." He patted the slime''s hide as it coiled around him, and attempted to rest its massive head on top of Defi''s. Its surface was a bit rougher than when it was just arge slime, a consequence of the animal it was imitating, probably. "Can you turn back?"

    There was a slight rush of air, and Turq reverted to the usual shape. Defi patted it as it rested on his shoulder. "I''ll give you more foodter."

    "It can have the rest of the rhino bones, if that suits," the other half of the farming couple said. "Half the share''s yours in any case."

    "Just the bones for Turq is fine. I did nothing after all." Defi demurred politely. Before Allis could voice the protest he could see on her face, he changed the subject. "Speaking of eating, we left the food on the path."

    The tubs and packages were retrieved in good time. The tubs that were wider than Defi''s torso looked like small pots against Barham''srge chest, as he carried both in a single arm.

    Defi really had to know what made Ascharonians so big and tall. Surely it was not vitality alone? Both his parents were taller than average in Ontrea and he took their height. Still, he only came up to the farmer''s ear.

    Defi handed the packages to Allise. "Blessings on the addition to your family."

    Her smile widened. "Thank you. Be wee in our house. We are eating soon."

    "Are you in need of assistance, madam? We can carry things, if nothing else." Markar was looking at her greatly distended middle in concerned rm.

    "Madam, he calls me, so polite. I''m well, young one. Markar, wasn''t it?"

    "I am. You truly don''t need help?"

    "We are neighbors," added Defi, seeing that she did look a little drawn. "There is no ceremony between us."

    "The physicker says she should take short walks everyday, and light work is good for her," beamed her husband. "She and the baby have high levels of vitality."

    "I''m not leaving that thing there while we eat," dered Farbar. "It will only be considered dead after I see it butchered."

    "Father used to be in the mystic hunting association," sighed Allise. "They have views on these things."

    "You''d have views too if you near died after your kills revived themselves. Damned beasts." The elder stalked away, grumbling. "I''ll go get the knives."

    They watched him go.

    "I''ll go get a saw and therge tubs." Barham exhaled. "There''ll be no dinner until that thing''s in the smokehouse now."

    That was how the children got an education, via the old man, on how to properly butcher a mystic beast.

    "What a day," sighed Farbar as he sat at the dining table. "And they say there are no predators in the Lowpool."

    "Were you really a hunter," grumped Barham as he tiredly took another seat. "shell rhinos eat seaweed don''t you know? What predator?"

    "Anything that hunts is a predator! And it doesn''t only eat weeds," refuted the old man vigorously. But the tips of his ears reddened.

    Barham knew it even without looking, and there was a light grin on his lips. "As you say, father."

    "At least we won''t have to sell the farm," said Allise as she brought amp to the table. It was fully evening now, even thest red-tinged throes of the sunset suppressed by the growing night.

    "Bah, those people. Stayed too long, they did." Fabar grinned at Renne. "Talked too much with their money. Good work driving them away before the evening meal, littledy."

    Renne grimaced. "I didn''t like her."

    Defi paused in lifting the cup of tea to his lips. "Someone came to buy the farm, a woman? Fur and brocade, velvet shoes?"

    Barham snorted at the description. "Went to yours too?"

    "Met them in town hall a few days ago." Defi studied the eddies of the leaves in his tea, swirling the cup to and fro.

    So Leraine''s cousin and whoever backed her had started to move already. He''d seen people past the new boundary after the town surveyor left and had no doubt the valley beyond his new western boundary was already bought.

    An encirclement? Not bad.

    Slightly too aggressive though, wasn''t it?

    Defi added ten and a half hecte to the homestead, at a price ten percent higher than the amount Leraine and Kern had sold it to the town. It had cost him nearly two thousand uds. That was even at the buy-back price for the homestead.

    A developednd-property of the simr size, which the northern farm was, would normally cost three to five times that much. If, as Farbar said, they ''talked too much with their money'', possibly up until double the price again.

    He didn''t even need to talk to the couple and the herbalist that bordered the homestead on the south. The herbalist, at least, was more likely to have sold as his livelihood was based on thend. The herbalist held around twenty hecte. The older couple maybe six or so.

    The western valley and hills about thirty hecte.

    At its peak, the Garge homestead had over ny hecte ofnd.

    Even nobles of Ascharon would consider that amount to be significant. Defi''s farm in Ontrea was only three times that size, and he was a son of the lord of Rimet who was in Ascharon the equivalent of a sovereign duke.

    Did Leraine''s cousin Agreine and her friend intend to buy all thatnd?

    Really too aggressive.

    Later, when all goodbyes were said and the children were harried into bed, Defi sat under the sansu trees, the Current flowing calmly through him and thend.

    His mind stilled, his heart drummed.

    The earth under him was a pir, the sky above him was a challenge. The earth under him was a tether, the sky above him was afort. The earth incited the blood to boil, the sky chilled the frenzied brow. The earth warmed this cold existence; the sky hardened this passionate heart.

    The solid earth under him, the expanse of sky above him. And he was human, only a human caught between.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    physicker - the equivalent of a doctor. A diagnostician mostly.

    sovereign duke - a duke with the power of governance over a territory without interference from other bodies. Sovereign dukes in Ascharon appear only in the colonies -- such dukes in the maind have already had most of their sovereignty stripped by the imperial throne.

 Chapter 42: Thinking Too Much

    Chapter 42: Thinking Too Much

    "Defi, my friend!" Marmocha was grinning wide on the pier, as exuberant as ever, as the dinghy limped toward him. "Visiting me? I am touched; you have caught me at the opportune time! I was about to leave when I saw your dancing style of sailing and just had to know who in the world let you at a tiller?"

    Defi stoically raised the sails and pitched the line hard at Marmocha, who onlyughed and good-naturedly secured the line.

    Who had a ''dancing style'' of sailing?

    Defi had not realized how difficult it was to sail a boat. Sarel had made it seem too easy. He only needed to move the lever here and there, or so he thought. Keeping the boat level on the water was an epic story he did not wish to recount.

    He sighed inwardly, a trifle depressed, wet all over, and nauseated.

    Marmocha pped him on the back as he debarked. "I''m sure you''ll get better. Why, it took Sarel nearly three years to properly set a sail!"

    Defi pressed a hand to his temple. "That''s notforting."

    Three years? Creator, preserve him. He''d learned four spear-based fighting styles to near-mastery in three years. How did it take that long just to learn how to move a peculiarly-shaped bowl across a tub of water.

    He looked at Marmocha. "You said you were leaving? Do you mind keeping an eye out for information on a certain person?"

    Marmocha raised brows at him. "Not at all! I hear you added morend to your farm again?"

    "I could not refuse." Defi''s lips twisted, something not quite humor. The retired merchant couple who lived on his southern boundary hade to him directly. Apparently they were tired of retirement and wanted to move to a location closer to their grandchildren because the Lowpool was just too far to travel.

    He really could not refuse, even if it was a plot. The old couple''s retirement home bordered the river road; buying it would gain him a wider watch on the river, the road, and thend the herbalist on the southern border owned. At the very least, it prevented theplete encirclement of the homestead.

    Unfortunately, it was not townnd. Even if it belonged to the Garge homestead before, there were no discounts for him except what the older couple gave in concern.

    Marmocha hummed, studying him. "You do not seem too troubled."

    "I cannot know their reasoning if I do not know them. Right now, it''s a stalemate. The only thing I can do right now is look for information and polish the battlements." And keep up the deliveries for Sarel, the visits to the orphanage, the care of his three houseguests, the long walks around the markets and shops.

    Therge man nodded. "I''ll see what I can find. What''s the name?"

    "Calor Ducan." It was the name the old couple gave him. He did not miss Marmocha''s reaction. "You know the name?"

    "We went to the same schrium." Marmocha tilted his head. "Odd person, liked to dress with feminine ir  a consequence of too many aunts I think he said. He was not too popr but he had a way of gathering followers and an obsession with a life of privilege. I''ve not seen him for many years."

    "He?" Defi thought back to the encounter at the town hall, over a week ago now. "Do you mean, thedy in thepany of Leraine''s cousin Agreine, it''s a man?"

    Marmocha looked at him, looked away.

    "Don''tugh. Men and women dress the same way in Ascharon!"

    "Tell me you called him ady to his face!" Marmocha wheezed.

    Defi did, in fact.

    Marmochaughed harder when he saw Defi''s nk expression. "Don''t fret. I''ll find out what he''s been doing."

    "Thank you. I''ll owe you in return."

    Marmocha winked, business done, and steered the conversation in a different direction. "What are these children that Sarel says you''ve adopted?"

    "There was no adoption."

    "Come now, do you think they cane over? My niece gets lonely when she visits from her schrium you see."

    He turned a nd face to Marmocha''s wheedling. "I have to go back."

    There were other things to do.

    For one, his study of emblems had abruptly shifted from preservation of foods and raw ingredients to security and traps.

    He wanted something simr to the sense the Current gave him when he was immersed in it. In Ontrea, rm and security systems based on the Current weremon, but he knew no alchemy or enchantment.

    Here in Ascharon, the glyph system gave him a variety of options. He was surprised that Ascharon security systems were mostly in the theme of concealment or encasement. He had many ideas, even if he only had ess to themon glyphs and emblems published for the use of the masses.

    The couple had vacated their house yesterday and his back was aching from carrying all the furniture to their wagons. He''d already received the keys. He still needed to check what emblems were on the house and what additions can be made.

    "On that boat? Young Defi, I cannot watch that again." Marmocha slung a heavy arm around his shoulders that could not be dislodged and dragged him toward the house. "Have you ever flown?"

    Defi stopped struggling. "We''re taking your winged carriage?"

    Marmocha looked knowingly at him.

    Defi boosted Marmocha''s arm off his shoulders. He straightened his clothes calmly. "What are we waiting for then?"

    "It''s fine to show enthusiastic passion when you''re young, you know!"

    "I think this is a regr amount of enthusiastic passion for any age. If such passion is indicative, you''d be younger than me, you know."

    "Who''d want to act like an old man?" He turned to grasp Defi''s shoulders suddenly, seriousness on his face. "My young friend. You are too old for your age. Think of when you''re older, wouldn''t you be closer to death then? We die when our soul gets old."

    "I thought it was the soul that was immortal?"

    "Bah." Marmocha let him go and waved the thought away with an expansive gesture. "An excuse not to live while actually alive."

    "I assure you," Defi smiled at no-one in particr, baring his teeth in the delight of a stalking predator. "I am very much alive."

    Marmocha saw that peculiar smile and paused in his re-checking of the carriage harnesses. "Well, you do look a bit more animated than usual. Do you only do that when you''re in conflict with others?"

    "Oh no," Defi said, his smile not changing. "I prefer the quiet life."

    Marmocha shook briefly in silentughter. "Yes. There are indeed many people who prefer the quiet life in the Lowpool."

    Defi could only quirk his lips at that muttered observation.

    The carriage lifted them up slowly.

    Below them, theke stretched further than Defi had seen yet.

    The Lowpool was deceptive in name.

    It was ake, high in the central mountain range of the Ascharon maind. Theke itself was of no significant size, just sixty kilomar at its widest, and approaching a hundred kilomar in length. It grew from the turbulent Little Treachery in the shape of a jagged teardrop. The Overpool, at the other end of the Treachery, was a quarter the size of it.

    The majority of the Lowpool was bound in high cliffs, with only small pockets of actual shoreline. The town officially named Sottc, containing some two thousand souls, was packed into thergest bit of shore. Another thousand or so were scattered around the central town.

    It was a town of fishers and farmers.

    At first nce.

    The poption of the town had a peculiar cohesion, and a strange draw to the Lowpool. Those children that left, unlike other simr towns, returned to live and work and have children. People left all the time, but they returned all the time as well. The town had many craftsmenpared to other towns of simr size because the sons and daughters of the Lowpool returned to stay, full of new skills and knowledge. It had an oddly rxed diversity because ideas from outside flowed into the town and remained, allowed to grow in the next generation.

    It was why Defi''s first impression of the town had been rger than expected''  perhaps subconsciously drawing on the Current. In fact, for a town of two thousand, it was packed into a space smaller than most othermunities of simr poption.

    Defi''s thoughts, flying high above theke, were not on the Lowpool however.

    He leaned out the window, to see the team of winged goats soaring in formation above them, harnesses dangling the carriage box under their broad wings.

    A peculiar carriage.

    He retracted his head, and closed the window, upon being buffeted by high winds.

    "Where are we going?" Defi thought to ask, suddenly, now that his enthusiastic sightseeing had calmed somewhat.

    Marmocha smirked. "Sarel''s. Those kids of yours would like a ride in a winged carriage, wouldn''t they? Just far enough to see my lovely niece. Don''t worry about transportation. I''ll be back by nightfall. Or they might even stay the night. That would be a nice treat, wouldn''t it? Much better than that austerely old-mannish house of yours."

    Defi struggled not to groan. "Why would you think they''d be with Sarel?"

    "Where else would they be? You bring them everywhere unless you enter the town. You don''t know the workers on your farm enough to leave them there."

    "It''s not that I bring them. They just follow me everywhere. I''ve left them alone before."

    Marmocha snorted. "Tell me, where is Turq?"

    "That''s different. That''s just making sure they don''t get eaten."

    It took mere minutes to arrive at Sarel''s homestead and Defi''s head was full of ns to acquire his own winged steeds. Perhaps there was a flying ox?

    "You''re not even thinking of how someone''s trying to force you off that ce of yours, are you." Sarel eyed him with some annoyance and amusement.

    To the side, Marmocha pitched his case to three skeptical children who had neared his carriage to pet the winged goats.

    Before he could answer, Markar sidled up to him.

    "He''s mostly harmless," Defi answered the silent question.

    Markar frowned.

    "He really has a niece. Whether you stay the night is your choice. If you do,e straight here in the morning." He thought for a moment, then reluctantly said. "You can take Turq with you."

    Markar''s frown eased, and he returned to his siblings'' side.

    Defi ignored the knowing look andrge grin Marmocha was sending in his direction, turned back to answer Sarel.

    "Thinking too much on a problem creates shadows where there are none. In any case, whatever they want thend for, it does not involve me at the moment." He had seen people move beyond the western boundary in the dark, when he had been positioning rm emblems that would inform him if people crossed into the homestead.

    She snorted.

    A person Defi did not see earlier leaned out of Sarel''s window.

    "They seem to be settling in," yawned Lemat. "They''ll likely be in town for some time, so you''re fine going about business as usual."

    Defi watched as Sarel''s brows thundered toward each other, digging deep trenches as they met. Her jaw stiffened and her eyes sparked.

    She said, from behind gritted teeth, "This idiot decided to involve himself on his own."

    Lemat did not appear to notice her fury, only smiled cheerily at Defi.

    Defi returned his smile quizzically, but the man did not borate the reasons he did what he did. They had met during the smuggler incident, and the man who was ostensibly just another farmer in the Lowpool did seem to be going through life from whim to whim.

    As long as Sarel did not warn him away, Defi decided to only keep watch. "By the way, Sarel. You didn''t have anything to do with the couple on my southern border, right?"

    "Why would I have?"

    He smiled. "Nothing. As I said, shadows where there are none."

 Chapter 43: Calor Ducan, Esq.

    Chapter 43: Calor Ducan, Esq.

    Calor Ducan, Esquire.

    How he hated the name, the insignificance of it.

    Ducan, the name of the minor cousin who had hidden his heritage from him.

    Esquire, an address that only emphasized howcking his current circumstances were.

    If he had not found his mother''s journal, he would never have found out that he was supposed to be Calor zi Asmovare, grandson of a great lord,st scion of a great line. Not even an ''il'' but a ''zi''  part of the grand nobility that were descendants of kings and not the low nobles that were elevated frommon or minor roots.

    He would never have known that his father had been executed along with his uncles, and his bloodline was struck from the rolls of nobility by the emperor himself. The Ducan cousins that raised him, were they intending to let this matter go unremarked? He was thest, the blood within his veins had tinges of royalty!

    How could they be so unambitious, socking that they would let his blood fade into obscurity, soso <emmon</em> that they steered him away from greatness? Faugh!

    His lips curled in disgust.

    He had long searched for a way to regain his titles and he was close. He could feel it. Who knew a visit to a diminished castletown by the Indar river would gain him a hint to such treasure?

    It was the only reason he would evere to this ce, this Lowpool. Even the name was miserable.

    He was only here to look for the Asmovare secret, the secret that papers saved from the ruined Asmovare castle hinted at. A secret that made even the emperor hesitate to go against the Asmovare family until the old marquis died.

    Hidden in the shade of the crocodile? It had taken him months to know what that phrase meant.

    This wretchedke and this tiny town, why here? Why would the great lord that was his grandfather hide something so important here?

    It was a stroke of luck, really, that the wine merchant made a mistake with his usual order. If not for the nervous babbling of the man''s wife, he would not have known such an obscure story as the legend of the Little Treachery existed.

    He heard amotion down below, where the servants were getting the small mansion ready. Really, this townwho would call this barely eptable house a mansion?

    He raised his eyes from the view of the duskleaf aspens and giltdagger bushes that obscured the sight of the other ''mansions'' that were built on the street.

    A servant passing by froze at the sight of clear eyes, blue as the skies of summer and arresting as the first sight of the ocean, revealed in a face that would have turned the gaze of a deity. Lips full and sculpted for passion smiled at her.

    She ducked her head, mortified, and scurried away.

    Calor chuckled. She had an interesting look. Perhaps he could take a tour of the maidservants'' hallter.

    He leaned away from the window seat, bending a gaze on the matter so noisy in the receiving hall below. The coat that usually fell to his ankles, pleated and embroidered so finely it looked in from a distance, fell open to reveal trousers made of fine wool woven in patterned subtle id, and boots made of strange leather that shimmered as the light changed.

    "I said the pear. Pear green!" Agreine held up the cloth to the servant''s view. "This is basil green. Basil! I already said it was for the chair with the golden cushions. Do you know what a basil green throw looks like paired with golden cushions in a room with rose curtains?"

    The servant quickly took the woven throw away.

    "Horrid!" cried Agreine after his hurrying figure. "It looks horrid, do you hear?"

    She huffed, quickly fixed her hair, and went into the next room with a frown at the merman statue in the alcove. She turned, to see another servant bringing in a pile of cushions. "Remove this thing. We cannot have a beast leering at all and sundry as they pass. This is the receiving hall. Mer statues, how barbaric."

    "Yes, madam."

    She walked on.

    "Those stools, why are you cing them there?"

    "They''re traditional, madam."

    "I have not heard this tradition."

    "The old master of the house"

    "Ah. An arbitrary tradition." She lost interest. "They''re out of ce. We want an elegant hall, a hall with ss, not a tavern. Rece them. There are ck-applewood chairs with red seakrait leather seats in the esquire''s things. Use them."

    "Yes, madam."

    "Change the flowers in the left small hall, I see them wilting."

    "Yes, madam."

    She swept out the receiving hall to the front courtyard, servants hanging on her every word.

    Calorughed quietly, the lilting sound turning the ear of those passing near; so light and pleasing it was.

    Really, how amusing, he thought. She showed herck of understanding with every word. If she were not so useful, this wine merchant''s wife, he would not have given her a chance to even look at him.

    What did she know of elegance, this fishmonger''s daughter, this merchant''s wife? The foundation of ss was arbitrary tradition. How else would a person set himself apart from those below him? The servants knew that better than she did, despite her airs.

    He saw Bram enter, look askance at the hurricane of organizing the woman was doing. He nced upward, at Calor, who waved the matter away with a movement of his fingers.

    Bram climbed the stairs, disgruntled. "She removed the mer statue?"

    "Let her be. She has an eye for color, don''t you think? She won''t be back to this ce after today, in any case. You can put the statue back if you wish."

    "Good. There''ll be assumptions if you let her have charge of your household like this."

    Calor touched a hand lightly to his chest. "Why, Bram. She is married, the wife of a friend, don''t you know? Despite her charms, you think I would touch her? She is too old."

    "She''s barely past twenty, and years younger than you."

    "A number is not indicative of age, my friend. She has that herbalist''s house to putter around, doesn''t she? Tell her she won''t need toe here again, if you''re so bothered."

    "I still don''t know why anyone would buy that property. It''s ill-used and thend is tired. What can grow there?"

    "I forgot your family are nomads." What could a wanderer know ofnd that gripped your heart and roots that made your blood burn?

    When he saw the bare earth where Castle Asmovare once stood, even the stones hauled away and the gardens ripped out, he felt such emotion as he had never felt before in his life. He vowed to raise it again,rger and more powerful than before.

    Bram snorted. "Nomad or not, we still know better than to buy deadnd."

    "Enough about it. You have news."

    "The herbalist''s neighbors are moving out. They just sold to the boy."

    Calor turned away, put an elbow on the windowsill and propped his chin on his hand. "Mm."

    Bram swallowed, quickly changed the subject. "There used to be an old fort west of the Garge homestead, it was destroyed over twenty years ago. There''s a chest of things hidden in a nearby cave, but the contents were paper. They''ve rotted down."

    "Nothing at all?"

    His tone was lightly enquiring. Bram quickly reached into his coat.

    "Just this." He brought out a piece of leather. "I believe it''s a map. I''ve not seen the ce it shows before."

    Calor gestured, and Bram spread the scrap of leather on the window seat.

    The esquire leaned over it, then his brows came together. "It is a map. I''ve never seen such a strange depiction, however. It''s a map of the noble domain that once ruled over thesends."

    Bram pointed. "There are locations that appear to have been deliberately scratched out."

    Calor Ducan nodded. His finger touched a dark patch on the side, pressing down some of the ked surface of the waxed leather map.

    His friend looked at the ck symbol that was taking shape. "A tree?"

    A smile touched the full lips of the man beside him. "A garganel. They call it the shadow tree in these parts, a tree that guards the path to the underworld."

    Bram nodded. "I suppose the circr ''leaves'' on the tree match the scratched out locations. Should I send people to check out these ces?"

    Calor shook his head. "Don''t bother. Feints, merely. To hide this."

    He touched one of the locations where the ink had been carefully scraped off. Ity in the center of mountains, the depiction of the river andke barely a faint line under his finger.

    "Do you know, Bram, when the world was young, beasts ruled the earth?"

    "They offended the heavens and were muzzled, weakened, punished," Bram rolled his eyes. "And became the ythings of the weakest race, called humans. What of it?"

    "In the beginning, there was a crocodile of the great river, the mother river, the river of life, who found no sce but in war and murder. And when the heavens proimed peace between all races, the crocodile rebelled so mightily that deities descended upon the earth to subdue it."

    "I do not see"

    "The head was smashed into the earth, and restrained by divine chains. Theshing tail was curled forcibly and sank into the ground. The limbs were cut off and tossed into the mother river. Only the body was left to wriggle and writhe unrestrained, in fury and pain, in hopeless hope. Listen well, you children, for this is the story of the Little Treachery. Be wary, oh children, for the Lowpool is the head of the crocodile. And it only rises for blood."

    Calor smiled slowly at his confusedpanion, after thest word left his lips. "Rather well done tale, wouldn''t you think?"

    "I''ve heard better." Bram shrugged.

    "The good Madam Agreine is not the equal of your story-singers, I agree." Calor''s smile widened. "But thanks to her, the path has opened to me. The boy is insignificant. We''ll endure a few weeks more, Bram. But then, we''ll rise to heights these people cannot even imagine."

    Bram looked at him, then nodded, as he always did, in full belief.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Duskleaf aspen  a tree with leaves that shade fromvender to dark purple, thought to bless a household with longevity and sess

    Giltdagger bush  a nt usually used as a hedge, with small tapering yellow leaves that tinged red at the tip and edges.

 Chapter 44: End the Morning in Frowns

    Chapter 44: End the Morning in Frowns

    Defi examined the barrel again,paring it to the original Bluzand emblem. He smiled in satisfaction when he saw there was no difference. He''d thought himself hallucinatingst night, but he''d actually managed to recreate thepany''s barrel protection/preservation/durability emblem correctly.

    He lined up another seven barrels and affixed the glyph-papers he''d painstakingly drawn, activating each to inscribe the emblems on the barrels.

    Finally, today, he was going to milk the eight slimes he had fattened for over a week.

    He started with the two assigned to Jar''s thick vorful vinegar, both chosen for their slightly viscous slime extract and the fact that it had tasted slightly sour like fruit, not sour like rotting food which some other slimes had smelled like. He''d named the two of them already; Jarvon, the darkish-green emerald-colored slime and Jarto, the green slime with the gold stripe.

    He put Jarvon in a bucket and started kneading.

    He''d found some odd stretchy gloves that shopkeepers selling delicate or slightly dangerous seafood or raw materials used. It was made of the cured inner hide of a type of giant seaslug. They called the material thssen vellum, which was different from thssen leather which was from a different animal altogether.

    The apothecary he''d seen using the gloves, he only met because his neighbour Allise got a minor fever and her husband was so worried he nearly overturned their boat. Apparently the youngest in the household was the most sensible as he ran to get Bree, who got Defi, who had to go into town to buy medicine because both of the men of the north farm were panicking.

    When he delivered the medicine, his face must have been a sight, because Allise assured him she would be going to the birthing rooms in the town physicker-hall when the time came, and both men would not be in charge of her.

    Defi could not say he was not relieved at her words.

    The gloves he got went up past his elbows and weren''t stiff or ufortable to use.

    He lifted Jarvon from the bucket, dripping extract. The glovespletely prevented the fluids from reaching his skin. Excellent.

    He put Jarvon in a basket of food and filtered the bucket of slime extract into arge bottle. He estimated two litr of fluid had been milked.

    That was normal. He poured a sample into a smaller bottle,

    He washed residue off his gloved hands, and turned his attention to the rest of the ''wild'' slimes.

    After Jarto, came Malvon and Malto, who he hoped could reproduce Mchite''s light vinegar, then Larvon and Larto, who could possibly recreate Larimar''s lotion. He filtered and bottled samples of everything.

    He turned his attention to the two slimes that cost more in feed than all the others. The savras was nearly gone, and tomorrow he''d have to feed them zaziphos until the savras sellers came next week. Of course, that depended on how the extract came out.

    He''d named them Zivenof and Zavanas, a reference to an alchemy folktale in Ontrea; Ziv and Zav in short.

    The extract from the savras slimes was of a viscosity between Jar''s vinegar and the lotion. The scent was of sweet zaziphos and at the very least, the fluids did not seem to be poison. He filtered and bottled them. He would have the apothecary test them for efficacy before he needed to do anything else with it.

    Hebelled the sample bottles and wrote down the particrs in his slime farming journal. He dug out the sample bottles from Jar, Mal, and Lar as well.

    He brought the sample bottles to the kitchen, arranged them on the table, and took out several small bowls. He poured the extract from the thick vinegar into tasting bowls. He brought a bowl to his lips and let a touch of vinegar reach his tongue.

    Jarvon''s extract tasted well enough. He sipped water to drown the taste, then tested Jar''s vinegar topare.

    He put down the bowl, took another sip of water, and tested Jarto''s product.

    It was recognizable as vinegar, but there was a difference in the taste. Jar''s had a richer, fuller vor. The extract from Jarvon and Jarto were simr enough to each other that he could not discern the differences, save perhaps Jarto''s was slightly more viscous. But their extract only approximated the richness of Jar''s. If he could taste that minor difference, then it definitely would stand out to the tongues of the gourmand chefs of Ascharon.

    He sighed. Mystic crab versus ordinary crab  there really was no contest. Maybe he could get a closer taste if he increased the ratio of crab in the slime feed.

    He noted down the results, tapped the pen absently as he thought, then jotted down possible avenues for improvement.

    For instance, Kern''s herb hybrids were already nted. He''d stopped most of his nightly forays to heal the orchardnd so he could focus the Current on the herbs. They were greedy, greedy little herbs. He could see how they would wither a whole farm so easily. And Kern had nted whole fields of them.

    Even with the Current, Defi would not be able to sustain more than a quarter-hecte while he was healing thend as well.

    He really wanted to know what effect the herbs would have on the extract from various slimes.

    He put down the wool-tipped pen and washed out the tasting bowls. The Jar series vinegar had passed the first test. It would have to pass the Sarel taste test next. Today was a delivery day and he was heading thereter in the morning, so it was no problem.

    He started on the Mal series next, pouring the light vinegar into the tasting bowls. A minute of tasting, and he was noting down that Malvon and Malto had more of a sess. Again, they needed to pass the Sarel taste test.

    The Lar series was a bit of a problem. The considerations for lotion were different. It didn''t require a taste test. The viscosity of both was good, the zaziphos scent was stronger than in the original, and testing on skin did not irritate or cause a rash. Did he need to send samples to the Bluzandpany again?

    He packed all the samples in his travelsack, even the originals. He''d get Sarel''s thoughts, then head to the apothecary.

    He peered into a basket he''d just set up yesterday. A blue-green slime, a slightly darker hue than Turq''s,y munching on zaziphos inside.

    He almost forgot.

    He had to deliver Rocso''s slime as well.

    He washed up, and grabbed Turq, who''d beenzily creeping along the wooden bench near the food baskets.

    "You know, I''ve been too focused on glyphmaking to actually look into your species again." He grumbled. "This was much easier with a trantor just reading out the passages."

    He walked into the central hall, fell into a chair, and opened the neglected books on Abrechal, cradling Turq in an arm while lounging with a nket around him to ward of the early morning chill.

    Every chapter he tried to read, there was a trantion in Ascharonianmon, and a dictionary. There were a number of Ascharonian root words from Abrechal, so his progress was somewhat steady.

    After slowly reading a chapter, with reference to themon trantion, he took a break to make hot tea. Then he brought out pen and another book in Abrechal, which he tried to decipher without referencing a trantion.

    The process worked for him. He could now infer about half the meaning of most sentences in the books. Ask him to speak it however, and he''d be lost. No matter. He only needed to know how to read it.

    He''d gotten tired of battling multiple tenses with gendered words and was struggling with calcting how to make one emblem activate another when certain conditions were formed, when his current housemates stumbled out of the bedroom wing.

    He greeted the sleepy children and went to start making the morning meal, moving Turq from his shoulder to the top of his head.

    The children mostly did follow Aire''s schedule of waking up an hour or two after dawn, though from their half-dead impressions as they shuffled into the kitchen he wondered if he should make them sleep earlier in the evenings.

    He contemted his current schedule as they ate.

    Today''s meal was milky samad and bread stuffed with grilled fresh Lowpool herring doused in starcherry sauce.

    The oily herring was a sea-fish, said one of the sellers, but the ones caught in the Lowpool had no way of returning to the ocean and were forced to adapt. It was the mostmon fish in theke. They were smaller than themon sea herring and less oily, but the vor was delicate and sweet. The seller imed that eaten raw, it tasted like a melon.

    Defi was in no hurry to verify the im personally, especially as the seller chomping down on the raw fish in front of him had proved it well enough.

    He eyed the children.

    "Do you want to move your studies to the mornings, and sleep earlier at night?"

    "No," said Renne immediately.

    Markar chewed his bread carefully, before answering. "You''re busy in the mornings."

    "Leaving us here?" Bree looked worried.

    "No," he told the child.

    It couldn''t be helped that most days his free time was after sunset, and that was when he could help with their studies. Renne and Markar had advanced reading, and could write already, so Defi could only give them the essay questions and logic problems he remembered from his own studies at their age. He''d even asked Orain to acquire a book on the literature of this world so satisfy the ''songs'' part of the curriculum, and then a book on the localws to assist in debates.

    As for Bree, the boy often turned around the letters when he wrote, but his reading wasing along fine and hisprehension eptable. Most of the youngest boy''s work was in writing, and Defi had to supervise closely or Bree would gain bad habits.

    He also started Bree on reading literature and simple logic, in preparation for history and philosophy.

    A well-rounded education was valuable, as the elders said.

    He contemted that. Should he then start them on handling weapons? They did not appear to be trained; that was an oversight in their education.

    "What weapons are normally taught to children?"

    The older two, once more, looked at him like he was growing another head. He was confused. Did Ascharon not teach weaponsbat? Natanel had offered to teach him swords, hadn''t he?

    "Swords!" Bree said immediately.

    "You want to learn the sword?"

    Bree nodded. "Flying swords."

    Defi smiled ruefully. "I can teach you the basics of the sword arts. But the flying is up to you."

    As a low-adept, he was allowed to teach apprentices. To teach the advanced arts, a master was needed. His sword master had rated him to mastery in only a single sword art  the Stormhawk Sword; he had only needed to pass the Trials to be able to teach.

    He ?? passed the Trials, technically. The lord of Rimet''s interference was indicative; had he not passed, there would have been no need to interfere. He just as skilled as any single student who passed, only he held no tokens of achievement, no badges of honor, no stripes on his sleeves to show his skills.

    The Stormhawk Sword was a foundation art more than abat technique  most people who learned it did so for the insight into the basics. Defi had been learning several other styles that needed a good foundation and he had been nning to find a good teacher after the Trials. Needless to say, that was impossible now.

    "I thought you hated swords?" Renne asked.

    "I do not hate swords," he said, wrenching down a sudden memory of how easy it was to slide a sword into human flesh. "I am able to teach one sword art and two spear arts, not to mention hunting and archery, various literary arts, the flute and the lyre, and finally, mathematics."

    The kingdom of Ontrea had long had a prohibition on kingdom information crossing the Gates. But a foundation sword art and two of the least-powerful spear arts in the thousands of weapons techniques avable to the warriors of Ontreawould it really do that much harm?

    "Why are you offering?" asked Markar.

    "I''ve been thinking of getting back into practice. Teaching the basics is a good way to do so." Not to mention, were they not in danger currently? The children were being hunted, while Defi was being watched by people who had been in conflict with him once already.

    "We''ll have to think about it."

    Renne frowned at her brother, but he only stared back silently. She huffed.

    Defi nodded, knowing they would discuss it when he was not present, only sighing out, "It is better to know something and choose not to use it, than not know something and need it."

    He would have preferred a life where he did not have to pick up another weapon. But he should have known better than to hope.

    The morning meal ended with frowns on three faces.

 Chapter 45: A Mixed Day

    Chapter 45: A Mixed Day

    The apothecary, a middle-aged man with blonde hair and a perpetually bored expression on his face, snorted in amusement when Defi told him what he wanted.

    The man wore an exceedingly loud red coat withrge purple stripes. The sleeves of the coat, only reaching to below his elbow, looked like the lower part had been hacked off and what was left badly re-sewn.

    "Savras?" he drawled, as he stretched from the recliner he''d been half-asleep on when Defi came in. "I suppose I have nothing else to do."

    He epted the two sample bottles, flicked the piece of paperbel on the first to see it marked ''Zav'' and shook his head. He uncorked the bottle and poured some of the contents into the hollow of his palm. He tilted his palm this way and that.

    A curious light lit up in the formerly uninterested eyes. "You did say it was savras?"

    "Savras and zaziphos." Defi nced toward the apothecary from where he was looking through several of the fresh ingredients disyed in preservation boxes.

    "Savras is barely a mystic nt; you diluted it more? The efficacy of this" The man huffed. Then his voice grew lower. "But how did it be so clear?"

    Not really so clear, Defi thought. Compared to the slime vinegars, the extract from the savras-fed slimes was tinged with a dark green, making the liquid look like the clear greenish ss Ontrea used for mirrors and statues.

    The apothecary rubbed the liquid between the pads of his fingers, then pped his hands together and rubbed his palms as if warding away the cold. A faint hint of grass and zaziphos spread around him as his actions heated the liquid between his hands.

    Not satisfied, he brought his cupped hands to his nose and inhaled. He sighed, brought out a strange tablet. "It certainly smells better than any savras extract I ever encountered."

    It did not sound like apliment, so Defi ignored it and focused on the tablet. He doubted the man was actually testing the smell anyway.

    It looked like the summon-tablet Defi had used to summon Turq actually, except it wasrger and the etched symbols on the b of rock looked more intricate and borate.

    The tablet''s designs were focused around a central hollow inscribed with glyphs.

    The man brushed his wet hands over the bare skin of his inner arms, holding them up to his gaze, to Defi''s confusion. Then the ''Zav'' sample was poured into the tablet. The apothecary tapped his finger to one of the glyphs, and the slime extract in the central bowl-shaped cavity moved, climbing up the inscriptions and filling the channels of the engraved designs.

    "How curious. A new variety of savras? But then I would have heard of it." His eyes were not so dull anymore, a spark lighting up behind his apathy. "But the scent"

    He tapped another glyph and the liquid drained out of a spout at the side of the tablet. The man caught the drain in the sample bottle. He flushed the tablet apparatus and wiped it dry.

    Quickly, the second sample was poured in and the process repeated.

    "Hm, hm, excellent." He turned to Defi. "How did you retain the efficacy of the savras with this much adulterant? Is this the result of a decoction? A distition?"

    "I am not the one who made these," Defi said, entirely truthful. "I only wanted to know what they were."

    "And the maker? A name, a face, what can you tell me?" The apothecary looked at him so keenly expectant, no trace of boredom lingering, that Defi was a little sorry to disappoint him.

    "The names were foreign, and the face  I am afraid the faces defied human description."

    "There were two?"

    Defi pointed wordlessly at the tags on the sample bottles, which were in fact recycled condiment bottles.

    "Ziv? Zav? This tells me nothing!"

    "They are effective then?"

    "Effective?" The man scoffed. "No more effective than themon tincture of savras. But this rity, this method of creation, I have never seen it before! Young man, if I knew how to do this, do you know how many other things I could make?! This method, this process, wasted to make savras taste like fruit, of all things!"

    Defi smiled at him. "Thank you, sir. Your assistance has eased my worries greatly. If there is anything?"

    The man pointed immediately at the slime extract samples. "May I have these?"

    Defi wavered.

    "I must test further!"

    Defi did not know how the bodies of slimes worked to produce the extract. Perhaps a purification, or something simr. But recreating the substance without the slimes would be desirable. It was best if the extract did not stand out too much ore from only one source.

    So he agreed to leave the samples.

    "Of course, of course, you should not give up secrets of the trade so easil" The man whirled. "What, I can have them?"

    The enthusiastic man in front of him was such a departure from his recent experience of the apothecary that if Defi didn''t know better he''d have said it was a different man.

    "My name is Kant. If you have any more substances to test, don''t hesitate to bring them here."

    Defi nodded, made his goodbyes and left. The apothecary Kant immediately closed his shop and disappeared into the back, the sample bottles held close to his chest.

    Defi hoped he seeded.

    Sarel had already praised him for having managed to dilute the thick vinegar somehow. It was a little strange to be praised for having failed, in fact.

    He was still hoping to recreate Jar''s vinegar quality.

    He sighed. Shouldn''t older people challenge the younger generation to greater heights or something?

    This Lowpool was truly strange.

    He could not stop the small smile that curled his lips.

    Strange enough to hide all sorts of people. Enough to have him wondering, what story did that apothecary have? Wouldn''t research opportunities be more plentiful in the university cities? He thought about all the people he met unexpectedly. Was the man a hidden savant as well?

    He shook the questions away. He was not one to go digging in other people''s pasts.

    "Well. If it isn''t Sarel''s little errand boy."

    Defi nced at the speaker, a man in histe twenties, maybe early thirties, hair a rather arresting dark blue. Or maybe ck with blue highlights, he could not tell.

    Of all the people to run into today.

    "Lemat," he greeted. The man was a farmer who had helped Aire concoct the sleepbombs used in the smuggler incident. Incidentally, the man also was an apothecary. There was, however, a reason Defi chose another shop. "Have you been well?"

    "Augh, so polite. It brings up bad memories, don''t do it. I once met a man who determinedly clung to propriety even as he was poisoned to death. He wouldn''t even scream. I hated him."

    Defi processed the implications of those statements, then deftly put them in a box at the back of his mind and ignored them as not relevant to the present.

    "Why are you osting me?"

    "Can''t I not be curious about the person a friend is spending time with?" Lemat shrugged. Then he eyed the slime on Defi''s shoulder. "That is not your usualpanion. Or have the three kids you adopted taken that one as their own?"

    "There''s been no adoption."

    "You brought them to the orphanage, yes? A good thing you had the gold to sponsor them. I don''t think Aire and Lergen could have afforded more."

    Defi hadn''t thought of that, in fact. He''d just wanted to keep the crab away from the one who thought to extort a child. Aire and Lergen''s circumstances had not touched his consideration then.

    He felt a frisson of guilt. He had dumped three children on the doors of the orphanage and did not think of what raising them would entail.

    He stepped away from Lemat.

    "Where are you going?"

    "Delivery."

    "The docks aren''t busy today."

    "Yes, they aren''t."

    Lemat fell into step with him, peered into Defi''s face. Then stifled augh. "Are you, are you feeling guilt? I just said you paid for it, didn''t I? What guilt do you have? You can just continue on in the warm experience of having saved three children from a fate that would doom them to despair and destruction."

    The man waved his arms about, raising his voice at thest three words.

    "I see."

    Lemat sighed and walked with him, silent.

    They entered the tavern, through the front door this time.

    "Young Defi," Rocso grinned in greeting. "And mestre Lemat. A table?"

    "He''s not joining me," Defi pointed at the man who had stepped as he stepped, stopped as he stopped, stumbled as he stumbled all the way to the tavern.

    Why would he want to sit with someone who mocked him so?

    Lemat made an expression of hurt feelings so real that Defi nearly stopped to admire it. "How rude. After I apanied you in your moments of unwarranted misery over actually not thinking of one thing?"

    Defi exhaled audibly, turned to Rocso who looked amused. He gave the man the slime he had with him. "I have this for you. The docks weren''t that busy today, so I didn''te with the delivery."

    Rocso''s eyes sparked in youthful enthusiasm. He tossed the wild blue-green slime up and down in his hands with a grin. "Ah, so nostalgic. What''s this one''s name, then?"

    "I haven''t given it one. But I made sure it won''t exude anything poisonous, malodorous, or unptable."

    "Oho, you can do that?" Rocso looked appreciative. "I still owe you three dishes, hm? Come,e, both of you. I''ll be sure to cook the best tavern food you''ve experienced."

    Lemat perked up. "Oh? I''m curious."

    Rocso smirked and waved them onto a table at the side, one of the more private in the establishment. "Bandits have been acting uptely, so all our dishes today are all made with ingredients from the Lowpool."

    Lemat all but pushed Defi to sit.

    Defi did so with a sigh. "Bandits?"

    Rocso shrugged. "It''s the beginning of fall. The trade caravans are fully-stocked and optimistic. So are the bandits and thieves, whose activities seem to go into frenzy during harvest season. It''s fine. The town guards finish training recruits at around this time as well, so the town''s always prepared."

    Rocso, the tavern''s primary cook, went back into the kitchen.

    Nearly immediately, utensils and several side dishes were ced before them.

    Lemat eyed them, saying to Defi, "You know what I said earlier was apliment, right? I notice that people don''t take mypliments too easily."

    "The way youpliment people is deplorable," Defi answered.

    "I have been told that before. This way suits me though. How else would I get to know people?"

    "Even if you pester me, whatever reason Sarel''s mad at you has nothing to do with me. Aren''t you two friends? Ask her."

    A server stopped at their table, tes of food in his arms.

    Lemat, who was closer to the aisle, passed a few tes to Defi, waved a hand airily, eyes trained on therge board listing the tavern''s food offerings. "Oh, I know. And we''re not friends. I merely poisoned all those who plotted against her and tarnished her name."

    Defi paused, nced at the food the man had passed to him.

    Lemat pinched his doubtful look away blithely, like some semi-murderous great-aunt. "Oh don''t worry. Extenuating circumstances."

    Defi knocked the hand away.

    Come to think of it, Defi''s great-aunts, having been warriors or priests or warrior-ves all likely knew more than a few ways to be viciously murderous.

    He sighed and reached to take one of the side-dishes.

    "Isn''t this a lot of food?" Lemat wondered. "Is he feeding us the entire menu?"

    Defi thought the te-sized portions were better than the tub of soup he got thest time. Did they change their serving style?

    In one of the other tables, a man who had paid little attention to them, but whose ears had been quietly listening, put down his spoon and slipped out of the tavern.

 Chapter 46: Buying Nobility? What Heretic Came Up With That?

    Chapter 46: Buying Nobility? What Heretic Came Up With That?

    Defi was at the boundary testing detector emblems when Karles waved him over. He frowned at his design. It was not enough. The limitations of no.1 ink were evident. He didn''t have a lot of no.2 ink for testing, and he was still making his way through the emblem that Jast at the glyph shop had given him.

    Lemat mentioned that a glyphmaker who made his own could create a custom ink with the power of no.2 standard using no.1 ingredients.

    An excellent idea. It was just that Defi didn''t know any ink recipes. The book ''Glyphos Grammatik'' only expounded on the creation of emblems and the history and uses of glyphs, not the creation of inks. In fact, it didn''t mention ink at all, only saying that each glyph needed a requisite amount of power.

    He tried not to sigh as he jogged toward Karles and the warehouse.

    The warehouse exterior was done already, looking sharp and new. The interior was currently being tiled.

    Karles didn''te over everyday, only when he needed to supervise or there was something to talk to Defi about. He greeted the man with a smile, which was returned.

    "The building is going well. We might be done ahead of time," the man said, looking pleased. "I wanted to talk to you about something that came to mind when we spokest time, about the feeding habits of your slimes."

    He brought out a sigilcard and activated it. A semi-opaque square rose above it, twice the size of the man''s head. The square, an illusion, started to change.

    "I know it''s for children,"ughed Karles, at Defi''s curious look. "But it''s useful for this type of work too."

    The illusion became the floor of the warehouse that they nned. Defi nodded, already thinking of various uses a changeable illusion could be valuable for.

    "Can I buy that at the glyph shop here?"

    "My brother made this one for his daughter," Karles answered. "You''ll find more in the city, but Jast likely has a few. It''s one of the few fifth-level card emblems published for public use."

    "I see." He turned back to the illusion. There was a second level above the ground floor that was filled withrge containers. "These arefeeding bins?"

    "Yes. Some years ago there was a milk farm that used structures like these to feed their cows in order to save grazingnd for other uses. The idea was not continued past a few years, as the cows took sick forck of space. For this slime stable, it''s perfect. With the correct emblems, you can automate the feed dispensers. I haven''t found a way to do that to the mixing bins, but moving the feed storage would be easy like this."

    A tform above the slime habitats became more evident. A line of containers started to move.

    "Wheeled containers would be easier to move around the tform, to refill the mixing bins. They''d be connected to a banister, like so, to prevent idents. The mixing bins could be opened and closed manually with levers, and the contents mixed evenly by rotating this lever here. The feed dispensers can be operated manually using levers as well, in case the emblems stop working."

    The man''s exnation was apanied by the illusion images changing as he gestured.

    "It will add eighty crescents to the total, but the utility is excellent."

    Karles had even shaped the tform and containers to take into ount a simr aesthetic to the slime habitats Defi had designed.

    Defi smiled. "Let''s do it."

    "If you feel there are changes to be made, please be free to say so."

    "There are preservation emblems included in this?"

    "Yes, as the entire structure is stationary, it is possible to use a greater preservation emblem on the tform itself. It''s connected to all the important containers, so even the storage containers will be under its effects."

    Defi looked at him evenly. "A greater preservation emblem of that versatility costs more than eighty crescents."

    Eighty crescents would not even cover half the materials needed to make it.

    Karles smiled. "We were given the emblem with particr requirements. The charge for use on buildings in the Lowpool is free."

    Karles'' family must have expanded their business outside the Lowpool. Otherwise, the cost of materials and the glyphmaster''s fee to create such an emblem would have bankrupted them after the tenth building.

    Defi contemted that. "The mayor?"

    Karles shrugged.

    Defi was about toment that the Lowpool and its people had a very odd mayor when arge shadow flitted across the sun, taking their attention.

    Marmocha''s winged carriage, recognizable for the bold colors and fluttering ribbons, lowered behind the trees, where the house was.

    "You have a visitor, it seems."

    "There is nothing else to talk about?"

    The builder shook his head and deactivated the sigilcard.

    "Thank you for suggesting this. It would make everything easier. I''ll bring the added payment to your office." Defi started toward the house.

    "I''ll have the amended contract ready." Karles lifted a hand in acknowledgement before heading back to the warehouse.

    *

    Marmocha was already sitting pensively on one of the porch chairs when Defi saw him. He felt a little unease at the uncharacteristic demeanor.

    "Bad news?" He asked the question lightly.

    Marmocha stood, pped his hands on Defi''s shoulders, his grin back. "Ah, my young friend, what have you been up to these days? Bad news, eh, possibly, possibly. Good news is far frommon in these trying times."

    "Let''s go in then. It appears a drink is needed." He had not yet cracked the bottles of the wine he''d been given by the old couple whose house he now owned.

    "Oh, what tragedy, to have such an austere person as a friend,"mented the other. "When there is good wine, one drink can never be enough!"

    He paused at the sight of the central hall. "Friend, this Lowpool is a ce of hermits. But did you really need to live like one?"

    "It''s notpletely empty." He pointed at the tall vase in the alcove across the firece that held four pinecones tumbled together within its ring lip, then at therge sculpture of fish in pride of ce on the mantel.

    Emer really hade through. It looked like the fish were jumping off his walls.

    Besides those, he thought the book cases and the reading alcoves looked cozy.

    "A good start." Marmocha looked at him, contemtive. "It''s best not to invite others inside until your ce does not look so solitary."

    "Another Ascharonian custom I missed?"

    "At this point, the fact that you are not receiving guests is understandable. But not for long, especially as there are people campaigning against your name in town. Ascharon as a whole thrives on the strength of the rtions between people. We are a social people, and the receiving hall is the second most important room of the house."

    Marmocha sighed. "I would not be telling you this if you were normally living a quiet life. Solitude is prized greatly in Ascharon as well. We are a conflicted people, I suppose. I will say this, Defi, you may choose to live as a hermit but you cannot close your receiving hall, no matter what. The message it sends is not favourable. It will be used against you."

    Ah. For a people so focused on food, it was logical that hospitality was prized. But he had not connected it to a deeply social culture or the receiving hall. Since there was a separate dining hall, he''d thought the receiving hall simr to the courtyards where Ontreans socialized in nned gatherings. Stiff, formal things, where people went to see and be seen.

    Defi''s strongest bond to the Lowpool was Sarel, who saved his life. But she lived as a hermit, and only had sporadic interactions with the townspeople beyond the weekly gathering at the orphanage. He thought everyone was more or less like her.

    The receiving hall was bare when both Karles and Aire saw it. Was it the reason none of them appeared to visit? Aire at least, was the type to barge into her friend''s houses at all times. So she didn''t believe she was wee because of the state of the receiving hall?

    Sarel visited and had been more concerned he didn''t have a stove than anything else. But was this also the reason she''d been not-so-subtly pushing him to make friends?

    He frowned in confusion. "Sarel doesn''t have a receiving hall."

    Marmocha chuckled. "For those who make their homes beyond the calm waters, the intention is clear. No one who chooses to build there is expected to have a receiving hall. Like I said, solitude is also prized in Ascharon. You only need to be subtle about it. Sarel, however, has a very good kitchen. I feel, in that case, everything can be forgiven."

    Therge man gave a long, longing exhale, fantasies of food clear in his zed eyes.

    Defiughed, light. "I feel simrly. Now sit down in my apparently unweing central hall and tell me what fiends lie in Calor Ducan''s shadow that makes you concerned about my social life."

    Marmocha turned half a smile on him. "You would know this more than I, nobles fight with shadows."

    Defi lifted a brow as he opened the cab, sadly containing only two bottles. "Are you not noble yourself? You were introduced to us in Stahlchausses with a sur."

    He was still curious how the Ascharonian census and taxes worked when only the nobility were given second names.

    He took two sses out, and the first bottle, a white wine. He put the bottle and sses on a table, nced at the assayer who was silent suddenly.

    "I wondered how you knew that name." Marmocha poured himself a ss. "I thought you were one of my father''s enemies, you gave me quite the fright. My sister and I, we do not normally use the name Chacort anymore."

    Defi felt the onset of a story that needed more than one bottle of wine. He grabbed bread and several instances dried seafood from the kitchen, a round of cheese, and snagged the second bottle from the cab as he passed.

    He looked around, curious. Where have the children gone?

    "Did you just empty your gin cab for me?"

    Defi turned back to his guest, confused. It wasn''t like he had more than two bottles of alcohol anywhere.

    "I am truly touched," Marmocha continued, sping the bottle close.

    Sometimes, Defi felt he would never understand Ascharonians. He arranged the tes and sat, notmenting on the Ascharonian culture that just happened but making note of it.

    "You don''t use the name Chacort usually?"

    "My great-grandfather was an ambitious man, a merchant. He bought his nobility."

    Defi froze in the act of spreading jam on his bread. "What."

    He bought his nobility? The notion flew against everything Defi had grown up with he could not regte the cold nkness of his tone.

    Marmocha''s lips quirked up at his reaction.

    "I researched everything I could get on Ontrea the moment I decided to do business in Stahlchausses. By all ounts, the nobles of Ontrea cut off their association with Ascharon merchants the moment they learned that as well. You haven''te across that tidbit yet, I see. I always wondered why. Now I know the cause is a dissonance in belief."

    Defi shook his head. "I...your noble titles are bought?"

    "Each year, ten baronial titles, twenty patrician titles, and one hundred armigerial titles are avable for auction from the imperial master of arms. The baronial titles are rarely bought, as they cost a rather silly amount of djamants, but at least one is acquired this way every few years. The others, those are auctioned off to thest."

    Marmocha downed his ss of wine.

    "My father was ambitious. He wanted a title. The Chacort are only untitled nobility, and are merchants in all but name. He wanted it all, the ess to the imperial city, the invitations to the gatherings of the high nobility, the chance to mingle with the luminaries of the court in the capital. He made many enemies, he sold my sister in marriage to gain influence, he destroyed the family and dragged the name he so wanted to shine in the mud because of his obsession."

    Defi forced himself to calm consideration. "Why are you telling me this?"

    "Because Calor Ducan wants a title. And much more than my father, he knows how to y the shadows."

    "You think this is his goal?"

    "It has always been his goal." Marmocha leaned back. "The imperial master of arms does a rigorous check of all applicants before allowing them into the auction. The requirements arend, education, and money."

    Just that? Were there no tests of character? No trials?

    Defi forced himself to listen as Marmocha continued.

    "Calor Ducan has had the means to acquire at least a patrician title, possibly even a barony. It''s the popr opinion that he wants an appointed title, one that could not be bought. But he is here, and doing shady things, instead of lounging around a baronial manor somewhere and increasing his influence or power that he might be promoted."

    "Which tells us he is nosing around other means to acquire said higher noble title?"

    "Very few barons get promoted to count." Marmocha said. "They would need great deeds, more than merely possessing wealth. Ducan''s always openly disdained the military and merchant professions. Apart from those, the only way to gain enough influence would be to enter the government."

    "And yet, as you said, he is here. Are we to discard all legal means then? What then are the traditional ways that the nobles of Ascharonport themselves?"

    Marmocha grinned. "This poor merchant only hears stories. How about you?"

    True, he really didn''t need to ask. But were they really so simr? Buying nobility, what heretic came up with that? It was all a bit more serious than Defi thought. "Do you know what he wants with the Garge homestead?"

    "I know that his association with Agreine has been less than a month. But his treatment of her has been noticeable; invitations to gatherings, visits between households, signs of great friendship."

    Curious. "Did she or her husband save his life?"

    "On the contrary, the husband got Ducan''s wine order wrong. Descending upon the hapless wine merchant, he instead met the wife and, rumors say, her dulcet tones soothed the savage anger and instead forged a friendship!" Marmocha sighed, in imitation of a lovelorn maiden. "Isn''t it great, there are nobles who are so gant and not snooty at all!"

    "Something Agreine said directed his attention to the Lowpool then." And the Garge homestead. Defi sighed, slightly frustrated. "Did a famous pirate found the homestead, that there might be treasure under my feet? Did this damnable Garge marry the hidden daughter of the emperor and their descendants are contending for the throne?"

    "Talk to that Agreine again."

    "She is caught in his web." But Defi''s thoughts were turning in that direction as well.

    Marmocha snorted. "Does it need to be about him?"

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    The noble ranks in Ascharon are:

    Emperor, archduke, prince, duke, marquis, count, viscount, baron, patrician, caster, armiger, esquire.

 Chapter 47: The Spear of the Falling Star

    Chapter 47: The Spear of the Falling Star

    When Marmocha left, it was long past the time Defi usually went to work. There was a delivery today, so he locked up and went to the docks. He waved at the workers as he poled upriver.

    The frequent rain had swollen the river, making Defi hug the riverbank more closely than usual. The waters near the bank were shallower, gentled by some trick of nature. Often, the sand and gravel of the bottom could be seen. The river was wider here, about thrice wider than what he could remember of the turbulent waters of the Treachery.

    As he poled futher away from theke, the river narrowed and the calm of the earlier waters stirred into more life, like a riding ox prodded from a calm walk to azy trot.

    It was more difficult to go against the current, but he still reached his destination in an hour. Months ago, he''d have gotten to Sarel''s homestead in more than two hours.

    He tied off the scow and jogged up the path. Sarel appeared to be elsewhere so he took several baskets and entered the orchard.

    Picking zaziphos didn''t need much brain to do. It allowed him to sort out the roil of emotions that the conversation with Marmocha had imparted.

    Marmocha had sought him out to warn him that people who looked to stand above others thought little of those who would fall because of their climb to the heights.

    In the process, Defi was reminded forcibly once again of the differences between the home that had raised him and thend he hoped would one day be home.

    First the werefolk, and now this?

    He ced a handful of zaziphos in the baskets and stretched, bending his body this way and that, as if his slightly tortured mind would stretch the same way.

    Why was he feeling so conflicted about this, he asked himself grumpily.

    He had already known that the castes in Ascharon were haphazard, and that it was possible to move between them. Buying nobility was just as unconventional, wasn''t it?

    A noble of Ontrea cannot just be. One had to demonstrate ten generations of nobility and adherence to the Teachings before the king gave a family the right to speak in the great court.

    How can one be proud of their name, when it was bought for mere gold?

    He straightened from his stretching, a frown on his face.

    He was thinking as a noble of Ontrea, who had the heritage of millennia behind him and the Teachings in his heart.

    He reminded himself that he was no longer a noble.

    He pulled down a whip-thin branch, carefully twisted off the fruits that weighed its length.

    Was he resentful that he lost his nobility?

    He filled three baskets before he could face the answer.

    Because he was.

    There were three foundations that made an Ontrean: one was their lineage, one was their caste, one was the Teachings. Desif was a son of Rimet, Desif was a warrior-priest, Desif had passed the tests of the learning halls and the Trials.

    Of the three, two were inherent in the identity Defi had as a noble.

    He was resentful.

    He was full of resentment.

    He trembled in the strength of it as it bubbled up from the dark depths of himself, as if the acknowledgement had removed the stopper keeping it inside.

    Not even the Current could wash it away.

    He dropped the fruit in his hands, walked out of the orchard. He took the fishing gaff from the shed and jogged to the clearing beyond the zaziphos trees, where he had once buried the skeleton of a sea monster.

    He took a deep breath, and stepped into the first stance of first formal set of the Spear of the Falling Star.

    It was not an art he had mastered.

    He was not even rated to high proficiency in it.

    The Falling Star was a spear art inclined toward speed and power. The spearmaster said he was not suited for it. He had the speed, but the power had eluded him.

    After two years on a farm, after months on this river, his muscles had hardened, his bones had grown denser. In the months of not practicing, he had lost some of his speed and grace, but the power was more than enough.

    Most of all, the Falling Star Spear was an art that needed passion.

    Of all thebat arts he''d practiced, it was the one most suited to rage.

    His boots thudded hard on the ground, his body and limbs bent in short, sharp movements, the gaff struck air again and again.

    It was not enough.

    He snarled and stepped into the second set of forms.

    The Current spiked inside him, its calm swirling disturbed. Defi''s anger rippled through it, causing high waves. He ignored its attempt to return to its usual soothing flow, forcibly ripped the calm away and pushed the raging Current into the art.

    His boots crushed the grass under him. His body twisted powerfully. His limbs caused ripples in the air as they moved. Shadows of enemies died to the striking gaff.

    Thest set of forms, he only ever seeded in making his spearmaster shake a head in exasperation.

    His breath was already shortened, sweat was running down his face and back. He dropped into the Sixth Circle of the Current to regte his breathing.

    He moved into the third set of forms anyway, weing the strain in his muscles, the pain in his chest.

    First form, second, third, perfectly executed. Fourth, fifth, to eighth, to sixteenth, done.

    His muscles cramped.

    He gasped and faltered. He growled at himself, started determinedly on the seventeenth form. But some semnce of reason came back to him with the shock of pain. He smoothed the Current from jagged bursts to a single long stream of power and started the Fourth Circle.

    Eighteenth, twentieth, twenty-first, done.

    The Falling Star Spear, it had never felt like this before.

    Some small part of him detached and watched half-curiously, as face contorted and Current in a semi-tamed rage he moved in potent strikes he had never been able to do before.

    If his spearmaster were here, he would likely have stopped Defi in concern at that deranged look. Then praised him. This was what the Falling Star was like?

    It was true that it was unsuited to the bookish and passive noble he had been.

    The thirty-sixth andst form of the third set loomed and Defi''s vision tunnelled to therge boulder at the edge of the clearing.

    The Current, incited by the spear art, thrummed, the speed of its movement directed, and the gaff in Defi''s hand struck.

    The essence of the Falling Star, a glowing spear from the heavens assailing the earth, raging bright in the sky, cannot be stopped, cannot be parried, inevitably striking.

    The metal curve of the gaff hook touched the stone.

    A crack resounded throughout the orchard, echoing against the mountainsides, carried far by the cliffs, startling birds and small animals near, quieting insects.

    The boulder split into pieces, the rear of it crumbling nearly into dust.

    Defi held thest form for a long moment, then retracted the gaff. His painful breathing sounded loud in the silence.

    He rxed, then swayed and had to nt the butt of the gaff in the earth to help him stand.

    "Whoa"

    He whirled.

    Sarel and three children stood in the trees at the edge of the clearing, baskets of zaziphos beside them.

    Renne continued, with a grin. "If I wanted you to teach me, will you teach me that?"

    Defi stared at them, unblinking.

    *

    Sarel took in the dted eyes, the trembling limbs. She caught the girl''s shoulder before she could run toward the exhausted-looking warrior in the clearing. "Get the baskets back to the house. I need to talk to this one about re-ordering my scenery."

    "But!"

    She gave the three a quelling look, which had them ducking their heads and taking up the baskets with crity. Bree,fortably unburdened, followed after his siblings but only after pouting cutely at Sarel.

    She red him away.

    When the three of them were out of sight, Sarel turned back to the boy standing still in the middle of the clearing, holding himself up by her fishing gaff.

    Therge rock behind him was well and truly ruined. Only the two sides now stood tall, as if guardians to a gate, the middle and back in shards.

    "Sarel," the boy said, sounding lost. "What is nobility?"

    What was this now?

    Sarel studied him. "What''s this about?"

    "Marmocha came this morning."

    She''d wondered why the boy hadn''t appeared; like that story of the unlucky coin that could not be escaped. What in the Harmonium did Marmo say to induce this?

    She listened as the boy talked. About Marmo''s past, Calor Ducan, and the differences of two worlds.

    She held in a sigh, took the gaff from trembling fingers and sat him down on one of the smaller rocks. He continued talking without stopping, as if he needed to get all of it out of him before he broke from the shivering.

    She looked at him closely. The shivering was more likely himing down from adrenaline of whatever rage-fueled technique he did to break stone.

    He stopped, and sat there, limp and tired, eyes pained.

    She contemted her answer. Then exhaled audibly. "I''m not sure I''m the best to answer that. You''ve thought of yourself as a noble first, and all that entailed, before everything else. I think of myself as a cook first, before a noble or anything else."

    He blinked. "Sarel, you''re a noble?"

    "Since I was twenty." She watched him process that. With everything he told her, she actually wouldn''t me him if he distanced himself.

    But all she could see was conflicted curiosity. "Is there a difference? Betweenmoner and noble in Ascharon?"

    She leaned back against the stone, thinking back. Complicated. "Some things got easier, some got harder."

    He smiled faintly, huffed in briefughter. "I should have expected that answer from you, I suppose."

    "What''s that mean?"

    "Sarel is always Sarel, whatever you do." He sounded a little envious.

    This kid. She was the same at his age, really. In fact, he was more collected and self-aware that she had been back then. She lifted a brow at him. "Isn''t it the same of you?"

    He just shook his head. Then redirected.

    "How did you gain your title, may I ask?"

    She''d been half-expecting the question.

    "The Summer cier." Her lips twisted as the words left them.

    He nodded in encouragement, eyes questioning, curious.

    "It''s an iced dessert, in the shape of a tower. I made it for the emperor''s birth celebration." The second great milestone of her career, the spark for everything that had happened to bring her here.

    His lips curled in amusement, sudden, a quick smile. "You were ennobled for a sweet treat?"

    "You were ennobled for being born."

    His smile widened into a grin. "Well, if you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous, you know."

    "It is ridiculous," she snorted, stood. "We better get going. You still have to deliver those baskets."

    He nodded, looking better than before.

    She reached for the gaff she''d leaned against a tree. The wood of the haft crumbled in her hands. The metal head fell, thunked against an exposed tree root.

    She red at it, then the boy.

    He looked surprised at it happening, staring at the destroyed gaff.

    Damnably overpowered hot-headed brats.

    He met her eyes and immediately lifted his hands in surrender. "I''ll have it repaired!"

    She bent to pick up the hook, tossed it to him.

    He caught it awkwardly, then quickly turned to leave.

    "Hey kid," she stopped him.

    He looked back.

    "Someone once told me that people are the same everywhere. That a person is a collection of thoughts and feelings, culture and learning, that precipitates action. That nobility is not found in title or even deed, but in here." She tapped her chest. "So don''t worry about it too much."

    He stared at her, eyes wide. Then his face nked, reminding her of his first weeks here.

    He nodded.

    She watched as he disappeared into the trees, sighed. "Mother, I hope that was the right thing to say."

    This was why she never wanted kids.

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting for the book on .

 Chapter 48: The Missing Caravans

    Chapter 48: The Missing Caravans

    "I''m not proficient enough to teach the Spear of the Falling Star."

    "It''s called the Falling Star?" Renne perked up. "It even has an awesome name! You said you could teach spear arts though."

    It was two days after they had caught him in that clearing, and Defi was already overwhelmed. "I said I could teach two. The Falling Star Spear is not one of them."

    In addition, he still didn''t think he was suited for that particr art. It was doubtful he would acquire mastery, even if his insight into it was recently advanced.

    "What if I wanted to learn that?"

    "I do recall telling the three of you to tell me if you leave to anywhere?"

    "It was just Falie!"

    "And you walked all the way to Sarel''s homestead then? Alone?"

    "We had Turq!"

    He lifted a brow at her. The slime was on his head. He''d missed Turq, who''d been apanying the three more often. Mostly because he couldn''t stand Markar''s hovering or Bree''s pouting when Turq was not with them.

    "Turq only works against menacing beasts, not people." He pushed the pole into the water, digging into the sand under them.

    It had been nearly two weeks since Renne, Markar, and Bree hade to live with him. They wanted to visit the orphanage, and Defi obliged. They were likely to be returning there in a few days anyway.

    Today was the day of the savras delivery.

    Even telling the children that he''d be on the way to town early did not deter them. He still dyed his trip until after an earlier than usual morning meal.

    "If you can''t listen to simple instruction, how can you have the discipline to learnbat arts?"

    "They''re different things!"

    "No, they''re not."

    "Renne, it''s fine." Markar spoke up.

    "But!"

    "Really."

    It was times like this that Defi could see how Markar was the oldest, even only two months older than Renne. Usually, the two decided things together, or switched who was in the lead depending on interest and ability. Markar was the nner, the watcher and scout. Renne was the point, the one who caught the eye and charged in headfirst.

    With older siblings like that, how would innocent, quiet Bree grow up?

    He resolved to check in on them more than once a week, when they returned to the orphanage.

    Still. What was it precisely, that Markar wanted to know? The older of the two boys in his current care trailed a hand along the water, entertaining Bree by startling small fish into sight.

    He didn''t ask.

    "Don''t talk about the other day or my abilities when in town, if you would. Not to anyone."

    They acquiesced easily.

    He smiled at them. "Thank you."

    The docks came into sight.

    "Oh, there''s a lot of boats!" Renne scrambled to the bow.

    They''d never seen the docks this early, it seemed. "There are more earlier. We''re just catching the end of the dawn market."

    "Really?"

    "Yes. Before the sun breaches the horizon, the whole market area is lit bymps. The fish are so fresh they''re jumping in the tubs. I think there''s a night market as well, but that is mostly cooked food."

    Many of the fisher families who could not afford enough containers inscribed with mid-grade preservation emblems chose to cook the morning''s catch and sell it rather than use minor preservation to re-sell it the next day. Minor preservation emblems did notpletely keep the fish and seafood as fresh as when they were just hauled in from theke.

    Defi docked and disembarked with the children. He brought up two empty tubs with him.

    He needed to visit Grenia and Marte for his daily supply of crab shells and carp bones. The children followed him, looking around in interest. He felt a tug on his breeches. He nced down. Bree, who was walking close, had grabbed him in slight unease at the noise of hawkers.

    He hung the tubs from his shoulder by the ropes and lifted the boy into his arms.

    Bree grabbed onto Defi''s coat. "Where?"

    "I need to buy food for the slimes," Defi answered. The three had already seen him mix feed for the slimes before.

    He also had three bottles of the savras extract with him. He wanted to see if the apothecary would buy them this time. The extraction method, it wasn''t something that could be discovered in only a few days of experimentation. The man would need more testing material, in any case.

    Marte, the younger of his two usual suppliers, smiled at them as he neared. Grenia, it appeared, wasn''t here today. "Ah, young Defi. This is not your child, I assume?"

    "Do I look that old?"

    "I would have swatted you if after all this time, you were hiding a wife."

    "Lovelydy, it is only you in my eyes."

    Marte huffed, with a grin. "If only my husband heard that, it would give him such a jolt, the overbearing old man."

    There was such fondness in her tone.

    "For you, I would fight a dozen husbands," he imed grandly.

    Sheughed. "Ohe now, do I look so vigorous? Introduce me to this young brother of yours instead."

    "This is Bree. He''s seven. The two over there are Markar and Renne. They''re twelve." He put Bree down and slipped the tubs from his shoulder. The rope was starting to hurt.

    "Good morning, madam elder," Bree said.

    Marte''s smile widened, in the manner of people watching a kitten hugging and ying with its own tail. "How polite!"

    She patted his cheek, gentle. "Ah, how sad that all my grandchildren are grown. I feel the need to tell them to hurry up and give me angels as adorable as you. Eh, young Defi?"

    Didn''t she say the oldest was about his age? Defiughed lightly, and hoped she had not been eyeing him as a matchmaker.

    He quickly exchanged the empty tubs with ones filled with his usual, bought a few kilogar of fresh silver-blue carp fillets, and made grandiose goodbyes as he towed the children along to stow the provisions in the scow.

    He carefully ced the fillets under the seat, and secured the tubs. He straightened. "Do you want something to bring back to your friends? Some fruit perhaps?"

    "No, we''re fine." Renne shook her head.

    "You''ve helped me in many things, during these past weeks. Buying something for you to take back is my thanks."

    "Shrimp." Bree nodded firmly.

    "Bree!" protested his older siblings in chorus.

    Defi smirked at them. "Shrimp it is."

    They were passing the dock office when the door opened.

    Defi stopped. "Natan?"

    The dockworker boss stepped out of the building wearing leather armor and metal greaves. A sword was strapped at his waist, a halberd in hand.

    Natan paused to contemte him. "Can you ride?"

    "Yes?"

    "Will you?"

    "What happened?"

    "Several of the smaller caravans did not arrivest night. The town guards are busy with the thefts, and half of them are green. The mayor has made a call for volunteers from the retired soldiers. A scouting party."

    "If soldiers are going, why ask me?"

    "You can ride."

    "You''re saying the soldiers can''t?"

    "Most are foot-soldiers and navymen, in this town. Expensive, to be an officer, and too few added benefits for the hassle." Natan gave a faint, pleased smile. "A pragmatic outlook."

    The two-wagon outfit of the savras sellers suddenly came into Defi''s mind. He suddenly had a headache form at the back of his eyes. "I must bring the children to the orphanage first."

    Natan nodded. "We are gathering at the barracks."

    He strode away.

    Markar was frowning. "I thought you said not to speak of your abilities?"

    "Natan knows I use the sword."

    "You''re really going with soldiers?" Renne crossed her arms.

    He moved toward the seller of blue shrimp.

    "You heard Natan. It''s only a scouting party. Don''t worry about me, you two."

    He nced back and saw that Bree looked distressed as well.

    "Don''t worry," he repeated, to the youngest. "I''ll be fine."

    He put Turq into the boy''s arms, quickly wrapped up the purchase of enough blue shrimp to feed a hungry toon, and walked to the orphanage.

    The kitchen door was opened by Gran Lari.

    "Oh!" She quickly hugged the three. "This ce has been too quiet thesest weeks!"

    Defi was grateful she vacated the doorway fast, as enough shrimp to feed a toon was too heavy for a single pair of arms. He ced the stacked tubs down in relief.

    "Gran Lari, I''m heading out."

    "You''re not staying?"

    "There''s a need to scout out the road. Some caravans didn''t arrivest night?"

    "Oh, isn''t the harvest frenzying too early?" She clicked her tongue. "Those hooligans!"

    There was a name for it? Defi had thought Rocso was more or less exaggerating his stories as usual.

    He smiled at the children. Markar and Renne didn''t look happy. Bree was hugging Turq tightly. "I''ll see you threeter. Don''t get into too much trouble."

    He jogged to the barracks.

    He''d just had the apothecary confirm that his savras slimes had produced something worth continuing. He didn''t want to just stop with Ziv and Zav.

    He turned a corner and collided with someone, who screeched at him.

    "Sorry," he called back.

    The barracks were full of people. Normally, the fifty or so town guards didn''t fill it to capacity.

    His eyes took in the number of older people; men and women who had served as soldiers in the imperial armies. There were many. Some groups were already leaving.

    "Defi."

    Natan waved him over to a smaller group of fourteen people, varying age. There was even someone his age. They were patting down horses that appeared to have various un-horselike characteristics.

    Some horses had a fain sheen of scales in various ces, others feathers growing out of their fetlocks. On the whole, they still looked like the ordinary horses Defi was used to.

    He wanted to ask but somehow, he knew this was not the time to assuage his curiosity about horse breeding.

    "Take the equipment from that room. We''ll be leaving immediately."

    They were in a hurry. What was in the caravans, that the town mobilized so many?

    Defi quickly found something that fit him and buckled on the leathers, put on greaves and elbow guards, tried on the leather and metal helm.

    It was an ill fit. He put it down.

    "Roll a rag under it." The woman beside him said. She took the helm, twisted a torn nket into the inside, and gave it to him.

    To his surprise and appreciation, the helm wasfortable now. It sat snugly on his head, the leather fallingfortably down the sides and back. "Thank you."

    She gave him a brief smile and continued buckling on her armor.

    He snagged a sword and spear, then left the armory.

    Natan and the others were already mounted at the entrance to the barracks.

    Defi ran over, grabbed the saddle horns and swung a leg over the horse. He secured the spear on the saddle and looked around.

    "We''re the second group of riders." Natan said after casting a scrutinizing nce at the group. "We''ll be taking the road to Genlet. We''ll be going fast. Keep your eyes sharp for tracks."

    "Sir!" replied about half the contingent.

    Defi and the young woman, the only one in the group that was his age, nced at each other.

    Natan led the way.

    He and the young woman cantered side by side out the town gate.

    "Hn," said the young woman. She looked as apprehensive as he felt.

    "Defi."

    He did not know these mountains. His experience of this world was so far limited to a very small part of it. Somehow, in some way, this party of scouts felt like going out on his first hunt.

    He only hoped this experience would not be as eventful.

 Chapter 49: The Missing Caravans 2

    Chapter 49: The Missing Caravans 2

    The road from the Lowpool forked an hour''s ride from the gates. Or rather, the trade road running from Ecthys to Agamarl was reached an hour''s ride along the main path that went to the Lowpool.

    Going northwest on the road, a rider would in three days reach Ecthys, the closest city to the Lowpool. Going further along, the road followed the curve of the River Indar until reaching a picturesque town now called Chatalment, but formerly known as Asvarmalen, which formerly stood proud and thriving in the shadow of Asmovare Castle.

    The castle was now gone, but the town was still one of the most beautiful on the river. The streets were paved in stone and the roofs of the houses were nearly uniformly shingled in tough red ceramic.

    After Chatalment, the road veered a few more degrees northwards past farms and woond to end in the small city of Seranne on the banks of the great river.

    Going south on the trade road, a rider would reach the town of Genlet in two hours. Genlet was a mining town and specialized in metalcraft. Going further along the road, the particrly known towns before reaching Agamarl City were Kerner which specialized in making paper from x and sedges, Nrent which bred the best boar-lizards in the central mountains, Uisenver which sold vital ingredients harvested from a nearby blessednd, and Lembre which had sessfully bred rocblood winged horses some centuries back and supplied all the winged horses of the empire.

    Riding further along the trade road, the city of Agamarl on the banks of the River Indar would be reached two weeks and a half after Genlet should the rider not linger too long on any one stop. Past Agamarl, the road split into several branches, though riding the main road would get a traveller to the imperial capital city of Carmedel in another week or so.

    The River Indar was one of the busiest rivers in the imperial maind.

    Taking a barge of goods from Ecthys to Agamarl took about six days on the river. One would think it the primary trade transport, but mainly it was used to trade from river city to river town to river city.

    The Indar trade road was long established, and ancient. Every town on the road had particr products for trade, towns that could not be reached by only taking the river. It was why despite the severalrge rivers in the imperial maind that promoted great trade, the wagon caravans were prolific  they were the primary transport for viges and towns to sell their goods to the river cities that spread their goods to other cities.

    For instance, mystic sable crab aside, the Lowpool was particrly known for whisker-snake and ironhead rockworm, both which preferred stiller waters than rivers to dwell in.

    The tender white meat of the whisker-snake or the pleasantly nutty chewiness of rockworm would never have been spread beyond a few viges if not for the regr trade caravans that made the Lowpool a particr destination on the Indar trade road.

    Defi learned all this from Hn, as after Genlet the leaders slowed down enough from the swift pace to talkfortably. The mayor of Genlet was worried as well, as the caravans had not reached his town. A scouting party had been sent out as well.

    His normal story of being from the south was enough for her tounch into a conversation about the local area.

    Hn''s parents were merchants who had settled in Ecthys and had bought a house in the Lowpool where they decided to raise their children. She was the third of their children and would soon go to the city to start making contributions to the family business, as she had recently fulfilled an apprenticeship with an apothecary in Agamarl.

    "I wanted to be a cook, but father said it had to be Feurimvit, the vital cookery school town near the capital, before he''d allow it." Hn''s smile diminished. "I didn''t pass the tests, of course, but I did get to explore the castle a bit."

    Defi was startled. There was a whole castletown set aside for teaching cooks? In matters of food, Ascharon was truly

    He really should no longer be surprised about things like this.

    "You sound so sure you wouldn''t pass, is it that difficult to get in?"

    Hn gave a long exhale, old sadness and nostalgic dreams. "Feurimvit trains the imperial chefs. Of course it''s that difficult."

    Defi realized that this was the school that Sarel had been invited to.

    He once again tamped down his mortified feelings at having babbled his mind to her like a child. He was only slightlyforted by the fact that Sarel likely wouldn''t care much that he did.

    He was no longer that boy that needed a mother.

    "Oi, it''s Ernye!"

    The shout up ahead took their attention. On the road, the tracker was waiting, waving them over.

    "Found something, you think?"

    One of the others shrugged. "Would she be there if she found nothing?"

    They gathered around the middle-aged woman, the scout and tracker.

    "The Genlet scout party''s trail leads into the woods. This is where the caravans were taken, I imagine." The woman, Ernye, huffed. "Went ahead a bit, before I came back. Could see where someone''s tried to cover the wagon tracks. ''Bout five or so wagons, it looks like."

    "I see. We should ensure the tradespeople''s safety before we head back." Natan ran an evaluating eye over thepany. Then turned to the tracker. "Is there any sign of the second caravan? The whole Genlet party entered here?"

    "Yes, sir. And no sign of the second, sir."

    "The possibility that they might have been captured before this spot?"

    The tracker blinked.

    One of the others spoke up. "There''s a campground not far from here. Samse''s caravan right? Traveled with them once. Likes to set camp early around there the day before, then heads to the Lowpool in the early morning."

    Natan nodded.

    "Miss Hn, mestre Garm, if you would stay here and ensure that the other searchers do not miss the signs? They''ll being along soon. The rest of us are splitting up. You four," he pointed them out, "you''re to follow the Genlet party, see what they''ve found. The rest with me. We''ll see what the campground looks like. If there is nothing up ahead, we''ll return here. Send the searchers in both directions."

    Defi smiled at Hn in farewell and went with the group heading to the campground. He''d noticed that Natan left behind the people least likely to be able to fight.

    "Expecting trouble?"

    "Bandits are always trouble." Natan nced at him, then the spearshed to his saddle. "Do you know the spear as well?"

    "Only slightly better than I do the sword."

    Defi had worked hard inbat arts because he had to, because it was needed, because it was a logical use of his time, not because of any particr passion for it. However, likely because of that, his particr masteries did not speak of any greatbat prowess. In the rankings of his whole age group he was merely above average, just enough not to shame his lineage.

    "I have no idea what value to assign to that," Natan''s lips quirked. "But I''ll trust that you will fight if needed."

    Was that the man teasing Defi for not epting his offer to learn the sword?

    "I will."

    The bandits may well have his savras sellers. Of course he''d fight. This was his livelihood too.

    They reached the campground in less than a half-hour of cantering. It was arge empty field beside the road, half-screened from total view of the road by alder trees. The tracker Ernye, who had been circling the edges of the field, suddenly waved her hat at them.

    By the time they gathered, the first ones there had removed a fake screen of brush from the edge of the field, revealing crushed grass and soft soil bearing the deep gouges of wagon tracks and the peculiarly shaped footprints of the shell-bullocks used by caravans to carry cargo and pull wagons.

    "Sir." One of the men looked up from where he''d jumped off the horse to study the ground. "There are graves, sir."

    Defi felt a chill skitter down his spine.

    "Reorder the bushes that were used to hide the tracks. Lancer Ernye, you can ce markers so the others can find this ce?"

    "I can, sir."

    "Good. Let''s proceed more quietly. It looks like these bandits are not looking for ransom."

    Defi dismounted with several others to move the bushes back into ce.

    He did hear about that peculiar custom of Ascharon, of ransom banditry. After he learned of the Tesorium and themerce ministry, and Sarel''s reasons to create a merchantpany, he looked for more information on Ascharonian trade.

    The bolder bandits, rather than steal the cargo and build avenues to fence stolen goods, would ransom the cargo, passengers, and traders to the imperialmerce office. It was a widespread practice, and lucrative if a bandit could evade the imperial soldiers that certainly would be watching his movements.

    The insurance of many caravans were high, reflecting this practice.

    In such manner, the bandits would not be induced to kill and the traders would still be able to deliver their goods.

    Defi thought that this rewarding of theft, by the government no less, more than anything reflected a deplorableck of security in the lives of the people. He had heard many things about the power of the Ascharonian armies and navy.

    There was something wrong, surely, if despite that power, they could not protect the people that plied trade on imperial roads.

    They ushered their horses into the trees, following the clear tracks.

    Defi passed the disturbed ground, where beneath, the bodies of innocent tradersy, and wondered once more whether his decision to cross that Gate was truly the right choice.

 Chapter 50: The Missing Caravans 3

    Chapter 50: The Missing Caravans 3

    A gaggle of peopleughed and shouted, filling casks of water at a fresh spring, in good spirits. A few of them stumbled and squinted in the midday light, the effect of a long night of revelry.

    They were dressed in the average Ascharon clothing  coat and breeches in various styles, or loose belted shirts and trousers tucked into leg wrappings.

    Several wore boiled leather armor, chestpieces or vambraces or greaves. More wore jack-coats  coats that have been sewn with boiled leather pieces or metal pieces in the lining to provide a flexible kind of light armor.

    The cloth and leather of their outfits was scuffed and worn. They were shod in animal hide, only a few wearing crafted leather boots or shoes. Most wore scrap pelt sewn or tied together over which a wooden sole was strapped.

    They talked loudly, boasted and jeered in equal measure.

    They were the very picture of mountain bandits.

    Their words lofted up the incline where the spring was located, reaching the ears of eight people crouched in the shadow of the rock formations ubiquitous around the environs of the Lowpool.

    "We can take ''em," whispered one of the eight. "Only twelve down there, and we have two archers."

    Another was frowning. "Cuthes, have you seen this many bandits in one ce before? Look at the casks, man. There''s enough there for a toon on double ration for a sennight."

    Cuthes turned, patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Your division ran out of ale? Never experienced it m''self, but Chelua be damned if I haven''t heard stories. Was it as bad as they said?"

    The other red, shook off the hand on his shoulder, whispered harshly. "Of course it was bad, you muck-son of a gargled swan! A soldier isn''t a soldier without ale! You think "

    "Quiet."

    The lowly-voiced word returned the silence from before.

    They watched as casks were filled and various objects were washed.

    "They''re leaving,"mented one of the archers. He nced at Natan. "Not attacking?"

    Defi thought his name was Hanel. He nced around.

    There were dissatisfied faces in the group.

    The bandits below trailed away into the trees, casks on their shoulders, under their arms, unknowing of the discussion that would determine their fate.

    "We''re following." Natan''s eyes were on the bandits. "Current intelligence says there isn''t a ce in the immediate area capable of hiding arge group of bandits. Would you not like to see what hole these rats have found, that they could be so confident?"

    Cuthes perked up. "So let these little ticks go, so we could fight more of ''em big ticks?" He grinned wide, showing teeth yellowed with tobo and gin. "I''m all for that!"

    "We''re not attacking the bandit camp, soldier. There''s too few of us. But even if all we get is a direction, a general area of where they''re hiding, the information is valuable. The military can smoke them out of their burrows then. For the safety of the people, we cannot be hasty."

    The man was about to protest when Natan interrupted him with a faintly grim smirk. "Don''t worry, soldier. I feel we''ll all get a full taste of fighting today. Just make sure you don''t get that taste too deeply in the gut, eh?"

    There were a couple of snickers from the others while Cuthes grinned. "Yessir."

    *

    They crept along the mountain trails, at one point needing to leave their horses behind and continue on foot as the trees grew closer together and small canyons started to appear, making the trails more uncertain. They entered and of mountain ravines and gullies, the bottom of the chasms still cold with mist despite the afternoon heat.

    Defi thought the trees wreathed in fog to be beautiful, an odd juxtaposition of sharply jutting pines and soft curling white with shafts of sunlight glowing through the gaps in the trees.

    Of course, his enchantment with thisnd of deep shadows and pure mist did notst.

    Ernye flitted into sight before them suddenly, eyes dark with anger and self-recrimination. "Sir, I think the fog''sced with Shade. II didn''t think to check, I"

    Natan nodded. "None of us did." He turned to the rest. "Retreat."

    "What?" More than one voice protested.

    Natan did not mind the protesters and all but marched them back. "The ability to imbue Shade into fog, it''s a northern mountain trick. It''s used extensively in the northern border, against Scaramar incursions."

    "By the imperial army?" Defi understood the anger in Ernye''s eyes.

    "Hm," Natan confirmed. "These are not ordinary bandits. There needs to be multiple trained people to cast it, as it does not require sigilcards. The casters can discern movements in the fog."

    "They know we''re here." The woman archer paled.

    "And we have no idea where they are, yes."

    At that, they discarded caution and started scrambling to where they left the horses.

    "The range of the fog is limited. They can''t be far behind us."

    They ran faster.

    The moment the horses were in sight, Natan stopped, eyes narrowed at the peaceful sight of their horses tied up next to the tall bushes. "We"

    An arrow struck him down.

    Everyone dropped, took cover.

    "Natan?"

    "The armor took it. Everyone, scatter. Inform the mayor."

    Defi could hear the strain in his voice and did not believe he was unhurt.

    The tracker bent over him, frowning.

    "Go, damn it!"

    A voice from the trees sounded, amused. "Toote for that, I think."

    Defi let the Current seep into the ground beneath him, the way he practiced when healing the sansu orchard; felt the flickers of vibrant ever-changing life that indicated people.

    It was an idental and disconcerting discovery, to find that he could pinpoint the location of the vitality-infused people of Ascharon when he was pushing the Current into thend. But it did tell him of the sporadic presence of strangers near the borders of the Garge homestead some days.

    Just like it told him now

    They were surrounded.

    Defi nced back, met the eyes of the downed Natan, and thenunched himself over the rim of the canyon.

    He ignored the shouts of rm, reaching for the roots that would slow his fall. He grabbed and to his relief his hand grasped something sturdy.

    His downward fall suddenly interrupted, he mmed into the cliffside. Dirt and grit rained on him.

    He struggled not to choke and cough.

    He heard someoneughing above him. "What a coward! Well, he''s gone and done broken his fool head somewhere below."

    "Go find him."

    "What? Boss, he''s likely not getting up from that."

    "Find him." The voice was colder now. "Make sure there''s a body."

    *

    Defi waited until long after the sounds of moving above him died off into the distance. His arms grew numb and started trembling before he deemed it safe to move. He coaxed the Current to flow throughout his body, easing the aches, and began to climb down the side of the cliff to a rock ledge.

    He settled on a jutting ledge, shook the dust off his head and shoulders, looking around. The misty forest below was out of the question and he couldn''t stay on the exposed cliff. He stood, inched along the ledge until it got him to a depression in the rock that allowed him to rest with reasonablefort.

    He leaned out.

    If he went in a straight line against the cliffside, he''de to a ce where he could climb up.

    Unfortunately, there was not a path in a straight line. He eyed roots, crevices, any possible handhold or ledge, nning.

    Once he had a reasonable path, he swung himself out of the little cavern and caught his hand on a likely spur of rock.

    His arms strained as he scrabbled for the foothold that was next in line.

    Even with the Current helping, by the time he boosted himself up the lip of the stony gully, his muscles were protesting vehemently. Hey on the cool grass for a while.

    He lifted his head.

    It was doubtful the horses had been left behind. He had to return to the road on foot.

    Genlet was south of the Lowpool, so that mountain and that mountain

    He squinted into the distance. Did he recognize that cliff face?

    A quick recall of their path told him he needed to go west, toward the River Indar. He''d hit the road somewhere between here and the river, in any case. It was afternoon, and the shadows pointed east.

    Defi set out at a fast walk.

    "There you are."

    He ducked.

    The halberd swung through the air he''d just vacated.

    He let his weight tip himself over, into a roll that sent him further from the man. Even then, he had to evade the halberd twice before he could draw his sword.

    Defi lunged, catching the man off-guard. He slipped on a smooth protruding stone.

    The sword, aimed for the gut, tore a hole in the halberdier''s shirt and drew a red line on his ribcage. The halberdier brought up the shaft of the halberd sharply to push Defi away.

    It cracked against Defi''s jaw, forcing teeth to sink into soft flesh. Blood tainted his lips.

    Defi retreated.

    The halberdierughed. "What, are you the stripling Kurman is grumbling the Captain''s ordered him to find? I wonder how much of his share he''ll exchange for your corpse."

    "Have your leaders garnered that much of the take for themselves, that the lowly subordinates need to scrabble over what is left? As expected from thieves."

    "We are not thieves!" growled the halberdier.

    "No?" Defi nodded. "I suppose banditry in this country can be seen as charity for those who are so pitiful they could not acquire honest work for themselves. My mistake."

    He avoided the man''s charge.

    The man was trained, and familiar with his weapon. Defi could only deflect and dodge while looking for opportunities to get in close.

    "You think there is any work in this empire that''s honest? You''re nave, a child. Themerce ministry controls the guilds and the merchants, the ''honest'' workers either suck up to the representatives or fail the ministry''s ''standards''. You obey or you die, boy. There is nothing else."

    "Well." Defi was taken aback, even as he retreated from the increasingly furious halberd. "You''re very bitter aren''t you."

    "Bitter?" The manughed darkly. "I was in the military. I had a brother and he married, had children. Look at me now, a mercenary for hire, no brother, no nephews and nieces. Themerce ministry said his shop was illegal. For what, not paying a small bit of tax? They died, they all died starving for losing that shop, for fighting for what was theirs. So much for honest work, eh?"

    He guffawed, stopping a moment, but his halberd was still at the ready. "Silent, child? Nothing to say? Where is your defense of honesty now?"

    He pointed his weapon at Defi and charged. He stepped on the slippery stone Defi had skidded on earlier, had not noticed that Defi had been leading him in a circle through the trees.

    The halberd whistled past Defi''s ear, embedding itself in a tree trunk.

    The man grinned, stepped back.

    He fell, the sword slicing a greater wound through his neck as his weight pressed on it.

    Defi stepped forward, to kneel before the dimming light of the grinning visage. "I cannot speak for other people. I hope I always serve the highest truth, my actions always offered toward the greatest good. But, as you say, that is an unlikely proposition."

    He removed the man''s weapons, arranged the body. He stood up.

    "It still does not mean that one cannot try."

    He picked up the halberd, then once again pointed himself west. The scuffle might have alerted someone.

    He needed to hurry.

 Chapter 51: The Missing Caravans 4

    Chapter 51: The Missing Caravans 4

    Andar il Vons, rank of major in the imperial army, currently conveying three toons of infantry and a troop of cavalry on a training march to Agamarl from Serane, was looking at the boy who had been brought before him and his officers in the middle of the evening meal.

    A curious one, this boy, the sun-tanned skin of one who had spent quite a bit of timeboring in the sun and the bearing of a gentleman. His words, if they were true, were concerning.

    He nced at the soldier holding a halberd and several weapons. "Bring those to my quarters, if you would."

    "Sir." The soldier left.

    He addressed the boy, who had introduced himself as Defi.

    "I thank you for bringing this matter to us. You have done this empire a great service."

    The boy''s dark eyes studied him a moment before he bowed slightly and stepped out of the room, following one of the soldiers who had brought him in.

    The mayor of Genlet, in whose home the officers had been quartered for their stay, looked bewildered. "Mercenaries? Here in the maind? For what? Surely it cannot be banditry."

    One of the vice-captains shook his head. "It is a fantastic story. The boy is likely exaggerating. Shade in the fog? Preposterous. This far south, the heat would dissipate the mist before it could be useful."

    Thencer of the troop of cavalry was watching Andar as the major calmly ate, as though the interruption did not happen. "Do you believe him, sir?"

    One of the vice-captains protested. "Surely not? Sir, I have reason to believe his character is not the best!"

    Andar''s gaze rested on the vice-captain who spoke. "Indeed?"

    When he received the letter from the mayor of Sottc, he had decided to stop at Genlet for a few days to determine the seriousness of the matter. He grew up on the great river. He was aware that towns on the trade roads depended on the caravans. It was not umon that a town would exaggerate bandit problems to gain military support.

    Then again, he had heard some odd stories about the Sottc mayor after he''d been stationed in Agamarl.

    He''d sent Raber Gerac, the vice-captain of one of the toons, to Sottc in order to investigate the information that Sorza Mareble felt so worrying that she would send a messenger to ost half-trained soldiers on the road.

    It appeared the vice-captain had investigated more than the reports of banditry.

    "There were usations, sir, of unfair dealings."

    Andar smiled as he bit into his roast duck, but his pleasure was all for the food and not the words he was hearing. "You were in Sottc only an afternoon. You had the time to investigate both the bandit problem and fraud? You will go far."

    The vice-captain ducked his head. "Yes sir."

    "You concluded the matter satisfactorily before you returned, of course?"

    The young man reddened. "No, sir."

    Andar hummed. "I see."

    He turned to the mayor. "I assure you, sir, this matter of banditry will be concluded within the week. We will move on the morrow."

    The mayor looked less pale, his full cheeks returning to its cheerful color. "Of course, major. I have faith in the prowess of our young soldiers."

    "As have we, in the wisdom of the empire."

    Andar returned his attention to the duck, which was really very good.

    Other matters could wait until after the meal.

    *

    Defi was met outside the mayor''s house by the group of scouts that had found him wandering around the mountain.

    "Well, what did they say?"

    Defi forced a smile. "We are thanked for our service to the empire."

    He did not say that the information may be discarded because some junior officer met either Agreine or Calor Ducan in the Lowpool. He felt helpless, almost wishing he had not used the Current to listen in.

    There was a small silence.

    "That''s it?"

    "Are you sure you told them everything?"

    "I left nothing out."

    This group did not know that the bandits may be mercenaries, or about the strange fog, only that Defi''s scouting party had been captured near a bandit camp.

    "There is nothing we can do," sighed one of the older scouts, who''d introduced himself as Geven. "Go home. We''ll see what the military is going to do in the morning."

    Defi looked out into the darkness. The Lowpool was three hours away by horse, the Garge homestead another hour''s from the town by boat. It would be hours after midnight that he reached his own bed.

    He held in a sigh, tried not to think about the children, the slimes, the herbs, the scouting party that might not be rescued because of him.

    The man spoke logically. There was nothing more he could do tonight. "Is there an inn?"

    "Inn? Don''t waste your money. My wife makes a better bed than those over-priced cubicles." Geven waved his question away. "I''ll be back in half an hour. If you''re not here, you''re not joining the search parties tomorrow."

    He left, leaving a speechless Defi who had not even been allowed to protest.

    A woman snickered. "I guess you don''t need the inn anymore."

    Defi turned to them with a strained smile. "I don''t suppose there''s a shop open at this time of night?"

    "Oh that big idiot, he''s really inconvenienced you, hasn''t he?" The young man a few years older than Defi pped him on the back. "My uncle''s a confectioner. He won''t mind me knocking on his door during dinner. Sweetmeats are a good visiting gift, aren''t they?"

    There was augh from his friends. "For a suitoring to court the family''s daughter, Baurd. Unfortunate for you, Defi. Geven only has a younger brother."

    Defi turned mutely to the others, in search of a better option, but they only shook their heads with half-amused apology.

    It appeared that Baurd and his confectioner uncle were Defi''s only hope for politeness. He let the young man pull him away, with nod goodbye to the rest of the Genlet search party.

    *

    Baurd knocked on the door of one of therger merchant houses in town. A servant opened the door a crack and peered out. "Young sir?"

    The door opened wider.

    "Ahoy, Nira. Might we see uncle?" He ushered Defi inside. "My friend has a rather serious problem."

    "I am not the problem solver for all your friends, Baurd."

    Baurd grinned at the man crossing the receiving hall. "But you do it so well, uncle!"

    The rotund man sighed, eyed Defi. "Which girl are you intending to pester with sweets then?"

    Defiughed a little. "No girl, sir. My apologies for disturbing your evening. I am Defi, of the Lowpool. Your nephew has been kind enough to offer assistance."

    "That Geven ordered him to take a room at his house rather than the inn," Baurd interjected.

    The uncleughed. "That one has always been straightforward. You are in need of a visiting gift, then?"

    "You have a keen understanding, mestre," Defi sighed.

    The man smiled. "Well, I hope you have some time to taste a new product, hm?"

    Baurd perked up and stepped ahead to the kitchen, calling back. "Uncle, you are a lord among uncles."

    "And your stomach is a prince among stomachs," rebuked his uncle.

    "Come now, uncle, we have not eaten yet and after a long day of ensuring the safety of our beloved town, you deny us this small sor?"

    The man sighed as his nephew disappeared into the kitchen. "You are part of the search party as well, young man? Is there news?"

    "I am, mestre. There has been news of a bandit camp in the canyons. Major il Vons is a decisive man, it appears, and the soldiers under hismand will move soon."

    The confectioner''s face cleared. "I see. It has been some time since bandits attacked the caravans this close to home. You have eased my worries."

    "I only spoke what little I know."

    "Even so."

    They entered the kitchen, to see Baurd looking despondent. "Uncle, what is this?"

    He was nibbling on a thin circle of fried dough.

    "A wafer. It is something simr to a sweet that is made in Zaturias which, my nephew, is an ind to the southwest of the imperial maind. Do you know it?"

    "Even if I don''t uncle, just by eating this, I can already surmise that nothing goodes out of Zaturias. Are you selling these, uncle? They are dry and tasteless."

    "What? This is the taste of fresh wheat, pure and grown in the soil of Ascharon! Young Defi, what do you think?"

    Defi took the wafer, bit into it. The outside crackled against his teeth, the thin innermostyer almost feeling non-existent from the softness of the bread. Baurd had a point; it tasted only of flour.

    "Perhaps if you roll it and put something in the middle?"

    Baurd pointed at him excitedly even as he stuffed wafers in his mouth. "Uncle!"

    The man rolled his eyes indulgently. "Yes, yes."

    He took out several ingredients, whipped up something that looked like a thick cream paste. He put it aside and readied the oil. He took the uncooked dough circles still on a te, carefully rolled them in the fryer with a deft twist of a wrist and tongs.

    The circr wafers formed cylinders that quickly stacked on a te where the oil drained onto a cloth. Baurd and Defi watched in awe at the graceful movements. Finished, the man then piped the thick cream into the cylindrical shells.

    Baurd and Defi took one each as the confectioner offered them.

    The shell was crisp on the outside, airy in the center, the cream not too sweet but full of vor.

    "Uncle, you should hire Defi to be your confectioner advisor." Baurd looked delighted at the new creation.

    The manughed. "I do not think the young man will ept. But worry not for your visiting gift. I will make it myself. It will be refreshing to look into my sour recipes again."

    Defi was relieved.

    At least this night, his immediate problems were so simply solved.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    vice-captain - a junior infantry officer, normally in charge of a toon of soldiers.

    [After great debate, decided to use vice-captain instead of ''lieutenant'' or ''sub-captain'' because despite its history ''lieutenant'' sounds too modern and ''sub-captain'' sounds strange to my ears.]<pncer - the junior officer of cavalry, normally in charge of a troop, which is about 20 to 100 riders.

 Chapter 52: The Missing Caravans 5

    Chapter 52: The Missing Caravans 5

    The exhaustion of thest day caused Defi to wake when the sun was already clearing the mountains in the east. He greeted Geven''s wife Lemeris and offered to assist in the kitchen. She sent him for water from themunal well.

    Geven stomped into the dining hall, face dark as a stormcloud, another two people just as mad in his wake, as Defi was topping up the water barrel in the kitchen. He caught sight of Defi through the doorway, then recited with full sarcasm. "His eminence the major, in his wisdom, has declined assistance and has determined to take on the bandit camp with only his men in deference to the safety of the civilian poption."

    Defi put the buckets down. A sense of urgency surged in him. His mind raced. "How many men does he have?"

    Geven grunted in cantankerous thought. "Nearly a hundred, from what I saw. Including the cavalry troopers."

    Defi frowned in thought. "How many soldiers in a toon?"

    "Depends, really. Why are you asking?" Geven looked impatient, threw himself on one of the cushioned low-backed chairs around the dining table.

    Defi now had confirmation that it was not Leraine and Kern''s taste in dining furniture that was bad, considering the carved frogs and wolves all over Geven and Lemaris'' dining hall.

    Frogs and wolves? They weren''t even from the same habitat.

    Defi suspected a folktale of some sort.

    It was not the time to ask. He answered his host''s question. "One of the old soldiers said the mercenaries'' water casks could provide for a toon on double rations for a sennight."

    "Not a reliable way of gauging numbers,"mented the man who hade in with Geven. "Don''t know how many times they refill their water supply."

    "Just my curiosity."

    The man raised a brow, but answered. "If deployed in a warzone, no less than fifty soldiers. Up to a hundred if prudent, but not much more. They don''t let green vice-captains handle more than that."

    "The major has a hundred?"

    "They''re a training group. Still just learned to march properly, from what I saw. The major''s probably on leave or in charge of a fort somewhere."

    "What''s the rtivebat potential of a new soldier?"

    "Half a year of learning weapons. No experience."

    Defi inhaled, disbelieving. "They''re not even half-trained?"

    Geven pointed at him. "See? Defi''s talking sense."

    "Most of the foot are tribute soldiers, kid. More than half won''t stay past the required three years. The empire''s going to make use of them as soon as they can, to the most that they can. You think they''d waste valuable time and resources on recruits that are just going to leave? The soldiers they give advanced training to are officers and the twenty-year career contractors."

    The woman, who so far remained silent, spoke. "You said ''mercenaries''."

    "Yes?"

    She frowned at him. "Everyone else thinks we''re up against bandits."

    "The man I fought called himself a mercenary for hire, used to be in the military, and he called his leader ''captain''. The major knows this. I realize some people might hire bandits but"

    "You didn''t tell us this yesterday." The man whose name he still did not know said mildly.

    "Did I not." Defi frowned. He thought he did.

    "Come on, Ral, he was running for his life," Geven said.

    Ral nodded.

    "This changes things," the woman said. "A securitypany captain rarely moves with less than a hundred people. The usefulness of scouting cavalry is limited in the canyons."

    "There is no ce to hide a hundred people up there," disagreed Geven.

    "Close to the trade road, yes. But it''s not like the forsaken ce has been mapped thoroughly." Ral sighed. "The government won''t undertake it for the expense and the hunters are a closemouthed lot."

    "Securitypany," murmured Defi. There were few mentions of them in the books, but from a particr point of view, having no set loyalty, they could be seen as a mercenarybat group.

    "We''re at war in the Jebrimean penins colony, kid." Ral thought his murmur was incredulity. "Apart from the military, you think the emperor would allow mercenaries form their own groups in the maind? It''s umon to see a securitypany stray like this however. What the Chel''s in those caravans that''s so important they''d risk losing their charter?"

    Securitypanies were the government''s answer to theck of funds and people to keep citizens of the empire safe. With military personnel being funnelled across the sea to defend the Jebrimean colony, andmoners not allowed private armies, they certified former soldiers and hunters to create local defense groups under the purview of the provincial governors.

    Securitypanies supported themselves, with only minimal governmental intervention. It had been fifty years since the start of the Jebrimean conflict, thirty years since the first securitypany was chartered. By the current time, securitypanies were well-established in areas that were not noble domains.

    Even then, it was just a notch away from being enough.

    What Ral said was true. Despite little direct support from the government, securitypanies had over the years petitioned for added benefits unavable to even a regr militarypany. There was no reason to resort to banditry.

    "The point is they could be outnumbered!" Geven nearly roared in irritation, jolting Defi out of his thoughts.

    "What do we do then? Force an army major, who most likely is some bleeding noble or other, to bring us along? Do you want us flogged?" The woman''s voice was quieter, but the strain and fury was evident. "My cousin is part of that caravan, Geven. You are not the only one with family in danger."

    "I want to speak to him, is that so!"

    "With your temper? You''ll yell at him for stupidity or something. You really want to die."

    A sound ttered against the table. Lemeris looked at them mildly, bowls of soup on the table. "No one is dying. So you better eat before going to do whatever you have to do. If you want to fight, do it outside."

    Ral grinned. "Sorry, lovely Lemeris, we really just came to take the kid."

    "Who has not eaten yet." Lemeris narrowed her eyes at the man, whose grin became slowly more uncertain. She huffed, opened the breadbox to take out two loaves, sliced them in half, the top and bottoming apart.

    She buttered each half and packed them full of the meat and vegetables from the soup. Defi watched in interest as she added fresh greens andrge chunks of cheese.

    She put the halves together, wrapped them in cloth and pressed them into Defi''s hands, to his surprise. "Don''t work too hard, young man."

    "Oh. Ah yes. Thank you." Defi nced at Geven, who looked suddenly despondent as his wife handed him nothing and went back to the kitchen. He took one of the wrapped loaves and offered it to the man.

    "Young man," said Lemeris, slicing herbs without looking at them, the knife shing in the morning sunlight. "You will not insult your host by leaving even a single crumb for the rats, won''t you? It was made for you after all."

    Defi and Geven both retracted their hands, the stuffed bread still in Defi''s possession. "Of course, madam. I am grateful for your generosity."

    They quickly left the house.

    Unable to resist his hunger, Defi unwrapped one of the loaves and bit into it. He inhaled the scent of hot tender spicy meat and vorful cheese. The crunch of greens and bread crust was a delicious symphony in the cool morning air.

    Geven red at him. "You''re really eating it?"

    "I can''t hold two loaves in my hands all day."

    Ral smirked. "Your fault for fighting with Tamal inside your house. Don''t you know, you should only fight with a woman who is your wife?"

    "Coming from a man who has not managed to keep a wife for thest ten years," sneered Geven, "sorry if I don''t believe it."

    Defi took another bite, then startled when the second loaf was taken from his hands, a triumphantugh sounding in his ear.

    Before he could protest, the woman, Tamal, had unwrapped the loaf and crunched into it.

    Defi nced back at the house, seeing Geven do the same in his peripheral vision. To both their relief, the house was out of sight.

    Geven turned his re on Tamal.

    She ignored him and bit into the loaf once more. "Lemeris really is the best cook."

    Defi snorted in amusement, took out a knife, halved his loaf and gave the other half to Ral, whose stomach he heard give a little rumble.

    Ral ruffled his hair, to Defi''s displeasure. He stepped away.

    "Oh, alright." Tamal noticed the byy, took pity on the only person without food in hand, sliced her own loaf and gave part of it to Geven.

    The somewhat pleasant interludested only a few minutes. All of them could not forget the seriousness of the matter at hand.

    "You know you could just track the scouting party''s trail without me," Defi said. It was what he did yesterday, before the sounds of people at his back made him veer away from the tracks and navigate by majorndmarks only. He was slightly lost when the Genlet search party came upon him.

    "If they''re smart, they''d haveid false trails already."

    That was true.

    "I could"

    "Defi!"

    He turned his head to the anxious and relieved shout.

    A familiar head of pale brown was turned toward him, the horse trotting urgently. There were several others from the Lowpool in her wake.

    "Hn, I thought you went back to the Lowpool?"

    "IDefi, my brother?"

    His face nked. Now that he looked properly, the male archer had the same grey eyes and high cheekbones as the young woman before him. He had wondered why the archer had given him some odd looks.

    "We were ambushed. Natan told us to scatter. I do not know if your brother was one of the ones who got away." He did see some of the others dash into the trees. He doubted one of them was her brother, however. All those who jumped to Natan''s order were former soldiers.

    "How did you get away, eh?" One of Hn''spanions frowned at him.

    "He flung himself off a cliff, didn''t he?"

    Defi turned.

    Another familiar face grinned at him. "Thought you dead, boy."

    "Cuthes, wasn''t it?" He looked at the bandaged limbs of the man, concerned.

    "You jumped off a cliff?" Ral asked. "You didn''t tell us that either."

    Defi''s quick smile at him was a little strained.

    "Wewe''re not leaving him and the others there, are we?" Hn gripped her reins tightly.

    Ral shook his head. "The military said to disband the searchers. We were going to try and convince the major to reconsider."

    One of the Lowpool contingent scoffed. "Military doesn''t have a good reputation in the maind. Not surprising they want this to be a military victory. You won''t convince anyone."

    "We can at least try. Defi, you spoke with the major yesterday, didn''t you. Will he see you again?"

    "Doubtful." The major did not look like someone who wavered on a decision he''d already made.

    Despite his doubts, he soon stood before the military encampment, arguing with the guards. The encampment was busy as a hive of bees, tents being taken down on one end, and on the other were lines of soldiers already marching down the road.

    "What''s going on here?" Two people neared.

    "Vice-captain Dereve, vice-captain Gerac!"

    "We wish to see the major." Defi said directly. He could not help but feel impatient. Can''t they already head for the canyons?

    "You''re the boy from yesterday."

    Defi did not think the other was any older than he. "We spoke then, yes."

    "You have already given your report," the vice-captain said. "The major does not have time for every whelp that thinks himself important."

    "Oi now," said Ral from behind him.

    "Raber," cautioned hispanion, augh on his lips, smiling at Defi as if to convey that his friend was joking.

    This Raber was the vice-captain that was sent to the Lowpool?

    "You appear to have some problem with me," Defi mused. "We have not met before."

    "I have heard of you." The vice-captain looked at him in disdain.

    "How strange. I''ve not been here long enough to be known."

    "Enough to be a cheat and a liar, I suppose."

    "Raber." Hispanion lost his smile, looking rmed.

    Defi tilted his head, eyes cold. "We are on the verge of battle. This alone saves you. You will meet me on the field after we return from the mountains. I will have your word."

    "A farmer boy, challenging me? How quaint. You have my word. I will tell the major myself."

    "You are free to choose your best weapon."

    The other scoffed, walked away. "You have lost already, you fool."

    "That remains to be seen."

    The other vice-captain stayed. "Sir, this is not a wise course of action."

    "No. But it is something that must be done."

    The vice-captain wavered, then nodded. "I will convey your respects to the major, and inform him of the urrence. I will say however that the military does not involve itself in personal challenges."

    Defi turned away, the hand that had grasped the hilt of his sword clenching and releasing.

    The others stared at him, in varying shades of surprise and disbelief.

    He bowed to them, self-recrimination roiling in him. "I apologize greatly. It appears we must coordinate with the military forces without their knowing."

    Hn turned away, a handing up to cover her mouth.

    Ral let out a long sigh. "This time, you''re telling us everything."

 Chapter 53: The Missing Caravans 6

    Chapter 53: The Missing Caravans 6

    "I think they split up."

    The knoll from which they watched the army forge through the wilderness was high above the trees, acquired by taking a winding path to a high mountain meadow.

    The trail left by the Lowpool scouting party trod into the dirt by army marching, the group had been nearly paralleling the army''s progress in mountain paths pointed out by the vige hunter Raun.

    One of the few hunters the Lowpool had, a woman named Veris, frowned. "If we continue in this direction, we''re going to hit the Shaking Barrens."

    "The what?"

    She nced at the townsman who spoke. "It''s a mess of tunnels and caves, among the gullies and ravines. Thend is uncertain, and may fall out from under you. Little vegetation, few trees to hold the soil together. Good hunting for crystal lizards, bad idea for the average casual stroll."

    Raun was studying the illustration Defi made earlier, when they were still in town. "You say this is where you encountered this Shade-fog?"

    Defi crawled backward from the top of the knoll. "At least, it''s where the tracker thought to check for Shade in the fog. We were walking the bottom of a ravine. The mists were prevalent."

    One of the men grunted. "Shade-fog''s only effective within a hundred mar, and you need at least three casters. Even if this is an outpost, I expect you were close enough to the main camp that those marchers down below can''t miss it. So, hunter? You can get us there?"

    "The Shaking Barrens are unavoidable, if this is right." He shook the piece of paper.

    Veris joined them, grimaced as Raun pointed out specifdmarks in thendscape drawing. "If that is where your bandit camp is, they must have found a stable cavern somewhere."

    "A cavern in the Shaking Barrens?"ughed Tamal. "Might as well tell us to hit a star in the sky."

    Veris shook her head. "If you say a hundred people or more"

    "It has to be the Groaning Cliff," finished Raun.

    There were multiple groans from various people the party itself.

    "Did you have to say it?" grumbled a Genlet hunter. "We''re doomed."

    Raun smirked. "You town hunters don''t stray much from the old paths, do you. There''s a dozen ces you can enter the Groaning Cliffs, if you''re careful."

    "Crazy viger," mumbled a voice. There were huffs and sounds of agreement from various hunters.

    Ral sighed. "Can any of those paths amodate us?"

    "There''s a couple," Raun shrugged. "The most obvious is the one the army''s taking, and probably also the bandits since they had to transport the trade goods. If you want a fight that bad, then it''s going to be just a bittricky."

    "It''s not the fight that''s the problem," Defi murmured. "We''ll leave that to the soldiers. It''s the people taken."

    "That major''s making a pretty good distraction already," nodded a grizzled man with eyes like a hawk. "Imagine he thinks the same. I''d rather not be told to turn back now."

    "If you want to avoid the army, there is one trail the guild hunters wouldn''t take," Raun started to grin.

    "Even if they know it?"

    Raun''s lips stretched wider. "It''s called Sleeper''s Ravine."

    "You''re mad."

    "Do you want us to die?"

    "Don''t worry," the vige hunter said blithely, innocently, to the protests. "It''s not mating season right now."

    *

    Unlike many of the canyons, which led into another, then another, and another, creating awork of cliffs and gullies across the mountains and into the Barrens, Sleeper''s Ravine was closed at both ends. It was more a hole than anything else.

    Sleeper''s Ravine was not a ravine so much as it was a jagged rip that dug so deep into the earth that the bottom could not be seen. Geven peered into it curiously, Defi beside him.

    Geven picked up a rock, was about to toss it in when a hand grabbed his wrist.

    One of the hunters red at them. "Try not to kill us quicker."

    Raun led them down the lip of the ravine, to a carved path in the cliff.

    Defi looked around in surprise at the numerous flowers that grew on and along the covered path. The ce was rife with vegetation and fragrant with the scent of blossoming life.

    There was a quiet sleepiness to the ce, that made him want to lie down and close his eyes, just rest and let his worries fade away.

    He bent down to examine a shimmering between a few blooms of pale yellow, and stopped short, stared in consternation at the white animal skull, shimmering in various colors as the light caught it.

    Some mystic animal, probably, that saw its end in this wide garden path high on the side of a cliff.

    He reached out to touch the skull in fascination, pushing aside several red flower stalks, to pause at another skull revealed near it, this time a mundane chalky yellow-white.

    This one was a human skull, half buried in the sweet-smelling grass. A small ck beetle crawling on the rim of sightless orbs red its white and brown mottled wings as Defi exposed it to the light.

    He retracted his hand and stood, looked around with sharper eyes.

    Here and there, under flowers, half-hidden under moss and grass, shes of particr shape, of chalky white and pitted brown; piles of bone under a wash of flowers and growing things, the detritus of years upon years of collection.

    The air suddenly seemed too sharine.

    There was a hum from deep in the ravine that he had not noticed before, so naturally did it blend into the background. They had probably been hearing it for a while now, their ears getting used to it as they neared the lip of this boneyard of a hole in the ground.

    It was a gentle beguiling hum that contributed to the sleepy quality of the ce.

    He felt dread curl cold ws at his nape.

    "Listen. me and Sun Shades on the outside, those who don''t have fire sigilcards on the inside. Keep your fire cards ready."

    All thirty-two of them were now gathered at the beginning of the path, the trail down the ravine too narrow for more than two people.

    "I don''t have to tell you not to re your Shades." Raun continued. "Just don''t panic when you see a cloud and you''ll be fine."

    Defi was confused. "A cloud?"

    "Of wasp-beetles. You don''t have sigilcards, at all do you." Geven hustled Defi into the center of the formation. "Try to at least have the burst series the next time you go after bandits, hm?"

    "I''ll make note of it." He''d rather not make a habit of bandit hunting.

    "If we aren''t yed down to the marrow today, I''ll do temple work every day for a month,"ughed the person before him.

    "If you do not shut up, it will be my knife you feel in your bones and my teeth in your flesh," came the strained retort.

    The formation started to move forward at a fast walk, Raun at the head, the others in a streaming tail behind him.

    Defi put together the pieces and nearly stumbled.

    There were insects in this ravine that ate people?

    Truly, there were downsides to pretending to be a local. Not being able to ask the questions he wanted was possibly the most frustrating. Then again, he could pretend to have grown up cloistered in a farm and never taught anything about the world? Heughed inwardly. That would likely be even more troublesome.

    In any case, it didn''t matter.

    Either way he would still be here, jogging alongside sharp-eyed hunters and grim-faced former soldiers, running with the young bloods of Genlet and the Lowpool.

    Where else would he be?

    He was not one to leaverades behind.

    "Trouble," sang a call from the front. "Run faster!"

    Their boots thudded in faster rhythm in that flowery corridor cut into the cliff. No one spoke, only ran.

    The humming within the ravine was now evident, no more the gentlezy air but an uneasy expansion of sound.

    From the lightless depths of the ravine rose two curls of smoke, twining around each other like a lover''s reuniting embrace, singing to each other in low voices.

    "Territory dispute, ready fire cards!" One of the hunters growled. "Steady there! If you turn their attention to us, by the Bridgemaker I will throw you into the ravine myself!"

    "Crystal drake ahead!" came the urgent call from the front.

    "What!?" The cry came from multiple throats.

    "Chelua, we''re damned."

    There was a reptile sunning itself on a ledge up ahead. It was as long as four men lined up head to toe, from the tip of the long snout to the spiked tail. A horned frill swept back regally from the back of its head. It rolled over on seeing the group, eyes intent, body crouching in that anticipatory manner that predators had. Between its limbs, there were folds of scaled skin. In its mouth were the sharp teeth of the carnivore.

    Defi surmised that it was a glider, not a flyer. In this corridor with no way except forward or back, they were exposed.

    "re!" came the roar.

    "Are you mad?!"

    "Just do it!"

    Defi''s sight became a rainbow of color, motes of power in various color surrounding the group, shimmering around him. Almost like a fire-festival, where they shot mes that burst into colorful flowers in the sky before burning out in sizzling showers.

    The Current swirled within him, as if happy to see the sight.

    Unfortunately, the only thing he could do was let the Current flow into his limbs and alleviate the fatigue.

    "Wasp-beetles, iing! Ready fire cards!"

    The crystal drake''s head swung to the ominous buzzing, spread its arms and legs, and jumped from the ledge. Even such a majestic creature would run to escape the cloud made of insects individually thousands of times smaller than itself.

    Fire bloomed around Defi, a roar that nearly drowned the buzz of the wasp-beetles.

    A sharp pain pierced his neck. He pped a hand to it, looking to see a dead insect in his palm, its wings in mottled white and brown.

    "Keep going!"

    Defi fumbled in the pouch attached to his belt, grasping one of the few sleeping oil bombs he had left. He peeled away the protectiveyer, activated it, and hurled it as hard as he could into the dark mist of small insects blown back by the fire of the group''s sorcerers. The cloud was only just recovering as more wasp-beetles rose from the depths of the ravine.

    The sleepbomb exploded, only visible because of the sudden thinning it created in the swarm, spreading from the area of explosion.

    It gave them a few seconds of breathing room.

    "Fire!"

    They entered a tunnel, the bright sunlight suddenly extinguished. Unlike the sunlit walkway, the tunnel was devoid of vegetation, the walls dark and the only light was from the torch cards of the sun sorcerers.

    "Faster! Move!"

    In the tunnel, only the people at the back could protect them. Defi palmed another sleepbomb, waited until everyone was inside, and tossed it behind them to detonate at the tunnel entrance. At the very least, it would give them another few seconds. The smoke lingered in the enclosed space.

    He quickly followed the others.

    The tunnel ended in ayer of rock.

    Raun activated a card and the wall crumbled.

    "Don''t dawdle now," the hunterughed even as he pped a wasp-beetle from his arm.

    Beyond the tunnel was a cavern, wide as a pce, with the ceiling maybe fifty mar above them.

    Thest of them rushed out of the tunnel.

    Raun activated two cards. One a stream of fire that swept through the tunnel to scour it clean, and second a wall of stone rose to cover the tunnel.

    Defi nced around, shaking his coat vigorously. The others were doing something simr, frantically ridding themselves of thest of the wasp-beetles. None of them escaped without a few stings.

    Raun grinned. "That wasn''t so bad."

    Ral red at him, wiping beetle juice on his trousers. "When, precisely, is mating season?"

    "After the rains, so maybe around first fall or so."

    Ral stilled. "First fall is less than a sennight away."

    "It might have been a poorer idea than I thought, but we''re alive, eh? The swarm was good luck even. We never would''ve gotten past the drake."

    Ral forcibly refrained fromment. He stalked away.

    Everyone here had their reasons foring, their friends and family not the least. Though the expressions on the thirty people''s faces were not the best, it was true that they were alive.

    For more than a few of them, being alive and mobile was enough.

    Defi could clearly see the thought on their faces. He was the same after all.

    Being alive and mobile meant they still could do what they needed to.

 Chapter 54: The Missing Caravans 7

    Chapter 54: The Missing Caravans 7

    The cavern devolved into a short tunnel before the light of day once again met their eyes.

    Defi squinted into the distance, half because his eyes were suddenly pained by the brightness, half because thend before them made him think he was back in Ontrea staring at the wastes as his father''s uncle gave him and his siblings a lesson in hawking.

    Only the sounds of Ascharonian being spoken around him made that particr image waver. Not to mention, the Ontrean wastes had fewer cliffs and ravines than this.

    After months of having experienced the verdant spring that was the Lowpool, this was a small shock. "How could there be such a ce in these mountains..."

    "There was a summoner battle here, a hundred years back," Baurd answered from behind him. He''d been close enough to hear Defi''s low voice. "A general and a traitor to the empire, I forget what the names were. They summoned a thunderbird and a stone-dragon, at some point. Both the summon-beasts and the summoners died."

    A summoner battle?

    The expanse of bare stone and soil stretching toward the horizon in three directions said that the summon-beasts that did this were not ordinary even among mystic beasts.

    A high screech pierced the air. A white and red hawk came swooping down, wings spread impressively wide. The breast feathers and primary feathers were a deep bloody red, a marked contrast against the white of the rest of the bird''s plumage and the dark amber of its eyes. The scaly legs were also a dark red.

    "That''s an oathfeather hawk," Baurd said. "Ah, I knew some of the hunters had summons but not one this impressive. It''s a second-level summon. Most hunters choose woodhounds, see."

    Defi watched the hawk flutter its wings, andnd on the arm of the hunter that he remembered threatening to throw people into the Sleeper''s Ravine earlier.

    "Oh, it''s Darved. No wonder." Baurd looked impressed. "He''s one of the top hunters in the Genlet guild."

    Before he could answer, Tamal stepped into pace with him, on his other side. "Thend of the Barrens is uncertain, so watch where you put your feet, hm?"

    Defi shed a brief smile at her.

    The hunter Darved spoke, his voice a rumble. "There''s an army toon nearby. Tomer''s leading them."

    Ral nodded. "They''re headed the same ce as us, I imagine."

    Darved grunted agreement. "The Groaning Cliff."

    Defi followed their gazes.

    To their right, curving high into the sky, was what looked like happened when a mountain affronted a deity and got most of its body sheered away by some divine cleaver.

    One side was a sheer, smooth stone faade, steep and in right angles to the ground, where said divine de might have sleekly cut to leave behind unnaturally smooth stone. The other side was a mass of dust and jagged rock, as if what was left of the mountain was eroding into itself.

    In fact, most of the Barrens looked like the area was crumbling into itself.

    Only the single faade of the Groaning Cliff stood like it would be an eternal sentinel of this wastnd set in the middle of a mountain range. Studded with rock crystal, it glimmered in the afternoon sun, setting itself apart even more, the miserable jewel in a pile of rotting rocks.

    Defi frowned. A part of the cliff shed, flickered, then stopped. Then it did it again.

    "Am I wrong, or does that perhaps look like signalling?"

    The others nearby turned to look.

    sh, flicker, flicker, sh  it was almost like the sunlight was dancing. After a moment several faces looked odd, others looked like they mightugh.

    "Ah!" realized one of the young men from Genlet. "It''smp-kissing."

    Tamal snorted, as snickering sounded from the younger ones in the group. "Idiot."

    Defi tried, but couldn''t resist. "What''smp-kissing?"

    Baurd smirked at him. "Never tried it? You look like the romantic type."

    Defi shrugged. After he failed the Trials when he was sixteen, his casual prospects in that regard were dim. He''d always expected an arranged marriage after he passed, so he''d never gotten far enough as to start courting a woman seriously.

    "It''s talking usingmps, between lovers mostly. At night,mplight could be seen from across the town. Thenguage changes every generation, but the content stays the same." It was, surprisingly, Tamal who answered. Sheughed lightly, lowered her voice. "Sometimes, in the right mood and the right city, there''s no better entertainment at night than to sit up and read thosemps shing over the rooftops. Some ces in the cities, it''s a performance."

    Baurd stared at her, speechless.

    Defi kept in his amusement and turned his attention to the others.

    "Do you know this code, Emeson?" Daved asked with a reasonably straight face. "Trante it, would you?"

    The young man who eximed about themp-kissing paled.

    "That''s right, Emes, what does it say?" Baurd''s faux innocence made his friend re and a few others of the younger contingentugh.

    "Well?"

    The single word from Daved silenced theughter, but not the grins and bright amusement in the others'' eyes.

    Emes swallowed, nced at the subtle signals again. "It''s uh, it''s a poem."

    Baurd looked briefly gleeful before arranging his demeanor into solemn anticipation.

    "Why not" began Ral, but he was interrupted.

    Emes spoke as fast as he could.

    Defi slowly lifted a brow as he recited. Certainly, if that was the sort of message shing over random rooftops, Defi could see how it could be entertaining.

    "Oh cry despair, upon this night a quiet bounds,

    "Too quiet for flowers that dig deep into rainless grounds.

    "Is there no sor, gently valorous bursting clouds

    "Of chivalry cleaving twain from twain?

    "Oh I pray, upon the quiet restrained sounds of rain,

    "Be minister and mart, care not the whirl over hillock

    "Enough to dislocate this kee"

    "Thank you, young man," Ral interrupted before the narrative got out of hand, though he was smirking as well. "I was going to say, why not simply say what the poem meant in this situation, which I suppose is a cry for assistance?"

    Emes was red with mortification, unable to speak more.

    Baurd patted him on the shoulder, solemnly. "Your bravery will be sung in the songs of Genlet, passed down in legends that ow!"

    He quickly stepped away from Emeson, rubbing his ribs where the other''s elbow had dug in. "That means there''s someone from Genlet in there, yes? At least, I don''t think other viges and towns use the same uh, poetry."

    The light amusement in the air turned heavy.

    *

    It took a mere hour for their cohort to once again be stationed on a knoll, this time without the benefit of sweet-smelling grass under them. All of them were dusty from head to foot, more than once having experienced the earth slide out from under them, or nearly fall to sinkholes of dust.

    "What are they doing?"

    They were keenly studying the army toon, who had stopped and were now tensely arranged in a ravine facing what ording to Raun was one of the entrances to thework of caves under the Groaning Cliff. They were hidden under an overhang and behind one of the many deceptively stable-looking ridges in the Barrens.

    Defi had the misfortune of stepping wrong and rolling down an incline earlier.

    He couldn''t infuse Current into thend while walking, unfortunately. His focus was on different things. He could not split his mind like the masters of the Current could.

    "Waiting," Defi answered Baurd. They were here for the same reason as the dusty and insect-bitten group. Defi imagined they were waiting for the main force to attack and provide a distraction for entry.

    It was after all, the same reason they''d stopped advancing as well.

    An explosion sounded to the northeast, on the other side of the Groaning Cliff.

    Defi watched as the soldiers hopped to attention and advanced.

    Surely they weren''t attacking now?

    It was too soon.

    But they crested the ridge unhesitating. From the Groaning Cliff, there were shouts from the guards.

    Defi cursed silently.

    "They''re moving too early," came from one of the former soldiers. "Chelua take over-eager baby officers."

    People streamed out of the Cliff entrance. Too many.

    "Can we help them?"

    Ral shook his head. "We''re splitting up. I''m taking ten to the soldiers. The rest of you go free our friends before they be hostages. Daved, Amren, Tamal, can you?"

    The three readily knew what he was asking, quickly dividing the group between them.

    Defi went with the second group. Warriors gossiped greatly. His altercation with an army officer right now was not what Ral needed for cooperation.

    Baurd stepped into pace with the first group, gripping a halberd tightly.

    He pped Defi on the back. "Luck of the Harmonium to you."

    "I feel, considering our respective destinations, that you''ll need it more than I do."

    "You doubt me? I am hurt, overwhelmed by this mistrust!"

    Defi sent him a dry look.

    Ral started moving before Baurd could answer, taking most of the former soldiers with him.

    The rest split toward the Groaning Cliff.

    They hurried.

    Even with little thought to stealth, the guards too preupied with the approaching toon. Nearing the cliff, Defi unsheathed his sword, fell into the calming breathing of the Second Circle.

 Chapter 55: The Missing Caravans 8

    Chapter 55: The Missing Caravans 8

    The single explosion, the sound of a fireburstpressed and then let loose, lifted the heads of those imprisoned in stone-hewn cells within the Groaning Cliff.

    The subsequentmotion made people stand and crowd along the sorcery-raised doors with slits in them for food. In one particr cell, people also crowded along the single opening to the outside discovered by ident, a crack in the outer wallrge enough to fit an arm.

    It was from this crack that the Genlet youth were shing such a poem in the bright blushing afternoon, using a mirror from the hand of one of the richdies there, to increase the chance that someone could help them escape. A futile hope, really, that only worked because thebined search party made such a risky gamble themselves by going through a little used path.

    Natanel lifted his head from the ground, slowly standing. "Army shock entry tactics," he wheezed out.

    He had heard the mage division Fireburst Shock tactic so many times in the past, he could not be mistaken. The first step to the shock and awe preference the mage division of the armies preferred. At this point, they were probably sending summon-beasts to wreak havoc among the enemy ranks.

    His lips thinned.

    It would not be so useful against veterans of the imperial army.

    The strength of the fireburst wave rumbled through the ground under him, a small earthquake. It was something that both revitalized and was dreaded by soldiers on the battlefield.

    "Sir," light footsteps sounded close to him. "You must not move or you will not recover."

    "No time," he said, still painfully pushing himself up. A hand went under his arm, another at his back. "Must be ready. People areing."

    Whether from one side or the other, he needed to be on his feet.

    In this cell, there were only three of them. And thest of them was unconscious, wheezing rmingly shallow breaths in her sleep.

    Damn that Zises to the lightless dark.

    No true imperial officer would have fallen so far.

    He nced at the pale but determined face of the fifteen-year old holding him up, despite the boy''s words of protest at his moving. "Can you wake her?"

    "I shall, sir." The boy stepped away.

    Natan walked tensely to the door, taking cautious and slow steps on bare feet.

    "What''s happening?" came from one of the other cells, nearly snatching the words from his mouth.

    The cells did not have guards, only patrols passing by.

    Thest patrol, it was scheduled for a half-hour from now. But there were leisurely footstepsing down the corridor.

    The doors crumbled to dust.

    He stared in surprise at the people from the cell opposite, who stared back in equal shock. Their already wan faces tinged with blue in the sigil-card torchlight, making them look like living dead from the stories.

    These were officers and former officers.

    Two of the people got to their feet at the sight of him, retired officers from the Lowpool. "Sir!"

    A brief smile flickered into being on his face at the restrained horror and anger in their tone. Did he look so terrible? But he was happy to see them.

    Had it only been a day?

    It felt longer since then.

    But he could not deny that only one night had passed.

    He noticed that only a quarter of the filled cells had been opened. His lips thinned. The people holding them had only freed those who were useful as hostages.

    "Come out," said a cold voice, devoid of emotion. "You will be joining my men outside. Be grateful that you will see the sun again."

    The faces of all the soldiers darkened.

    But they obeyed.

    He heard a shuffling behind him, turned to see the recently promoted Reisei Larion, who he had served with once long ago on a rather harrowing trip to ron Isle, with an arm around the boy whom it was her assignment to guard, introduced as Coren zi Grem, the son of some high noble or other.

    Wasn''t just the families of dukes and marquises that used the ''zi''? The ''av'' wasn''t used anymore wasn''t it?

    Natan couldn''t be bothered to remember correctly at the moment.

    He took a few steps back to lift his oldrade''s other arm around his own shoulders.

    They joined the reluctant trickle of prisoners making their way between vignt and heavily armed lines of guards. There were only twelve people in total, the highest ranks of soldiers and merchants in the group. And the noble boy.

    Twelve out of the sixty that were prisoners. Apart from him and the two retired soldiers, this was the group more likely to pay a ransom or other exchange.

    Cold eyes swept over the three of them. "Leave her."

    "No."

    He and the boy nced at each other, from the twin denial that sounded in their voices.

    "She is a respected officer of the imperial army," said Natan evenly. The man before him had the name Laro, he''d learned.

    Laro''s cold eyes tightened. An arm swept out, vicious and swift.

    Natan, even rolling with the blow, fell to his knees.

    "Stop." The boy ordered, imperious even supporting the weight of a personrger than him.

    The enemy did not even look at him, contemted Natan.

    "Natanel of the Shield, former captain of the 3rd armoredpany of the 37th Division of the great imperial army, kneeling before me. The fool who disobeyed orders to save his men and yet, even acquiring the objective, was kicked out of the army callously, stripped of all rank and rewards. The sanctimonious man who never thought of politics until, like a viper ignored, it turned on him. At the veryst, have you learned what it means to be under another?"

    There was a silence in the cave.

    Unceremoniously, it was broken.

    "Is this a confession?"

    The question rang clear and echoed in the enclosed space, earnest and honestly curious.

    "I wasn''t aware the imperial dog was into such things, but I shall of course respect his choices. We cane backter."

    Natan tried very hard not to burst intoughter or drop his head into his hands. There was only one person who called him ''imperial dog''.

    The rebel witch.

    What in Chelua was she saying with her filthy mouth?

    He could not even look at the faces of the people around him.

    Laro, of the securitypany Gamber des, supported by the province of Havare which the Lowpool was a part of, turned to where another tunnel made a corridor into the small cave.

    Several people stood there, looking at them inquisitively.

    There was blood on their des.

    Laro''s voice did not change. "Kill them."

    The guards surged toward the intruders.

    Natan shook his head, getting to his feet. He could clearly see Emra''s grin suddenly sh across her face, her eyes brighten at the sight of a dozen guards rushing in her direction, the crazy woman.

    "Thank you for the invitation," she chirped. "I think I''ll stay a bit longer."

    Then she and herpanions stepped back into the corridor.

    Laro''s gaze settled back on Natan.

    "Is this the extent of your resources? Cowards and fools? You have fallen this far. There is nothing else for you to do but crawl on your belly and beg me for your life."

    There was a slight cough.

    Natanel nced at the boy, who leaned toward him. The barely-visible smirk was the only imperfection in his serious manner and earnest gaze. "I can help you with deterring vulgarly unwanted advances, if you wish."

    This brat

    Laro''s lips twisted. His arm swept out to backhand the boy at the insult.

    It did not reach its destination.

    Reisei, even swaying on her feet, stared at Laro with an eye that clearly wished him death and dismemberment.

    "You." Laro''s lips twisted in disgust.

    The familiar voice rang out again. "Oi, you imperial dog, is this woman trying to get in the way of the passionate love betweenrades?"

    Emra, the former rebel, leaned casually against the wall of the corridor, looking giddy, two blooded swords in her hands.

    She was alone.

    Another set of guards detached from the lines with a murderous nce from Laro.

    Reisei hacked up blood in an amused cough that wasn''t at all amusing to the rest of them. Coren moved closer in concern.

    Natan nced around. The guards surrounding them were halved.

    But even thenhe could see the frustration in the eyes of soldiers both former and current. Even in the eyes of the merchants.

    Apart from three, the others had been in this ce for two days, possibly three or more.

    They had not been fed.

    Natan and the more recent captures had been beaten too severely to be of use, mirroring the treatment of the others on their first day.

    They could not win against Laro and twelve guards.

    Reisei grinned at the expressionless leader of the enemy group. "Wanna bet they won''te back either?"

    Cold, cold eyes narrowed. His response was immediate, his de rasped against the metal lip of its sheath.

    Natan''s eyes widened and he lunged before Reisei. He had been her captain then, on that single long-ago mission, and she his vice-captain.

    How could he allow her to die here?

    But before Laro''s sword reached him, one of the guards, dressed in simr colors to Laro and his cohort, blocked the strike, sword against sword.

    "What are you doing?" came the chilling query. Laro red down the betraying guard.

    "One must attain bnce in life," was the answer, from under the guard helmet.

    Natan''s lips twitched. That voice was familiar.

    "What?" Laro narrowed his eyes.

    "Love is no exception," continued the betraying guard calmly. "If love is too heated, you drive away your lovers. If love is too cold, you drive them into the arms of others. Those who are without passion, must then ept the second gracefully. There is no need to kill because of it."

    Laro stilled at the beginning of the exnation.

    Power red, cold and dominant. "You dare?"

    Whether the question was from shock that someone was lecturing him on courtship or fury that one dared mock him so openly, Natan could not tell.

    It was likely both. In addition to the fact that his men had obviously been infiltrated and he hadn''t noticed.

    A burst of Shade and the person wearing guard''s armor smashed into the tunnel wall.

    Natan lurched forward involuntarily, worry shing across his face. Defi!

    Natan had spoken at length with the young man, after the smuggler invasion. He recognized the voice.

    He pushed himself to get to the boy despite the pain of the injuries.

    It was in vain.

    Laro was faster.

 Chapter 56: The Missing Caravans 9

    Chapter 56: The Missing Caravans 9

    Defi ducked, evading the mercenary''s strike. The sword bit into the stone, chips flying from the point of impact.

    Defi rolled away and let the Current soothe the pain in his back, numbing the sensation. He would likely pay for itter, but at the moment he needed to be swift and flexible.

    A sword dance was not a simple thing to do.

    He deflected the sword strikes from the mercenary leader. The cold rage in the opponent''s eyes was also evident in every strike of the relentless attack.

    "You dare wear the sigil of the Gamber des and go against me? I am Laro. And you, I care not who you are. You will die here."

    Here, in the shadows of the underground, there was no faade like those on the outside who wore the garb of bandits. The inner guards were dressed in good leathers and practical boots. On the chestpiece of most of the guards was a circle of swords with the tips ovepping each other white against ck, mimicking the three golden crossed des of the imperial infantry.

    "You dare wear that sigil andmit crimes against innocent imperial citizens?" retorted one of the soldiers.

    A guard moved to silence her.

    The soldier punched him, then stole the guard''s sword. "Come then! You cowards, so what if you starved us, so what if you beat us down? Honorless traitors! This is all the victory you can get!"

    Defi could only trip one of the guards into another before Laro was on him again, sword skidding against his corbone.

    The man had aimed at his heart.

    Defi could only leave the soldiers and the noble boy to save themselves until Emra and the others were done in the corridor. Laro was a better swordsman than he, and he needed to concentrate for his own survival. Besides, he was not the only one who put on enemy armor.

    His advantage was the Current that made him faster, stronger, and more perceptive.

    Laro was trained well and the man was using Shade to enhance his fighting prowess without using sigilcards, much like how Defi used the Current in fact.

    It was not the first time he saw simrities in the sorceries of the two worlds. If he entered the Terium Gate, which connected Ontrea to a third world, he had an inkling their sorceries would have some simrities as well.

    Ascharon had seven Shades of sorcery that every Ascharonian could do. Everyone could use the seven, but most were inclined to one or two that the sorcerer, or mage as they called them in Ascharon, learned more easily to control.

    Most people stuck to the Shade of their inclination. One Shade was not too difficult to master, especially if a person had the knack for it. However, training was expensive in both time and resources if a person wished topletely realize that natural potential.

    The seven Shades were red me, blue water, orange earth, yellow sunlight, green healing indigo air, and purple moonlight. The person who could control all seven to a usable degree was rare.

    Laro appeared to be using three.

    His senses flowing with the Current, he could sense the vitality in the man split and entwine. Defi imagined that the splittings were the Shades the man was using and the entwining meant he was using them together. The ease in which the strands split and came together was smooth and natural.

    How fascinating.

    He had been practicing sensing people while immersed in a Circle, but this was the first time he''d seen anything like how Laro''s vitality behaved.

    He''d only sensed others use a sigilcard before, but the activation of a card used Shade only briefly. Not to mention, most cards he saw contained spells that were of singr Shades. There were nobinations of Shades like Laro was doing.

    Did the entwining have something to do with the chill in the air around the man, or was that just his usual disposition?

    "How long do you n on running around, little rat?"

    Defi nearly smiled at the audible strain in the man''s tone. Even the coldest hardest facades could be cracked, no one had perfectposure. He''d deliberately used a sword dance that was geared toward dodging and speed. It was most used in retreat, which was why it was not popr in the learning halls.

    After the Stormhawk Sword Art, he was most proficient in the Humming Snake Sword. He''d put emphasis on it because his mentor said there was value in its learning for both a warrior-priest and a leader.

    And so he had learned, in the Humming Snake, how to take a step back.

    The man he was facing was a cold man, one who disliked nonsense and was a proponent of efficiency. Laro''s strikes and advances had no flourish, no wasted moves. His timing and footwork were impable.

    At his level, Defi could only really hold the mercenary leader at bay. His third sword art would have been quickly overwhelmed.

    He could only resort to taunting and running away, chipping away little by little at the opponent.

    Every tiny crack in the icy wall the man put up around himself was a small chance of inducing a mistake. The mercenary leader was furious.

    But that was just one advantage.

    So Defi took a step back, and another, and another, until added advantage showed itself or he saw the opportunity to make one.

    Defi lunged, his strike easily parried.

    Heshed out with a powerful kick. The man stepped back in consternation, and Defi attacked again.

    The man''s eyes narrowed and a twist of his sword once more put Defi at a disadvantage.

    Defi stepped back, to allow the noble boy to strike at Laro with a halberd. He''d seen the boy approaching just in time, the sh of wheat-colored hair gleaming in the torchlight.

    Their eyes met for a moment, an understanding reached silently.

    He surged forth, following that strike, retreated again.

    The boy, a few years younger than he, was skilled. He and Defi danced around each other, attacking and retreating in turns.

    The man''s lip curled in frustration and he attacked furiously, his sword shining with thatbination Shade, his movements faster than before.

    Defi evaded in surprise. Ascharonians could infuse power into their weapons?

    Excellent!

    He took a breath while the younger boy redirected a strike with a sweep of the halberd. But unable to reorder his footwork in time to avoid the counterattack, he went down hard.

    Defi blocked, Current surging through his sword. The sword material was resistant, but Defi persisted.

    Laro recovered from the surprise, and pressed forward.

    Defi''s sword, infused with Current, cracked in half. His sword dance faltered, his breath caught in dismay.

    He stumbled back to avoid the opponent''s triumphant death blow.

    But Laro kicked, in imitation of Defi''s earlier move.

    Defi fell.

    Laro stood over him, sword rising. Then he stopped. Blood bloomed from his chest, a gory flower cradling the tip of a de. His eyes widened, disbelief and rage now evident on formerly expressionless features.

    "The captain" he said, short of breath, sword falling from his hand, "will never bow to anyone."

    He crumpled to the ground, eyes dulling.

    Defi stood slowly, took up the opponent''s de to re-arm himself. "Thank you."

    The boy, breathing in pants, dropped the bloody and bent halberd. "No, it is you who came to our rescue. I am grateful."

    "Then let there be no debt between us."

    The boy blinked, then beamed at Defi. "Coren zi Grem. You may call me Cor!"

    "Defi." He frowned, noting that nearly all the people from both sides were down.

    His lips thinned.

    "Oh? Good work," Emra passed by, calmly slicing a knife into the neck of a guard struggling to rise. "that''s the leader, yes?"

    "The Gamber des," Natan said from behind her, "are led by Zises Toren, former captain in the imperial army."

    "One of your ilk then."

    Natan ignored her. His eyes, dark in a face mottled by bruises, studied Defi and Cor. "You two are well?"

    Defi had a few cuts, and his back was still bleeding from having been scraped on sharp stone. His knee felt sprained from Laro''s kick. But the injuries were not too serious. The Current was already slowly healing them.

    He nodded.

    Coren zi Grem did the same. "I am well enough. The others?"

    "Reisei isstill alive." There was something darkly pained in Natan''s eyes. "We have said our farewells."

    The boy opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded tightly instead. He walked to the group of people gathered nearby. Of the twelve that were prisoners, only seven were left standing.

    Of the rescue forces, including Defi, there were ten, their group having split at a junction to search for the people who had been taken.

    He saw the two Genlet hunters who had worn enemy garb with him, quickly stripping themselves out of armor with their faces disgusted.

    Defi turned his gaze to Natan. "I must ask, who gave you those wounds?"

    He sheathed the sword, and started taking off the armor as he waited for the response.

    It was good armor and the camouge would hold up a little longer, but he understood their sentiments.

    The circle of des, white on ck, once respected by everyone in the province of Havare, was now a symbol of betrayal.

    It might not be logical to throw away armor in the middle of opposing an armed and trained force, but in some things not even logic will trump heart.

    He had gotten off most of it, when he noticed that he had not yet been answered. There was silence.

    He looked up at Natan.

    The man had a faint smile on his face, and grief under hard eyes. "Sorry, Defi. But that person, she''s mine."

 Chapter 57: The Missing Caravans 10

    Chapter 57: The Missing Caravans 10

    The words that Natan spoke were punctuated by the sound of another explosion.

    Natan frowned. "That is not "

    The world shuddered, cutting him off.

    This time, the quake did not end in the ground calming and the soldiers subtly straightening in anticipation of an army victory.

    After the initial quake, the whole world seemed to keep trembling. Dust and pebbles rained down the ceiling and sides of the tunnel.

    Abruptly, Defi remembered the sight of the Groaning Cliff, the crumbling dusty spires, the haphazard delicate positioning of the smooth, heavy faade.

    He did not appear to be the only person who had the same idea.

    "The other prisoners!"

    "They''re in Stone Cages."

    When Raun heard that, he immediately turned toward the other cells. His face changed, dismay peeking out. "I only have two Rockdiggers left."

    There were six other closed cells in the corridor.

    Defi untied the sheathed sword from his belt, handed it to Natan, along with a sample bottle of savras slime extract. "If you die after such a deration, I will not stop Emra fromughing at your funeral."

    Natan snorted in amusement, but he took the sword. Then the man sped his arm solemnly, before moving to help the others.

    Defi noted he was now wearing soft boots.

    When did that happen?

    He shook the inane thought from his head and stepped toward Raun instead. "May I see one of those cards?"

    Raun handed him a sigilcard promptly. If it was a regr situation, he probably wouldn''t have. But a man dying of thirst in a desert would even try and squeeze water out of a stone.

    Defi nearly sighed in relief. It was a second-level card, built for miners of iron and other metals.

    There were two types of Rockdiggers and the second, built specifically for gem miners who needed more care in excavating than metal miners, was a level above the other.

    Defi had only half-way grasped the assignment Jast had given him, but from the look of the Rockdigger card in his hand, it was second-level only because of the incorporation of the minor glyph needed to control the output and the increased power requirements due to that single glyph. It added extraplexity to the design, much like the modelling illusion Karles had shown Defi was a fifth-level card because of the multiple control glyphs needed for it.

    The theory and the materials put into the second-level Rockdigger card were basic.

    Defi returned the card to Raun, took out a knife and inscribed a circle into the rock wall. The elements needed for the materials were inclined to air and water. Wasn''t it a coincidence that savras slime extract fit the requirements perfectly? He had two bottles of the stuff left after giving Natan one.

    Raun shook his head with a doubtful look, but he went off to use thest two of his Rockdiggers on the next cells.

    Defi only had theories about carving emblems. It was very much unlike inking them. He had studied the slime-summoning tablet but the design was difficult toprehend.

    Stone needed more supporters than paper cards did, for instance. He ced four glyphs carefully at four parts of the circle to help contain the emblem. It was the only one he knew for emblem-carving actually, the most basic containment. In both card-making and stone-carving, the containment, the designs around the edges, would be fancier.

    The only reason he considered this, was that carving emblems had a looser interpretation of what ingredients were needed. In fact, apart from minor adjustments, it really needed a steady stream of power inclined to a particr Shade.

    Defi was not a person who knew how to manifest the Seven Colors, but so far all his emblems epted the Current and all the emblems made by others had activated sessfully with the power within him.

    Savras was inclined to air, slimes were inclined to water. He thered the savras extract over the design and let the Current flow into the liquid and the stone, enhancing the attributes of air and water and melding them into the emblem.

    A few moments that seemed too long, and the rock crumbled, leaving the people in the cell to stare at him in disbelieving dawning joy.

    Defi gave them a quick smile, slightly strained. "The cliff is crumbling. Hurry."

    Then he made for the second cell.

    There were noises of people talking and an explosion behind him, but he focused once again on the circle that he needed to contain the emblem. The feeling of the Current conforming to paths in the design wasit was unsettling.

    The Current flowed through everything and nothing, between everything and nothing.

    It did not...

    It raged and calmed, a force of nature.

    It could not be tamed, only directed temporarily.

    In all of Defi''s experience, only a person could coax a tiny insignificant bit of Current to curb from its flow.

    And yet, some simple lines, some ancient arbitrary symbols, some calctions, they actually managed to direct the Creator''s Gift?

    Alchemy and eikons were different, they did not disturb the flow of the Current and were sooner orter washed away.

    This emblem carving

    The Current flowed through the incorporeal channels created by the glyphs, creating an eddy where there ought to be none. If the emblem glyphs were not meant to destroy themselves, that eddy would likely be there forever.

    He stifled a sigh.

    Ascharon truly was and that would make a heretic of him.

    Ancient texts did say that gods spoke to each other in numbers, but he did not think it would be interpreted this literally.

    The rock crumbled before him.

    He nodded to the people within.

    There was no need to speak of hurrying anymore. The tunnels were shaking more than before.

    He turned to the other cells, only to see Emra initiate a water drill of some sort, piercing through the wall in several ces and causing the stone cage to crumble.

    The woman smirked at him before stalking off. "You were taking too long."

    He nced around. Thest cell was open, the scorch marks on the edges bearing proof that it had been exploded by something. One of the men was being insulted by a friend, even as he and the others ushered the freed people down the corridor.

    "It worked alright?!" the man yelled exasperated. One of Baurd''s cohort, if Defi remembered correctly.

    Considering the small cuts on the faces of the still grateful prisoners, it really could have been worse.

    "YouLowpool?"

    Defi turned to see one of the people from the cell Emra had broken open looking at him in bleary surprise. He recognized him, nced at the others. "Jacar. Is everyone in this cell well? We need to run."

    The savras seller grinned widely, only slightly gaunter than thest time Defi saw him. "After days sleeping, our feet should feel restless by now."

    Defi let his lips curl up in a smile. "Good. I still need your savras, you see."

    Jacar snickered, augh that grew into a guffaw, slightly hysterical. He subsided, and beamed at Defi. "Sure. You''ll have to wait a few more days though."

    Defi pushed thest bottle of savras extract into Jacar''s hands and retraced his steps into the tunnels. The evacuation should not take more than a quarter hour to sunlight.

    He jogged into the corridor that the others were running or hobbling through as best they could while avoiding debris falling from the crumbling ceiling.

    The tunnel branched. He nced at the Genlet hunter waving the people through the other entrance urgently, holding a torch aloft.

    He was not going back that way. It was an ufortable thought, to not contribute to the end of this matter himself. He held some responsibility.

    In the end, heretic or no, noble or no, he still thought of himself as Ontrean.

    He could not be anything else.

    He paused to take up two halberds from fallen guards and slipped into the dark tunnel. The lit torches that illuminated the hideout had been shaken down the wall sconces already, only one or two left burning steadfast.

    It was enough light.

    He rounded the corner, stopped.

    There were nine people there, digging through a copsed part of the tunnel. Emra, Natanel, the archer who was Hn''s brother, Emeson of the spontaneous poetry, Daved, several more from the surrounding towns and viges.

    Natan was not the only one who wanted a piece of the fight in the front.

    He stepped forward, angling his first halberd to dig into the rocks and soil when the wall of debris crumbled. On the other side, a guard reared back in shock at the sight of them, white and ck on his chest.

    Defi hurled the halberd through the opened gap.

    This ended today.

    *

    Major Andar il Vons had lost his horse. His beloved Charine had taken down three of the mercenaries before the stallion had sumbed. He nced to his right as he heard a familiar roar. His summon beast, a blue tigerbear, still leaped and swatted down the summons of the other side. It was the only summons from thepany still on the field. He could feel the tug of the bond in his gut. His Artarius was fading even now.

    His teeth bared in a humorless smile as he slid his sword into one of the leaders of the bandits.

    Blood pumped vigorously through his veins.

    He had not expected the enemy to have enough mages talented enough to create the Fireburst Shock. His men had paid the price, too inexperienced to effectively redirect the force of the attack.

    In terms of numbers, it was already an excellent thing that only sixteen of them had died. A well-ced Fireburst Shock could decimate ten times that number if aimed properly.

    Andar flicked the blood off his de. "Report."

    "Major, we are holding the line. Resistance on my toon has weakened. But they have the advantage of cover. Major, sir, I"

    Andar nced at the young man. "What is it, Vice-captain Gerac?"

    "it is nothing, major."

    Andar knew what the young man was thinking, had seen it himself. It was a stalemate. That damnable fireburst had closed several avenues he''d been pursuing in one miserable explosion. Unless a miracle happened, they would lose half thepany before they could im victory.

    And that was not a victory at all.

    "Major!" came a call. "They have reinforcements!"

    Andar nodded. "Pull the men back to the stone pirs."

    "sir?"

    "Do it, vice-captain."

    "Sir!"

    The other''s reluctance was understandable. They had lost men gaining the ground between their current post and the formation of stone pirs behind them. The other side had lost more, grown too fat and slow catching robbers and standing around city streets instead of marching to battle.

    It was the only reason most of his men were still alive.

    He remembered hearing of Captain Zises Toren, who after leaving the army was given the honor of being able to create a security force in this area under the provincial governor.

    The Gamber des.

    He had not wanted to believe the boy Defi, thought the mark on the weapons he had brought back a fluke or a plot. Even the public security forces can have their weapons stolen by bandits after all.

    He had prepared to face bandits like they were soldiers, even then.

    He had not expected to face the actual security force. There were always stories of security forces doing ck business. He had always listened with a cynical ear. What was the difference, after all, from the noblemen''s guardsmen, who he knew definitely conducted ck business.

    The Gamber des numbered four hundred people, that was already twopanies in the military. Captain Zises Toren had done well for herself.

    But even if the Gamber des were here, he had not expected to see the captain herself conducting what was undeniably an underground operation.

    Heroes, he mused, when met in person, always fell short of the mark.

    He could not deny that he felt an ufortable emotion in his chest, a persistent ache. This was the woman his brother said had led twenty soldiers to slip past the cordon at Darnafall Pass and rescue three hundred prisoners from the vecamps of Haerdelos?

    Brother, I am sorry, he thought regretfully. What must you think, looking at this tableau? Your foolish younger brother in fatal opposition to the hero that had saved your life, what an epilogue to your tale of fine heroics.

    With the towering figure from his brother''s stories before him, that he still had most of his men was a notch short of a miracle.

    And now, the blessing of that almost miracle had ended.

    His hand clenched tightly on his sword, ring at the cliff opposing them.

    "Sir!"

    He inhaled sharply. He did not need a report to see that the massive cliff was sliding down, falling apart.

    His eyes closed, then opened with a fire that burned bright and fierce.

    His voice thundered.

    "Hold your positions!"

    Brother, was this miracle your doing?

    **

    **

    ---------------------------

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on Webnovel. If you like the story, please support the author by voting for the book on .

 Chapter 58: The Missing Caravans 11

    Chapter 58: The Missing Caravans 11

    The Groaning Gliff was a structure that hunters hated.

    It was a sentinel visible throughout the Shaking Barrens, one that stood eternallyughing at the misfortune that hunters met.

    And there was always misfortune in the Barrens.

    And yet, when that mocking pir started to fall the hunters paled in rm and a sort of grief.

    There wasfort in hate and unchanging things. The Cliff had been afort of many years, a loved and cursed existence.

    Unfortunately it was a precarious sentinel, bnced only by the whims of gods. Despite the sturdiness of the melted rock that formed the ss-smooth faade, the rock underneath was rotten and weak.

    What a battle it must have been, that long ago sh between two titans, that the power of mystic beasts, usually harmonized with nature, ruined the life and integrity of thend to such an extent.

    The seeming strength of the Groaning Cliff was only five mar deep, and by all sense should not have survived that first explosion. The second explosion, closer andrger than the first, had been the final ring that broke the bell.

    Raun rushed through the tunnels, a child in his arms and the mother on his heels. They breached the sunshine and nearly collided with the blue and red uniforms of the imperial footsoldiers.

    "What are you blocking the way for," he snarled. "Run! The whole thing''sing down!"

    One of the soldiers quickly took the child from him, another offered his back to the already limping mother. He nced around to see simr scenes as soldiers met the weakened caravan members. The group that split from them before entering the cliff rushed to help as well.

    They ran, the cliff not just groaning anymore, but dully roaring as it crumbled.

    Raun nced up at the teetering cliff, and felt something indescribable in his chest.

    He was a man who preferred a light and carefree life. It was why he chose to be a hunter, to hone his skills to the extent of being able to support himself easily and without trouble.

    The Groaning Cliff stood over his childhood and adolescence, watching as he grew in its shadow.

    With such a stoic ''parent'', how could he grow differently?

    Heughed lightly, jested constantly, drank honestly.

    The crystal lizards and the stone ferns that lived around the cliff were prized in the markets of the cities, and he was one of the few that dared chance the curse of the Groaning Cliff.

    It was a good life that this cliff had raised him to.

    And now he was running from it before it crushed the life from him and all with him.

    He paused at the top of a small rise.

    The thin shield of melted rock, unable to stand on its own without support, fell in a tremendous crash of shimmering dust.

    Around him, the sound of the fall had everyone stop to watch the dust settle. Some were crying  at the close encounter with death, at the freedom that was returned to them, at the pain in their bodies.

    At the moment, Raun didn''t care.

    There was something in him that threatened to burst out.

    A sh of infantry blue and red caught his eye.

    The main force of the soldiers was not far from where they were.

    Raun started walking in that direction. He reached into the boar-lizard-skin bag he always had strapped diagonally across his back.

    His biggest secret, something no one knew, was the seven-color bag he''d painstakingly made to look like ordinary boar-lizard skin.

    If anyone knew that the reason he could stay in the wilderness for days and weeks at a time was because he found an extremely-rare dimensional storage item on a skeleton in the mountains, his carefree life would quickly be a distant memory.

    A person who could control all seven Shades was rare. Any person who could manage it could walk into the imperial court and receive a title and a manse in the capital as well as a lifelong suspension of all taxes as long as they worked for the emperor.

    Portal-doors, seven-color bags, mage-boxes that could shrink and expand for convenience  all of them could only be created by people who had the ability to control the seven Shades of power.

    A mere hunter possessing a seven-color bag, how would it even be possible?

    He retrieved his bow, strapped the quiver on securely. His arrows were ordinary, not even carved with the emblem that made the shaft smoother, the point sharper, and preserved the feathers.

    But he had many.

    He made the arrows himself. The seven-color bag preserved inanimate objects, so he did not need to worry about the delicate feathers of the mine-grouse having to rot.

    He eeled up arge crack between two boulders and scrambled across the teau that had helped support the Groaning Cliff for years.

    His shoulders rxed at being on high ground again, he stretched his fingers in and out. He really didn''t like those tunnels.

    Below him, the Gamber des broke from cover to save themselves from the falling cliff. They surged forward, knowing they could not turn back.

    They were met unflinchingly by the army and another band of locals.

    Raun thought they''d been the only group to do something so reckless.

    Truthfully, he''d epted Ral''s proposal to guide the group on a whim. Years ago, the retired soldier saw him shoot out the eye of a threehorn deer from two hundred paces away, and kept pestering him to join the hunters'' guild.

    He thought he''d done well enough for himself even without the guild, thanks.

    Why would he join them when he could just evade their rules and ceremonies in the mountains? He was a hunter even without a guild license.

    Besides, he''d seen how towners treated people from the viges.

    The army was holding their own below, but they were outnumbered. The Gamber des had taken a ridge for their own.

    Their mercenaries knew the area better than the soldiers did  an advantage mitigated by the army''s hunter guides. But still, the des had time to craft their strategies. They were picking off the soldiers piece by piece.

    Another thing that added rage to his already roiling hot insides.

    He nocked an arrow.

    "Since when," he growled, "did the des take to banditry?"

    He paused as movement caught his eye.

    Raun had always possessed good eyes. Too good, his remembered his aunt ruefully saying. He saw things he shouldn''t see. His grandfather''s eyes.

    The group of ragged fake-bandits nearing the mercenaries from the rear looked odd.

    He tracked them with his arrowhead, then let his Shade enhance his vision. His Shade was moonlight, one of the reasons he chose archery. Most moonlight-shade rted mage-gifts were rted to vision, like his enhancement or seeing in the dark.

    The group became clearer to him. That was Tamal, wasn''t it? And the boy from the group he guided.

    His lips curled into vicious smirk, unfamiliar whenpared to the usual mischievous smile.

    A break in the line.

    That was all the army needed.

    A single break, and that major would probably see it, wouldn''t he? Did anyone get to major without seeing battle in the colonies these days?

    If not, the army was more senseless than he thought they already were.

    He watched as Tamal''s group crashed into the rear of the des formation, right in the spot where they could cause the most havoc.

    He moved his aim away from them and loosed the arrow.

    A messenger toppled out of the rocks and ran up to the des'' leader. He took Raun''s arrow in the eye. The leadership dove for cover.

    "Chelua damn me!"

    Raun nocked and loosed again and again.

    What was his luck today?

    Below, the group pretending to be fake-bandits broke through the line. The boy had taken point, the halberd in his hands almost like a hail of striking arrows, swift and urate.

    Nock, draw, loose was the only rhythm Raun could ever dance to.

    He didn''t have time to attach sigil-cards to his arrows, could only rely on arm and eye.

    He thinned the enraged des mercenaries that wanted to overwhelm the group, changing positions quickly, arrows hammering into the weakpoints of the mercenaries'' armor.

    The army crashed through the des formation, shouts and cries reached Raun''s position. Anger, pain, grief, exultation  so many happenings in the small ravine below.

    A man threw himself into the retreat of the des'' leader. A single swing of a halberd toppled a circle of enemies. Swords shed and sang, des run red with blood. Summon beasts screamed and Shade shed. Men and women struggled and fell. Few got up again.

    Why was it like this?

    Even Raun could not help but howl his emotions out, overwhelmed.

    "You twoheaded swanlicking grebes! You sons of witchers, you daughters of Chel! Damn it! Damn it! Why is today like this?!"

    He poured more arrows down into the melee. His arms did not falter, as he thought they might. His eyes did not ze over, as he feared they might. His breath stayed steady and strong.

    Nock, draw, loose, was the only sound in his ears.

    Down below, the Gamber des were slowly routed.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Stone fern  not a nt but a type of shelled snail that grows by building small tunnels of nacre against stone. The nacre shell tunnels look like delicate fern designs. The shell nacre is used in decorative iys, much like mother of pearl, and the animal is edible.

    Crystal lizard  named because it exudes a substance that hardens in air, which gathers in spikes or small balls at the tip of the lizard''s tail like a crystal ornament. The lizard uses it for self defense. The crystal is mainly used for cheap beads, but the meat of the crystal lizard is delicious when deep fried in spiced oil.

    Pace  a descriptive length between one and two mar. Two hundred paces would be more or less a hundred and fifty mar.

 Chapter 59: The Missing Caravans 12

    Chapter 59: The Missing Caravans 12

    Zises Toren was beautiful.

    Her pale rose-colored hair was secured in delicate braids, her skin glowed pale as moonlight despite her days under sun, her eyes were as clear and deep a gold as early sunset over the snowy reaches.

    She was d in red and ck armor, the sigil of the Gamber des standing out starkly against the red of her shoulderguards.

    Even so near to death, there was no hint of regret in her posture, no fear or anger. She leaning against a boulder, her sword just seconds earlier stabbed into the ground to help her bnce. Even without discounting the blood dripping down her armor, the dark red rivulets staining the stone she was leaning on, she looked like a heroic painting, the valkyrie thrown into so many wars that neither defeat nor victory could move her.

    The echoes of battle, magnified by the many cliffs and ravines, were winding down. In this ce, there were only three of them.

    Natan sat against a rock not far away, slowly pacing his breathing, unable to move more than a hand.

    Andar il Vons was the only one of them standing on his own, and even then much of his weight was supported by the halberd he grasped tightly in one hand.

    They all had their thoughts.

    In such a small ce to the side of a battlefield, there was a multitude of silences, delicate and precious. Andar broke them mercilessly with a single word.

    "Why?"

    The conflict did not have toe to this, this bloody and unexpected battle. Even a green recruit could see that she had pushed the path of what would have been a minor skirmish to greater violence.

    Why do it near the Indar trade road, which was regrly patrolled by military and town guards?

    It was senseless.

    Clear amber eyes turned to study the speaker, no curiosity, merely a re-cataloguing of characteristics that made up the person of Andar il Vons. Her eyes lingered on his face.

    Then her gaze went to the single imperial sterius on his cor, made with real gold.

    "You are a major of the imperial army. You would ask why?" Her voice was calm and quiet, melodic with a slight rasp. Even then, there was little indication that she was interested in the answer.

    Andar frowned. "You have a grievance with the imperial army?"

    "Perhaps. There are two people your age with the rank of major in the province of Havare. I wonder which one you are."

    Nonplussed, he rapped out the practiced spiel. "Major Andar il Vons of the 2nd battalion, 5th regiment of the 16th Division, Eastern Jebrimean Army." Then annoyed that he did so, added, "What of it?"

    "Ah." Her eyes returned to his face. "As I thought. Ful''s little treasure."

    Even taken aback, he answered. "Fulgeren il Vons was indeed my brother. I was not aware you knew each other so well. His stories painted you a distant figure."

    She straightened, took a step toward him.

    Natan made a noise, almost a stifled hiss, a single grim sound of warning.

    Zises did not look in the direction of the downed man, only continued toward the major. She stopped less than an armslength away. "Promoted on the battlefield?"

    "I am not here to exchange pleasantries like a gossiping aunt over teacakes."

    Another empty smile touched her features. "So much like..."

    Her pose faltered.

    Instinctively, Andar il Vons put out his hands to steady her.

    She did not care, appeared to be thinking of things far away. "Do you know, little treasure, once you get an imperial sterium your life is given entirely to the empire?"

    "Of course."

    "Empires have no care for the heart of a person."

    She slumped forward slowly, until her forehead fell on Andar''s corbone. For the first time, some emotion colored her voice. "Why?"

    Andar was silent, frowning.

    "Why did you have to join the military?"

    With thosest words, her body sumbed to bloodloss and the fatal wound dealt by Andar''s halberd.

    Andar caught her, weight sending him to his knees.

    He reached for her wrist, to feel nothing, even the vital point at her wrist was drained.

    There was a suffocated feeling in his chest, looming up through his throat.

    Zises Toren was dead.

    For some reason, for some infinitely unrational reason, it seemed almost like he''d lost his brother again.

    Andar il Vons lowered his head and wept.

    Natan nced at the figure in the shadow of a rock pir. In the red light of the setting sun, the shadows were dark and deep.

    Defi met his eyes, inclined his head, and slipped away.

    Natan sighed, looked up at the sky, and closed his eyes.

 Chapter 60: Aftermath

    Chapter 60: Aftermath

    "How are you here?" Defi curled his arms around Turq. He''d been half-disbelieving when he''d seen the familiar seakrait form on the battlefield, but the feel of the bond didn''t lie.

    "People were worried when the first search parties didn''t return." Hanna, who he recalled was one of the farmers he met just after Kern had given him that damnable letter, answered.

    Her brother Bron grinned. "We met Hn on the road."

    Defi''s eyes went to Cuthes, who was resting on the other bed in the tent.

    The man shrugged. "Couldna let ''em go alone, yeah? I know some of the area, after all."

    "We got lost two times," Hanna scoffed.

    "I''m wounded!" Cuthes waved his arms, one of them in a new splint.

    "Your brain''s not in your arms, old man."

    Lergen shook his head as he bandaged Defi''s leg. "Those kids of yours told me to bring you Turq no matter what. I regret wondering why. That transformation nearly stopped my heart, do you know? Moreover, I can''t believe you didn''t get this looked at for hours. You walked on it to Genlet!"

    Defi had numbed the area with the Current. In the aftermath, there had been no time to get attention from the limited amount of healers. There had been others that more severely injured. "It''s not as bad as it looks."

    He looked at Hanna and Bron, Lergen and Cuthes. "I don''t think yesterday would have gone so well without you and the rest supporting the army."

    Cuthes hacked a cough, with a wide smile. "That''s what I wanna hear! Some people, eh? They worry too much."

    Hanna put a hand on her hip and lifted her brows at the old soldier. Bron sighed. "Ma would kill us if you died and we didn''t prevent it."

    "You''re rted?" Defi peered at the three of them. The only simrity between them was the riot of curls on their heads. Hanna and Bron had a smattering of freckles across their cheeks, only just visible.

    "Cuthes is our mother''s only cousin," Hanna said. "Unfortunately."

    "Oi, oi, where is the respect?"

    Lergen tied off thest knot and tucked it in neatly. "We''re heading back to town today. Knowing the mayor, she''s already sent the first catch to aid Genlet and the soldiers. Let''s not be here when it arrives."

    Defi understood. It was impolite to reim gifts given in support. Though the grievously wounded would stay in Genlet, those that could return home would not stay even if the Genlet mayor asked.

    After all, Genlet was currently supporting over fifty soldiers who just entered their first battle, a simr number of abducted and starved tradesmen, and the wounded from the surrounding viges. Genlet was a rich trade town, but medicine and recovery dishes were expensive.

    It would be at least three days before the wounded recovered. Then maybe a week before the business of the des was done and the soldiers moved on.

    But that didn''t have anything to do with Defi anymore.

    Bron nodded. "I''ll check on the carts."

    His sister followed him out after patting Turq on the head, waving at them. "Don''t go to sleep, uncle, no one''s carrying you."

    "Brat." Cuthes turned to them, the only others in the tent, indignant. "D''you hear what she said? Mine own niece? Unbelievable."

    The happy light in his eyes belied the tone of his words.

    Lergen chuckled. "Yes, yes."

    Defi forced away the wistfulness in his chest. "I''m staying a while. There are some people I need to talk to."

    Lergen sighed. "Your back and leg means you need to stay here in any case. Why you didn''t go to the physickers'' hall the moment you got to Genlet, I cannot imagine. You have to take care of yourself, Defi. There are people waiting for you to return, you know."

    Defi hugged Turq, nodded.

    It took only half an hour for the Lowpool contingent to be on the road, happy to be returning home. Defi watched them go, then headed toward the cooking area.

    He was told Natan had been isted in a tent with the most injured people. Defi just needed to find the tent that had physickers and apothecaries running in and out all the time. It should also be near the cooks.

    Sure enough, one of therger tents was busier than the others. No one stopped him as he entered, despite the numerous guarding soldiers.

    Defi paused as he neared one of the curtained off areas in therge tent. The major was sleeping on a chair at Natan''s bedside.

    Battle made strange friends, it appeared.

    After what was left of the des surrendered, the major had ordered the army to identify the dead, then bury them in ce. The dead of those that were not des would be taken back to their families.

    The locals had assisted with a sort of angered solemnity.

    The Gamber des were the security forces of the province of Havare, whose nobility had fled after the demise of the marquisate in fear of catching the emperor''s eye. Even now, when the nobles were trickling back to their old estates they were hesitant to deploy too many armsmen in the area.

    The Gamber des securitypany was one of Havare''s most trusted institutions, despite being less than a decade old.

    The major''s actions indicated that he would not cover the matter up, despite the blow to the reputation of the army and the reputation of security forces in the empire.

    Defi recalled the scene he''de across yesterday, and felt his respect for the man rise.

    He nced at Natan and exhaled a puff of air.

    It was unbing to be caught eavesdropping. He still wasn''t certain how Natan saw him. Possibly his Shade? Natan had red me. How did that allow detection of hidden individuals? Maybe it was intent, like the Current could? He''d turned to help Natan just before the man warned him away. Was it possible?

    Defi cleared his mind of the conundrum. It was no use specting at this time. His studies on the sorcery of Ascharon were still too shallow.

    And after all that, he hadn''t learned anything that was immediately useful.

    In the epics, the dying viin told the heroic prince everything with hisst breath, ast confession and a final grace, allowing the prince to punish the hidden wrongdoers and reward the humble deserving upon his return to the kingdom.

    He was not ashamed to say that was the primary reason he lingered at a scene that should have remained private. A prudent person did not turn away knowledge that had fallen at their feet.

    It wasmentable, truly.

    Was there no way to gain so much knowledge without the aggravation of being in an epic?

    Natan''s eyes cracked open as Defi stopped at the foot of the bed.

    "I gave you a bottle you didn''t use." Defi greeted, lips tipping in a wry smile. He knew roughly the efficacy of his savras extract. Seeing Natan after the battle with the des'' leader, he had not used any of it at all.

    Natan nced to the side, another bed. On itid a woman unconscious, wan and still. "She needed it more. It helped greatly."

    "It was only savras extract."

    The woman on the bed seemed half within the door to death. Defi did not think a minor medicine would have helped all that much.

    "Prolonged her life enough to get here. Thank you."

    Defi nodded. "The others have already left to the Lowpool. Cuthes went with them. He insisted the broken arm wasn''t serious. Ernye is asleep and Hanel is still unconscious, so Hn hasn''t left either."

    He really wondered about whoever gave those two their names. They weren''t even twins.

    "And you?"

    "Better than before."

    "Defi of the Lowpool." The major had woken up. He studied Defi, eyes sharp and calcting.

    "Major il Vons."

    "I am d, Defi of the Lowpool, that you are well. Seeing you yesterday, I half-thought you were a traitor."

    Defi of the Lowpool.

    The man appeared to be attempting to carve Defi''s name in stone. Did he have a bad memory? In any case, Defi hoped it was that and not the man imagining carving a gravestone with his name on it.

    He replied lightly. "Surrounded as we were by traitors, I am not surprised."

    "Yes."

    There was an odd character to the man''s voice.

    Defi hid his surprise. "You do not think so?"

    "We are investigating."

    Defi had forgotten how many times the ''official'' story had passed his lips. The major needed practice in that regard.

    He did not pry, making note to see if Natan could be persuaded to tell what happened in their fight at ater date. Unlikely, but curiosity was encouraged among the children in Ontrea. Curiosity and the holding of secrets.

    "I wish you sess," he said instead.

    The major stood. "I will leave you to your conversation."

    "Major," Defi stopped him. "One of your men and I, we have unfinished business."

    "I was informed." The major looked back at him neutrally. "If it were just a day ago, I would attempt to dissuade you. Today, it appears I must request use of the barracks."

    He nodded sharply at the both of them and left.

    Defi huffed augh. "Even if I win or lose, your officer would learn something?"

    Natan grunted. "Not just the officers. The troops are looking for something to take their minds off yesterday. Soldiers who learn fast survive. That major won''t pass up the chance. This is a training group, after all."

    *

    The barracks was packed. Hunters and soldiers, the guards of Genlet town, and the mayor himself were squeezed against the walls. Turq was left with Natan in the physickers'' tent.

    Defi faced Vice-captain Raber Gerac in the enter. He eyed the vice-captain, who looked slightly more dishevelled than yesterday morning. "You have the choice of weapons."

    "A spear! A spear!" came the shout from the walls. It was taken up by more than a few.

    Raber Gerac''s face changed, as what he was going to say was interrupted by the din.

    Defi had almost forgotten that nearly everyone here had seen him fight. It could not be helped.

    "Are you trying to disadvantage me?" heughed. "My spear arts are not suited to duelling."

    He was booed loudly.

    Heughed again. It was almost like being back home, surrounded by people who appreciated a beautiful sword strike more than the songs of beautiful women.

    The two spear arts he mastered were weakpared to others, but it was undeniable that they were made for the chaotic battlefield. He could modify them for duelling, having attained mastery, but that was not what was needed here.

    He wanted to end this in one stroke, in one move, but with the betrayal of yesterday he did not even need Natan''s cautioning words to see he could not go overboard.

    Besides, people knowing of such a limitation to his skill would put them at greater ease.

    "Swords, then." Raber Gerac snapped the words out crisply, a trifle smug.

    Boos and cheers resounded, the barracks giving their all to their whoops and yells.

    Defi nodded. The other was confident. The swordcraft he''d seen in Ascharon so far was interesting. It was not wrong to say he wanted to know more.

    The Stormhawk Sword was a foundation sword dance that condensed the basic teachings of millennia of swordmasters. If he could understand something of the sword arts in Ascharon, it would be possible to enhance the Stormhawk Sword. One of the reasons it was also called the Schr''s Sword was its ability to absorb a new style into itself. Even after century after century of constant refinement, the Stormhawk style was still conducive to change.

    Because of such considerations, Defi preferred that the vice-captain be skilled.

    The swords were procured.

    Defi gave a swing or two. His opponent did the same. They readied.

    "Start!"

    A chorus of cheers sounded long and loud. The abruptly stopped.

    Defi held his de at the opponent''s throat. It was not even five seconds.

    He met the vice-captain''s shocked eyes.

    Just because there were other considerations did not mean Defi would so easily forgive.

    He smiled, showing teeth, then stepped away. "Best two out of three."

 Chapter 61: Leaving Genlet

    Chapter 61: Leaving Genlet

    "The scales on this horse are peeling off."

    Defi made the inane observation because Natan''s face was growing darker as he listened to the physicker exin the list of concoctions he insisted Natan had to take.

    Natan nced at him, then the horse he was patting down. "Roc-blood horses molt and shed."

    "Don''t roc-blood horses have wings?" That was the impression he got from Hn anyway.

    The physicker was stopped abruptly in his spiel by Natan pulling the piece of paper from his hand and firmly nodding in dismissal. Natan strode to the other horse by Defi and mounted.

    Defi watched the slightly shaky action. He said nothing, ncing at the physicker who was still consternated at the sudden end to his conversation.

    "Captain, are you sure you should be on a horse?"

    Exactly the question Defi wanted to ask but dared not.

    The neer was maybe a decade older than him, her rich blonde hair cut to her chin, wide dark eyes that had an air of solemnity, and a crooked half-smile. She was in military uniform, hands held behind her back as she contemted them.

    Natan narrowed his eyes at her. "You should not be on your feet, sir."

    The woman grimaced. "You calling me that is strange."

    "Not a captain either."

    "Calling you by name would be stranger."

    "Then I cannot disrespect a superior officer."

    The woman blinked, then snickered. "Captain, that is such a lie."

    Natan turned away from her. "Defi, this is Reisei Larion, she''s currently part of the West Imperial House Guards."

    "Well met, officer."

    "And you, young mestre." Reisei studied him, then her eyes went to Turq who was lounging on his usual spot on Defi''s head. "I hear you defeated one of the vice-captains in less than a second."

    "An imperial officer would naturally let his guard down when fighting a farmer. They exaggerate." Not to mention, he lost the second bout. And the third went on for an intense half an hour before Defi won.

    "If you wish, I could rmend you to an officer rank in the imperial army. Recently, the empire has begun allowing the signing of ten-year contracts, with prolonged service in three-year increments after that."

    What? The sudden question, paired with the piercing gaze, ruffled Defi just a bit.

    "It isnot something I''m considering at the moment."

    He had never considered it. Not mentioning that if word that he joined an army got back to Rimet, he would have greater troubles than a war in some far-away dominion.

    Ontrean nobles joined wars in other countries frequently, to gain experience, to grow stronger, to internalize the Teachings. He had been a conventional student. It was a path that people would expect him to take. He did not intend to be so easy to find.

    He could not enter the universities either, he sighed internally.

    She weighed his words, then nodded. "That''s a pity."

    With her face in brief shadow, Defi realized that this was the woman who had been in the same tent as Natan. He stared a moment in surprise before recollecting himself.

    Considering it had just been yesterday that she looked half-dead, Defi could only be impressed at the vital cooking in Ascharon.

    He had been fed some kind of soup with fish and flowers after the duel yesterday and had felt the healing properties of the Current surge as the vitality in the dish flowed to his injured back and leg, as well as the minor cuts from the duel.

    Oh wait, this was

    No wonder she made him the offer of an officer position. Natan probably told her he got the savras from Defi.

    Defi thought quickly. "I may not join the army, but I am happy to know that the people of thisnd are protected by warriors like you and the major."

    The look on her face was surprise, then sheughed softly. "I see. You really are the captain''s student."

    "I could" Defi began.

    "It''s best my whereabouts remain unknown."

    Defi nced up at Natan, but hid his curiosity. The man, despite his curtness, was not a rude person.

    "Captain! How about just Aoren?"

    Natan looked faintly incredulous.

    "Then"

    She was interrupted by a shout from the direction of the medical tents. She nced in that direction in rm, then straightened up with a cough.

    "You can count on me, of course. Excuse me, captain, Defi." She smiled at Defi briefly. "You can call me Reisei."

    She strolled away, only sharp eyes would be able to see the faint strain in each movement.

    Defi waited until the woman was out of earshot. "She really is your student."

    Natan hummed, turned his horse away.

    Defi mounted.

    They were leaving Genlet.

    Major il Vons had been busy, and the provincial governor was said to be preparing a promation already. The caravans were insured and were certain to return to plying the routes again by next week.

    Defi was still going to get his savras, had in fact managed to gain a promise that Jacar and Pele, with their friends, would be in the Lowpool on the next day of Duels, or if not that day then they were certain that they could be there next week.

    As for the securitypany, the Gamber des were stripped of their charter, and several other security forces were said to be negotiating with the provincial government. The news was viewed with skepticism, as was the announcement that the army was instrumental in preventing this breach in conduct from spreading.

    Defi heard from Raun that the good major was nning to return to Jebrime as soon as his furlough was up. The vige hunter was a little lost as he said he''d signed up with the military. The major''s rmendation would see him enter the cavalry as a scout.

    Some distance from them, the rest of the Lowpool residents that had stayed in Genlet were readying horses as well. The mayor had some rare ingredients flown in by grand blue eagles from Agamarl, to heal the wounded faster. The gossip praised the man for his generosity.

    Grand blue eagles were trained for deliveries,rge birds strong enough to carry one meton''s weight of goods. They could cover eighty kilomar in an hour fullyden, their ten-mar wingspan allowing for powerful use of the winds.

    A level three summon-beast, they were used moremonly by wealthy merchants and the government.

    The cost of mystic ingredients to heal the wounded in Genlet was theorized to reach 600 crescents, including the pay of the vital chef needed to make the dishes and of the apothecary needed to make salves. The town mayor was a low-level official. He did not make as much as that in sry a year.

    Defi idly considered how much of the gossip was created by the mayor''s office.

    "You have good skills in the spear," Natan said quietly, capturing Defi''s attention. "The Thundersnake style, wasn''t it?"

    Defi turned to stare. Natan was looking ahead. His hands were on the reins, his shoulders too loose to be expectingbat, his demeanor slightly nostalgic.

    "It was a surprise to see it again. I thought it had been lost with my mentor''s death."

    Defi was silent. The Thundersnake Spear Art was known in Ascharon?

    "He used to teach Thundersnake style in a small vige just outside Temen City on the southern coast. None of us reached mastery before he died ten years ago; a regret that has followed all his students since then. You fight just like he did."

    The Thundersnake Spear depended greatly on the Current, as it needed great uracy and timing, cold ruthlessness, and flexibility of body. For an Ascharonian to master it, it would be difficult. Perhaps someone with the Air Shade which enhanced intuition or Sunlight which was said to be able to order the thoughts could approximate the style; they only needed to train their body for the flexibility needed.

    "Anyone asks, you learned it from me." There was a hidden caution in the words. Natan clicked his tongue and his horse left Defi''s behind. Natan hailed another of the Lowpool residents, and settled into rxed conversation.

    Of the nearly hundred people that the Lowpool sent out, six died and twenty were injured enough to stay when the others left. Of course, many of the searchers returned to town on the first day, so less than half were in the fight.

    With the score or so of people that could have been seen as ''reinforcements'', there were over fifty people returning to the Lowpool.

    Defi stared at Natan''s back.

    It would be a simple thing, to have the man die from an injury that had not been caught by the physickers. It happened all the time. Not even vital cooking was perfect.

    Defi ruthlessly squashed the thought and dropped into a breathing technique. He considered the fear that had risen in him at Natan''s words.

    It was not unreasonable to think there had been others like him who had crossed the Gates for one reason or other. He''d been looking, in fact. He did not expect to hear of one from Natan, or find that the man knew an Ontrean spear art.

    Natan was not a man to speak of unnecessary things.

    Why did he choose to caution Defi? It was something to consider.

    He needed to know more about Natan''s old mentor. The man must have been of warrior, schr, or farmer lineage  they were the only people allowed to learn thebat arts of the Church learning halls. Merchants and the rest went to lower schools, and would not have known the Thundersnake Spear.

    Was it simr to how Ymirin was probably watched by the whole of Ascharon by now?

    It was possible. Not everyone who entered the learning halls was of the nobility. But the general view was anyone who had a good grasp of the current was halfway there. Even ves who were talented in the Current were given opportunities to free themselves and buy their ownnd. His mother''s long lineage and her talent in the Current was enough that a former ve with foreign blood marrying the lord of Rimet was only a minor scandal.

    Or so Defi had thought.

    Considering his current position, it was evident he had not known enough of the circumstances surrounding his parents'' marriage.

    What circumstances would bring another with simr upbringing to leave heart and soul behind to cross the Gate? It likely wasn''t good. He felt a deep sadness, and looked around at the greennds of Ascharon to dispel it.

    Turq plopped onto the horse''s withers, just past the saddle horns.

    Defi reached out to pat it on top.

    He would trust Natan, but be cautious. As for the military, there was no need to do anything currently.

    At the moment, he only wanted to sleep in his own bed and feel the now familiar walls of the Garge house around him.

    "Defi!" Hnughed and nudged her horse close enough for conversation. "Is it true my brother defeated dozens of the mercenaries?"

    "Hel, that''s" The brother archer looked exasperated.

    Defi took a breath and let the Current calm within him. "He was very heroic."

    He scrutinized the two. The archer, Hanel, had a leg broken and a de wound to the gut. No wonder he was held back by the physickers. He walked now with a slight limp and would be fully recovered in two weeks.

    "Really? But it''s Han!"

    "Oi, what does that mean?"

    "You know what it means." She turned away from her brother and eyed Defi. "Are you done brooding now?"

    Hn, who had not joined the battle, but had been running messages, had her arm still bandaged and small cuts on her throat. They would not even scar.

    Defi huffed augh. "I did in fact have something on my mind."

    "Oh?"

    "These horses, they have no wings. Aren''t they roc-blooded?"

 Chapter 62: Id Like To Make a Will

    Chapter 62: I''d Like To Make a Will

    There were three gates to the Lowpool.

    The first was made of trees. Some distance away from the trade road, the pines and alders thickened, the brush grew wild and moss thrived in the dampness that even the epassing sunlight could notpletely illuminate.

    To the riders and the single cart that leisurely made their way along the path, the scent of the forest deepened into the sweetness of rotting things and growing life.

    It was a scent Defi had only before encountered in the forest of kings, where the rulers of Ontrea buried their dead. It was the lone primeval forest in all of Ontrea, the rest of the forests and woods having been thinned out for agriculture and expansion. Even keeping it standing was a source of pride, for agriculturalnd was precious in the kingdom.

    The mountain forest that separated the Lowpool from the rest of the world smelled even more robust than the forest of kings. Defi''s skin warmed pleasantly under the green-dappled sunlight of high morning. His eyes caught on a bush that appeared to be curling around arge treetrunk, runners sprouting new branches and triangr leaves. It made the tree appear to have an odd fur stole.

    It was not the only peculiarity to Defi''s eyes; the vegetation grew thick under the trees, colorful and riotously variegated.

    The scent of wild bursting life was so thick it could be tasted.

    The fast pace that the scouting party took thest time they passed this way had not given Defi this sense of being oddly swaddled by nature.

    The second gate was made of rocks.

    After the forest thinned and the town farms started dotting the mountainsides, the path widened enough for three carts abreast.

    The ubiquitous piles and spires of rock that jutted out of the ground around the Lowpool and Genlet dominated thendscape, rising above the tall green trees, blocking the rushing streams and forming pools before allowing the flow of water to freely speed on its way. Even the farms rarely dared to cut down their splendour, and there were farmhouses built with rock pirs forming parts of their walls.

    The path wound around the spires and boulders inzily curving patterns, twice directly cutting through cliffs.

    Defi was not blind to the defensive value of the arrangement.

    The Lowpool truly could be called a natural fortress.

    He nced at the others. The faint strain in their faces was disappearing the nearer they got to town, theirughs more real, and their smiles brighter.

    He felt some envy, but the heaviness in his heart was lightened just a little.

    Hanel grinned. "Look, Defi! We''re nearly there! Ah, those Genlet cooks don''t know how to make breaded herring right. I''m looking forward to tonight''s market."

    Defi smiled, mostly genuine, at the other''s enthusiasm. "Breaded herring? I haven''t had it before."

    "Those southern cooks are barbarians," Hanel concluded.

    "Han!" The archer''s sister was stiflingughter on his other side. How could the cooks in the south, where the capital was, be barbarians? "Come with us to the night market, Defi. You won''t be disappointed."

    Defi hadn''t been disappointed by the seafood in Ascharon yet, so he agreed. He first needed to return to the Garge house to check on the slimes and also drop by the orphanage and Sarel''s homestead.

    The town gate came into view and some of the party let out sighs and shouts of relieved happiness. The road inclined upward and the sun was bright on pale stone  under the influence of these factors, the gate hung above them shining like a door to salvation.

    Two nights had passed since they left the town. The subsequent events were so intense that even Defi who had the Current supporting his fortitude felt deeply fatigued in body and mind. The others would surely be more affected than he.

    It was natural to see the entrance to their homes and shout in joy.

    And he, had he not lived on this mountainke for months already?

    Somehow, the sight of that unassuming wooden gate held up by roughly hewn white stone made some of Defi''s tiredness dissipate. It was likely some reflection from the happiness of hispanions. Or it represented a chance to finally rest withoutplications.

    It was a simple gate, fitting for the entrance into a simple life.

    He did not wish to embroil himself in whatever the major was nning, or what brought one of the Imperial Household Guard to Genlet, or what secrets the Gamber des held.

    Here, in the Lowpool, there was only someone wishing to steal thend from under him, and mysterious searchers flitting about the mountains. Those were manageable problems.

    Not to mention, his guardianship over three exceedingly curious children was over, and he had Turq back with him.

    Was it no wonder he was feeling lighter?

    They were met at the town gate.

    "Wee back," the eyes of the man smiled. "The mayor would like to wee you home. Tonight, the food in the night market will be free."

    Defi''s lips twitched as the whole of them cheered.

    "Just the food, Er?" called a voice out cheerfully. The others started dismounting.

    "You will have to apply to the mayor personally if you want more," came the calm answer.

    There was a greatugh from the bear of a man that asked the question. "Chelua take me that I say this, but I''d rather face another army!"

    Beside him, Han bent over his saddlehorn, trying to stifle snickers and failing. It was very different from the first impression that Defi got of him, the silent and sullen archer.

    Defi looked at him in amusement, as the others smiled andughed at therge man''s sally. Was the mayor so formidable? Formidable and beloved at the same time. To have perfectly bnced her reputation, she was not an ordinary person.

    "In any case," Er continued. "The incident must be thoroughly investigated. Come by the townhall tomorrow and ask for me or Gwenre."

    "How ''bout today?" asked a woman. "I think I won''t have more nightmares tonight if I do."

    "That is also possible."

    Defi had to work tomorrow and didn''t know how much time would be taken by the questioning. He dismounted. They were just inside the gates, and the barracks were nearby. He nced in the direction of the town hall, contemtive.

    "You''re going today?" Hn asked.

    "Yes. I might not have time tomorrow."

    "Uncle would be worried. Han and I are heading home."

    He nodded. "I''ll be meeting youter then."

    The siblings made their goodbyes and broke off.

    There were few people that owned horses in town. The town guards had most of them due to needed patrols. Defi patted his horse''s scaled neck and led the mare toward the stables.

    *

    Defi entered the town hall in thepany of five others. He nced at the man beside him but Natan looked like his usual self, if slightly paler. The initially shaky steps he took when he got off the horse appeared to have been controlled well enough.

    They passed by the clerk to take the steps to the next floor when Defi heard a familiar voice.

    "What do you mean it has to be passed down? Thend is still the samend is it not?"

    "Yes," the clerk smiled politely, "but the town cannot sell the homesteads. Once they pass to the town, thend would be ordinary townnd."

    Defi stopped. Was the woman talking about the Garge homestead? It sounded like she thought the owner was dead. It could be another homestead, but he would not mistake the woman talking to the clerk.

    Agreine huffed. "Who in the world put such conditions on such a small patch ofnd?"

    The clerk''s smile became even more polite.

    Before she could say anything, Defi asked wryly. "Madam, surely you have not killed me off already?"

    Agreine whirled, to see Defi looking quizzically at her. An expression of shock came over her face. "You were abducted by bandits!"

    Did news spread so quickly? "And by the grace of those who watch over us, many have returned safe."

    "Are you still nning to stay in this unsafe ce?"

    "I wonder, if it is truly unsafe, why you are so eager to buy."

    She looked him over, then the five people who were waiting for Defi, and left in a snit, head held high.

    Defi stepped nearer the clerk. "She thought I was dead?"

    The clerk sighed, then smiled at Defi. "She appeared certain, but we do not make transactions without rigorous confirmation."

    "Thend will revert to the town should I die?"

    "Unless willed to another or sold by your own hands, yes. The freedom of a deed-owner is great, and deeds are protected by stringentws, but in the end it is still a deed-lease. You might say that in Ascharon, the only truendowner is the emperor."

    "I see. Thank you." He remembered that her name was Karis.

    "Of course."

    Defi was about to turn away when he saw the hesitant look on her face.

    "What is it?"

    "I...there are rumors that the children you adopted are the offspring of the Count il Fandre, and you have been hiding them from him. And that Sarel poisoned a whole noble banquet in the capital."

    Defi quickly swallowed his shock.

    "I must ask," he said evenly. "where did you hear this?"

    "It is circting around the town most egregiously, young Defi."

    The voice that exined was rich and slightly croaky.

    "Lady mayor," greeted Defi. "just the town?"

    "Talk flies like wind," she answered. "But it can still be managed."

    He thought quickly, then a sharp smile shed across his face.

    "Mayor, I''d like to make a will."

 Chapter 63: Agreine (1 of 2)

    Chapter 63: Agreine (1 of 2)

    Agreine wanted to be back in Ecthys, the bustling salons where well-dresseddies gathered, the elegant men who knew all the dances, the witty light conversation about the doings of duchesses and princes, the bright lights from crystalmps making the night bright as day, the private art collections that the nobles opened for public viewing, the newly popr opera houses where the audience was properly attired and sufficiently mannered.

    She had attended a stage-y in the Sottc Theatre once, in the first week after she arrived, and subsequently removed the woman who had invited her from consideration as a possible friend.

    The audience around Agreine had actually been stomping their feet to the music and roaring the lines with the actors! There were females on the stage!

    Such a vulgar disy!

    A woman who enjoyed such things was surely not respectable.

    "This is the Lowpool," shrugged the wife of one of the town councillors. "They do no harm."

    A few others nodded.

    Why was that considered a viable answer? The standards of decency and morality were universal, and no tiny town could simply decide which moral t to follow or discard.

    No harm? Suchck of decency in entertainment was corruptive! It spread like the gue.

    Her attempts to discuss were treated as argumentative.

    How unworldly of these people, who only lived in their small bubble of istion.

    Why did her mother talk constantly about this town with such fondness? Perhaps if Agreine grew up here, like her cousin Leraine, she would think as gracelessly as these people as well?

    She shuddered.

    And she thought after Leraine married a respectable man, a researcher who graduated from university, that her cousin was worth a cultivating a correspondence with. But no wonder the man ran away.

    A cultured man, a university man, would surely be stifled in this ce!

    How many times had the words ''this is the Lowpool'' been thought as enough to stop her attempts to inject culture into these small-town minds?

    And another thing!

    The name of the town was Sottc. Sottc! And yet, no one used it! No one, not even the mayor; how was that reasonable? Were they actually rebelling against the provincial governor?

    She huffed as she walked down the street, her maid holding a parasol above her head.

    A gaggle ofughing young men cut off her path, their cheer so concentrated on the fellow in their middle who was looking so exasperated but also proud that they nearly ran her down.

    "You''ll treat us tonight, eh? You''re rich as a lord now!"

    Agreine scoffed softly at their backs.

    A lord?

    If the mayor was not nobility, then with the looks of a few of the councillors, she might believe this ce was a bandit town.

    She was a wine-merchant''s wife, a respected woman from the city. She had more money than half this town put together.

    But in all her life, she had only experienced the feeling of being a noble once, when she rode in the Esquire Ducan''s carriage.

    A carriage!

    Not even her husband, who sold wine to half the nobles in Ecthys, could afford the massive yearly expense of keeping a carriage and the two horses needed to pull one.

    Even the cheapest carriage would cost ten gold solstices, the wood for its construction needed to be both flexible and sturdy for thefort of the passengers. Otherwise what difference would it be from the jolting difort of a farmcart?

    Such rare woods only grew near the bubbling saltkes of the cold north.

    And these brutes thought themselves the equal to a lord? Let them have their own carriage and stable, withnds worth at least ten thousand silver crescents a year first. That was the least qualification for acquaintance with a titled lord.

    Or did they think titles were simply picked up off the streets?

    What connections would some farmer''s son from a town that was barely a vige have.

    She though, even if her mother was from this town, she was from the city and had many acquaintances among the nobles now. She was even in the same room as a caster and a baron the month before!

    With Calor Ducan''s help, her husband Mathys might even be an armiger. Or better yet, a patrician!

    Yes, that was something to look forward to.

    The taunts of some farmer boy meant little.

    She scowled.

    She had been certain dear Calor had said the boy had been caught up in a fatal matter with bandits. He had assured her the boy would not return and that she was free to purchase the house from the town hall.

    Seeing the boy again had been a shock.

    Why did she want to buy a house here again? She would likely be better served by acquiringnd nearer the city, then she would never have to return here.

    She sighed.

    It was true however, thatnd in the mountains,nd near a water source was richer in vitality than anywhere else. It was suited greatly for farnd. Unfortunately, she could not buynd near the major rivers, which was at premium prices.

    Acquiringnd here, in her mother''s hometown, had been cheaper by far. By the gossip of the farmers'' wives and the records Calor had acquired for her, the farms surrounding the Lowpool were umonly productive.

    The reason was that there was likely a blessednd in theke, where the sable crabired, that added more vitality to the surrounding areas than usual farnd.

    Because of that, thend in the Lowpool was an even more attractive purchase thannd beside an ordinary river. Of course, this was also the reason no one was willing to sell theirnd. She was lucky the herbalist was greedy, and that there was actuallynd for sale in the town hall. The clerk informed her that there usually wasn''t.

    She still didn''t know why the old couple sold theirnd to the boy. She had thought her offer was more than thend was worth.

    It was impossible that the boy bought it himself. Possibly that woman Ferlen who suddenly became her enemy helped. Agreine had only pointed out that bringing her children to a corruptive ce like the theatre was akin to destroying their future.

    The woman could not see kindness where it was offered, then she would not waste her breath.

    If their parents did not heed her words, perhaps she should speak to the children herself? A child should have proper moral influences in the formative years.

    She nodded, then realized they were near to the house where she''d been invited for the afternoon, she motioned to the maid to go and knock.

    She took up the light parasol as the maid went before her.

    Madam Derie had been particrly insistent that she visit, and Agreine was gratified at the woman''s encouragement.

    Even if she had a few enemies in town, she had more who were eager to befriend her. She who lived in the city and could speak at length on culture and the sophisticates she met at various events. Against a small-town woman, who would choose theirpany over hers?

    It did not matter.

    A few detractors were the sign of having led a good life, her dear friend Calor had once said.

    She could not deny that it was invigorating to win a debate with the small-minded women of this town.

    That did not mean she wished to stay. Ugh, that herbalist''s house smelled, and there was absolutely no entertainment other than farm gossip.

    The more worldly inhabitants were at least tolerable. Madam Derie had even agreed to speak to the farmer boy about the Garge homestead and how it should be returned to a proper owner.

    She was about to step on the garden path to Madam Derie''s when she saw her maid look back at her in dismay and shake her head.

    What?

    Surely that did not mean she was not wee? She had been invited personally by Madam Derie!

    The maid hurried to her side.

    "Madam, the hallkeeper said they were not epting visitors for the day."

    "What? What do they mean by that?"

    "He said madam Derie''s niece and nephew caught an illness."

    "An illness? As if I would believe that! You were there when Madam Derie spoke, were you not?" Without waiting for a reply, she set up the garden path. "I will have an exnation."

    "Madam!" The maid gaped. An exnation? Who directly asked for an exnation after their servant had been turned away from the door? Were they looking for the humiliation of being turned away in person?

    She hurried after her mistress. "Madam, please let me ask again. I might have misunderstood."

    But Agreine''s hand was already on the bronze knocker of the door.

    It opened. The hallkeeper paused at the sight of Agreine, then looked at the maid who hung her head.

    "Forgive me, madam, the house is not epting visitors for the day."

    "I was invited by Madam Derie. By what right do you have to send us away?"

    The hallkeeper blinked, but continued gently. "This is a house of illness, and it needs quiet. Madam, please return another time."

    "I want an exnation."

    "Madam," the maid tugged at her coat while looking around. "Perhaps we should return tomorrow?"

    "Do you mean, that invitations given by your employer"

    "Da, who is it?"

    "Miss, it is no one," the hallkeeper turned to smile. "Please return to bed. This exertion is bad for your health surely."

    Agreine''s face reddened at the hallkeeper''s words.

    No one?

    "Who in the world is in bed at this hour? No wonder this town only has the sable crab to their name, if the peopleze around like this."

    The hallkeeper''s face darkened. He put his body between Agreine and the interior of the house.

    Even the hallkeepers are brutes at least provocation. At least her maid was silent.

    "Da, don''t block the door."

    The hallkeeper moved aside reluctantly.

    Agreine smiled smugly.

    The woman behind the doorkeeper was young, with pale brown hair andrge grey eyes. Her arm was swathed in bandages. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.

 Chapter 64: Agreine (2 of 2)

    Chapter 64: Agreine (2 of 2)

    Agreine lost her smile. "I...I did not know you were injured."

    The young woman brows creased. "Da was told to turn away everyone today. I apologize, was there something urgent?"

    "I received an invitation for this afternoon."

    The young woman blinked, then ran her eyes over Agreine appraisingly. "You are Agreine, from Ecthys, who wishes to acquire the Garge homestead?"

    Agreine smiled. "I am. And I pride myself on never beingte. Your servant needs a reminder to be polite to guests, perhaps?"

    The young woman smiled back. "I''m sorry that you do not like the conduct of our hallkeeper. We prefer it, rather. Then allow me to rescind my aunt''s invitation, that there may be no more conflict between us. Good day, madam."

    The hallkeeper bowed politely, as the girl turned away, and shut the door in her face.

    Agreine stared at the closed door, speechless.

    Her eyes narrowed in indignation and she reached for the door-knocker again.

    This time, the hallkeeper stared at her stoically with no gentle demeanor in sight. "Madam, was there something you needed?"

    She gritted her teeth. "I wish to speak to Madam Derie."

    "Da." A voice came from inside.

    The hallkeeper stepped back.

    Madam Derie, one of the twelve councillors of the town, stood within the doorway. She frowned at Agreine. "I thought it was my nephew again, causing trouble."

    "Madam, did we not have a meeting today?" Agreine could not put it off, not with the farmer boy back like an unfortunate rtive that cannot be gotten rid of.

    "My nephew and niece were injured in a recent sh against mercenaries. I will take care of them first."

    "I apologize, but your niece closed the door in my face. It is obvious she did not learn her manners from her aunt." In the face of that, a half hour of time to speak about the Garge homestead would be allow Agreine to forget the rudeness.

    Madam Desi smiled slowly. "You think so? She has lived in my household for most of her life, after all."

    Agreine stopped, her senses suddenly wary. Something was wrong.

    "Madam Desie, what has happened?"

    "I too, have hoped that the Garge homestead was sold to another from the Lowpool, but that was not the case. The child Defi was only lucky to be there when Leraine made her decision. You know how she is. This is the reason I wished to help you. But not at this cost."

    "Cost? What cost could there be? You said yourself that he is an outsider!"

    "The Lowpool is a ce of freedom, do you know? The first settlers were illegitimate children, outcasts. Five hundred years ago, thews for bastards were not as kind as they are now. They saw this ce as a ce of choice, and grew it ordingly."

    "This is about the children? They are only werefolk, children of some lord''s dalliance in a brothel. They don''t even have the same mothers. Returning them to their father is only right."

    "That count is a very traditional man. Your mother never brought you back, and never told you the stories. The blood of the Lowpool is the blood of bastards, young woman."

    "I am not bastard-born!"

    "Perhaps that is the reason your mother never returned."

    Agreine straightened up, outraged, head high. "Madam, if you are to speak nder instead of helping me, I will take my leave."

    The two in the doorway watched her go.

    The hallkeeper spoke, beard twitching as he controlled his smile. "The blood of bastards, madam?"

    "I had to say something to make her leave. And isn''t it the truth, Da?"

    "It is. But a rather long view on truth, isn''t it, madam?"

    "You know what they say. This is the Lowpool. If that distant ancestor didn''t take the long view, we''d never have been born."

    *

    Agreine made her way to Calor''s rented manor house, thinking hard. The maid barely kept up with her speedy steps.

    What had happened. The boy could not have done anything. It had been less than three hours since they met in the town hall, since he returned. That meant Madam Desie had been swayed by someone else.

    Someone connected to the three orphans. The orphanage keeper? What clout did he have? Some exaggerated stories about fighting smugglers and nothing more.

    One of the reasons people were hesitant to support her was the boy''s seeming adoption of the three orphans and his friendship with some old woman from the uninhabited parts of the river who seemed to have some clout in the Lowpool.

    Calor had given her the information to remove those obstacles. The children would be taken back to their father and the old hag would be discredited.

    The boy would have no support.

    How did things go wrong?

    She went up to the door without gesturing to the maid to knock.

    The door opened. Worrying, she said immediately.

    "I wish to speak to the esquire. He will receive me."

    "Will he?"

    The voice was not of the hallkeeper that Calor hired. She blinked at the stiff military uniform. It looked impressive. The man was tall, thinner than any military man should be, and had his long hair and beard tied unkempt.

    She frowned. Calor had always told his friends to let her in immediately. "I am Agreine, a friend of esquire Ducan. Is he not in?"

    "He is not, but perhaps you shoulde in. Do you know him well?"

    "Yes, we met some months ago. He came to look fornd opportunities with me." She was about to say that the Lowpool was where her mother was born when she remembered that woman''s words. Was she implying that Agreine was from a base-born line? Of all the things to say! It had been five hundred years ago, surely things like that would have been lost to time.

    Yes, it could not be.

    This ce was truly vile, and so were its people.

    "I see. You seem good friends."

    She smiled in a strained manner at the man, but her heart eased a little. People should be like this man, gentle, cultured, polite. A true city-born cosmopolite!

    She looked around and frowned. The house was empty. "Where are the servants?"

    "You do not know?"

    "Why would I know where the servants went?"

    "Ah." The man nodded. "Perhaps you are not as close a friend after all."

    Agreine inhaled. The house was without servants, the manor appeared empty. No, it could not be. "Where is the esquire?"

    "He appears to have left, madam. Were you looking for him?"

    The voice was good-natured, but it rang with something that made Agreine take a breath.

    The speaker was a young man, his hair pale creamy blonde, his eyes deep and dark. Agreine realized they were actually a shadowed purple. He stood near the staircase, one hand on it, as if surveying a domain that was so naturally his.

    "My teacher does not like introducing himself, so it must fall to me." The young manmented, ignoring a sharp look from said teacher. He stepped forward to take Agreine''s hand. "I am Cor Graem, and this is my teacher, Jorne, assistant inspector ptine."

    Agreine paled. "In-inspector ptine?"

    Her maid gasped, stared at the tall man, and fainted.

    An inspector ptine was an investigator sent directly by the emperor to ascertain truth of various matters in the kingdom, most often the stories of corruption or infighting between nobility and the government or various cmities were calmed by such inspectors. The most talked about stories of course, were those of treason.

    They were given a wide range of powers, more than even a count or a provincial governor. Stories of families being wiped out, and entire cities evacuated and destroyed might see an inspector ptine behind them.

    "You do not know where Calor Ducan is?" The assistant inspector intoned.

    Agreine swayed.

    The young man, barely a boy,ughed. "Ignore him, he''s always like this. About the esquire, a minor matter, don''t worry. He''s just told me something about a bookst year that would help my teacher with a current investigation."

    Agreine took a breath. "He...he hasn''t said anything about a book."

    "How about why he came here?"

    "He said he really liked thend. It was full of vigor."

    "Have you ever seen this map before?"

    The boy unrolled a leather patch, embroidered at the edges, and locations carefully rendered in colored ink.

    She shook her head.

    The boy smiled. "Then, it appears we are done with the ce. Do you know where he went?"

    "II see." She looked around again, truly lost. "I amafraid I do not know where he went, or even when. I do not know what is happening today."

    The boy directed her to a seat, with a glint in his eye. "Allow me to summarize then."

    "My lor" The teacher suddenly coughed on a word and said, reluctantly. "Cor."

    "No, no, this is also the job of an apprentice. It is too small a matter for you, teacher." The boy Cor waved his teacher away, blithely.

    He tapped his chin with a finger, thinking. His gaze rested on Agreine. "You wished to buy a small piece ofnd, but there was already an owner. In order to make the owner leave, you targeted the people around him, that is to say, a hermit knowledgeable in the highest levels of mystic cooking and three children from the orphanage.

    "A good strategy, I say. Unfortunately, you did not take note of three things: the audience, the setting, and the strength of the antagonist. The consequence of the first and second was the momentum turned away from you because the people here do not have a recognized mystic cook and in addition have some odd fondness for bastards. Ah, I might build a house here myself, this ce is a gem!

    "As for the third thing, do you know, mysteriously, just this afternoon, Defi the antagonistsst will and testament was leaked. What is with the confidentiality in this town, oh my. It is very strange. His beneficiaries were that old hermit and those three children. It was also found that said the poisoning happened long after the hermit left the capital, and that the children ran away themselves to be saved from evil men by the gant antagonist. Considering you, the protagonist, were just this morn attempting to dere him dead in full view of the public, the flow of opinion has now turned against you. What dark deeds attributed to a protagonist, oh dear."

    He lifted a brow. "Of course, there are people still on your side, and this ploy of the antagonist is but a stopgap. The protagonist can make ae-back!"

    He threw his arms high, with a smile. Then he let his arms fall.

    His voice lowered and his eyes sharpened. "But I suggest, madam, that you cease from attempting to acquire that tiny piece ofnd that belongs to that antagonist. The forces of light have fled with their general due to a mysterious dragon and the protagonist is currently very alone."

    He beamed at her. "What do you think?"

    Agreine felt that there was a suffocating pressure pushing into her vision.

    She could only nod.

 Chapter 65: Ten-Bloom Tea with the Mayor

    Chapter 65: Ten-Bloom Tea with the Mayor

    The mayor of the Lowpool did not look impressive.

    Sorza Mareble looked like the average elder to Defi; straight-backed, with white hair and the deep gaze of experience. She had a stern demeanor, but the lines on her face spoke ofughter as well.

    But the specific aura of intimidating power that many of the higher ranked elders in the court was not present in her. Nheless, Defi knew that there were people who could hide their power and knowledge. So he met her with sufficient wariness.

    As the younger, Defi served the tea.

    Flower tea needed less time to steep than leaf tea. It was often offered during brief encounters which were expected tost less than an hour.

    Serving it had many meanings. Defi hoped it meant this discussion was going to be short.

    It was not an expectation though, as the water in the teapot could be refreshed several times without lowering the potency of the tea. Flower teas were also medicinal, and often made with vital water. There were many varieties.

    For instance, government officials consumed a lot of ten-bloom tea in one day. For a person whose profession did not involve much physical exertion and needed much socializing, ten-bloom tea helped to ease digestion and mental fatigue, maintain the muscles, and refresh the odors of the body.

    It was exactly that ten-bloom tea that Defi had to serve. There were numerous bowls of flowers and pots of spices arrayed on a tea-table, all before a ss teapot of clear water. He spent a moment to thank the Creator that he was not unfamiliar with this particr arrangement.

    Samti used to do something simr.

    He could not help a wry smile. How many Ascharonian things did Garun teach Defi and the people around him under the nose of a nation where the Teachings infused every single aspect of tradition?

    Impressive,e to think of it.

    The man had spent thirty years in Ontrea learning how to hide himself and still the openness of his Ascharonian heritage showed through. Defi understood, that yearning for familiar things and familiar customs. He had taught the children how to make samad, after all.

    Defi ced the flowers from the rightmost bowl in the teapot, paused, then added the flowers from the leftmost bowl. Some small container-pots of spices were ced at intervals between the row of flower-filled bowls, and he put a scoop each into the teapot.

    Left and right in turns, the progression of the tea-making was easy because it was the youngest in the room that had to serve. It was not umon for servers to be less than a decade old.

    Tooplicated and the server might serve something embarrassing. Taking from left and right, by the time of the most crucial step the server did not have to reach far for the needed ingredients and there was less chance of an ident.

    Defi was not familiar with ten-bloom tea, and could only hope he got the intervals correct.

    The water in the teapot bloomed into a pale rose color, with asional gold and pale green swirling when certain flowers touched.

    Defi tried not to look doubtful as he eyed the rather energetic tea. Was it even drinkable?

    In Ontrea, tea that was so alive was in danger of being purified by priests of the Church. Alchemy was a difficult science after all. There were many idents.

    He poured two cups and turned the tea-table so that the teapot faced them and not the ingredient bowls. He served the tea and sat down opposite the woman who led the Lowpool.

    The mayor sipped, and the lines of her face deepened as she gave a smile.

    Defi held in his relief, sipping his own tea.

    He inhaled deeply as the Current reacted, a now familiar effect of drinking vital water. The reaction had calmed over the months as he regrly drank it, but the ten-bloom tea once more caused the Current to surge. Not as strongly as that first time in Stahlchausses, but it was still surprising.

    The scent and taste of the tea caused a cloud of pleasantness around him as he exhaled.

    "Your ruse with the will won''t hold for long."

    Defi nodded at the mayor''s observation. "Long enough for people to doubt the initial rumors. By then, whatever story Aire and Lergen put out will gain more supporters. Enough for most of the town to understand that the rumors are lies directed at me."

    "Gaining sympathy for the others, but not for you."

    "I will not have their origins thrown in their faces because of me. It''s best that the gossip is between me and Madam Agreine. I am an outsider, my reputation will suffer from this even if Sarel and the children were not acquainted with me."

    "They''ll have other things to speak of soon. The news of the Gamber des has not had time to spread yet, for example. Your actions in the conflict would predispose the town toward you."

    "All the more reason to be a shield. At best, they would be neutral. I have not interacted with many townsmen. Starting at neutral is good enough." He let himself sigh. "In any case, I am neither politician nor war leader; is reputation so important?"

    The mayor''s brown eyesughed, looking at him over the rim of the translucent teacup. "Try buying even a piece of bread with your reputation in the pits."

    He hoped his standing had not fallen so far. What would he have to do to recover? "Let''s hope I do not have to win a war or cure an emperor''s illness."

    Her amusement deepened. They sipped their tea in silence, savouring the beverage.

    Defi looked up. "Lady mayor, how long before the talk reaches beyond the Lowpool?"

    "Oh? At least you are notcent. Sarel''s enemies are not likely to hear it."

    Because someone else already poisoned most of them to death, Defi thought sardonically.

    "There are always stories of hidden cooking masters circling around. It is a popr tale. As for the Count il Fandre, he will hear of his children sooner orter and send another pack of his men," the mayor continued. "In this matter, I have some influence. But not enough to keep the children here if they are found."

    She met his gaze. "If they manage to keep hidden until the two older are fifteen years in age and in a favorable position, the Count''s legal influence over their actions will cease."

    Was she implying he should keep the children for three years? That was unreasonable. He could not even call himself a farmer now, considering thend he owned could not grow crops. He did not have the resources to ce the three in any kind of favourable position. In fact, if his sister found him, they would be greatly disadvantaged.

    The better solution was for them to leave the Lowpool altogether.

    No, that was probably what the mayor was thinking.

    He felt a slight regret. Even then, he only said, "I would like to say goodbye before they leave, if possible."

    "Surely enough, it is dangerous for all of you if they stay at your homestead in theing time," the mayor said.

    That was true. If the children''s pursuers showed up to verify the gossip that will spread sooner orter, then it really was best that the children leave.

    "But even then," continued the mayor, "my town keeps its secrets well."

    Defi met those neutral eyes, decided to chance it. "What secrets would a diligently ambitious noble know that would make him appear in the Lowpool?"

    "The Asmovare family had a history of belligerence, do you know, hot-headed idiots that they were. At least three times in thest thousand years, the historical record shows that the Asmovares have risen up against the emperor and at least ten times gone to war against some other noble for some insult or other. Their standing in the kingdom has risen and fallen so many times it makes one dizzy. Thest emperor was quite put out with them."

    "An understatement." A noble family wiped from the pages of history surely was the result of more than some minor spat.

    So Calor Ducan had something to do with the former Ascharonian emperor''s seemingly mad destruction of the Asmovares?

    As Defi thought, it was not something he wanted to get involved in.

    "Yes. His imperial majesty decided to settle things so decisively that when the matter was done, he needed to quietly retire to prevent the nobles from distancing themselves from the Throne irreparably."

    She shook her head. "But those are old matters and have nothing to do with us anymore."

    Was she warning him not to get involved?

    He agreed with the sentiment a hundredfold. Matters of dukes and emperors were not for him.

    Was she telling him he should not look further than he already had?

    Very well then. He would be satisfied as long as Agreine and Calor Ducan left the Lowpool and had no more to do with him.

    The mayor must have sensed his agreement; she nodded in satisfaction.

    In any case, today the support for Agreine would lower even in the Lowpool where her grandfather and mother had been born. Based on Defi''s knowledge of the woman, she would not be able to stand the humiliation.

    Defi''s lips twisted. In Ontrea, just driving her off was the equivalent of a minor punishment.

    Inadequate, his father would assess it.

    To his irritation, he felt a small twinge at that thought, a familiar ache.

    He rebuked himself internally. The lord of Rimet dictated his actions no longer.

    His kept his thoughts off his face with the ease of long practice. Though it appeared he was getting less vignt in that respect, the keen gaze of Mayor Sorza Mareble was something he was wary of.

    He slipped a flower petal from his tea and gave it to Turq, who was lounging on the table. The thick, almost spongy petal easily entered the slime''s body and started to dissolve. The brief action gave Defi time to wrench his thoughts away from Ontrea and Rimet.

    If Agreine left in disgrace, Calor Ducan would not have a reason to publically give for targeting Defi. No matter what the man was doing in the small valley and the mountains to the west of the homestead.

    Defi could rx a little.

    "About the Gamber des" He spoke the words reluctantly. If there was anything that might suddenly involve himter, he would rather know about it now.

    "That is the problem of the provincial governor. Do not worry on that point. Still, some are calling forbat training to be reinstituted in the schools."

    Ah. The people of the province of Havare, who had seen a dukedom fall, whose blood had recently been drawn by those who were supposed to protect them, were wary of official armed forces now. The governor and whoever reced the des were going to have a difficult time.

    He acknowledged her words with a nod. He was still faintly uneasy about the conflict, but it appeared he could put it behind him.

    The mayor smiled faintly. "You are not much of a talker, I see. For a young man your age, you must at least learn to smile, you know. I am told that today''s young women like a cheery fellow."

    "I will keep your words in mind." He had no room to think of songs and romance.

    What would he do, gain the affections of some youngdy thrilled by an affair with a mysterious fugitive? He was not Baurd, who bragged to have once sessfully pursued a girl from another town by hinting he was a highwayman and could ride a horse.

    The mayor chuckled. "No need to sound so reluctant. Hm. Something that you might be more interested in then: the trade caravans and some of their passengers who were freed have pledged a portion of the insurance they imed toward rewarding those who fought at the Cliff. You and the survivors will be getting ten crescents each. The families of the dead will be getting the same, not including the blood price that the des have to pay. You did well, saving the people."

    Defi swallowed. How was it, that only by leaving the warrior nation of Ontrea was he embroiled in things where he had to kill?

    The mayor''sst statement eased his heart a little.

    "Thank you. I"

    The door opening interrupted him. Lemat flew through, to loom over the mayor with bright eyes and his usual smile. "No one will ever know."

    "Declined." The mayor sipped her tea calmly. "You just came out of your workshop?"

    Defi''s lips twitched.

    He wanted to drop his face into a hand.

    Despite Defi''s gratefulness that the man interrupted such an awkward moment...

    At least wait until the witness left before talking about shady things. Isn''t that basic etiquette?

    He swallowed the rest of his tea and tapped the flower petals that were left onto Turq, who was resting quietly on the table. The blooms were slowly absorbed. He put the cup down.

    "If you have no more need of me,dy mayor, I will take my leave."

    "One moment." The mayor rummaged in her desk.

    Defi eyed the neer as he stood from the seat. From what he knew of the man, and the mayor''sment, Lemat had a habit of spending prolonged time in his workshop. So he just heard the rumors of Sarel and wanted to go kill whoever was threatening the hermit?

    It was a viable supposition, considering the entric poisoner. He never thought Lemat would curb himself as to ask permission from the mayor though.

    Sorza Mareble rounded the table to give him a small pouch of coin. She looked at him with brown eyes holding both warmth and sharpness. "I hope you know that like all the citizens of the Lowpool, I consider you one of mine."

    The man who tried to stop Lemat from entering twitched, the same man who had met them at the gates, Er. Defi could read the expression that said:dy mayor, the sentiment is appreciated, but with the suspected assassin hanging over you like an expectant hunting hound, those words are not thatforting to others, you know?

    But Defi grew up in the family of a Gate lord. The mayor of the town acknowledging the shadowy side of government only gave Defi an additional feeling of security.

    He had wondered, but looking at the old woman before him he was certain that it was she and not some shadowy conspiracy that held the town in sway.

    He sent her a small smile and bowed.

    The gossip was not the only reason she called him to her office, Defi knew. Possibly she did this with all neers to the Lowpool, to probe their character and intentions.

    He sighed. At the very least, he had gotten to know her a bit more. He had some confidence now that if his identity waspromised in the Lowpool or if his sister somehow arrived, the mayor would assist his escape.

    He paused at the sight of a group of people gathered outside the door.

    "So?" grumped Sarel. "Are you injured or not?"

    Aire elbowed her and prevented Bree from squirming out of her hold to rush to Defi and Turq.

    Lergen, Falie, and most of the orphanage children were there. Natan and a couple of the others from yesterday''s conflict were there too.

    He looked at all of them, feeling a little touched. "I''m fine. The free food at the night marketter isn''t cancelled if that''s what you''re all worried about."

    "Of course it is!" came from more than one throat.

    His smile widened.

 Chapter 66: Break-in

    Chapter 66: Break-in

    It felt like a long time since Defist poled his way up the Treachery. Subconsciously, his shoulders rxed for the first time in days as he neared the pier to the Garge homestead.

    The quiet sound of the flowing river, hiding deep undercurrents, was peaceful.

    He was alone, with only Turq as hispanion.

    Natan and the soldiers left after making sure he wasn''t going to be imprisoned for something or other, and after they talked to the mayor themselves. He assured them he wasn''t that much trouble, but to his annoyance they were sceptical. Lergen eyed Defi spectively, then disappeared in the soldiers'' general direction with a face that told Defi he would regret not stopping the man.

    Warriors gossiped as much as little girls, to Defi''s experience. He already dreaded the eventual distorted tales that would make their way across the Lowpool. He decided to spend most of the next month or two on the homestead; he had a farm that needed him anyway.

    The children went back to the orphanage, Mureil and her friends smiling in farewell after chatting gaily in his direction. Bree waved at him cheerfully while Markar argued vehemently with Aire and Falie, with Renne looking horrified at something her brother said.

    Defi waved back; they would be fine.

    Sarel returned to concocting mystic dishes for those people who participated in the raid on the Groaning Cliff, at the request of the mayor. A single healing dish, no matter how miraculous, could not restore everything. The severely injured people who returned today needed more care. Not to mention, those who were able to walk from Genlet did so even with minor to serious wounds.

    Defi surmised that apart from a few people, no one knew the Lowpool was hiding a master mystic chef like a cheap cooking adventure story plot. Otherwise the mayor of Genlet would not have spent half a fortune on hiring a chef from elsewhere.

    Defi''s eye twitched; he was specifically ordered to not work and eat various things every day for a week.

    The annoyance was expelled with a faint sigh.

    The care of others was stifling, but it was not a bad feeling at all.

    Even if Sarel would be able to tell that his body healed faster than usual if he protested.

    The problem was that he needed the zaziphos for the slimes.

    Being away for days, he was slightly worried. Kern''s herbs would have sucked the life out of thend near the herb plot again. The sansu that needed to be sustained by the Current might have had a setback and withered a little. Then the slimes might even have eaten through the house, he added satirically.

    Why were all the things he decided to farm so greedy?

    After onest push, he lifted the pole from the water as the t-bottomed boat glided into ce at the pier. He braced it against the weathered wood to avoid a collision. He stowed the pole, jumped onto the pier and tied off the boat.

    He paused to look around, feeling something was wrong.

    Where were the workers?

    There were usually at least six people visible, with the sounds of construction and the asional shouted instruction or joking.

    The warehouse was littered with the usual tools and materials. If the workers had left early, all of the jumble would be tidied up and kept dry under canvas sheets, not left out in the open.

    He caught a curl of smoke above the trees and his breath caught.

    He ran toward the house.

    Rounding the screen of trees, he was relieved to see Karles and the others. One side of the house was charred, dark soot sshed against grey stone and still burning wood.

    "What happened?"

    "Someone broke through the wards," Karles answered, face dark.

    Defi''s jaw clenched. "Definitely?"

    "Yes," said one of the others. Wesler, Karles'' youngest brother, Defi recalled.

    They had been introduced when the fullplement of builders who would be working on the warehouse came to the homestead. His eyes were always curious, and his build was slight. He had the same purple highlights in his dark hair as Karles did, but his face was more expressive than his stoic older brother. By his soft face and inquiring eyes alone, people would say he was a schr. But the rough clothes and the callus and roughness of his hands betrayed his profession as a carver.

    In fact, he was a skilled craftsman in a profession where a high literacy rate was needed. Defi knew thatpared to the people who studied how to make paper emblems, those who learned to carve emblems into wood or stone were rtively few.

    "They used something to draw the protections to here," Wesler indicated the charred part of the house. "then cracked the weakened protections on the other side. There''s a window broken there. After they were done, they exploded whatever they used."

    "We didn''t hear anything until then," said Tholme, apologetic.

    "It is not your fault. I imagine they took care not to alert you." Defi waved away the apology. "Are wards so easy to break into?"

    Wesler shook his head. "They would have needed to study the configuration thoroughly. There are several sets that are used in the Lowpool, for different types of dwellings."

    Defi paused. "The one used for the farms is the same?"

    "Yes. Uh, the wards we use are not precisely ''barriers'' in the usual sense of ''shields'' but are" Wesler motioned with his hands, a sphere. "like a freeflowing"

    "Cloud." Defi supplied helpfully. With him constantly sending the Current through thend, it was impossible for him not to have grasped the truth that the protection over the house was like a mass of patrolling dust particles. It was a fairly interesting discovery.

    His Current-enhanced sensing was poor unless he was sending Current through thend or using the higher Circles, but as a low-adept he could at least perceive the mass of controlled power emitted by a powerful protection emblem. He already knew that if he concentrated while using the Third Circle, he could faintly sense vitality in non-living objects. It was useful for picking out mystic ingredients.

    "Exactly! It''s like a cloud of freeflowing water around the house, that solidifies into ice when the protection is threatened. The weakness of this cloud protection is that in some parts of the configuration there are spots that are deemed priorities, and if that particr part is threatened, the emblem reacts too assiduously."

    Protecting that one part while leaving the rest vulnerable; Defi understood.

    "It''s actually more useful than not," Wesler continued, frowning. "Which is why we''ve been using the configuration for so long. Most thieves have no way of seeing weaknesses in a protection emblem. And thieves that knowledgeable that target small farmhouses like this? Unheard of."

    That was because the opponent this time was again too aggressive, Defi thought sardonically.

    "More than one?"

    Wesler nodded. "They would have needed at least two people to do this. If they did not know the configuration beforehand, at least one of them would have been a glyphmaster."

    Should he feel ttered at the effort Calor Ducan was putting into this?

    Defi''s lips nted in a half-amused smile. No, he was only involved because he acquired this particr homestead.

    "The protective emblem itself has not been touched, as we could not get in to check," Wesler said. "In likelihood, only the outer anchors would need to be repaired. The protection itself is still intact."

    He thanked Wesler for the exnation and moved to Karles'' side.

    The builder was staring at the house, nced at Defi as he neared. "I''m entering first."

    Defi shook his head. "There''ll be no one inside."

    "They could have left something behind." Karles nced at the charred side of the house.

    It was unlikely, but Karles was looking at him resolutely. Defi was eighteen years of age; did he truly look like he needed to be protected? He red, but opened the door and let Karles in first.

    Karles paused at the sight of the fish sculpture. It was the most eye-catching thing in the central hall. "Nice dcor. The books are a good touch."

    Defi looked at him suspiciously. The man did not appear to be sarcastic or joking. "You''re the first one to say that."

    "Most people don''t have my aesthetic sense."

    "I really should remove the bookster." Defi headed for the dining room he''d converted to a slime room.

    Karles snorted, stuck his head into the room before Defi could enter. Defi sighed in resignation. "I do have the ability to protect myself."

    "Hm. I sent a couple of people to get the town guards. Better do this quickly." He strode across the slime room and cautiously entered the doorway to the kitchen.

    "How fine of you, sir, to attempt to protect this suspected criminal." Defi jibed sarcastically at the hint to hide what he needed to hide. "What is this?"

    He checked the half-eaten baskets with a sigh, to see that only three slimes were in the room. He poked the mass of what looked like ck tar on the floor.

    Karles eyed it from the kitchen. "Slime jelly. Looks like they used fire."

    Defi was silent for a moment. "Jelly?"

    "You''re raising slimes. Shouldn''t you know the one product that can be made from them?" Karles opened the door to the back courtyard carefully, closed it again when he saw nothing. "Slimes are killed in heat to dry them out, powdered, used in desserts."

    Defi had concentrated on habitat and diets of slimes, not themercial potential despite his current ns. "Is it a lucrative market?"

    "If you''re nning to get rich on slime jelly, you''re out of luck." Karles came out of the kitchen, chucked two slimes at him. Defi caught them quickly.

    "Thank you." He checked to see that the two were fine  one of them was Lar. With three others in the room and one reduced to jelly, he needed to find five slimes more.

    He nudged together three baskets to make a holding pen and put the five slimes in. He put aside the jellified slime for further study.

    Karles returned. He tossed another slime to Defi and stopped at the entrance to the underground storage, lifting a brow in enquiry. Defi nodded permission as he put Mal in with the rest of the others. Karles had already seen the ce anyway.

    He heard the man click his tongue in displeasure, followed to see what had the stoic man react in such a way.

    "Oh."

    The intruders had found the underground storage. His barrels and sacks had been broken and torn, jars had been smashed and bottles shattered. The contents were strewn around the space, crushed together in an unrecoverable mess of sauce, grain, and viand, with a side of wine and jam.

    "Over here."

    Karles was looking at a square hole in one of therge stones that made up an innocuous wall. Defi came up to Karles, studied it. He had not even known it was there. He had looked for hidden spaces but had missed it.

    It had not been attached to the protection emblems.

    "Nothing was taken."

    Karles lifted a brow. "Oh?"

    "If they got what they came here for, they wouldn''t have done this." Defi waved a hand at the wreckage.

    "It doesn''t mean they left empty-handed, just that they didn''t get what they were expecting."

    Also true.

    "Can we keep this storage room a secret from the guards?" The manner of entry was already too much of a suspicion. He did not want the town to be further embroiled in whatever that person was doing.

    That gained a shrug from the man. "Of course."

    "Thank you."

    Though, if Calor Ducan had ceased to be subtle, it was likely that he was done with the Lowpool. It would be good if Agreine and Ducan left at the same time.

    The builder eyed him. "You do not appear afraid that your home has been broken into."

    The lord of Rimet had enemies. Defi had faced several threats to his life since he had been entered into the learning halls. This matter did not have the thick warning feel of a fatal threat in the Current.

    "My life is not in trouble. These are only burrs."

    Karles considered that, nodded. "I apologize that this happened while we were near, and we could do nothing to stop it."

    "It is not your fault." Defi said again. "Though of course, if you insist, I do have a security emblem that needs recalibrating and added protective measures."

    "No charge," Karles said wryly.

    Defi smiled brightly. "You''re very kind."

 Chapter 67: Inspectors

    Chapter 67: Inspectors

    Defi walked through the rooms of the homestead, Turq in his arms, mentally taking note of everything that was out of ce.

    The house had not been searched extensively. Defi''s room, where he kept his money, the resident registry certificate, the deed to the house, and the expensive glyphmaker''s tools, was untouched.

    Only three rooms had traces of entry: the master bedroom that was now a storage area, the central hall, and the underground storage.

    Each of these ces had a small hiddenpartment. Defi had found the first two himself.

    Based on the fact that only these three rooms were touched, the intruders had some way of determining the spots where the protection emblem was made to hide spaces meant for valuables.

    However, some of the hidden spaces weren''t covered by the Emblem. Defi touched a patterned stone in the wall of the kitchen, seeing another stone move away to reveal three small jars of mixed mystic spices, and thest of Kern''s hybrid nt seeds.

    This was the most obvious of the hiddenpartments in the house. It was exactly as he left it.

    Curious. Could it be that this had not been found? He would have expected searchers to at least move the bags of seed to see what was behind them. They would have found nothing regardless.

    He hummed, thinking. In an old house like this, wouldn''t there be hidden holes that were not covered by the security Emblem?

    Karles stuck his head into the door from the kitchen yard. "The guard''s here. There''s an Inspector with them."

    Defi closed thepartment discreetly and stepped away. "Inspector?"

    The builder shrugged.

    The armed might of the Ascharonian Empire was divided into four:

    The Imperial Navy under the Admiral of Storms.

    The Imperial Ground Forces under the General of me.

    The Imperial Airflight Corps under the Sky Marshal.

    The Imperial Civil Armed Forces under the Ministry of Justice.

    The armed forces of the towns and cities under the direct control of the imperial government and the provincial security forces whose mandate was to keep the peace and safety in therge swaths of publd between the towns and cities were part of the Imperial Civil Armed Forces.

    Defi was fairly certain there was no rank of ''inspector'' in the civil guard.

    "I''ll go receive them." He should find out if his unweing central hall would make them leave faster. He had a mess underground to clean away, and slimes to take care of.

    Of the eleven slimes that were in the house, only Zivenof had not survived. Defi was relieved that most of the slimes were unharmed and surprised that the barrels in the slime room had not been smashed like the ones in the underground storage.

    Karles nodded. "Need help?"

    That was concerning. Karles was a helpful person only when it came to adding more useful things to build, and by doing so inting the cost of Defi''s warehouse renovation. Despite the stoic face, the builder was still a shameless merchant. Well, Defi didn''t mind since the proposals Karles made were insightful and practical, showcasing the man''s deep knowledge and keen expertise in his profession.

    But offering help now, unrted to building

    The appearance of an inspector must be something unusual.

    "I''ll be fine." Probably. A person with too many secrets couldn''t help being uneasy at the approach of an official whose title indicated they were skilled at bringing mysteries to light.

    Karles nodded and withdrew to resume his examination of the explosion site. The st had cracked the wooden walls of the slime room, and the shutters were unsalvageable.

    Defi''s lips twitched. Soon, Karles woulde up with a proposal. Would he be expanding the dining room outward or upward? Something to look forward to.

    He crossed the central hall to open the front door.

    "Defi!"

    Two voices greeted him cheerfully.

    He leaned back slightly. "Cuthes? Cor and"

    There were two people he did not recognize.

    Cuthes pointed to thenky youth. "That''s Lon, he''s a recruit still. And that''s pce inspector Jon."

    Pce inspector? Was this another thing everyone knew about? Defi sighed. His study into the Ascharonian government was stillcking, it seemed.

    "Jorne," the tall man in a military uniform supplied, ring at Cuthes. "Assistant inspector ptine."

    Cuthes only answered with a smugly short, "Hah!"

    There was a story there. Defi looked enquiringly at the other two. Cor beamed at him but didn''t speak. The recruit, Lon, looked too terrified to talk.

    Now he was even more curious. He was aware that anything marked ''ptine'' were either envoys of the emperor or favored courtiers. Added to the presence of the Household Guard in Genlet, Defi made a few connections. What in the world was Calor Ducan doing that he stirred the interest of the emperor?

    Defi stepped back to let them in, keeping his thoughts from his face. "Be wee."

    "Thank you!" Cor immediately entered, not standing on ceremony. He looked around curiously. "Are those pinecones?"

    "Yes."

    "Why a vase?"

    "A te wouldn''t fit into the alcove." The very tall vase was narrow and thin under the wide lip. A te needed a stand, besides.

    "It doesn''t go with the fish sculpture though."

    "You might call them a study in converging contrasts."

    "Good answer!"

    "Thanks." He said it dryly, seeing that the younger boy was mostly appreciative of his ability to say that absolute hogwash with a straight face.

    "The heck is your hall so bare?" Cuthes pointed at him usingly.

    "I''ve been busy."

    "Why put books on the shelves?" Cuthes looked despairing. Defi remembered Aire looking somewhat simr as she surveyed the bare house.

    His lips curled upward in amusement. "What else would I put on them?"

    "I don''t know, some tes or something."

    Oh? It appeared that the Ontrean custom of gifting decorative tableware was also known in Ascharon. He shook his head.

    "Just sit. I''ll bring something to drink."

    He indicated the cushioned chairs to the others.

    "Can you make it cold? I rushed here with all haste, you know, the moment I heard, left my wife in the middle of conversation even." Cuthes said pitifully.

    "Don''t make your wifee after me."

    "Why not?" the man retorted immediately. "Then she won''t being after me! One little injury and she''s all atwitter, hmph."

    Everyone could see he was happy with his wife''s concern.

    "I might tell her how you got the injury in the first ce." Defi called back as he entered the slime room.

    "ckguard. I''m the adjutant, you know."

    Defi paused. The adjutant was the head of the guards, the most powerful town official after the mayor, a part of the town council.

    He nced back at Cuthes. This irascible irreverent soldier was a councilor? Defi thoughts wandered in the odd direction of thinking what kind of past the man had. Defi had only met half the council, but none of them were normal.

    At one point during the celebration night, councilor Kaska had yelled something about criminals these days being too bloody and honorless, different from when he was head of a criminal ring. Well, actually, someone had interrupted before he said all that but Defi could read between the cut-off lines.

    "I see. It''s a survival exercise." Defi looked at Lon. "Fight well."

    Cuthes sputtered as he disappeared into the kitchen. "Did that boy just call me an exercise in survival?"

    Lonughed a little, then shut up with wide eyes at Cuthes'' half-hearted glower. He nched white at the casual nce from the tall military man across from them.

    "Teacher, smile a little! Don''t use the eyes of death casting everywhere."

    "That''s possible?" Lon asked faintly as he hunched down in his seat.

    Cuthes chortled. "Sure is!"

    Assistant Inspector Ptine Jorne''s ''death-casting'' eyes moved to pierce Cuthes.

    "What, you got something to say?" Cuthes leaned forward belligerently.

    Jorne only stared at him with a gaze full of insulting words, straight-backed and silent.

    "What ya say, ya son of a pus-filled lizard?!"

    Lon tried to stop hismanding officer, eyes wide and nearly teary.

    Fight well, soldier.

    Defi let them argue. There was likely something in some etiquette manual somewhere that said many firm things about smoothing the interactions between cantankerous guests, but Defi was too tired to care.

    Cor followed Defi. "You appear to be fine."

    "The thieves escaped before I got here. The wall is the only casualty," he waved at the warped wood of the slime room.

    Cor looked surprised at the proliferation of barrels in the room. He peeked into the slime basket, poked at a slime. "Are you nning on selling pets?"

    "No." Defi set Turq down on the table, got out therge jar of samad, and put the breadbox into Cor''s hands. "If you''re here, better make yourself useful."

    "I''m very useful!" Cor responded, mock-indignant. "Teacher says I should be less useful all the time."

    "Hm." He nodde in understanding. "Don''t work too hard."

    "Work? I am noble and fifteen. What work would I have?"

    When Defi turned fifteen, he had been senior under-administrator of the city of rad for nearly a year. As one of the three cities in the Rimet territory, rad was a famous trade hub despite being only four times asrge as the Lowpool town.

    He knew full well that age was no barrier.

    Coren zi Grem, despite his chirpy demeanor and child-like enthusiasm, did not strike Defi as an idler.

    The problem was, upon Defi leaving the post at sixteen, he discovered his health had only been barely sustained with the careful adherence to the Church''s daily practice of the Current.

    In this world, there might be simr practice in mystic cooking, but it was never a good idea at such a young age to subject the body to too much work.

    He did not tell the boy that. At the reckless age of fifteen, Cor would likely not believe him.

    Defiughed at himself. As if his own eighteen was an age so experienced? Nearly four years ago, if anyone told him to take care of his body more than his responsibilities, he could not have listened. He had been too obsessed with trying to prove himself.

    In the gaze of the younger boy before him, he saw a simr light of ambition. But he could not say more than trite words without giving himself away.

    Cor did not know his thoughts and spoke with a smile. "Teacher had word from Captain Larion. She says her survival was due inrge part to a healing draft of yours."

    Reisei Larion was a captain? Natan called her a superior officer. "A variation of savras extract, a minor concoction. Her survival was due to her great will to live and Natanel."

    "Still, I wanted to thank you. I and my teacher would have been sorely grieved had she left us."

    Defi did not know what to say, so he calmly mouthed a line from the Teachings. "A good person would always be grieved should their footsteps no longer show on the sand."

    "You met her?"

    "She wanted to talk to Natan before we left Genlet. Don''t worry, she was vigorously running away from the physickers when we parted."

    Corughed. "I''m d."

    He adjusted the tes and cups that Defi piled over the breadbox.

    Samad, old bread, jam, cold smoked fish sliced into attractive fat-marbled orange-colored slivers.

    Good enough.

    Not to mention, it was thest of the food stores he kept in the kitchen proper. He tried not to think about the mess in the room under his feet.

    "Do you know why Calor Ducan would send people to burgle your house?"

    Defi, stirring the samad to mix the rice and nuts that had settled like silt on the bottom of the ceramic jar, nced at Cor. Dark blue eyes that were almost violet met dark brown. He didn''tment on the suddenness of the question. "I wouldn''t know. Only that something about the house or thend caused him toe all the way here."

    "You investigated?"

    "His friend was attempting to acquire thend in various ways."

    "You let her go."

    "I have no stamina for protracted games."

    "Somehow I don''t think that''s the whole truth."

    Defi huffed. What truth was needed? He felt the roil of mncholy in his chest again, a now familiarpanion. He pointed toward the others. "Let''s eat. I''ll show you the roomster."

    He did not have to. Guards and investigators, even envoys from the court, could not so easily force themselves inside a dwelling.

    Cor studied him for a long second, before smiling. "I heard excellent stories about the fish in the Lowpool."

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support the author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 68: A Place that Belongs to Me

    Chapter 68: A ce that Belongs to Me

    He thought there would be an interrogation.

    But he was conveying four people out of the house after a gathering that had quickly turned into a raucous game of ''I''ve seen more strange things than you have'' that was entirely Cuthes and Cor''s fault. It hadn''t felt like an interrogation at all.

    Defi maintained that if he wasn''t restrained by not wanting to die, he''d have won that game.

    A fine mist of rain was gently falling, the raindrops barely felt on skin, an insidious rain, the kind that dampened even the underside of a waterproof cloak.

    "You''re going to the night-market, right?" Cuthes narrowed his eyes.

    "Yes." He''d learned that gatherings in Ascharon, particrly the ones after something like the des, should not be missed without a good excuse. Like near-death, which was impossible to experience when there was an Ascharonian master chef willing to lend her expertise on the medicinal effects of mystic cooking.

    "Good. Don''t hole up here like a cave bear, eh?"

    "Cave bears are actually very social," said Lon, then abandoned what snippet of trivia he was going to borate on as Cuthes turned his gaze on him.

    The young guard, in the hour or so of the not-interrogation, proved himself capable of inserting tidbits of barely rted data about anything the conversation meandered to. Even if he lost the game every time.

    Even Jorne''s forbidding countenance had exasperatedly lightened after a while and he won some of the rounds. Defi survived on Garen''s many many tales. Even if he never won, he hadn''t lost so much either. Cor and Cuthes had set their eyes on each other, theirpetitiveness the main reason the gamested so long.

    "Night market?" Cor was curious.

    "A ck market?" frowned Jorne.

    "Don''t be such a suspicious prune when you''re so young, kid," Cuthes pointed at Jorne.

    Defi nced at Cor. "You did want to taste the fish in the Lowpool. The night market sells most of it cooked I heard."

    "Really? How interesting. Teacher, we''re going!"

    "Starts at sundown," Cuthes said to the younger boy.

    Jorne looked like he wanted to protest, but was dragged away.

    Defi watched them untie their horses from the low branches of a stand of trees.

    "Can you tell me the talk on the des?"

    Cuthes grunted, also watching. "Worried about the gathering tonight? Don''t be. We did what we needed to, and so did they." He pped his hands together, his former injuries seemingly all healed, face suddenly craggy in thete afternoon light as if the lines on his face deepened. "Enough about that, how''d you get an inspector on your tail anyway?"

    Lon whose fists had suddenly clenched subconsciously at Defi''s question, also looked at him in curiosity and slight suspicion.

    "The people on the west have been doing something strange." He pointed to his west boundary. "They wanted to know if it was connected to something they''re looking into."

    That was innocuous enough. The two who''d just left had been asking about the farm and Jorne had thrown out a few questions about his neighbors.

    If the mayor wanted the town guard to investigate Calor Ducan, she''d tell them so. That she hadn''t, meant Defi shouldn''t go stirring up calm waters.

    "I think those thieves might have been testing their entry method and tried the homestead for practice."

    Cuthes shrugged. "Reasonable, if nothing really was taken. Isted, you were gone a few days, the noise is covered by the construction. Probably heard people were returning and took the chance."

    "I have little enough that if something disappeared, I would notice." Defi easily kept the slight strain in his tone, enough to tell the two guards that he was upset.

    And he was upset.

    The broken things were receable. Zivenof could be reced, even.

    But there was some part of him that was boiling in anger that his house had been breached, that his safety waspromised.

    Defi took a deep breath.

    Cuthes gripped his shoulder briefly. "We better be going. Rain''s about to get worse."

    Defi nodded.

    Cuthes strode into the rain, heading for their own horses.

    "We worked with them sometimes," Lon suddenly said. "There hadn''t been serious bandit problems in Havare province since the des were hired. Some of their people were recruited locally."

    He looked like he would say more, but shook his head and he stepped out of the shelter of the porch as well. Thenky form that indicated Lon had not yet finished growing into his limbs blurred in the rain.

    They lifted their arms in farewell. Defi made a simr gesture in response, then his arm dropped as they cantered into the trees in rain that was just starting to hurl fat droplets down from heavy dark clouds.

    All four of his visitors would be drenched before they reached town.

    No, there was likely some Emblem to prevent that. Inspectors and town guards were professions that were outdoors all the time, and both had an organization backing them. It would only be practical to issue weather protection.

    But did anyone think of the farmers, Defi halfined half-jested internally. Were they expected to evolve rainproofing naturally?

    He locked the door as he entered the house. The silence felt soothing, but there was a note of uneasiness under it.

    Defi sighed, now that the others were not here to hear it.

    It would take more than a few hours for the ce to feel like his again. He put Turq in the makeshift pen with the others, took up a spade and one of the un-inscribed barrels.

    He re-treaded the dirty footprints he and Karles made as they left the underground storage earlier.

    He considered the mess on the stone floor. Now that he needed to clean it, the underground storage room seemed unreasonablyrge.

    He snorted derision and amusement at himself, then got to work.

    *

    When he was finished, the underground floor scraped and mopped, the stairs washed and the tools cleaned, the sky had darkened into near twilight and the rain had softened into the same faint drizzle from before it poured.

    He should probably get ready to meet people at the night market.

    But the fate of the hybrid Herbs niggled at his mind.

    Naranj, liongrass, and shyleaf.

    They were minor Mystic Herbs, ording to his research, but Defi did not know what Kern had crossed them with.

    The three nter pots had surprisingly germinated enough seedlings to fill two vegetable plots each, of the size Kern had been using in the southern gardens. He had only used a quarter of each bag.

    Mystic nts were unsurprisingly hardy.

    Defi put on a farmer''s hat, took a shadedmp, and headed around the house to the Herb plots.

    Five minutester he was frowning.

    As expected, the Herbs had begun siphoning vitality from thend. It was just a much faster pace than he expected. Thend had not depleted so quickly in the initial days since the plots were nted.

    They were near full-grown now, their leaves shining healthy in the dew left behind by the rain.

    He sat down on a convenient stone at the edge of the cultivated area, sank the Current into the earth.

    The hybrids were not only greedy, they were voracious. Every tendril of Current he spread into the soil was hastily gathered and subsumed. He increased the flow to the maximum thend could take without undue effects to the insect life or the long-term management of the soil.

    The Current was exceedingly helpful to agriculture in Ontrea, but only in moderation. It could only revitalize, not be the sole reason for the growth of a crop. Legends say that the wastnd that made up a third of Ontrea was the result of too much Current-dependent agriculture. They were only legends, but the image of the wastnd was always stuck in the mind of Ontrea''s children.

    Better too little than too much. It was a popr adage, applied to a myriad philosophies. The main meaning was to allow others to cultivate the independence of self. It was simr, but not the same, to an Ascharonian proverb about teaching someone to fish. The lords of Ontrea in particr subscribed to the saying whenying out the process of raising their children.

    Defi shook his head. He had a feeling that if he flooded the plots with Current, the Herbs would suck it all up in a breath before the negative effects could show themselves.

    He kept the steady moderate flow, and felt thend ease. If he did not have a gathering to attend he might try the flooding.

    He sat for half an hour, until the Herbs did not feel so starved.

    He took a deep breath and stood, a little dizzy at the depletion of energy in him. The rain had stopped and the moon was peeking out of a cloudbank. Here and there, as the clouds parted, stars twinkled.

    Around him, the twilight was shining as pearls of rain left on the living nts reflected the pale light from above.

    Instead of withdrawing the Current, he spread it over thend as far as he could.

    Thend teased his senses with shocking familiarity, tendrils of the Current caught in odd crevices in the soil, shining with leftover raindrops on the leaves of the sansu trees, blooming with the wildflowers on the edge of the small orchard.

    He used so much of the Current on thend that it felt like his.

    His eyes snapped open.

    It felt like his mother''s farm had, he realized, after he had started healing thend.

    It felt like home.

    He shook his head, withdrawing the Current from the earth under him.

    Impossible.

    He took up themp and walked back to the house.

 Chapter 69: Night Market Pienplati (1)

    Chapter 69: Night Market Pienti (1)

    Defi had thought the night market to be the regr marketce set up withmps.

    It was and was not.

    He could see a number of the regr stalls from the dawn market here and there. The rest were unfamiliar, like the stall selling a range of knives in various shape, and the one professing to sell a hundred types of spices, and the one offering clockwork items.

    The dawn market he knew was energetic, full of the vigor of the waking day. The night market was also energetic, but a morenguorous kind of vigor, like a stalking cat.

    He wondered if it had a simr energy all the time or this night''s atmosphere was because of the news of the fall of the des.

    Groups of people crowded thenes between the lines of stalls, the conversation between thembining in Defi''s ears to add a buzz to the liveliness of the night.

    Here and there, the night rang with songs and shouts of cheer.

    The ale flowed freely.

    A group of soldiers, mugs of foaming drinks in hand, were bellowing out a song, to the apaniment of a rather exasperated-looking lute yer.

    "everywhere I look around, what misery to be found, ah!

    "A mist shrouding barren grey rocks in darkness!

    "My beloved is in Jebrimea, I always sleep alone, ha!

    "Console me, let me drown in brief merriness!

    "The pledge of love given to me is at the dice board lost, hey!

    "s! I dearly want my love and also want my pay!"

    From the other end of the marketce, there was a faint hint of mournfully blowing pipes that oddly went very well between the unsubtle music of the soldier''s song. Defi inclined an ear in that direction; it sounded like someone was singing a love song of some sort.

    Despite the music and merriment there was a quiet undercurrent flowing through the night market, as townspeople lifted theirrge mugs of ale, as they put their heads together to gossip, as they chivvied their children to the brighter parts of the night market where most of the food stalls were set up with long tables.

    Defi stood at the very edge of shadow and watched the familiar proceedings. He had gone on bandit suppression expeditions before, patrolling the boundaries of the city with the Watch as a senior student of the learning halls.

    At the end of every expedition, the warriors would get together for food, wine, song, andpany. It appeared that in this, Ascharon and Ontrea were not so different.

    Why was today so insistent, he wondered, of giving him reminders of thend and people who were now lost to him?

    Warriors rxing after a battle could be vtile, so Defi wandered a bit further from them, looking around the stalls. A food-seller with a crowd around him caught his eye. He ambled toward it. If there was a crowd, the food should be delicious.

    A few minutester, he was rewarded with a small bowl of what the stall keeper assured him was the best roasted cane-grub in Havare province. He eased from the crowd eagerly waiting their turn. He silently considered the bowl of plump grubs the size of his thumb. They smelled appetizingly of smoke and spices, but admittedly he had never eaten insects before.

    He heard an amused snort from nearby.

    Cuthes smirked at him, then nced to the side as his amusement deepened. Defi followed his gaze to see Cor, who looked bewildered as he stared at a simr bowl in his hand.

    Jorne was already stoically eating his bowl. He only nodded at Defi, before sticking his skewer into another grub and biting down.

    "What are they?"

    "Cane grubs. They hatch out of cane moth eggs. Very nice vor. They''re usually crushed to make the Lemnes cream so popr in the cities." Cuthes relished the disbelieving revtion on Jorne and Cor''s faces.

    "I wonder how my sister and her coterie would react after she learns this," murmured Cor, a look of glee dawning on his face. "These are excellent grubs!"

    "You haven''t even tasted it yet." Defi pointed out.

    Cor looked at the untouched bowl in Defi''s hand disdainfully.

    Defi narrowed his eyes.

    They measured each other challengingly.

    In sync, they skewered a grub at the same time and brought it to their mouths.

    Defi bit down. The outside of the grub crunched lightly, the smoky spice from the roasting spreading across his tongue. The inside however, burst with a nutty creaminess that had him pause and swirl the thick silky substance around so the taste wouldst.

    Not bad.

    "It really is Lemnes cream." Cor stared at his bowl, then skewered another grub. "I thought it was made from the milk of Lemnes cows."

    Cuthes shrugged. "It probably is. Only, there''s cane grub in it as well."

    Cor looked at all the stalls in awe, then a determined look came over his face. He pointed to a stall. "Can we go to that one next?"

    "I heard there''s a stall selling crickets in sauce around here," Cuthes said casually.

    "Lead on." Cor''s eyes sparkled.

    Defi tipped the bowl of grub into his mouth, finishing them off. Sauced crickets, he''d try them if he didn''t see the gleeful look in Cuthes'' eyes. He nced at Jorne, who was looking suspiciously at the adjutant as well.

    The man wouldn''t let Cuthes have too much fun, so Defi wasn''t worried that Cor would actually eat his way through all the strangest Lowpool food he could find.

    He ced the container into a bucket full of other used bowls near the stall, then casually slipped away in the direction opposite the stall Cuthes was indicating.

    Apart from food, Defi needed to rece the baskets and bottles that were smashed in his underground storage room. The two one-year casks he acquired from the woodshop were destroyed along with the rest of his extra barrels. He could not help the re of anger again.

    At least the barrels of slime extract and most of the slimes had survived.

    He took a deep breath and walked along thenes, focusing on looking at the wares of the night market.

    With the mayor''s open invitation, it looked like half the town was packed into the marketce and the central square.

    The spots where food stalls abounded had the highest number of people, so the ces that didn''t sell eatables were rtively quiet.

    The night market was lit withmps hung on stall posts. Crystalmps were bright, their clear cold bluish white light brighter by far than the warm yellow of oilmps.

    The warm mes from oilmps, more numerous than the other, flickered to make the shadows dance. The crystalmps made shadows flee into dark corners with their steadfast sharp glow; the shadows they created were darker and deeper. The two kinds of light battled between the stalls, creating a strange pulsing of light and shadow with every flicker of me.

    The stalls of the marketce were arranged in parallel lines, with breaks between them that people might freely walk between the mainnes.

    In a number of stalls, themp-shades were ced as to put the seller in shadow and the wares in light.

    There was no delineation, Defi saw, between the stalls that strove to keep to themselves and those that dealt in the bright light. That Jorne would definitely have more suspicions should he see such arrangements.

    The night was cold, from the breezes blowing in from theke and the afternoon rain. But between the lines of stalls, the air was warmed by human heat.

    He stopped at another popr stall, didn''t hesitate before buying skewers of fried duck gizzard and grilled blood squares, and wandered the night market while eating.

    A faintly familiar voice caused him to look over. Jast, the glyph shop owner, was arguing with a stall keeper. Defi wandered slightly closer when he saw that the stall was covered in glyph designs and Emblem patterns.

    The stall keeper was shorter than the average Ascharonian. He sported a long braided goatee, and a muscled frame that he deliberately drew attention to as he crossed his arms and red at Jast.

    "It''s the pattern that''s important."

    Jast huffed. "And you think everyone can read an Emblem correctly? How can you be sure these things won''t blow up in people''s faces."

    "You think I''d sell defectives?" The goatee man shook at the insult.

    "With such sloppy pen control, everything is defective!"

    "What did you say?!"

    "Are you interested in the moon peppers, young sir?"

    Defi nced up at the disconnected question. He realized he had stopped at a spice stall to eavesdrop. The moon peppers, pale and curled into crescents, were only one of the many spices in therge stall.

    He looked around, noting the serious faces of the buyers. Rocso, who cooked at the only tavern in town Defi knew about, was one of them, frowning at a wooden box full of a golden yellow powder.

    By now the town''s lone spice shop would be closed, as most shops closed just after sundown. These spice-sellers must be from a caravan. The number of people around the stall said that it was doing brisk business.

    The spice-seller who asked the question, one of three who were manning the stall, saw his look and misunderstood.

    "Ah, perhaps this one, then? One ud a grane, ckspice from beyond the Gate!"

    Defi paused, looked at the wooden boxes of the spice seller. In one of them, it was indeed ckspice. Something twisted in his chest.

    He shook his head and focused on the details. One ud a grane  that came to fifty silver crescents a kilogar. It was cheaper by at least a fourth whenpared to the shop prices.

    The cylindrical silver crescent coin was about ten grane of silver. A kilogar of silver made into coin would effect 100 crescents. His lips quirked. He thought Garun was exaggerating, but ckspice in Ascharon truly did cost its weight in silver.

    The ckspice looked to be of good quality, well-dried, the wrinkled outer skin of the small circr berries was flexible and not powdery.

    "I assure you, young sir, the very finest spice! Carefully grown in the very best farms!"

    If it were yesterday, he would acquire as much as he could, wanting to taste once more the vors of Ontrea. Today, his stomach rebelled at the thought.

    Not to mention, ckspice was too expensive for him at the moment. A fine thing, for someone who used to be able to gorge himself on ckspice vored food everyday.

    He thought about his finances and tried not to grimace.

    All he had at this point was 102 crescents, 18 ud, and 6 rond. It was an amount more than many in Ascharon would earn in a year. But considering the one-year casks he needed to rece, it was not enough. A one-year quartel cask would take half of that amount already.

    He nodded at the spice-seller politely, and walked off.

    He bit into thest of the blood squares and threw the skewers away.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Grane  the smallest unit of weight in Ascharon. A thousand grane makes one kilogar.

    Quartel  a barrel size containing 25 litr of volume, a quarter the size of a cental.

    Cental  a barrel size, containing 100 litr of volume.

 Chapter 70: Night Market Pienplati (2)

    Chapter 70: Night Market Pienti (2)

    Jast was gone from the glyph-seller''s stall when he stepped to it, but the stall keeper was still ring at any and all passerby so fiercely that his stall was very deserted.

    He narrowed his eyes on Defi. "Are you going to ask my qualifications for selling Emblems as well? Who carries around university degrees? Hah."

    "I''m self-taught." Defi guessed that was the reason the stall keeper been arguing with Jast. The glyph-shop owner had struck him as someone who thought of glyphmaking as a serious business. He was not surprised that Jast thought university-taught glyphmakers were better than others, or that all serious glyphmakers should get a university education.

    He picked up a set of glyph-papers and leafed through them.

    They were tagged as Level One and Two type Emblems.

    The stall keeper sighed. "Well, that makes two of us. I tell you, since when did glyphmaking start being about schooling?"

    It was not a question Defi could answer, as most trades in Ontrea were introduced in school before students were sent to advanced training with masters. The man did not appear to expect a response, so Defi continued leafing through the glyph-papers.

    "You made these?" They were all public Emblem designs that had been modified, with a few Level Ones that Defi had not seen in the public catalogue before.

    "I did. Not all of them." He waved at the other piles of glyph-papers, which looked to have been meticulously copied from other ces. "Are you looking for something specific?"

    "What course of study would you rmend, for someone who wants to learn security Emblems?" Defi studied the Level Two Emblems in his hands. The man''s level and understanding was definitely above his.

    Still, the pen work wascking, the inscribed ink lines uneven and not shaped well. An Emblem with uneven lines would not be able to conduct power well, to the point that it could die before being fully activated.

    Low-level Emblems were more likely to fizzle out than blow up, however, so Jast was slightly exaggerating.

    But Defi could see why Jast railed against the man. Glyphmakers liked to think of themselves as artists.

    This man, his glyphwork was advanced but his Emblems were ugly.

    Defi who had held a brush for most of his life, his glyphwork was poor but beautiful. It was like a woman who had nothing to rmend her but her face, a skin-deep faade, he mocked his own skills inwardly.

    "Security. Doesn''t every glypher want to learn it," was the t reaction.

    "Oh?"

    "It''s a lucrative market. One good design can sell for thousands of crescents. But the least of those are Level Fours."

    That was disappointing. Defi''s grasp of Level One techniques was good, but for Level Two, his understanding and skills barely met the mark.

    He turned his attention to the crystal salt and the numerous pots of powders. "Do you know how to make ink?"

    "I suggest you buy at levels below Three. It''s not worth before then."

    Defi didn''t give up. "The information is avable to the public though?"

    The man sighed but, whether it was spite against Jast or solidarity between a fellow self-taught glypher, he answered. "There''s a book called ''The Apelleskos Mysticales''. It''s been banned from publication, so it''s difficult to find. More elites hoarding information for themselves, doubtless."

    He bent to leaf through another pile of glyph-papers, taking out one. "Here. A protection ward for portable containers. This one was made for jewelry boxes. Level Two, but a tricky one. Good practice."

    Defi took it. It was not a public design, but probablymonly known. It looked to be a notch or two below the design Jast gave him to study.

    "I''ll take it."

    "Three crescents."

    A miserly chill skittered down Defi''s back at those two words. A Level Two design was so expensive?

    He eyed the ward Emblem again, noted the several points that were simr to the design he''d been studying for too long with little progress. Those points were the reason he wanted to buy it. The ward might give him new insight.

    He gave the man the silver cylindrical coins without showing his reluctance.

    "Pleasure," the man nodded, the coins disappearing into his money pouch.

    "Yes." He turned away, tucking the glyph-paper into the inner pocket of his coat. Technically, he could say he paid for the design and the information on where he could find ink-making techniques.

    His miserly feelings didn''t ease at the thought.

    "I''m saying  hey!"

    Defi swerved away from the personing around a stall selling drapery.

    "Defi!" Hn grabbed him. "Tell these idiots my brother didn''t run away from the fight."

    The three people Hn was attempting to convince sighed in resignation or made disbelieving sounds. Defi could see the amusement in their eyes. Likely, they were teasing by pretending to doubt her.

    The only one who looked truly resigned was Han, who looked like he''d given up.

    Defi was also amused. Wasn''t it just this morning that Hn was the one not believing her brother had participated in the melee against the des?

    He bowed solemnly. "The great Hanel lost his bow, and with prodigious valor appropriated a ive from the opposing side and charged mightily into the fray, courageous and unheeding of death and danger. With one swipe of an arm, he felled a line of the enemy, and hundreds quavered in fear as his steps thundered across the battlefield"

    "Stop!" Han choked with embarrassedughter, as the others hooted and one pped him on the shoulder. Even Hn, who Defi had helped convince no one, was giggling.

    Defi smiled. "I heard vital dishes were being distributed. Have the two of you been seen to?"

    "My arm just needs a few days of rest," Hn grinned back. "Han is on a week of soup."

    Han sighed contentedly. "Truly unfortunate."

    One of their friends kicked him in the ankle. "Shut it. You know what I would give for a week of vital cooking?"

    "Not a de in the gut, that''s for sure," retorted a boy.

    "This is Defi," Hn cut through their arguing. "That''s Obren, Nuran with the red hair, and e with the jewelry store hanging off her arms."

    "Obren?" The lone boy introduced questioned Hn in outrage. "Just ''Obren''?" He turned to Defi. "I am Obren, the son of music, the piper of theke, the unquestioned-mmph!"

    Nuran with the red hair smiled at Defi, hand over Obren''s mouth. "Don''t mind him. He''s just happy he got an apprenticeship with a traveling music troupe."

    "It''s not even that well-known," teased e, who was the one with the jewelry store hanging off her arms.

    The number of bracelets, bangles, armlets, and braided beads and crystals on her did seem enough to stock a small shop.

    Defi did know of the traveling entertainers of Ascharon. Aire''s brother was part of one, and she told the children the stories he recounted in letters. "I heard that the tests to join any of the regr troupes are ridiculous. You must be good to have been apprenticed."

    Obren pointed at him, peeling away Nuran''s hand. "I like you. You were in that mess too? I was about to buy Han a drink. Join us."

    "The drinks are free," said Han. "You''re not buying me anything."

    Obren didn''t answer him, just pointing at a stall. "That''s the one. The one with the best brewmaster in town."

    The stall that had fourrge wooden barrels set on a stand, each three timesrger than a cental. There was a crowd of mostly women around it.

    Defi recognized Adan and two of the servers from the tavern. Were they advertising Red Lady ale?

    By the time they were at the front, Berolt and another server were changing one of therge barrels with another. Adan nodded at him. "Red Lady or Summer Green?"

    "You have a new ale?"

    At Adan''s confirmation, Defi decided. "One of each."

    Obrenughed. "I really like you. Brewmaster, two of each!"

    e sighed. "Get one of each for me. I''ll go get a table." She eeled out of the crowd effortlessly. She didn''t even jingle, which was a miracle. Defi was envious. He''d spent the night bumping into people.

    "The trick is to watch the flow," Obren whispered, on seeing he was watching e''s back too.

    "What does that mean?"

    "No idea. But that''s what she answered when I asked."

    "Come to the tavern some time." Adan nced at Defi as he thunked their group''s drinks onto the t piece of wood that served as a bar. "Have fun."

    "Thank you!" was the chorus.

    Defi smiled at the tavern-owner. "I''ve been banned from deliveries for a week."

    Adan acknowledged the statement and turned to the next order.

    Defi followed the group to the tables.

    e had found a table, or a corner of a table that would fit the six of them.

    Defi paused.

    Leraine''s cousin Agreine was sitting on the other end of the table, in light conversation with several people.

    He shrugged and sat. What was there to mind?

    Agreine caught sight of him and her face ran through a gamut of expressions so fast Defi did not get all of them. She bent her head to herpanions. The next moment, she and a few others stood to leave, as if naturally on the way to some new amusement.

    Defi marked the faces of herpanions, and outwardly ignored them. Only, it was Hn who brought attention to her, leaning toward him and whispering.

    "How much do you hate her?"

    Of course, the gossip would have been running circles in a small town. "I don''t hate her."

    He didn''t. She was no mortal enemy.

    "She''s been ndering you all day. At least she stopped with the children."

    "She''s not going to be in town long enough for it to matter to me."

    Hn blinked, as if looking at him with new eyes. She straightened. "Alright. If you need help, she offended my aunt today."

    Defi''s lips curled up briefly.

    "Defi, you know the master?" Obren wiped a line of foam from his lips.

    Master? "The tavern-owner?"

    "Don''t agree to anything," Han interrupted what Obren was going to say. "He''s been kicked out of that tavern so many times"

    "Music goes well with ale," defended Obren. The others looked like they''d heard the exnation an infinite number of times. "A piper needs to know how to make ale too!"

    "Is this the same as the time you decided wine goes well with music?" Nuran sipped her drink cautiously. "This is good. What do you all think?"

    Defi tried the drink that Adan called Green Summer first.

    It was a bitter-sour vor. Defi was not quite sure he liked it.

    Obren shrugged. "Is that the green one? The Red Lady''s good. But the Green Summer''s too bitter to be a pure summer drink. At least for me. Too sour to be ale-ish, though I think there are sour ales in the south. I''d like another taste, on another day, to be sure."

    Defi considered that point of view. For hot days, he thought it would taste refreshing when cold. The bitterness was a bite that told the drinker it was a bit more substantial than fruit juice.

    But the summer had ended already and fall was imminent. The days were cooler, growing colder by the week. Defi tried to imagine what the ale would taste like when mulled. If it was just heated as is, it would taste like hot urine probably. But with spices added

    The new ale might just get a good following when winter came, he decided.

    Ascharon had nock of mulling spices and herbs. They imported and grew so much that the moremon condiments were affordable to even themon wage-earner.

    "The question is," Hn lifted her brows at Obren. "When are you ever going to be able to taste it again?"

    Defiughed with the others. He''d seen Rocso kick out people on his cklist. The man did not give many second chances.

    The conversations between the six of them went well into the night, touching on many topics, light and far away from the battlefield that was less than ten kilomar away from the town.

    Small bowls and tes of food were consumed, littering their table in the near hundreds.

    Han grew less tense as the night passed, even though he did not drink as the rest of them did, taking brief sips from the tankards of whoever was closest.

    Hn was more truly cheerful when they parted, as her brother looked less haunted. Thepany and the soothing chill of the night had helped.

    Defi stood, the night market quieter around him, many of the stalls starting to close down. He himself, felt less like the wounds on him were digging too deep.

 Chapter 71: Night Market Pienplati (3)

    Chapter 71: Night Market Pienti (3)

    A hand was pped on his shoulder.

    Cuthes sighed. "Finally got those two to go away."

    Defi gave augh at the man''s relief. "You''ve been guiding them around the Lowpool?"

    For the leader of the town''s guard forces to escort an inspector ptine around, that was something expected. Defi had been surprised there was no gossip about the inspector during the night market, actually.

    "Guide? Those two just decided to follow me around!" Cuthes showed his aggravation.

    Thereby covering up their presence with the adjutant''s, Defi understood. Why bother, Karles and the workers as well as Cuthes and the young guardsman Lon already knew they were here.

    "You''ve been troubled, it appears."

    Cuthes nodded emphatically. "I was going to ask you a few questions earlier, but that kid wanted to try all the Lowpool pienti he could get his hands on."

    "The grilled whiskersnake was especially good." Defi''s mouth still watered at the thought of tender grilled snake in a mildly hot sauce tinged with the sweet-sour of vinegar.

    The word ''pienti'' was Abrechal in origin, rather than modern Ascharonian. It meant ''little dishes". Defi did see that every stall had given out small bowls and tes, each containing just several mouthfuls of a particr dish. The arrangement had gone very well with ale and conversation.

    "Psh. If you really want to try real Lowpool pienti, wait a month. The eel and herring would be plentiful then. Ah, I saw a stall with grilled eel around here somewhere." Cuthes dragged Defi toward the far end of the tables set up in the square.

    "They should be closing down," Defi protested. It was nearly midnight. "If it''s as popr as you say, they should''ve run out and closed down early, in fact."

    "Nah, I know the stall-keeper."

    What did that have to do with the amount of eel in the stall? But the stall Cuthes stopped at was still open and doing business. Many people were passing slips of paper back and forth.

    "Are they gambling?"

    Cuthes snorted. "This idiot Liamor, he only used the eel to stop people long enough to tempt them into betting." He caught the eye of the plump round-faced stall keeper with fair hair, who with a wave of a hand sent one of his young helpers scurrying off.

    Cuthes didn''t near the gambling stall, but waited past the crowd. The girl helping the stall keeper popped up with two boxes, one long with a rather nice scenting from it, and a smaller square one a quarter the size of the first. "Thank him for me."

    The girl smiled and disappeared.

    Defi followed the man to one of the isted tables. On the other side of the rows of tables, Adan had just served thest of the ale, and was starting to dismantle the stall. While the people who still had drinks wereughing and talking, most of the tables were empty.

    Cuthes sat down beside him and opened the long box, to reveal two grill-roasted eels dripping with natural oils and the sauce used to baste them. An entrancing scent spread from it, encasing the table.

    The second box contained pale thin stalks of mushrooms. Cuthes nodded in satisfaction.

    Two bowls,rger than pienti size, a bitrger than even a regr size, were put in front of them. The proprietor of a nearby stall smiled at them. "Last bowls of the day."

    He was thanked effusively.

    The porridge was in, only salt added, and garnished with some stalks of scallion. Cuthes broke off pieces of grilled eel and spread them generously over the two bowls. He snapped off a few stalks of mushroom to each bowl.

    Defi took a bite. The fattiness of the eel went well with the simple barley porridge, the slight salty nuttiness of the barley melding together with the light and delicate taste of the eel, the sweet vorfulness of the basting sauce. The delicate earthiness of the mushroom only enhanced the scent and taste of every spoonful.

    The porridge was warm, the crushed grains slightly chewy. The eel flesh spread into the porridge easily, soft but firm enough to be felt in the mouth. Every now and then, the slight spongy crunch from bits of mushroom delighted the teeth.

    It was hearty and savory, warm andforting, an excellent apaniment to the chilly night breezes.

    "I wanted to ask," Cuthes murmured, "have you ever met the people from that ce west of you? They said they were surveying the ce for development, so they should''ve talked to the neighbors."

    Defi hummed a negative answer, inhaling the scent of another spoonful of mushroom-tinged barley and eel. "Too busy to meet, I guess."

    But not too busy to send people to watch said neighbors, Defi added inwardly. He didn''t know how much of his predicament Cuthes knew, but was it really worth hiding?

    "Have you talked to Leraine''s cousin Agreine? She might know more."

    "Oh. Her."

    The suppressed sigh in Cuthes voice amused Defi; the corners of his lips lifted slightly. Cuthes had met the redoubtable Madam Agreine alright.

    Defi had seen that the herbalist''s ce south of the Garge homestead was bustling. He smiled a bit coldly. With thend so poor, her actions were limited. If she didn''t heed the advice of her farm manager, she''d lose the ce. She wasn''t someone who intended to stay, so he didn''t bother actively causing trouble on hernd.

    "That harpy," Cuthes continued. "I was only asking where her friend went and she went off like a firecracker, then ran away. Defi, do I look like a criminal?"

    "no. Incidentally, what did the two who were with you say?"

    "They weren''t helpful at all! Some inspector. And the boy was spouting some nonsense about the peacock flying the coop and some ducks or dragons or other. That idiot teacher of his is far too lenient."

    Defi smiled faintly. "It sounds like your cooperation with them went well."

    "Well?!"

    "You got information out of the people you met right?"

    Cuthes grumbled but didn''t refute it. "Not enough."

    "You can always question them again. Maybe tomorrow."

    Judging from Agreine''s avoidance of him, she''d leave in the next few days. And the people who said they were surveying west of him might not be there longer. Cuthes inadvertently gave him confirmation of his suspicion.

    Calor Ducan was no longer in the Lowpool.

    There was no other reason his house would have been burgled.

    They were looking for something in the Garge homestead. If they had found it in the western boundary, they wouldn''t have to break into the Garge house.

    A thought came to him, and he pped himself inwardly. He hadn''t checked on Farbar and the northern farm, or the empty cottage that was sold to him by the old couple.

    He was all but certain that the protection Emblem on the herbalist house would have been studied thoroughly before burgling the Garge house, or else the intruders would have searched all the rooms and not just gone for the specific ces that the warding Emblem protected.

    "If the thieves were just passing by, do you think they''d have tried for the farm north of the homestead or the herbalist''s farm in the south? They look more developed than mine after all."

    "Had the same thought." Cuthes nodded. "We talked to Barham. Nothing strange there. Whatever they used to break into your protections likely blew up at your ce. Experimental Emblem of some sort. Then Leraine''s cousin ran away before she could be questioned, as I said."

    "How about the empty cottage?"

    "We did pass by. If there was a break-in, it was not so dramatic as yours. Lon''s going to ask that glypher Wesler to check the wards tomorrow."

    "I see." Defi was relieved the northern farm was fine. He stared at Cuthes.

    The other narrowed his eyes at Defi.

    Defi smiled. "You actually sounded like a real town guard for a couple of sentences."

    "Hah. Boy, don''t make me regret giving you my precious eel."

    *

    Cuthes eyed him seriously after they finished their bowls. "Be careful, hm?"

    Did everyone see him and think he was reckless, Defi wondered wryly. He nodded at the guard leader, who pped him on the shoulder and ambled away leisurely, the boxes of eel and mushroom under his arms.

    Cuthes'' questions during the meal had been subtle, touching even on Leraine and Kern. The leader of the town guards may have battle-lust in his blood but he was not an ipetent.

    Well, he also confirmed that Cor and Jorne had said nothing to the adjutant about Calor Ducan.

    He made his way to the docks, dodging stumbling drunks and carelessly rowdy people along the way. It was much the same as the celebration after the smuggler incident.

    He stopped and squinted at the figure huddled on the pier he usually used. "Who is that?"

    "You don''t sound drunk." Markar straightened up and stood.

    Being drunk got you killed. He had no idea how many nobles he''d heard were killed because they could not control themselves. He wasn''t about to share that with a child, however, and said instead, "I have good tolerance."

    He blinked as Markar came into the light. "You dyed your hair?"

    The formerly dark brown circr bear ears that were now a pale shade of butter yellow ttened. "Dye is itchy."

    Defi nodded sympathetically. He once had to smear himself with dark river mud during a hunt. It had been itchy, but the necessity was great and he''d had to endure for days.

    "Shouldn''t you be asleep by now?" The children who came to the night market had been taken home hours ago. He sighed. "Come, I''ll take you back to the orphanage."

    He wasn''t going to let a twelve-year old boy make his way alone through the docks and streets full of drunken people atmidnight.

    Markar fell into step with him silently. Walking through moonlit streets, Defi breathed in the cool air and let the boy gather his thoughts.

    It must be serious, for Markar to have been waiting for him.

    They were nearly at the orphanage when the boy spoke.

    "I wanted to ask," Markar hesitated, but then his expression firmed. "is the offer of sword lessons still open?"

    That was not the question Defi expected.

    "You''re staying in the Lowpool then?"

    "Aire argued that constantly changing homes was bad for growing up."

    Defi hummed. "What do you think?"

    "I think I need to learn how to make illusion Emblems." Markar slumped, forced his hands away from his head. His eyes had never left Defi, cautious, trying not to be hopeful.

    "Very well." Defi decided. "Ie to the dawn market every morning. When you''re ready,e find me. In return, you''ll help picking starcherries and zaziphos."

    "Yes!"

    Defi eyed him. "We''ll be going to Sarel''s ce after midday, so she''s not going to be cooking."

    Markar looked disappointed, even as his eyes brimmed with excitement.

    "I wish my students to be serious. This is no game."

    "We won''t let you down." Markar solemnly promised, as they stopped at the gate to the orphanage. Amp flickered closer from another street. Aire,mp in hand, cloak tied securely about her, looked relieved when she saw Markar. She must have been searching for him. "We''ll see you tomorrow!"

    Tomorrow? Defi had things to do too, you know? His ce needed renovating!

    But he eyed the determination on the boy''s face and could not decline.

    "Tomorrow. Don''t make people worry for you again."

    Markar flushed in shame, looking at the nearing woman. "I''ll help with the cooking for a month."

    Defi was satisfied, waved at Aire, and moved to retrace his steps to the docks.

 Chapter 72: Between Night and the Dawn

    Chapter 72: Between Night and the Dawn

    The moon in the sky had a curved sliver sheared out of one side, in a waxing phase. After the cloudy drizzly evening, the sky after midnight was surprisingly clear, sprinkled with stars Defi did not know how to name.

    The moon and the river of stars in the sky lit the night bright enough that he did not need antern to navigate the Treachery.

    Defi''s first hunts had been in the desert bordering the wastes.

    He remembered nights like this, after the desert would give up their heat and the fires would burn down to warm coals. Practicing spear forms under a moonless dark velvet heaven cleaved in half by a torrent of light, the brilliant unrest of the desert sky calling to the warrior blood in his veins.

    The sky of Ascharon was less a fierce riot, fewer red and yellow stars glowing within the pale stream meandering above. A colder sky. The stars seemed further away.

    He returned his attention to the river, digging his pole into its gravelly bed. A ssh of water caught his attention, further to the center, away from the shallows.

    Arge sleek form broke the river surface from the depths, scales glittering in the moonlight. Defi twitched as a fin, one as tall as he, rose and split the reflection of the moon on the water before it was once more subsumed under the surface of the Treachery.

    The waters curled around the disappearing fin, and then resumed their natural flowing.

    He nced at the unlitntern at the bow of the boat, and silently thanked the Creator for theck of clouds tonight. He felt a brief wish to strangle whoever maintained that there were no dangerous beasts in the Lowpool.

    What did they call the monster that just had, in front of his eyes, attempted to swallow the moon?

    It was only a quarter-hour more to the Garge homestead. He enhanced his senses with the Current, not rxing his vignce until he docked at the pier.

    He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, relieved as he stepped on solid ground. Something sorge would not be able to move in the shallows, he assured himself. There was no cause to worry.

    He reevaluated his consideration on how deep the waters of the Treachery ran. If the river andke could support such a beast, the depths must be extraordinary. And there was no telling what else was down there.

    Defi shook his head. As long as they stayed down there, there was no need to think about them.

    He yawned, the Current within him subsiding. He hefted the sack of bread and ale from the scow to his shoulder.

    The ck-seed bread was made from crushed nuts and seeds mixed with rye flour, ording to the stall keeper. It kept well, and the heaviness of the bread sated hunger for a long time. It was coarse bread but, apart from the thin bitter crust, was pleasantly nutty to the taste.

    The jug of ale was tossed to him by Rocso, who was helping Adan pack the cart to take back their empty barrels to the tavern when Defi passed by.

    The bread would be a good start for the day, after a few hours of sleep.

    He stopped.

    An orange glow flickered against the warehouse walls. Defi ran.

    He skidded to a halt at a campfire, where several fish were roasting slowly on sticks stuck to the ground. He stared disbelievingly. "What?"

    "Oh, you''re back?" Tholme waved him over. "Want a fish?"

    "No, I just ate." Defi puffed out a breath, rxing the tight grip he had on the sack. His sleepiness had been taken altogether. "I thought everyone was at the night market."

    "We took turns," said one of the workers. "The other group''s going to be backter."

    "Yes?" Defi could not help the bewilderment tinging his voice.

    Tholme sighed, a wry twist to his smile. "Someone broke into your house. There''s a hole in your wall. You live alone, kid."

    "I''m not a child." But he couldn''t deny that he was moved by their actions. "There must be people waiting for you at home. You don''t have to do this."

    "Hah," said one of the men. "And put up with my wife and mother''s nagging? I''d like a month away from them."

    "It''s just one night anyway," added one of the women. "That man needs to learn how to deal with his own kids."

    There were other sounds of agreement.

    "Thank you." It was not part of their work contract to do this, and he was an outsider who didn''t even have a proper reception hall. He slumped down on a box, the battle-ready high leaching from his body.

    He offered the sack to the closest person, the woman who spoke. "There''s a sample of Adan''s newest ale in there, if you haven''t tried it yet."

    "This isn''t your morning meal is it?"

    "I don''t drink ale in the morning." Did all women fire questions as urate as hunter''s arrows?

    She grinned at him. "Your loss. This is from Adan?"

    Defi rxed as he eased into the conversation andughter of the five people. He was even convinced to eat some of the freshly caught fish. The roast fish went well with the nutty bread and the sour ale.

    Another six people, including Karles, docked at the pier an hourter. Defi thanked them as well, and said goodbye to those that were leaving.

    He was warmed by the time he parted from them.

    He couldn''t tell them the intruders wouldn''t strike again, and felt a little guilty they were sacrificing their sleep for something unnecessary.

    Madame Agreine didn''t appear to be someone who would to resort to burry. And Calor Ducan was gone from the Lowpool.

    That was a good thing, but Defi felt a faint sense of dissatisfaction at so sudden an ending. Or maybe because he had ns that were suddenly cut off at the knees? He huffed at himself silently, amused and irritated. Was he this sort of finicky person who wanted a definite conclusion to everything that started?

    There was just a faint tinge of something unresolved when he thought of the matters of Calor Ducan, something niggling at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was the Current in him, that the Teachings said flowed through both time and space, saying that there was a possibility that they would meet again.

    Such fanciful notion. The teachers did say to heed the tuggings of the Current, but seeing through time was a myth. He had plenty of time to leisurely find what he missed, now that he didn''t need to n out defenses and responses.

    Going forward with the added security measures was still a good idea.

    There was an hour or so left until the time he usually woke. He stopped at the unopened door, considering, then left the porch to make his way to the sansu trees. An hour of sleep would not be as helpful as healing thend.

    The sansu trees were nearly all healthy, just a dozen left in their withered state.

    He sat under the first tree he had renewed. It had lost most of its flowers and was growing fruit. Sansu was a summer fruit, but the trees of the homestead was going to fruit and ripen at the onset of winter.

    The Current spread across thend, sustaining and restoring vitality, much easier now than ever before. The months spent in Ascharon, and that worshipped a god not the Creator, had strengthened his abilities in the Current. Even if mostly only in the particr area of farming.

    Defi could not train the ways of the warriors or the priests without instruction. The matters of farming had always been the ways of nature, uplicated and instinctive. For the rest, he only had the Circles, three weapon-based masteries, and a dozen arts he did not fully understand.

    He stopped nourishing thend and for a moment stretched his senses in the Current to the full extent he could. It was slightly nauseating, a cacophony of sight-smell-sound-touch all melding together into a single sense. The strong vitality in thend and in the animals, the insects and birds and worms, were nearly ''blinding'' to his Current-based sense.

    Trying to focus was somewhat simr to counting individual raindrops while running through a downpour.

    He withdrew his senses closer to his body. It was easier withnd he owned, his mark already on the soil.

    Currently, Defi held nearly twenty hecte ofnd in his name, a substantial amount. But the Current could pinpoint every insect within the boundaries, every sleeping bird, every mouse, every nt and stone and tree with high levels of vitality.

    This wasnd that belonged to him, emperors aside.

    He breathed in and out slowly as his ''eyes'' took in the farming homestead, the six people at the warehouse, slimes in the house, thend slowlying back to life.

    The night sky above could hardly have less stars than the sparkling points of life that he saw in the Current, resplendent upon the lowly earth. That cold sky, that calm sky, it was the sky he was to live under from now on. This earth full of bright life, this was hisnd.

    This was the hope that someday he might gain that happiness that his mentor Maryiz wanted him to find. Thisnd, this farm, was the start of his life in this other world.

    He withdrew the sensing and sunk the energy of the Current into thend under him.

    There were many things to be done before the homestead could be called a proper farm.

 Chapter 74: Fried Liver and a Glaive

    Chapter 74: Fried Liver and a ive

    Defi''s pleasant preupation with a collection of circries from the city of Seranne on the great river was interrupted by Orain reminding him they closed an hour before sundown on Founder''s Day.

    He stepped out of the library with Turq on his head to a rare day where it wasn''t raining in the afternoon. The clouds even deigned to show an expanse of blue sky.

    He breathed in the still warm afternoon air and walked leisurely to the bakery.

    Reon was at the counter today. The baker smiled at him and Turq. "What''s it going to be today?"

    "Ten loaves of ck-seed and the same of the steamed." The regr loaves of bread in the bakery weighed one kilogar each. Twenty kilogar of bread would be enough for the whole of the week, probably.

    Reon lifted a brow as he started packaging the order. "What army are you feeding?"

    "Some of the children from the orphanage pick fruits for me." Defi was still prohibited from strenuous activity.

    He thought Markar, who was currently going by the name Arac, requested the lessons for him and his sister. He was surprised there were four children on the docks two days ago. Markar/Arac grumbled that the others just tagged along. Still, it was not a number that was difficult for a teaching ss.

    "Are you adopting more? Aire and Lergen would be pleased."

    "More? Who did I adopt in the first ce?"

    Reon chuckled. "Lergen said you were a good influence on the children."

    Considering that the hunter''s traps he had taught the orphanage children during the smuggler''s siege were being used in games and tricks against various townspeople, Defi was certain Lergen had been joking.

    "Two ud for the lot." Then the baker lopped a few slices off ck-seed bread and wrapped them separately before handing everything to Defi with a smile. "And someone told me Old Frema''s set up her stall today. You should try her fried liver. It can''t be missed."

    The stalls in the official marketce were semi-permanent wooden constructions. There were regrs there but outside the weekly market many of the stalls were empty and anyone could rent them from the town hall.

    Defi spotted Old Frema''s stall right away. There were several people around it, despite the nearly empty streets. The sizzling sound and a pleasant scent of oil wafted around him as he neared.

    Liver was something that Ontrean warriors ate for strength, as well as part of the ritual thanking the downed prey for their sacrifice. It was eaten by hunters fresh from the kill, sliced and toasted over the fire.

    With Reon''s rmendation, Defi was curious how liver was cooked in Ascharon. He neared the stall, craning his head to look at the liver.

    "Want it on your bread?"

    Defi looked up from where he was contemting the sizzling slices of liver on a t piece of metal installed over the meless stove.

    "Are you Old Frema?"

    The woman looked amused. "I am."

    She did not look old at all. Despite the pure white of her hair, Defi doubted if there was even ten years between his age and hers.

    She didn''t give an exnation though. She gestured at the wrapped slices Reon had given him inquisitively.

    This was why Reon had sliced the bread? Defi handed them over in the name of satisfying his curiosity.

    He watched as a liver slice was flipped using a t piece of polished wood. Old Frema nodded in satisfaction and slid the liver onto a piece of bread,. She then drizzled a rose-colored sauce over it.

    Defi epted as she extended the bread and liver to him. The scent was strong, exceedingly familiar, the scent of a sessful hunt. "Boar liver?"

    "Rockboars are active a bit early this year." She confirmed. "Winter''s likely to be long."

    "Are there many rockboars near the town?"

    Defi bit into the ck-seed bread and liver. The earthy taste of liver and the citrusy-sweet tang of the sauce spread magnificently over his tongue, soft and melting, rich and delectable. The bread saved him from drowning in the taste, adding dimension and texture to the bite.

    He swallowed.

    It was definitely better tasting than hunter fare. He came back to his senses only after the four slices of ck-seed bread were gone.

    Frema was smiling slightly at him. He controlled the flush that threatened to swamp his face. He hadn''t heard her answer to his question at all.

    She didn''t look like she minded. "Half-ud, young sir."

    "That''s cheap, for boar liver." Defi ignored his embarrassment at having been visibly entranced by food.

    There were few hunters in the Lowpool. Meat that was not seafood always sold at a premium. Four slices of boar liver, uncooked, could have gone for twice or thrice the amount she was asking.

    She shrugged. "I hunt my own meat. I set the price."

    He hummed, considering the slices still cooking on the metal te. "Does it taste good when cold?"

    "Oi," said one of the other customers, augh in his words. "Leave some for us, eh?"

    "It''s best hot," Frema flipped two slices into a coarse paper wrapper. "Two per person only, if they want to take it home."

    Defi paid for the six slices of liver. Looking at the small package, he was suddenly struck with homesickness. His feet led him to the cksmith shop.

    There were three cksmiths in the Lowpool. The single shop in the central area was a joint coboration by all of them. Between the three of them, they covered most of the needs of the Lowpool, from nails to kitchen utensils to weapons, even a few pieces of armor.

    In the front room of the store, on disy, was a full suit of metal armor, from head to toe crafted beautifully, standing regally as testament to the skill of the smiths.

    He put his package of bread on a t surface and circled the metallic armor, fascinated.

    Ontrea had never made such extensive metal armors. Cloth and leather treated with alchemy had never let them down before. The flexible styles of theirbat arts also meant a suit of metal simr to the one before Defi would have only hindered the warriors.

    He knew from his reading that full-te armor was outdated in Ascharon even half a century ago. On the soldiers of Major il Vons, he''d only seen them wear metal protection on their torso, arms, and legs. Not so all-embracing as to fully cover their bodies.

    A voice from within the shop sounded. "Want to buy it?"

    The look of incredulity Defi shot the speaker only made the manugh.

    "You seemed so interested, I thought it was a viable question."

    "An interest in history, possibly," Defi said.

    "Then what would the schr be needing from a smith?" The man came fully oout of the doorway. "I am Charol, current keeper of this shop and apprentice cksmith. You must be the slime owner who bought the Garge homestead."

    He was used to people in town associating him with Turq and the homestead by now, courtesy of the smuggler incident and the actions of Agreine who was now gone from the Lowpool.

    An apprentice? The man did look young, but the neatly trimmed beard and the patterned flowing coat did not give the impression of a cksmith at all.

    Defi nced at the other''s hands. The man may hide them in wide sleeves, but the calluses were evident to his eyes.

    "Defi," he confirmed Charol''s supposition. "I''m just looking. Do many want to buy the armor?"

    "Some. There are a few that want to disy it in their houses." Charol''s lips twisted in faint disdain.

    Defi looked at the functional looking armor, only mildly decorated, though the pauldrons were shaped into realistic depictions of snarling bears. The work was to show the craft of the cksmith. But for the eyes of someone who had beheld cloth and leather armor cut in patterns, threaded in silver, and studded with alchemic gems, it was indeed too in for disy.

    "How old is it?"

    Charol nodded in agreement, despite Defi not saying anything that needed to be agreed with.

    "A good armor for disy should have some history, some stories to tell. It should be used. If not, then it has to be from a famous smith. Why buy something like this, which is only a decade old and has never seen battle, from an unknown cksmith besides? People like that deserve theughs they''re going to get."

    He set dark eyes on Defi. "If you want practical armor, the segmented pieces are the lightest and best armor you can get on the market today. Segmented armor, with each piece inscribed with Emblems, is customizable depending on preference and the price you can afford. The Emblems needed for them are reasonable and will keep you safer. If you think you can get by with cheap pieces of armor, don''te to us andin about the prices after you''re dead."

    "Will you tell me about the polearms you make?" Defi headed off the displeased rant he could see building in Charol''s eyes.

    Charol paused, huffed, then waved him over as he moved toward an inconspicuous doorway. Defi found that there was a second disy room beyond the first. It was filled with weapons, with a few breasttes and cuirasses among them.

    "There are two journeymen in town right now, and they both want to be weapon smiths." He sighed. With the war, weapon-making is a lucrative profession. This room contains all the weapons our journeymen have made that the masters deemed adequate for market."

    Defi made for the pole weapons disyed on racks, eyes roaming over the collection.

    He hesitated at the disy of swords, but continued on.

    Halberds were a standard weapon of the imperial army, and there were several in various styles.

    Defi stepped to the rack of spears in the room and hefted one free, testing.

    It was well-bnced and light but the dehead was too small. In fact, all the spears had too-small heads for thebat styles of Ontrea.

    He picked up a halberd, the double des and the tapering point on the particr weapon suitable to a range of the spear styles he knew. He swung it twice. It wasn''t quite the same, but simr enough. It would do well.

    He put it back on the rack, looked past the iron-bound staves and pole hammers to the ives.

    ives, withrger des than halberds, have been bing more popr because of the added weight which meant a greater chance of overpowering the defense Emblems in armor. In Ontrea, they were not as popr as the sword and spear.

    He had only one style for a weapon that was simr to the ives of Ascharon, and he had no mastery in it. The de of a ive in Ontrea was single-edged, and a ive-user moved differently from the user of a double-edged polearm.

    There were only two in the shop. One decorated greatly, with touches of gold and silver; a practical weapon that was also deliberately made to impress. One was more subtle in its ornamentation, the embellishments in ordinary metal were fewer and significantly less eye-catching, but clearly made with the same care by the same person.

    Defi took the second ive down.

    Of the three weapons, it felt the most familiar.

    He twirled the ive in one hand, faintly sentimental, remembering the yells of the instructor as his students put too many flourishes into their movements.

    "For an added fee, we also make custom weapons." Charol''s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

    Had the man, who had likely seen many people buy weapons, noted Defi''s slight difort?

    Defi returned the ive to its ce. He repeated his earlier words. "Just looking."

    The smith apprentice made a skeptical sound. "You looked too serious to be just looking."

    Defi was silent for a moment. "How much?"

    "For the spears, they''re ordinary, one crescent apiece. The halberd metals are slightly special, and the shafts are specially treated. These are better than army standard. Ten crescents for the one you handled. The ive, it''s not as popr a personal weapon as the sword, but the metal and shaft is the same quality as the halberds. I can sell you that one for twelve crescents."

    "Aren''t these disy items?"

    "Yes, but the ive has been there for five years. Not very decorative, so even the ones who want a disy won''t buy it. If you need the shaft reced, we''ll do it for free. If you want a pole arm built specifically, the price depends, but one of the same quality as that would likely be in the region of twenty crescents or so. "

    With Defi having already bought a one-year quartel cask, he only had forty crescents to his name.

    He considered the ive again. The Water-Edge style that used a ive weapon was less powerful than the Falling Star Spear. But didn''t he already determine that he wasn''t a fit for the Falling Star?

    "Any art is powerful in the hands of the right user," he murmured to himself, quoting a lecturer.

    "What?"

    Defi didn''t answer and ced twelve crescents in Charol''s hands before he could change his mind.

    Better have it and not use it, than not have it and need it.

    In the empire of Ascharon, with its dangerous beasts and a barely managed bandit problem, a farmer with des or staves kept in his farm house wasmon.

    Charol wrapped the ive in cloth and tied it off. "Thank you for your patronage,e again."

    Defi secured the ive over a shoulder by the cloth. He rolled his shoulders and ignored the part of him that was relieved at having a proper weapon close by.

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other sites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 75: Walls are Made for Weapons

    Chapter 75: Walls are Made for Weapons

    Defi exited the store room.

    In one hand were the decorative wall-sconces that had once been used to string up several tapestries in the house.

    The sconces were aged crystalmps which had stopped working due to the Emblem fading away with time. Leraine''s family had been using them as wall mounts for framed embroidery or pressed flowers.

    It was the same use he was putting them to.

    He lifted the crystalmp that was in his other hand. It was because of the wall-sconces that he''d bought it, thinking that crystals were the primarymp fuel in Ascharon. The night market told him otherwise. The majority ofmps used oil.

    Leraine''s family must have been grand in their heyday, to use crystalmps to light up the house.

    He should look into getting permanent illumination for the house, he mused. It was not a priority. But perhaps in the reading area and the slime room.

    He entered his bedroom, set the sconces on the wash-table, and lifted themp to consider his room.

    The average Ontrean warrior-priest would mount the ive over the bed headboard. But that was a privilege given to those who had officially passed the Sacred Trials.

    Even if Defi technically passed, the Tablet of the Exalted would not carry his name as proof.

    Themon soldier would mount the de somewhere visible, evidence of elevated status and entry into the king''s forces. The central hall would be the best, for easy ess, but Defi did not want to tempt the children.

    The wall at the foot of the bed was too far away. If the room was breached, he could not reach it in time.

    Beside the bedroom door then, was a good ce. The bedroom''s windows were high on the other wall. Though numerous, they were narrow and barred, only meant to let in light. The door was the greatest visible threat.

    He took the sconces and put themp down.

    The wooden skirt that hung down from the ceiling, old wood polished by time, left over from more generous times, was perfect. Defi installed the wall-sconces to hang below the skirt, at a height slightly below the level of his chest. Then unscrewed the upper parts, the mainmp where the crystals were supposed to be ced, leaving the curving lines of the undercarriage.

    He ced themp heads on the wash-table, to be returned to the storage-roomter.

    He unwrapped the ive that had been lying on his bed. The de gleamed in the bluish-white crystal light, an oily patterned sheen he had not seen inside the shop.

    He tapped his finger against the de, felt it hum in the Current.

    Ascharon knew how to make weapons that took power, he realized. And here he thought their primary forces were the battle emblems he''d seen deployed in conflicts twice now and the summoners of mystic beasts.

    Was this what the cksmith apprentice Charol meant by ''special'' metal? He had only seen that the smith''s skill was evident in a good quality weapon.

    He hadn''t been paying attention.

    The ive wasn''t as well-made as the swords and spears given to the Church guardians, but for amon soldier it was enough to hand down to the next generation.

    It was a good de.

    He lifted the weapon to the newly installed wall-sconces, then stepped back to study the arrangement.

    It looked decent.

    He went to the bed, then leaped to the wall and grabbed the ive, going through a few basic stances smoothly. He nodded and ced the weapon back on its mounts.

    There was a weapon in his room.

    A part of him calmed, felt a little more at home in the house. The uneasy shadow in his mind that had been hovering since strangers had broken into the house dispersed a little.

    He took themp, the discarded parts of the wall-sconces, and left the room.

    It was time to feed the slimes.

    *

    The wall of the slime room, damaged in the intrusionst week, was now repaired. Karles and his workers were quick, and in a day the only mark that said there had been a problem was the newer-looking wood on half of the room''s outer wall. Karles had even installed metal window grates toplement the wooden shutters.

    Defi started setting out the slime food. The room was crowded with baskets of zaziphos and starcherry that his four new students gathered in return for lessons. Near the baskets were barrels of crab shells and carp bones.

    He removed the slimes from the feeding baskets and ced them in individual basket-cages.

    It took the slimes at least half a day to digest one feeding.

    Apart from Turq, each of the surviving ten slimes in the house consumed 10 kilogar of feed a day. It was necessary to maintain a useful amount of slime extract.

    Defi mixed the food into the feeding baskets. Of the feed items, zaziphos was the most numerous. He''d been using it to pad out most of the mixtures.

    The ratios were all the same as when he started, though the allocation for Zav had 100% zaziphos because the savras sellers had note to the Lowpool yet.

    Zav''s partner Ziv, he had buried under the pines nearest the river. Coming from a waterynd, it seemed the appropriate ce for the slime. Despite their acquaintance being brief, the savras extract Ziv helped make was a sess that may bring promising profit.

    Defi finished filling the feeding baskets with five kilogar of feed each. Before he put the slimes in, he extracted the usual litr of liquid from each of them.

    In all, extraction and feeding and cleaning up took the better part of two hours. He was more efficient now than when he first began.

    He put Turq into its own feeding basket. "I don''t suppose you can split by digestingmon ingredients alone?"

    Unlikely, really.

    But it would give him an additional slime that could rece Zivenof.

    Defi let out an audible sigh.

    Since savras extract was a recent experiment, there was not much of it. He still needed the apothecary''s analysis before he could think of expanding. Recing Ziv was not a priority at the moment.

    What he should be doing was developing the farm and acquiring sustainable sources of slime food.

    He headed out for his nightly routine of nourishing of thend and the hybrid Herbs.

    Themp swung from his hand.

    Nearing the western garden plot, something stopped him, a sudden swirl in the Current. He tensed and immediately sunk Current into thend below him, spreading his senses through the earth.

    There was no one around other than him, not within twenty mar of the boundaries of the homestead.

    His brows furrowed.

    He stood there, slowing the beating of his heart from the sudden fright.

    He had not wanted to admit to himself, the intrusion into the house had rattled him more than he allowed himself to show. If this were Ontrea, he would have been moved to another residence and all the people who lived nearby questioned by the agents of Rimet to ensure that such a breach would not happen again.

    This was Ascharon however, and the intrusion was not a threat directly aimed at him or thend of Rimet.

    He knew that with the disappearance of the ''survey team'' beyond his western border, he was safer than if he lived in a fortress. But instincts ingrained in him for eighteen years were not an easy thing to calm.

    A part of him was insisting to leave and find a ce other than this small town. The same part that berated him when he walked the streets without a sword at his side, that thrilled at the thought of war in anothernd, that was relieved when he acquired a weapon, that narrowed its eyes at every person who approached him. The part of him that was honed by expectations of the lord of Rimet.

    This was Ascharon, he reminded himself, once more. This was Ascharon, and he was not here to be a warrior-priest. That path was closed to him.

    Those who directed the intrusion had nothing to do with him, Defi repeated to himself. The intruders found nothing in the house to interest them. In their eyes, Defi was far in their past.

    There was no one after him. No one but Ymirin, if she had not crossed back through the Gate. If she was still in Ascharon, whoever spread those rumors had mired her in the concerns of nobility. She''d be too busy to actively direct her search.

    He''d mounted a ive on his wall. He''d find the Emblem configuration that would protect both the house andnd. There will be no one that could enter his ce without permission.

    Reassured, he reached out with the Current once more.

    That''s when he noticed the anomaly in the direction of the Herb plots.

    The hybrid Shyleaf Herb was ready for harvest.

 Chapter 76: Shyleaf Harvest

    Chapter 76: Shyleaf Harvest

    Defi understood why the Current, naturally inclined to growing things, sunk deep into thisnd, alerted him.

    Shyleaf Herb was so named because of the peculiarity of it preferring darkness and the night to thrive. In the daytime, the leaves of the nt curl themselves into a ball, hiding. When night fell, the leaves uncurl to reveal pretty pale-green fronds.

    To preserve the greatest of the herb''s beneficial properties, it needed to be harvested in darkness. If Defi ignored the warning, the too-bright light of themp would adversely affect the Shyleaf which was currently in a very delicate state.

    Defi took several steps back, then turned and jogged to the house for covered baskets, feeling a little anticipation.

    He had slowed down the schedule for re-invigorating the sansu trees and dyed nting zaziphos to grow the Herbs. He could now find if cultivating Kern''s hybrid Herbs was worth it.

    Should he feed the Herb to Turq, or one of the others?

    As he returned to the western herb plot with the harvesting baskets, he recalled what else he knew about Shyleaf.

    He had only researched the general data of the Herbs that Kern left behind before.

    Shyleaf had leaves growing in a spiral pattern on the main stem. The leaves needed to be snapped carefully one by one at a particr ce on the leaf petiole near where it connected to the main stem, starting from the outer leaves to the inner.

    Defi left themp behind the loose pile of rocks marking the boundaries of the herb garden and the Liongrass plot, trusting the tall densely-packed leaf des of the golden grass to block the light that the rocks could not.

    He ced the baskets beside him as he crouched at the head of the Shyleaf plot. He nced up at the moon, its light dimmed by the shade of clouds.

    Perfect harvesting conditions, but not so perfect for him. He would have preferred a brighter moon for this, as moonlight did not affect the Herb so harshly as other kinds of illumination.

    Fortunately, harvesting Shyleaf was a simple process.

    He reached for the first Shyleaf nt, going by feel until he felt the bump on the petiole of the first frond.With pressure exerted by his fingers, the frond snapped off.

    He ced it in the basket and reached for the next.

    Shyleaf had four to six outer fronds and four inner fronds. The herb stood a fourth of a mar in height. When curled up in the daytime, the leaf ball was the size of arge fist.

    The journal called ''Simple Cookery'' added a dimension to his knowledge.

    From the journal, he knew that Shyleaf was a spice, the dried fronds used in food meant to calm. The taste went well in soups and sds. Often, the fresh inner leaves were used to vor oils. Shyleaf-vored oil was particrly favored in the coastal areas for alleviating the strong odors in certain types of seafood like eight-fin mackerel and the mystic blue pearl jellyfish.

    It was not particrly important to the harvesting process, but if the Herb wasn''t beneficial for his slimes then he could use it in other ways.

    The inner leaves were where the most vor and vitality of the nt concentrated. He ced them in a separate basket from the outer leaves.

    The cooking journal said Shyleaf was a Grade 3 in the official rating system for mystic nts, which was separate from the rating system for mystic beasts. Defi''s Current-enhanced insight told him that the hybrid Shyleaf was only slightly above Savras grass in vitality.

    Savras grass was Grade 1, the lowest rated mystic nt on the lowest rank by far.

    The Liongrass and the Naranj hybrid Herbs also contained vitality at about the same level as the hybrid Shyleaf. Their pure counterparts were rated Grade 2.

    He could not sell the herbs.

    Despite them looking simr to the description in the books he read for research, their attributes were too far apart. Not to mention Savras sold for fifteen to seventeen ud a kilogar. That was as much as the average Ascharonianmoner earned in a week.

    Liongrass, which was predominantly sold as a tea to bnce the humors of the body, averaged between ten and twelve crescents per kilogar. Grade-two herbs could fetch a price per kilogar up to twenty crescents, depending on avability and quality.

    Shyleaf, one of the mostmon mystic spices in Ascharon, sold for around fifty crescents a kilogar. That was the monthly pay of a journeyman armorer in a good-sized atelier. Armorers and weapon-makers were elites among the smithing craft, in this time of war. Themon craftsman would only earn so much in a year.

    If Defi sold these herbs, too simr in looks to such expensive mystic nts, even if he lowered the prices to the level of savras, wouldn''t he be thrown in chains as a fraud?

    It was too much trouble to exin that they were hybrids, and that it was not he who had created them. Simrly, he could not freely tell anyone where they came from. Kern''s reputation of having decimated thend around the Garge homestead was not something he wanted associated with himself.

    Defi paused in his harvest at a thought, then brieflyughed. ckspice, which was not a mystic nt, whose only advantage was the enhancement of vor, actually sold much costlier than a grade-three mystic nt.

    If there was a way to make a ckspice hybrid with enhanced vitality, how dear would it be in Ascharon?

    He had no chance to prove it, as his ckspice seedlings had been destroyed.

    A memory of a maliciouslyughing river captain surfaced in his mind.

    The leaf node under his fingers snapped wrongly. The frond wilted, curling into a brownish dead thing.

    He took a deep breath, put the wilted leaf on the ground beside him.

    He stretched.

    The first time he had ever been so publically humiliated by a person not his father, it had been here in thend of Ascharon. He''d almost resigned himself to death when Sarel had fished him out of the Treachery.

    He shook his head, forcing himself into the present.

    His progress so far was good enough. Nearly a quarter of the five mar long, one mar wide plot was harvested.

    How much should he harvest? The baskets could take all the Shyleaf in the plot, but mystic nts had a high rate of deterioration when it came to their effective attributes.

    He had no preservation container to keep them in.The preservation Emblems he knew were all short term minor designs, not strong enough to dy the deterioration. He only had a single one-year cask, and it was too small to take all the herbs.

    Sessfully working out the kinks in muscles strained in a single position for too long, he returned to harvesting.

    Tonight, he would only harvest half the plot and leave the rest to seed.

    He felt that the Liongrass and Naranj would also mature in the next few days.

    Half the plot of Shyleaf was an estimated fifteen kilogar of fronds. It was enough for now.

    An hourter, he was sitting cross-legged on the ground, the harvested baskets of Shyleaf fronds open to the light of the moon beside him.

    His hands were on the ground, the Current flowing into thend under him.

    The range of his healing had increased in thest month. He was now able to heal an added two mar around him. The western quarter of the homestead was easier to heal, as it had not beenpletely depleted of vitality.

    He stood, brushed debris off his clothes.

    Taking up the two baskets of Shyleaf, he walked toward the house. He fixed the shutters of the crystalmp so that the light did not touch the baskets. The bluish white light shone forward and back, casting an odd shade to the shadows.

    Defi noted that themp was dimmer than it had been earlier. It was nearing the time to change out the crystal.

    He turned themp so the baskets hanging off his opposite shoulder would not inadvertently swing into the light.

    He''d feed the Shyleaf to Turq, he decided, to see if the slime would split.

    Most of Turq''s diet since thest splitting had been zaziphos. The scent of Shyleaf, which was all over his clothes at this point, was sharp and fresh.

    He looked forward to seeing what kind of slime would be gained from that.

    At least, he was certain its extract would not be toxic.

    If the slime was too strange, he''d try a mass summoning again.

    He stopped at the central hall, pulled out two Emblems being used as bookmarks  two of his best attempts at minor preservation.

    In the kitchen, he transferred the baskets of fronds into two barrels and stuck the Emblems on the covers, watching the glyph-papers dissolve as the Emblems took root.

    In preservation Emblems, one of the glyphs was ''containment''. The efficacy of a preservation emblem differed depending on the space enclosed within the active preservation area. A minor Emblem like the ones he just used was too weak for a quartel-size barrel.

    But he decided to feed all the Shyleaf to Turq tomorrow morning so he only needed to store the herb for the night.

    He hefted the barrels down into the dark underground storage area, only hesitating a little before determinedly taking the steps downward.

    He thought about the mid-grade preservation Emblem that Karles had.

    To be able to preserve a moving tform and the theorized feeding/mixing tanks, that meant the design had multiple container nodes connected to each other with the ability to preserve technically separated containment areas.

    "Free for use in the Lowpool," he repeated in a low murmur, turning the words around in his head.

    If there was no fee for multiple instations ordered by the same client, he should have Karles make a storage building with that Emblem for general purposes. The multiple nodes of the design were perfect for a multi-room storehouse.

    Hah, Defi mocked himself immediately after. Where would he get the money?

    He''d been arrogant, thinking he would shortly have his vinegar-producing slime manufactory running smoothly once the warehouse was finished.

    Now the warehouse was finishing up, and he only had ten production slimes. Half of the extracts produced were even not guaranteed to sell. He only had the vinegar to rely on.

    The price of ordinary vinegar was fifteen rond per litr.

    When Defi was working as a grape/suirberry harvester for Falie and Hames, his pay was thirty rond a day, which was standard dayborer wages outside a city if the Home-maker''s Journal was to be believed.

    The article went on to say that average daybor wages were only enough to feed theborer for one or two days on in cooking.

    Even with Sarel saying Jar''s vinegar was top quality, how much would it actually sell for?

    He only had two and a half quartels of Jar''s concentrated vinegar at the moment, and most of it was not as intensely vored as the sample sent to Bluzand.

    That couldn''t be helped. Even selling all of the vinegar might not be enough to buy a single sable crab.

    Defi put away thoughts of a preservation storehouse for now and washed up in the kitchen sink, scrubbing sweat and mud off his torso, arms and legs.

    He changed into fresh clothes  the in knee-length gown he used for sleeping and a thick longcoat he had acquired because Aire had recently been nagging Lergen on and on about readying enough wood and oil for winter. He slipped his feet into linen indoor slippers.

    He sat down at the study table in the central hall, adjusted the shutters of themp to prevent the light from blinding him, and reached for a book on glyphs.

    He still had to finish adjusting the parameters for a security Emblemwork that would allow him to know if anyone crossed the boundaries into the homestead. Now that he knew the Current could be used to inscribe certain Emblems without glypher''s ink, he had a few ideas to try.

    He started writing them down.

    He''d try them out tomorrow afternoon.

    Tonight, he needed to sleep early as tomorrow was abat lesson day and Markar, Renne, Mureil, and Mureil''s friend Saston were meeting him at dawn.

 Chapter 77: An Excess of Students

    Chapter 77: An Excess of Students

    The sky lightened in patches of grey and white, the blue still hidden by the false dawn. Defi opened his eyes and stood up, smelling the blooming of the sansu tree that stretched its branches above him; the fruit tree once more supple with youth and life.

    One more tree flowered, reborn from the withered husk it was before.

    Thend was starting to heal itself, encouraged by the Current Defi had been expending through it. It wasn''t too tiring a task anymore.

    Defi felt refreshed, more than anything else; as if the dew of the morning had been returned to him for his efforts. He took Turq from the branch of a sansu tree and started back to the house.

    In another week or so, thend would not need his frequent injections of Current anymore as the stimted area''s natural energies started to bnce on its own.

    After that, he could concentrate on reviving the sansu trees and supporting the Herbs. He hadn''t expected it to happen so soon, expected himself to keep circting Current through thend for at least another month.

    In half a year, thend would return to its natural vitality without him.

    The soil in Ascharon was truly different from the soil in Ontrea.

    Garun was lucky he had a Current-farmer like Samti with him or the ckspice seedling he had sent with the man would not be able to adjust to the world by just renting in the soil. Even if Samti''s Current-abilities were not equal to Defi''s, she still knew how to work Current through thend.

    This ipatible soil was likely the reason exchanges of crops between worlds was deemed a failure by history. The crops of Ontrea would be overwhelmed by the vitality of Ascharoniannd. The crops of Ascharon would act the same as Kern''s hybrid herbs and decimate Ontreannd.

    Even with the Current-farmers of Ontrea, the average Ascharonian crops would take too much effort and energy to sustain.

    And most valuable crops in Ascharon for Gate-trade would be mystic nts.

    Ontrean alchemists could do so much with those.

    But it was an unfortunate waste.

    He, who was a low-adept, was supporting only three plots of greedy energy-guzzling hybrid Herbs and could only support one or two more plots in the daily schedule he had now.

    Most Current-farmers in Ontrea did not reach abilities above high-initiate. Ontrean soil would never have as much vitality as Ascharoniannd no matter how much Current was expended in it, and a crop that needed a constant stream of Current through the weeks or months of its maturity was a crop even a wealthy noble would balk at nting.

    Too little gain for too much effort and time.

    Animals were easier to trade between worlds.

    He knew that some of the horses of Ontrea were hybrids, faster and stronger and smaller than the ordinary local stock. The grace of Ontrean horses was known in history, their sleek forms unique and prized even in thends beyond Ontrea. Rimetian chargers, in a coveted addition to that sleek grace, had sessfully added great endurance and a particr vigor as a result of hybrid breeding.

    He knew that the docile Ontrean white pigs were a popr item for Gate-trade. He didn''t know how Ascharon bred them however.

    He had seen a herd of white pigs in Stahlchausses river docks, awaiting transport, but since then he''d not seen any porcine animals apart from distant sightings of rockboar in the cliffs around the Lowpool.

    The small sansu orchard grew near enough to the house that Defi could navigate the path in the lightening dark. He entered through the kitchen yard.

    He flicked on themp that sat on the kitchen table, carried it to the slime room and started on the morning extraction and feeding.

    The morning''s efforts topped out the third quartels from Jar, Lar, and Mal. The others, barring Zav, still had several days to go before filling up their second quartels.

    He brought the Shyleaf from the underground storage and dumped fourteen kilogar of it into Turq''s feeding basket. He kept a kilogar for himself, curious about the taste. He''d add it to today''s lunch.

    The sun was peeking over the eastern mountains when Defi untied the scow from its moorings and started poling downriver. The wooden tubs for his daily supply of slime feed were empty and meticulously clean on the t bottom of the boat.

    By the time he docked, the sunlight illuminated the whole of the bustling marketce. The early fishing boats hade and gone, and theter ones were nearly finished unloading their catch.

    He took the tubs and strolled toward his usual suppliers. They should have sold enough crab and carp to feed a battalion by now.

    Sure enough, Grenia and Marte were busily selling thest of their supply. Grenia winked upon seeing him and gestured to the elderly man packing some of therger orders. Those orders were likely for trade in other towns, seeing theplicated preservation Emblems on the barrels and tubs.

    Defi caught the silver-haired man''s eye.

    "Good morn, elder," he greeted, in the Ascharonian manner. Though calling old people the equivalent of ''elder'' was moremon in Ontrea, it was also known as an expression of respect in Ascharon. "I am Defi. Shall I leave the tubs here?"

    The man eyed him without stopping his work, grunted in agreement, then seemingly ignored him to focus on stuffing chunks of silver-blue carp fillet into a cental-sized barrel.

    Defi put the tubs down, unconcerned with theck of words in the answer. Thetter stages of the dawn market were a busier time for everyone. More people were awake, more people came to acquire the day''s food.

    "I''lle backter," he called as he went off in search of breakfast. He made a beeline toward the grilled squid in starcherry sauce he''d discovered some weeks ago. The man had expanded, his wife now also joining him with battered and fried squid drizzled with the same sauce.

    Defi acquired one of each and sauntered through the market, munching on seafood.

    The grilled squid was smoky and tender, the fried squid had crunchy outsides and tender juicy insides. The tart starcherry mixed gloriously with the smoky vor of one and cut through the slight oiliness of the other.

    Delicious.

    He eyed a mound ofke herring in a basket. Seafood went well with Shyleaf in general, said the Simple Cookery journal, but it was a waste to use it with non-mystic ingredients.

    Well, his hybrid Shyleaf was nowhere near the pricelessness of the original, so it should be fine with the mostmon catch in theke.

    "Herring, young sir? Just eighteen rond a kilogar, fresh off the boat!"

    "A quartel," he told the woman.

    She called over a boy with a gesture while saying, "One quartel, five uds twenty, young sir."

    He paid the woman, handed the boy a few coins, saying, "Seven-twelve, private docks."

    The boy, possibly just five or so years younger than Defi, grinned toothily and hefted the barrel onto a shoulder to take to the scow which was at the twelfth berth of the seventh pier in the area set aside for small watercraft.

    There were four people he needed to amodate on the scow. With the tubs, it would be a little bit crowded if he added other things.

    He bought two kilogar of ms from the same woman for twenty-six rond and a half-kilogar of seaweed for three rond. They would make a good soup. He already had condiments in his kitchen and didn''t need to acquire more.

    Defi knew the basic arrangement of an Ascharonian table, which was several soups, several main dishes of meat or fish or vegetables, and several grains for each meal. Apanied by wines, fruits and cheeses, pickled foods, and various finger foods and pienti, the typical spread was substantial.

    For formal meals, the number of courses served had to be numbered in multiples of seven, with various themes, though the Shades and the seven colors were popr.

    He wasn''t so formal in what he intended to feed his students, but the soup-main-grain triplebination was invible even in informal matters.

    What to feed people varied with different considerations. For example, he''d been giving samad and bread to the workers, as Ascharonian hospitality demanded he feed them at least twice in the day.

    Karles took care of their main sustenance at least.

    He was now aware that at least once in the time that they''d been working for him, he must serve them wine. It signified that he was pleased with their work.

    He <em>was</em> pleased with the work done.

    Why must it be wine? He mourned his rapidly emptying moneypouch.

    There was a rant on ''eptable wines to be served'' by Marmocha that he could not forget as it ended in a brief Shade-enhanced scuffle between the assayer and Sarel.

    He still didn''t know who won that argument. He just knew that if a wine was even mentioned by any of the two, it would be expensive. Nothing less for their gourmet Ascharonian ptes. Their tongues were even more sensitive to wines and vor than his.

    There was no wine-shop in the Lowpool. The townspeople got their wines from the taverns or ordered it from the caravans.

    "Defi!"

    He turned at the familiar sound of the oldest of the orphanage''s children. Mureil had a grin on her face as she neared. Markar beside her looked aggravated and was trying to hide it.

    Defi smiled in greeting. "Good morning."

    Markar exhaled audibly. "They just butted in," heined, without context.

    "The more the merrier, right Arac?" Mureil looked at Defi hopefully. She looked a little sheepish. "There might be a few more people who wanted to join in"

    "A few?" Markar groaned. He eyed Defi. "Where''s Turq?"

    "At the house. How many?" Defi felt some dread at Markar''s reaction.

    Arac, Defi reminded himself. Markar was going by Arac now. His hair color had changed, from the dark brown-red to creamy golden locks.

    A paper-thin disguise. Renne and Markar had recognizable ears, and Bree had that crest of feathers on his head. Defi was aware there were dozens of rumors now flying up and down the Indar, and the Count''s illegitimate children were known to be werefolk but not what particr order of werefolk they were.

    A moment''s deeper look at the orphanage children by someone who had as much data as the count''s men would cause the ruse to fail.

    Then again, if they were all the caliber of Fretharic il Magmontthe ruse had a good chance ofstingst until Renne and Markar turned fifteen.

    Mureil turned to wave and a stream of young people rounded the corner of a building.

    "Ah." Defi saw Bree, renamed Fell, and with dark bluish hair in ce of the former golden brown, in the crowd beside Renne, renamed Elen, who had green hair.

    It was the whole orphanage and all their little friends. He felt a slight headache.

    "Is it not good?" Mureil looked slightly despondent.

    Defi was in the middle of the street, and they were all blocking the thoroughway. He pped his hands together once, for attention.

    "Those under the age of eleven do not yet have the physique, uh, the body for this training."

    There was a chorus of disappointment. Defi narrowed his eyes sternly and they subsided into grumbling.

    "I''m nearly eleven!"

    "No."

    The smaller children dispersed, leaving with slumped shoulders. The older orphanage preteens all huddled into a group, corralling the younger ones. To Defi''s surprise, they went obediently. Even Bree, who Renne and Markar would normally not let out of their sight, was gently chivvied toward the younger orphanage group.

    "Those of you above the age of fifteen," Defi began, "don''t you have work at this time?"

    Half of them looked mutinous, and one of the girls wearing the garb of a farmer answered. "We want another chance at the military selection. If you''re teaching swords, then some of us might have a shot at being granted officer candidacy."

    Defi sighed. "You can''t be an officer candidate on swordmanship alone. There''s a written examination."

    Reisei Larion, for some reason, had sent a letter with another offer to sponsor him into the military, had rambled a while on various things about the armed forces and a few anecdotes about Natanel.

    He had declined without reserve.

    Her reply had been humorous but after that, she hadn''t sent a letter again.

    "A chance greater than what we had before," murmured one of the boys.

    "Why the military?" Defi wanted to know.

    Ascharon was not a nation that was known to be militant in the current era. While proud of its imperial military heritage, Ascharon was currently and of peaceful people grown powerful because of ties to othernds through food and the food trade.

    "You should know," Defi continued, "that apart from the three-year tribute required from the general poption, the shortest amount of time you are required to enlist is ten years."

    There was a susurrus of whispers from the older group, slightly more hopeful faces. "Not twenty?"

    "A recent amendment." He parroted the words from Reisei Larion. How recent was it exactly, that it had not been announced by local military recruiters, Defi wondered in surprise. Well, the Imperial Household Guard <em>would</em> be privy to thetest news in the armed forces.

    "There are three ways to get out of this town," said one of the boys. "Join a caravan, be epted to university, or be recruited into the military. The first two are for people who have money. As for us, the military''s the only way."

    "Besides," one of the others shrugged. "It pays better than being a dockworker."

    "There is abat school in town," reminded Defi.

    Several people sneered. Others looked away. "You think they''d take us? We''re dockside brats. Combat school''s for hillside rich. We go there, they''ll raise tuition until we can''t afford it."

    Ah. Defi was silent for a few moments. Then he nodded. "You''ll join my current students for conditioning. You''re not to touch a weapon until I say so. You''ll work hard or leave."

    There was a cheer from the whole group.

    "Ah," said the farmer girl, hesistant. "The payment?"

    "I have a farm in need of a few holes." Defi answered with a smile. He could finally start on his zaziphos orchard.

    "What?"

    "But first, I''m heading to the tavern."

    The looks of doubt on the younger people''s faces brightened Defi''s morning.

    That was how Defi''s leisurely four-student ss got increased to seventeen people in total.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    Fifteen is the age of responsible adulthood in Ascharon. At this point, most children already have some idea of their future paths. Those who apprenticed with guilds at themon age of eleven or twelve are generally already senior apprentices at this age.

 Chapter 78: A Vital Milk

    Chapter 78: A Vital Milk

    A few people in the group looked furtive when Defi said he was going to the more central streets where Adan''s tavern was. "We''ll meet you at the docks."

    Defi nodded, notmenting at the reluctant look in their eyes. He gave them a few coins. "If you might, hire some scows to take everyone. I can''t fit all of us in one boat."

    How they dealt with their parents and guardians was not up to him, he decided. But he had to say something.

    "The training for sword and halberd will take a year for the basics alone. This is not an amount of time that would be conducive to hiding your activities. I already have the permission of the orphanage. Some of you are already adults, but I suggest transparency."

    There was a brief contemtive, slightly guilty, slightly annoyed silence.

    "Garge homestead, yes?" asked one, after a while.

    "Yes."

    "We''ll be there." Over half the people not associated with the orphanage scattered.

    The orphanage kids, now numbering six, and one girl who was of simr age, apanied Defi to the tavern, chatting merrily.

    Defi nced at the older three who did not scatter. The oldest of them was about his age, seemingly friends with the other male of the three. The girl dressed in sturdy farm clothing, a year or two younger than Defi, apanied them. He could see that she was not acquainted with the other two.

    "You three all want to join the military?"

    "Yes, teacher. Both of us do." The oldest of the three answered, his voice deep and calm. "As for the miss, I don''t know."

    "Just Defi, not teacher. We''re about the same age."

    The girl shrugged. "Soldier sounds better than farmborer. I''ll be an officer, those people better wait." Herst words were slightly strained. She calmed herself and continued, "You can all call me Josel."

    "Boone."

    "Vesen." Boone''s friend''s voice was a soft tenor. He smiled at them brightly, pped Boone''s shoulder. "I''m just following this idiot. But weapons are not a bad thing to learn." He pointed his chin at the girl who was not an orphanage kid,ughing with Muriel. "My younger sister Sedni. I want her to be able to protect herself."

    Defi was used to gatherings of a hundred people. Making small talk with new acquaintances was not difficult while he thought over the information they shared. Everyone appeared to have their own reasons for seeking instruction with an untried teacher as young as he was.

    Seventeen people was arge ss by weapon-training standards.

    By the Creator, why did he agree to this?

    He consoled himself with the thought that some parents would not agree to his teaching when they got word of his youth. Not to mention, some of the students would drop out after seeing the flexibility and speed conditioning routine he was going to put them all through.

    He smiled inwardly.

    These students of his were going to nt his zaziphos orchard for him. That was good enough payment for some weeks of conditioning and basics.

    After that, if he could cut the number of people in half, it would allow him more time to focus on those who havemitted themselves to learning.

    "What are you doing in the tavern anyway?" Josel asked, crossing her arms.

    "Buying wine. For the workers." He rified when her brows furrowed. "They did good work thisst month."

    "You''re actually farming the Garge homestead?" Boone looked concerned.

    Defi shook his head, already anticipating their reaction. "I rebuilt the warehouse to raise slimes."

    True enough, they looked disbelieving and even more doubtful of him than before.

    Josel''s brow quirked. "You''re not some crazy rich noble, are you?"

    From the group ahead, Renne who was now Elen snickered when she heard that. "If he was rich," she called back, "his house would have stuff in it."

    "My house is fine," he responded quickly, then backtracked a bit as he recalled thements on his dcor of the central hall. "Maybe slightly less than fine, but I have things."

    "Note that he didn''t refute the ''crazy'',"mented Markar who was now Arac. The younger group fell into giggles.

    Heughed with them.

    Being known as slightly entric was as good a cover as any for the cultural and social gaffes he was still prone to making.

    Maybe he could ask Marmocha if he could source a book or journal on Ascharonian etiquette. Een had attempted to get him to read what she called ''improving'' books when she was still in town. He had ignored her at the time but because of her grandiose speeches, he was certain there were at least a few tomes on the subject that were easy to acquire.

    It would help at least a little.

    He wasn''t hopeful that it would fix much however. He knew that Ontrean etiquette books were too generalized that truth was lost. They were only for younger readers, and did not delve into the intricacies of arge part of what people grew up learning at home. Most of Ontrean etiquette was passed down by words and actions of elder family members.

    Unspoken rules, ancientws, historical traditions. Much of them too delicate to be depicted in the indelible and unsubtle ck and white that was a book.

    Ascharonian etiquette manuals would undoubtedly be the same. It was an advantage of each strata of society to have secret knowledge and ways of doing things that set people apart from others and brought simr people together. To put such things in a book would throw every hierarchical society into chaos.

    A world where people were not demarcated by their mores?

    Impossible.

    It would not survive.

    The street devolved into the corner building that housed Adan and Rocso''s tavern. It was a littlete for most taverns to be open, but Rocso liked to wait until the dawn market was closed before closing his kitchen. Most of his customers at this hour of the morning were fishers from the boats eating before they went home for the day or went out again.

    In any case, most taverns didn''t serve a full menu like this particr one did.

    At the front of the tavern, Adan nodded at their group from where he was sweeping the front. He noticed Defi. "Why the frown so early in the morning?"

    "I realized I didn''t know the name of your tavern."

    Adanughed quietly. "The sign was taken down years ago. Officially, it''s Isistra''s."

    "Most people just call it the Corner Tavern," said Boone.

    "Eating?" Adan swirled his stickbrush broom along the cobbles.

    Defi was about to say no, when he remembered that it was early. "Have you all eaten?"

    "Yes." Was the chorus.

    Defi gestured at them, in answer to Adan. "I''m here for wine. Hm, Clossur Madine or House Z?"

    Sarel had insulted both of those names with grand disdain, but he felt that if he suggested one of her picks, he might be stuck paying for a wine that only the imperial kitchens could afford.

    Adan snorted. "The Madine''s six crescents a bottle. As for the other one, this isn''t some noble salon. As my fathermonly says, what ya take us for?"

    Marmocha, Sarel, why not argue about ordinary wine? It would be more useful than the unpronounceable wines you were fighting over

    "Do you have a suggestion?"

    Adan paused. "Ah, you know Sarel, I now recall. What else did she suggest?"

    "Zamen Rakarlo Zobec, Familie Evifervel?"

    His brows rose. "What for?"

    "The builders at the homestead."

    "Work-well wine?" Adan looked greatly amused. He leaned his broom on the wall of the tavern. "Come. I feel I should stop you before you gain a habit of wasting money on drink."

    He stepped into the tavern.

    Defi shrugged at the others. Adan was more talkative than usual. Was it the early morning?

    He and the others followed.

    "Young Defi!" Rocso, about to step into the kitchen, spied him and gave his usual smirking wee. "Early delivery ore for food?"

    "Good morn, elder. Milk, please." He made a gesture that epassed all hispanions. "Vital milk, if you have it."

    "Of course," Rocso put an insulted expression on his face. "This is a ce for family. My son, where are your manners, get them to sit down!"

    He disappeared into the kitchen.

    Vital milk was just vital water mixed with fermented milk from cows or goats.

    A cup of cold milk before and after training was something some of the instructors in Ontrea swore by. Defi did not precisely know how effective it was, but The Home-maker''s Journal mentioned that fermented milk, called yoghurt, cultured in vats and stirred to creamy liquid after cooling, was a more nourishing drink than ordinary milk. It also kept longer and was cheaper by halfpared to fresh milk. The journal rmended it for growing children.

    Adan waved them to one of therger tables. He ducked into the bar and started collecting bottles.

    It was quiet in the tavern. Uncharacteristic from other times Defi was here.

    The ce was nearly empty, only three or four people slurping soups inside. The drunks had been collected and tossed snoring into a corner  the tavern owners would wake them and kick them out when they closed.

    Rocso appeared at the table with an armful of cups and arge ceramic jug. He deftly poured and distributed the cups, sliding them across the table to rest before each person.

    "Ah, you don''t have to" Vesen waved his arms, indicating the table.

    "This is a training method too," refuted Defi. "It is a known method of bolstering muscles and bones while training."

    "Really?" Elen asked. "You didn''t give us milk before though."

    "I was looking for a source." Actually he hadn''t thought of it. With just four students in the same age bracket and a simr level of physique, he could afford a more rxed training schedule. In addition, the children would never have been allowed to leave the orphanage without Aire feeding them.

    This was his solution for the fact that when he asked if everyone had eaten, all of the four people who were not connected to the orphanage had lied.

 Chapter 79: The Price of Wine

    Chapter 79: The Price of Wine

    Defi understood that they did not want to inconvenience him, but he had already said he would have them master the basics and advance to adept in one year. If they were skipping the morning meal before the exertions he was going to put them through, the efficacy of the training would drop.

    That would have only made more work for him.

    In any case, the health of the student was part of the teacher''s duties as well.

    He sipped from the cup in front of him.

    Vital milk tasted of a sour creaminess that was refreshing, and when it reached the belly there was a gentle heat that persisted for a few seconds before slowly dissipating.

    It was delicious.

    In the corner of his eye, he saw Vesen tip at least half his cup into his little sister''s.

    He didn''tment, already mentally adding vital milk to his daily morning''s purchases. It would not be toorge a burden.

    Yoghurt was cheap, at ten rond per half-litr, and plentiful. In unexpected addition, a miraculous liquid like vital water was only one ud per litr.

    Ontrean alchemists would have cheerfully cut off an arm for a single bottle, if vital water was allowed to be traded through the Gates.

    Defi thanked the imperial family silently. If they did not set a standard price for the sale their vital water, he would likely be seeing more of his money flow away right now.

    The mystic springs that produced most of Ascharon''s vital water were controlled by the imperial family. The mandated low price of vital water within the empire was one of the reasons why the emperor had a firm ce in the hearts of the average citizen.

    Defi could afford eighteen cups of vital milk a day if it meant his farm was finally to be a little more self-sufficient.

    To nt zaziphos, the hole needs to be slightly over one mar deep to amodate the long roots of the saplings. The diameter of the hole needs to be two mar, for the initial fertilized soil and theyer of Emblem-carved rocks that would help prevent zaziphos from growing too fast.

    For the trees to be able to fruit all year round, care needed to be taken during the initial steps. The Emblems on the rocks would change with certain milestones.

    Sarel had promised that two hundred saplings would be ready for nting on the month of Second Fall. Defi needed to have two hundred deep andrge holes ready in a month. He could not do that by himself.

    Rocso turned to Defi, after having studied the table inscrutably. He''d recognized Renne, of course. A grin grew beneath the carefully kept grey of his beard. "Your friends are interesting."

    He said it in a leading tone. People of different ages did not simply group together without reason.

    "They wanted to learn basicbat." Defi obliged. "I''d like if it wasn''t noised around."

    Rocsoughed. "You? Hm, if the stories they tell about you are even half-true, I suppose you could."

    "Stories?" Defi frowned inwardly.

    "Most of them don''t know your name or face, so don''t worry about it." Rocso by now knew Defi preferred to remain in the background. "Too unrecognizable without Turq, you are."

    That was a good thing.

    Still, it was incredible that Rocso could pick Defi out of a tangle of gossip just from description. As expected of a former army scout who ran a ce where loose lips abounded.

    "How is Rock?"

    Rocso pointed, with a grin. "Best pet guard in the world."

    On the shelf above the bar, a blue-green slime, slightlyrger than Lar who was the biggest of Defi''s slimes, watched over the tavern. The slime Defi had given Rocso was thriving, it seemed.

    "I suppose next year''s spring recruitment will have more Lowpool candidates."

    Defi gave a small shrug. "That is their prerogative."

    If the others took what they learned from him and joined the military, that was eptable in the traditions of Ontrea. If they did not choose the military, then farmers or schrs were also encouraged.

    Should he incline the younger ones toward university? From what he read, the current emperor was encouraging educational opportunities for those who could not normally afford tuition.

    He sighed inwardly.

    At this point, all his acquaintances knew he could fight. To teach others was not a stretch of the imagination. He wanted to keep it quiet, which is why four people from the orphanage did not unduly trouble him. It appeared the children were more talkative than he thought.

    He had been a quiet person at their age, and most of his interactions with people of the same age as him were also restrained. Defi revised his thinking. Not all children were like him.

    He would have preferred that they kept quiet, but to be so exuberant about life, to openly offer what they had to friends so others could benefit as well, it was a thing to nurture wasn''t it?

    Well, the training would instill some caution in them.

    Adan dropped six bottles of varied shape onto the table, breaking Defi''s introspection. The bottles made multiple thunking sounds as they hit the wooden surface.

    Defi acknowledged silently that Ascharon ss was durable.

    "This is your average Gasconel," Adan started, lifting the lone ceramic jug he''d brought among the ss bottles. "From the Gasconach region in the south-west. One ud, sixty rond for this litr. Good enough for most gatherings, drinkable enough for most people, suitable for most ordinary asions. Anything less than this, it''s swill."

    Where did I hear that before, Defi thought dryly.

    Adan pulled the cork plug out of the mouth of the jug. His hand glowed a faint purplish blue and Defi suddenly found his senses deluged by the scent and taste of wine.

    Defi leaned back at the sudden assault. Josel did the same, her nose crinkling and her brows furrowing. Boone inhaled and Vesenughed.

    The orphanage kids coughed or covered their mouths. Alvis, twelve years old if Defi recalled her name correctly, nearly choked. He patted her back and nced at Orlet, the youngest at eleven years. The boy, apart from pressing his hands to his nose and mouth, seemed to be fine.

    "My Shade is Air," Adan said. "Apologies for the abruptness, but I won''t waste my breath here."

    Rocso snorted from his seat. He''d been surprised when Adan started talking, but his expression gradually grew entertained. There was a fondness under his silentughter though. There was a story there, somewhere.

    Adan red at his father briefly. "There''s better Gasconel than this, but this one is a respectable everyday wine. Good for most tables."

    Defi breathed deeply, and the scent and taste lessened. He nced at the children, who quickly caught his prompt. Well, Arac did, and quickly told the others.

    He savored a taste he hadn''t had in months. Low quality wine, inparison to what he was used to, but tolerable.

    Better than the ''aperitif'' that the people in Stahlchausses insisted was wine.

    Infinitely better than Falie''s suirberry ''wine''.

    Adan corked the Gasconel and the presence of it vanished from Defi''s tongue.

    The man lifted one of the onion-shaped ss bottles on the table. "This is one of the best Vonish on the market. From the west, the Vone river valley. One ud sixty for this bottle. Better than most of the cheap sluice-water people are calling wine. If you have a good day, this is the wine to drink."

    The onion-shaped bottle contained about a half-litr of wine. Adan uncorked it, activated his Shade, and once more the scent and taste of wine invaded the senses of those seated at the table.

    Defi, expecting it now, inhaled. He swallowed reflexively. There was nothing particrly characteristic about the wine, apart from the fact that it was distinct from the Gasconel and smoother in taste. He suspected it was Adan''s objective anyhow.

    The children fared better than the first time, not one of them coughing.

    Adan nced at Defi. "This is the level of what people ought to serve as work-well wine."

    The bottle was corked and the next was lifted. The bottle was also onion-shaped and of simr size but it was better made and, unlike the other which was only stamped with words that stated its origins, it was stamped with a sigil.

    Rocso stood and quickly acquired a decanter and a winecup. Adan looked like he was attempting not to sigh at his father, but he obediently decanted the wine, pouring from a height. The scent spread faintly even without Adan''s Shade.

    "This is House Ombrose wine. The vinyard is in the northern Gasconach region, near the Deverage river, and their grapes are said to be hybrids of the Imperial strain. This is wine for celebrations, special asions. Eight ud for this bottle."

    Adan''s hand glowed purple-blue over the decanter and Defi savored the full-bodied aroma of a decent red, vors of fruit spreading across his tongue. The wine had some age and presented itself boldly, slightly intense, a hint of harshness.

    "If you serve something less than this to pompous merchants, they won''t do business with you." Rocso put in.

    A snort and a twist of Adan''s hand, the illusion of taste and smell disappeared.

    "Chossur Madine produces two wines." They moved on to the next bottle of wine. The bottle was not onion-shaped, but a slightly bulbous cylinder about the same half-litr in volume. "If you''re looking to impress a noble, this isn''t the one you go for. But of the wines avable under ten crescents a bottle, this is one of the best. <em>Chossur Madine Ordaine.</em> Suitable for all asions, and sufficiently imposing for distinguished guests."

    Rocso cut in, winking at the table. "If you have the other variety, don''t waste it on other people."

    Adan uncorked the bottle, continued as if Rocso had not spoken. "Their vines grow in the east of the maind, on the banks of the Emeril river. The wines from that region are particrly known for the hint of lingering sweet earthiness in the aftertaste."

    It would not stand amiss on a table in most court gatherings of Ontrea, Defi thought as once again his nose and tastebuds were forcefully made to experience the wine. A good wine, bnced, and like Adan said the taste would meld well with a wide range of food and ptes.

    Adan crossed his arms. "Formon wines, these four are the least you need to understand to cover all asions. The House Z that you mentioned earlier is a good wine, but there are others better than it at the same price; Dambarus for instance. Note thatmon wines rarely are sold over twenty crescents barring certain vintages. Zamen Rakarlo, Evifervel, Chossur Belnaret, Agvosten, those are considered the best of themon wines, but tastes vary."

    "Three of those are imports," Rocso smirked. "So if you''re buying one to bribe some military officer, choose the Belnaret. For imperial solidarity, you know."

    "When ites to wine, don''t choose based on the name or bottle. Bottles can be changed, people lie. But you won''t forget taste and scent," Adan looked at them, eyes intense. He did not wait for their agreement. "Then let us move to the next level."

    Josel blinked as her eyes took in the next bottle, a realization on her face. Defi''s eyes followed hers.

    What was the taste, he wondered in anticipation, of a mystic wine?

    "There are three mystic wines that people say embody the history and wholeness of Ascharon. More likely, it is only that there are three mystic wines produced in thends of Ascharon. The rest of the mystic wine sold in the empire is grown by other nations. This tavern is fortunate enough to have gained samples from two of Ascharon''s mystic wines. Your luck is good, that you havee to buy wine today."

    The next bottle had a smaller onion shape than the others, but the neck of the bottle was long and tall, over twice the height of the bulbous bottom, the ss enameled in white. The cork looked like the wine had been opened before.

    Adan uncorked it with a simple introduction. "This is Southern Snow White Wine."

    The vor of the white wine nketed Defi''s senses, a concentrated freshness, the aroma sweet and light. And yet, it was the vor of a conqueror.

    Thirst disappeared, and a chill swept the body. The sky was swept free of clouds and stars, and pale silken moonlight shone indifferently over a silent distantndscape covered in snow and rime.

    The Current, rushing and strong, gentled and slowed, calmed to a serenity Defi had not felt in a long while.

    And then that cold serenity vanished with a wave of Adan''s hand.

    The table was silent.

    Adan prepared thest bottle. It was cylindrical in shape, narrow and tall, a dark red bottle with the sigil enameled in ebony. "This is Ash Ind Bloodwine."

    Defi had barely recovered from the previous illusion, when the vor and fragrance of the bloodwine burrowed into his tastebuds, into his flesh and bones as if seeking everyst avable crevice to sink in the darkly smooth velvet essence of the finest grapes.

    Exquisite.

    That lingering fragrance

    He had to forcibly prevent the Current from surging with the vigor thrumming through his veins.

    It was an illusion, he reminded himself.

    Just an illusion.

    What illusion could be so realistic that the Current reacted?

    Air, Indigo Airassociated with great intuition, ability to see the unseen

    Defi snapped his eyes open.

    and telepathicmunication.

    He quickly roused the Current to reinforce his mental barriers.

    Stupid, he berated himself. Idiot, ignorant, fool!

    Defi, who had trained for years to resist the possible influence of others'' emotions on the Current, was mentallypromised and didn''t notice. Witless, oblivious moron!

    He swept the Current around the table, bringing the others out of the delightful trance the mental experience of the illusion brought them.

    He quickly did the familiar mental checks. No lingering influences, no subtle suggestions, only the concrete memory of having drank several wines, indelible experiences.

    He red at Adan, who was regarding him curiously. "Is itmon to teach others by reaching into their minds?"

    Adan had a visible realization, looked apologetic. "I was taught about wines like this. There is no other effect but the simted experience in the shallowestyers of the mind. Mental influence to the deeper mind requires a greater mastery of Air than I have."

    "I only have your word."

    "Yes." Adan''s smile was a wry quirk of the lips. "You can ask Sarel, if you are worried still. The mystic dishes that cleanse the deeper mind of undue influence would be simple for her."

    Defi rxed marginally. There was no falsehood in the man. He metaphorically fenced off the recent wine memories, keeping them only because they were useful, and rxed even more when there was no resistance, no conflict. They seemed just that, simple memories of wine-tasting.

    Adan eyed him, then returned his attention to the whole table, putting the bottles in order. "The third of the mystic wines native to Ascharon, you might have heard of. It''s known as Kingstear, and only the emperor can hand it out. I have been told that it is ten times more overwhelming than the bloodwine you just experienced, and a single cup a day can support a body without eating for a whole year before a person''s vitality starts to falter."

    Without another word, he took the bottles and left the table.

    Defi discreetly took a deep breath, putting his thoughts to the back of his head forter contemtion.

    "I didn''t think he''d be so odd," Elen muttered, not quietly enough.

    "Adan is normally not this talkative." Defi agreed.

    Rocso''s lips curled up briefly, faint and wistful. "Today is the anniversary of my wife''s death. Her family were wine-makers."

    He took up the decanter that had been standing untouched on the table for thest quarter-hour and poured his first cup near to flowing over. He took a sip, then made a familiar gesture, one that old Farbar made constantly. Rocso offered the cup to the person next to him, who happened to be Josel.

    She had some aversion to wine, taverns, maybe just intoxicating drinks, Defi knew from earlier reactions. She wavered, but took the cup, raised it briefly and took a tiny sip. She gave it quickly to Boone, who sat on her other side.

    A ritual of remembrance for the dead? Defi watched as the cup made its way around the table, to him. The contents were greatly diminished. He lifted it as the others did, took a sip, and gave it to Adan who had just returned.

    Adan did the same, and gave the cup back to Rocso, who drained it.

    "Which wine are you buying?" Adan turned to Defi.

    "Not the Madine."

    The wine the old couple left him was on the level of the Gasconel. He should buy a few bottles to replenish his empty wine cab.

    But not today.

    A ten-litr cask of good Vonish cost him thirty two uds. It was enough for the whole group working on the warehouse. Rocso rmended a separate purchase for the leader of the builders, so Defi acquired a bottle of the Ombrose for Karles.

    He also bought two bottles of vital milk, which were standardized at one litr volume per bottle, enough for eight cups.

    After acquiring what he needed from the tavern, Defi and ten people who were tentatively his students headed for the docks.

    The corners of his lips lifted.

    Now he would see how many of the rest had actually acquired permission to reorganize their future and be taughtbat techniques by an unknown person.

 Chapter 80: Are We Going Back?

    Chapter 80: Are We Going Back?

    There was only one person waiting for them at the docks.

    Boone nced at the person who was allegedly a sword-master. He''d heard from Vesen''s sister of the person willing to teach orphanage children the sword, but he didn''t think the person to be the same age as him.

    He''d been skeptical of Sedni''s ims but her friend Muriel, who Boone knew was aiming to volunteer for the yearly recruitment the moment she was fifteen, had talked of her teacher with stars of admiration in her eyes.

    Seeing the age of this teacher, Boone was even more doubtful.

    The only reason he had not left yet, was the fact that the one who called himself Defi did not brag about his prowess or induce them to be his students with promises of strength or fame or fortune.

    He simply told them he wanted them tomit, and that to learn the basics of the halberd and sword would take one year.

    Willing to trade sword lessons with farm work?

    That was too suspicious. What was this, the beginning of some adventure story?

    He had seen a swordmaster to a merchant''s son once. His father was still alive and took Boone traveling south to visit rtives in Tond, paying passage with a trade caravan going the same way.

    He''d seen the so called swordmaster strut and order the guards about, had seen the back of the fine silk-lined wool cloth fluttering as its owner spurred his horse down the road to leave the caravan to bandits.

    Boone had never forgotten. They''d been lucky the bandits were only interested in ransom.

    He nced to the side. When there was only one person who returned of the prospective students who left, the one called Defi had the same expression of unreadable cordiality as before.

    He did not appear to be disappointed that the others did not appear.

    "You are?" asked the alleged sword teacher.

    "I''m Mally, Mury if you want me to call you ''mother''," said the person waiting, smiling brightly. He gave a few rond coins to Defi. "Mureil''s a friend from school. I got three boats but a girl took one and went ahead."

    "Who''s a friend, you?" Sedni''s friend Mureil burst out. There was aggravation in both her tone and stance. Sedni looked exasperated.

    The boy called Mally smirked, ran a hand through his hair, all the cockiness of a fourteen-year old. "Who wouldn''t be friends with me, lovely?"

    He was the grandson of one of the councilors, Boone now remembered. One of the brats Vesenined about hanging over his little sister.

    Mureil turned to Defi. "If there was a girl, she probably left because of him."

    "Oi!" Mally sniffed. "She did not. Some people are just rude. I was in the middle of talking abou--"

    Mureil interrupted. "She definitely did."

    Defi onlyughed briefly. "Let''s go then."

    Boone watched two of the orphanage kids help secure the cask of wine in what he supposed was the other''s scow, seeing as it was already halfden with wooden tubs and packages, before he jumped onto one of the hired boats and took up the pole.

    Twelve people mbered into the three scows and they were off.

    "Wait!" There came a faint call, breathless, from the dockside. "I''ming too!"

    Boone, whose scow had some space because it held most of the smaller people, stopped himself from pushing off the pier. A tiny body flung itself into the boat, threw up its arms, and grinned at Boone.

    "I made it!"

    Booneughed at the boy''s antics and only hoped this sword-teacher was the real thing, if only not to disappoint that face that was full of hope and cheerfulness.

    He braced the pole against the pier and pushed off. The two others scows were ahead. His back twinged in pain. Boone ignored it.

    An injury to his back and shoulder had caused the dockboss to free Boone of responsibility for this day and the day after, and he''d decided to see this sword-master was the real thing.

    He didn''t want to admit it, but he was nearly desperate. He was eighteen, at the age where people were starting to look for spouses. Most of the more fortunate people would be advancing in their various trades by now, but not him.

    He was a dockworker. The only advancement avable was to work until one of the dockbosses retired and there was a spot to fill, or join a fishing crew and rise in ranks to someday own a fishing boat himself.

    The problem was that Boone became seasick during prolonged periods over deep water. For fisher-crews who sometimes stayed for days on theke, Boone was not a desirable crewmember.

    He did not want to be a dockworker forever.

    His mother was pregnant. His teeth ground together at the remembrance of the fact, and he forcibly dug the pole into the river bottom, trying to rx himself. His father had died seven years ago, leaving them with his younger brother just birthed.

    He''d understand if his mother married again, but she did not.

    Boone''s current wage of thirty ronds a day as a dockworker was barely sufficient to feed his mother and younger brother. Much of the daily costs were borne by his sister and brother-inw.

    Ilma was a dockworker as well, and her husband was crew on a fishing boat called the Gasperone. It was one of the fisher guild''s ships, so even if advancement was slow, the work was steady.

    Even with the nine ud that was the weekly wage of a fisher, his brother-inw could not support his wife''s mother, youngest brother and a baby, in addition to his own family.

    Boone''s sister and her husband had been nning to have a child in the most auspicious year after their marriage. It would be bad luck to miss that year, which was the year after next.

    By then, Boone hoped to have established himself in a profession that had options for advancement. The military was that path, the only path open. As a poor dockside brat, he had no other prospects than that.

    The military was a steady source of ie, in any case. The conflict in the Jebrimean penins had been sparked again and again for thest forty years, and likely will do the same for the next forty. The soldier pay had been raised again, to eleven ud fifty a week.

    If he passed the recruitment process and assigned directly to apany without being sent to the training camps, the amount should be enough to lessen the burden on his sister''s shoulders.

    If he died as a soldier on a long-term contract, the army would give two year''s pay to the soldier''s family as bereavementpensation.

    If he knew how to wield a sword, he would have a greater chance to be promoted to sergeant, with a pay of fourteen ud a week. Maybe he would be able to gain his younger brother an apprenticeship, with a bit of saving up.

    He had never been more than average at school, so he knew had no chance of gaining an officer position higher than sergeant. The next rank, the vice-captaincy, was given to soldiers who could pass an examination. In other words, the higher ranks were limited to those of wealth who could afford better education.

    A sword teacher for anyone wishing to enter the military was a godsend, if said teacher really could teach.

    He nced at Vesen.

    His friend had been orphaned just a year ago, his mother was swept off the deck of the Sea Wisp in a bad summer storm. Vesen had not recovered yet despite the cheerful faade he kept up for Sedni, his younger sister.

    He''d been surprised when Vesen apanied him, his friend had stirred in interest for the first time in months.

    Boone was hopeful, but realistic.

    He''d heard of the current owner of the Garge homestead, of course. The docks were buzzing about the giant slimes for months. Neers were always fodder for fresh gossip, and if you knew where to look there was a lot of gossip about Defi of the Garge homestead.

    The slime farmer was said to have buried smugglers and decimated a line of troops with the swing of a de, in other talks he was the rtive of a cooking sage who was hidden for his own good, in others a liar who forced Leraine and Kern to hand over theirnd for peanuts, in yet others a summoner who was too weak to summon more than a slime, or some drifter who would leave sooner orter anyway.

    Boone eyed the loose linen trousers, tucked into soft leather boots, and the fitted wool coat. His skin was kissed a light bronze by the sun, and his hair and eyes were dark.

    He looked innocuous, the averagemon citizen of the empire.

    Which of the rumors would he believe?

    He listened to the boy the same age as him who professed to teach them weapons talk with the others, easily maintaining a conversation with multiple people even if there was sometimes shouting across the water when the distances between the boats increased.

    The other acted like an old man, Boone realized, his choices of phrase sometimes slightly old-fashioned. Hisposed and quietly sociable demeanor despite Vesen and Mally''s almost rude questions did not help the impression.

    It was for some reason reassuring.

    Boone decided to watch until he was certain of the other.

    If this Defi was a fraud, well, the docks had hardened his fists.

    *

    "You!" cried Josel, anger growing on her features upon recognizing the girl waiting for them on the docks.

    The girl peered at her, looking slightly horrified. "Chelua damn me. The years haven''t changed you at all."

    "It''s been less than a year," growled Josel as she leaped off the scow and caught the line thrown at her. "What are you doing here, Cote?"

    "Same thing as you, I imagine," responded the other with a look of sudden distaste.

    Joselughed. "No, really."

    "If you don''t believe the answer, why ask?"

    "Thedy of the town school, wanting to learn the sword? The sun rose in the west this morning."

    Boone eyed Defi, who was ignoring the spat.

    "Not going to stop them?"

    "I''ve learned that in situations like this, it''s best to leave women to their entertainment."

    Boone smirked. "Weak."

    Defi''s lips curled slightly, and Boone felt a shiver at the sight of the faint smile.

    *

    An hourter, Boone was leaning against a tree in the homestead with twelve others, groaning as muscles he did not know existed protested the exercise he had put them through.

    Defi distributed cups of water, looking as fresh as morning dew.

    Boone red at him as he tossed back the water and held out the cup for a refill. "What did you just have us do?"

    "An exercise to increase the flexibility of the muscles and joints, and to teach the vitality of the body how to move when in battle. It''s needed before everyone touches the practice weapons."

    "What? You can''t move vitality, it''s just there."

    "But Shade can be controlled."

    "That''s different."

    "Why? Shade is part of the power of the body, and nothing I''ve read says it''s separate from vitality. Therefore, you might say that Shade is just the excess vitality that people don''t need for the functioning of the body."

    Boone had an epiphany. It sounded the same as what the teachers in school said, he''d just never heard it put that way. Or did they? Tsk, he''d stopped school four years ago. He might misremember.

    He sipped his water, thoughtful. Refining control of Shade gave a person ess to Shade-abilities. His Shade was Red me. It was the most numerous Shade ording to statistics, the next being Orange Earth, then Yellow Sunlight.

    The Shade-ability of Red me was body-heat control, which was useful in winter and summer but not much else.

    Boone only got control of that thisst spring. He spent the summer in delight, being able to cool his body down slightly when under the hot sun.

    Did Defi mean that in one year, everyone here would be able to refine control of their Shade to use it in battle? That would be impossible, right? The two youngest brats in the group were eleven years old.

    If Shade-abilities were manifested at the age of twelve, the town would support whoever prodigy that was in applying to a schrium in Ecthys or an apprenticeship to one of the major guilds.

    But now that his muscles were cooling down, he could feelwas his Shade just a bit more responsive?

    Impossible.

    He was hallucinating.

    "Should you be telling people about the vitality thing?" He murmured the question, just in case.

    There was a flicker of something in Defi''s eyes, and the other inclined his head. "It''smon knowledge in certain circles."

    Huh, that meant the toffs and the money men keeping things from themoners didn''t it? Typical. Boone pushed off the tree. "Well, I''m good. What''s next?"

    Defi smiled, dropped Boone''s cup along with thedle into the rope-handled barrel of water, then turned to the others. "As everyone''s rested, twelve and under will be picking starcherries, the rest will be digging holes."

    Apart from the two boys aged eleven, there were four twelve year olds from the orphanage. Boone watched as Defi assigned two of them apiece to arge basket, distributed digging tools to the rest of them and then started to lead them west.

    He studied the old spade in his hands, the metal head on it nearly half-gone with keeping the edge sharp. "This thing''s older than the mayor."

    Vesen, beside him, swung an equally old pick over his shoulder. "What a refreshing morning!"

    "Hm." Boone looked up that the sun still climbing the sky. It was a past midmorning already.

    They came across a patch of slightly sloping countryside already marked with sticks delineating the size of the holes and the distance from each other. The markers spread wide over the mounds and hillocks. How many holes were needed? Boone wondered. A hundred? Two?

    Was this Defi attempting to exploit theirbor for this?

    But then he wouldn''t have looked so earnest in teaching what he called flexibility exercises.

    "Well, that doesn''t look refreshing at all," Vesen groaned, looking at the sea of markers sticking up out of the ground.

    Eight people of thirteen years to eighteen, digging in various degrees of enthusiasm, only managed to finish five holes in an hour.

    "What in Chel are you burying?" Mally was looking miserably at his hands, which were threatening to blister once they finished.

    "Trees," came the imperturbable answer.

    Josel nced at him. "You''re growing fruit?"

    Defi shook his head. "I''m raising slimes. The trees are for slime food."

    "Are you crazy?"

    "Not at all."

    Boone felt the other was a little crazy, just the same. Who raised slimes? He watched as Defi ran them through the flexibility exercises once again, after they washed and put away the tools.

    "You need to do this every morning. Once you memorize the forms well enough that you can do the entire series on your own, we''ll start on halberds."

    "Not swords?"

    "The halberd is the main weapon of the Imperial army. Even officers carry one, or some other kind of pole-arm. Learning the halberd is more beneficial to those entering the military. The style I''m teaching can be used with staves, for those who do not wish to join the army. The sword willeter."

    Boone helped carry food to the workers, and watched as the men and women working on the slime pen weed Defi enthusiastically.

    Or maybe it was just the wine

    Later, poling one of three scows full of tired children back down river, Vesen nudged his own scow closer to Boone''s. "So? Are we going back?"

    Josel nced at them, having chosen Boone''s scow because it was furthest from the one with the girl named Cote.

    Boone gathered his thoughts.

    He was slightly jealous, he decided, that someone his age could seem so confident in their life, so calm in walking toward the future.

    He''d watched the other and it did not seem that he was perpetrating a fraud. Defi had watched them struggle through the exercises, walking through the group, making corrections and small encouragements. Watched them so closely during the hole-digging that Boone was half-certain it was part of the teaching as well.

    The builders had weed him withughter, and they had been interacting with him for nearly a month now.

    Defi had fed them as well, a good mid-day meal before farewelling them. He had noted the jugs of vital milk the other had bought for whoever returned that had not apanied them to the tavern.

    Boone decided that Defi did not appear to be a bad person.

    He was sincere, Boone realized, in his teaching.

    That was not something that a person who would cheat students would do. He might have other motives, but he taught purely.

    Boone was still notpletely certain. But if ''are they going to return'' was the only question, then his gut had an answer.

    "Yes. We''re going back."

    It would be a good thing.

    **

    **

    <strong>Disimer:</strong>

    The thoughts of the characters are not necessarily the beliefs of the author.

    <strong>Notes:</strong>

    The Ascharonians believe that there is an auspicious year after marriage that would bring good luck to their first child. To miss that year would be unfortunate for their firstborn.

    Clossur  an old Abrechal term for vinyard.

    Zamen  in thenguage native to the far west of Ascharon, means a ''noble domain''. The same term in Ascharonian is ''demesne''.

    [Curiously, the value of the Ascharonian bronze coin, the ud, in the year D678, to my thoughts, is fairly simr to the value of the coin named ''shilling'' of the Earthen nation Ennd in the year 1750. However, considering the differences in the growth of worlds, I expect the simrity to diverge sooner orter.  from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions.]

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 81: A Superlative Product

    Chapter 81: A Supetive Product

    Defi stood on the pier, watching three boats move downriver carrying thirteen people who have decided to call themselves his students.

    Mostly decided, he corrected himself. He saw the uncertainty in many of them.

    If half of them returned for a month, it would still be fine.

    He retrieved Turq from the house before turning his boat toward Sarel''s.

    Today was a delivery day.

    Defi would have liked to have the others pick zaziphos for him, but it would be more than impolite to bring thirteen people to the house of a hermit without permission.

    He would have to convince the woman that he was fit enough to pick a few baskets. It''s not like the work was difficult.

    He stretched, feeling muscles hum in contentment. It had been some time since he had done the Guiding Forms himself.

    How nostalgic.

    Turq bounced onto the bench beside him, dropping off Defi''s shoulder.

    He''d been a little disappointed that with fourteen kilogar of hybrid Shyleaf, Turq had not split a new slime. But he felt that Turq was close to the threshold now, when it didn''t feel like so before.

    He wondered if he could reliably measure the amount of vitality needed for a slime to split. If he did that, then possibly he could popte the warehouse with split slimes instead of carefully choosing which wild slime would not produce toxic extract.

    Then again, wild slimes could bring new things to the equation.

    For instance, was it possible to extract wine from a slime?

    He didn''t know how vinegar in Ascharon was produced as he''d seen varieties in the market like clove vinegar or raspberry vinegar. But the vinegar of Ontrea was made by souring wine, so there should not be too far a leap between the two.

    The idea had been in his mind since listening to Adan.

    Wine would make a good product.

    It sold well and from several journals he''d read, wine was the preferred household beverage when serving food.

    He had no illusions about his skill in making wine; he likely could not catch up to families that had been producing wine for centuries, even using the slime method. In keeping with Sarel''s admonishments however, adding another average wine into the market would not cause as many ripples as suddenly introducing a top-tier vinegar that had never been seen before.

    In addition, unlike the vinegar, the cost of the ingredients was unlikely to exceed the selling price, if it was a good enough wine. He was fairly certain that he had fed the slimes more than what the barrels of vinegar extract were going to fetch on the market.

    He was just lucky that he could acquire most of those ingredients for only a bit ofbor.

    As for the ingredients needed to produce wine, Defi had to think on it more. Grapes were seasonal.

    Could not the world bend a little for him and make it so he could produce everything he wanted with just the glorious ever-fruiting zaziphos? Hemented briefly, with some humor.

    Life would be dreary if it were so easy.

    Defi was used to motion, not standing still. It was one of the reasons he agreed to train Markar and Renne, why he offered in the first ce. Why he''d suddenly started discussing war theory with Muriel, why he started to learn glyphmaking  mind or body, he was used to motion.

    Motion was not simply hurtling forward, he reminded himself when the urge to simply leave strengthened and bubbled inside him. Motion was also climbing heights while swinging in ce. Either way, the tether lengthens. Either way, sooner orter, one would be able to see further than ever before.

    Sarel was nowhere to be seen when Defi arrived at her ce, though there were already a dozen full baskets in the shade of the house. He shrugged and caught up a picking basket to start work.

    If he could finish before she returned, she could do nothing about it.

    Though, in turn, he likely could not avoid the scolding.

    He was already healed, in any case. And the work was not particrly exhausting.

    He''d picked another dozen baskets, was carrying a full load to the rest of the harvest, when he nearly bumped into her.

    Sarel scowled half-heartedly at him, then her eyes went past him as if looking for something. Or someones, rather.

    "Good afternoon." Defi casually stepped past her to lower the basket with the rest of the zaziphos.

    "No tiny followers today?"

    Defi shook his head. "I did not think you would appreciate thirteen peopleing here without permission, even if they were going to help with the picking."

    She walked to the shed to drop off the axe in her hand and a pack of something heavy. "Did you adopt more orphan brats? I didn''t think boys your age hoarded kids like a creaky grandmother."

    "I''ll have you know they gathered around me in awe of my unparalleled person."

    She appeared in the doorway to the shed. "I thought you''d have more brains than drawing attention to yourself by teaching otherworldlybat techniques to random overly-emotional loose-lipped hellions."

    "With the amount of fantastic gossip flying about the Lowpool and the Indar road, one or two new ones wouldn''t be taken seriously. I already told Rocso."

    Sarel looked exasperated. "Do you enjoy being talked about so extensively?"

    He smirked briefly. "I heard a rumor that Torqo of the Little Treachery, who summons slimes, has red skin, green glowing eyes, stands two and a half mar tall, stews and eats the ears of the bandits hees across, is a secret bastard son of the emperor himself who is nning to give said son the city of Agamarl to rule. What an interesting individual, don''t you agree? Compared to such a paragon, I am merely a single breath in a raging gale."

    The children''s court of Ontrea yed many games. Despite his istion he''d been somewhat adept at Talking Reeds, which was the subtle control of gossip in the capital city.

    "People can''t own cities," Sarel said dryly. "Some emperor or other thought it was too much power for a single family to have, so all cities in Ascharon are independent."

    "I imagine there is a standard definition for ''city'' in Ascharon then?"

    "Twenty thousand inhabitants, a certain amount of revenue." Sarel turned to enter the house. "Come inside. Your vinegar samples to Bluzand are confirmed."

    He followed her into the kitchen after putting Turq down on the grass near the baskets and telling it to behave. "Not the others?"

    She took a bowl of soup from the warmer.

    Defi grimaced at the sight of it. "I''m already healed, you know. Also, did you have to make it taste like this, aren''t you a master chef?"

    "How would you learn to take care of yourself if you''re being rewarded with delicacies every time you get hurt?"

    "Isn''t that a question more appropriate to people who have note here from another world?" He rebutted quickly. "This Ascharonian culture, it is just too difficult to navigate."

    Not every world medicated with food, didn''t she know?

    And he was from and of warriors. If warriors were so rash with themselves, they wouldn''t be warriors for long. He knew how to take care of himself!

    Sarel gave him an unimpressed stare.

    He held in a sigh. Tell a person your least favorite food and they hold it over your head forever. Damned Ascharonians.

    Defi looked at the dread bowl of mystic soup.

    The scents that emanated from it were incredibly appetizing.

    But it was a lie.

    He took the bowl and gulped the whole of it down as soon as he could. The taste of cooked fruit suffused his mouth and nose. He tried not to gag, putting the bowl down with near tears in his eyes.

    Sarel touched his arm, sent a pulse of Shade that felt like the gaze of a mountain, and lifted a brow. "You are healing faster than I thought. I might just forgive you for ignoring that you should not be working right now."

    Defi let the Current deal with the excess influx of vitality circling through him from the food in his stomach. "What does Bluzand say."

    She sent a pulse of Shade again through his arm, nodded in satisfaction. She let his arm go and leaned back in her chair. "The vinegars have guaranteed buyers, and the quality is good. The lotion is still being shopped around. You''ll have to speak to Tennar about your options."

    Tennar was the manager of the Bluzand Merchant Company.

    She eyed him. "I still cannot believe your luck. Who knew you could make vinegar with slimes?"

    "I did some thinking on it too, you know. It wasn''t just the slimes." He protested half-heartedly as he poured himself a ss of zaziphos cordial to take the taste of sour-sweet-creamy banana pineapple out of his mouth. It really had been luck. "Do I have enough to build a storehouse?"

    An amused smile curled slowly. "You can build another house, if you want."

    Defi looked at her, surprised. The question had been said in jest. "I can?"

    "I don''t think you understand." Sarel tapped a finger on the table surface, frowning out the window. "I already told you there were three that were on the level of the vinegar you produced. From the slime called Jasper, wasn''t it?"

    Defi nodded, outwardly attentive.

    Howplicated could vinegar be, he inwardly sighed. It was just a simple condiment. He subtly slumped in his seat to resignedly listen to the impending deluge of information about food from a grandmaster chef.

    It was just cooking, not that he''d ever say that aloud where she could hear. He cooked like everyone else, but he wasn''t as burningly passionate about it as an Ascharonian chef.

    "Of those three vinegars, two take over a hundred years to properly make, carefully concentrated year after year, the wood of the barrels carefully chosen for the finest vors to seep into the vinegar. Thest is aged for seventy-five years in order to acquire the best iteration of their product."

    Defi paused.

    What?

    A hundred years for vinegar?

    Ascharon, your people are mad enough about food to be so patient just for a single condiment?

    "And you, with Jasper, made one litr in a day. It doesn''t hold up in quality to the least of the three, but it is close enough to be named in the same breath. Apart from that, the colorless rity of the liquid and the light scent is a novelty, when all the rest are colored dark and robustly scented. Tennar, after the analysis, called several people from the Chef''s Union to sample the vinegar as well as auctioning it off. He wanted to determine demand."

    Her eyes stayed narrowed on him.

    Defi knew his role perfectly, went along with it, asked tly. "And how much did it sell for?"

    "It is, if I may say, a supetive product." Sarel continued to tease. Defi sent her an ugly look. Her tone didn''t change. "Each bottle containing a tenth of a litr was auctioned off at one silver crescent a bottle."

    Defi twitched.

    Ten crescents a litr. If all the quartel was sold, it would garner 250 crescents.

    In Ascharon, one who earned that much in a year would be considered a sessful person, possibly even well-off.

    Defi shook that tidbit from The Home-maker''s Journal from his mind.

    Well, at least experimenting on making slime-extracted wine would not be as difficult as he expected. And his concerns about the vinegar, Jar''s version at least, costing more to produce were quelled.

    "The Chef''s Union is buzzing like a hive of bees right now," Sarel''s smile sharpened. "The Bluzand official exnation is we acquired a barrel unexpectedly in an expedition."

    "Yes?" His brain must have been a bit shocked, as he didn''t quite understand why she was telling him that.

    "You''re apanying me to Ecthys on the next day of Moons."

 Chapter 82: Washing Clothes

    Chapter 82: Washing Clothes

    The next day of Moons was in five days.

    Defi quickly made the deliveries, stowed his own share of the zaziphos harvest in the kitchen, and went to see the hybrid Herb plots.

    A quick scrutiny with the help of the Current told Defi that the Liongrass could already be harvested. The Naranj would take a few more days. It would still mature before the day of Moons, which was a relief.

    He got one of the new baskets and wrapped scraps of leather and cloth around his hands. Gloves hadn''t been something he''d needed to buy before.

    He wrapped his protected hands around a bundle of hybrid Liongrass and tugged sharply.

    Liongrass roots were shallow, but grew a number of rhizomes that shriveled in air. The hybrid Herb came up easily. Defi tapped the nt against the basket to dislodge earth clinging to the roots, careful not to be cut by the sharp-edged tawny leaves that came up to his knees, then ced the whole thing into the basket.

    Liongrass was something that was, like savras, made into a drink imbibed for medicinal purposes. Unlike the bitter savras, the taste of liongrass was more pleasant and invigorating. It was meant to alleviate aches and pain.

    The dried leaves of Liongrass was often distributed to soldiers on campaign, shredded and mixed with several other herbs and spices. Adding the mixture to the standard ale ration would make a cordial that gave an advantage of increasing the endurance of soldiers during a march or a battle.

    It was a popr addition to various types of tea, including the ten-bloom tea that Defi encountered in the mayor''s office.

    As he worked, the circted Current through thend of the garden plot, supporting the Herbs and restoring some vitality to thend.

    As it was easier to harvest than Shyleaf, Defi had half the plot decimated in a trice. Like the Shyleaf, he would be leaving half the Liongrass to flower and seed.

    He nced at the Shyleaf. It would curl into itself and start to wither, the seeds inside the leaf ball readying for growth. Then one moonless night, when the nt was nearly dead, the leafball would explode to spread the seeds. Defi would have to gather them before that happened.

    It would not be happening soon in any case, and he could go to Ecthys without worrying.

    He hefted the basket of Liongrass to the wash-house, and ran water over the roots, sluicing away thest of the soil.

    It was an hour past mid-afternoon.

    Defi went to his room. He wanted to familiarize himself with the ive and the Water Edge art.

    He stopped as he saw dirty clothes piled up over the chair and the bed in the room.

    Oh.

    It appeared he would have to postpone ive practice.

    He left Turq on the pile of Liongrass in the slime room.

    He gathered the clothes up and brought them to the wash-house. There was a washing-drum there that Aire hadughingly showed him how to use.

    He fetched buckets of water from the water-barrels, poured them into the washing-drum. The Emblems on the drum activated. He scooped a fist-sized portion from the cask of soft ash-seed soap in the corner and tossed it into the wash-drum.

    All his clothes fit into the cental-sized drum, which Aire said was the typical size bought by small families. There were smaller ones, easier to operate. The wash-drum at the orphanage was three times the size of the one before Defi.

    He didn''t need a bigger one, in any case. He stripped the shirt and coat he was wearing and added them to the rest of the wash before closing the opening.

    He stepped to the side where the crank was, put his hands on the lever and pushed.

    The crank rotated slowly.

    The resisting weight of the mechanism made his arms strain, but the circr motion meant he essentially only needed to push and pull the lever. The wash-drum rotated. The sound of sodden cloth and water sloshing against wooden constructs within the drum filled the air.

    Steam started puffing out of the drum, a good indication that the Emblems were working properly. He continued working the crank, dropping into an almost meditative rhythm. Ten rotations. Twenty. Thirty. He counted up to fifty rotations before stopping.

    The exertion and the steam had nearly boiled his face, arms, and bare torso to deep redness. Rather than flinch away from the sting, Defi savored the heat that this mountain clime was missing. He pulled a plug on the drum and drained the drum of the soapy liquid inside it.

    Another eight buckets of water fetched, and he was counting rotations again.

    By the time his clothes were rinsed, wrung, and hung on the drying frame in the wash-house, it was nearing dusk.

    Shuddering in the chill of the evening, he dashed to the front door of the house. Possibly he should not have reveled too much in the steam and then left the wash-house directly, d only in trousers and boots.

    He went straight to his bedroom and pulled on his sleep-tunic, relieved at the warmth of the cloth.

    It was about time to start the evening milking. He entered the slime room.

    The process was now so practiced that he could focus his mind on other things.

    Defi had epted that the barrels of vinegar he would be sending Bluzand would be lesser in quality than the initial sample.

    With the information Sarel told him, that could be changed.

    The sable crab that had him meet Renne, Markar, and Bree, was about twenty kilogar in live weight. Defi had paid a solstice for that, or twenty silver crescents.

    Sarel said sable crabs that size were normally twice what he paid, even more precious for the crab being female. The price of the precious green roe constituted about half the cost of the total crab.

    He had only fed Turq about three grane of roe before Jar had been split off, and the total amount of roe in that one crab amounted to over a hundred grane. Now, even if he fed Jar three grane of sable crab roe every day for a month, he would still profit massively if the quality of vinegar was as high as the sample.

    Wait.

    A more logical thought perforated his initial excitement.

    The 250 crescents per quartel were gained in auction, and for a new type of vinegar. A novelty, as Sarel said. If regr supply was assured, the price would likely settle to a fourth to a half of the initial introduction price.

    And then Bluzand''s cut was forty-two percent of revenue.

    That was only after he''d unrelentingly haggled it down from the ridiculous sixty percent that Sarel insisted wasmon between a merchantpany and small producers.

    Defi sighed, faintly disappointed. So much for dreams, he mocked himself inwardly; why, in dreams, he might have even be a vinegar magnate!

    He closed the quartel barrel he''d just filtered another litr of vinegar into, and got the next slime ready.

    Even so, the vinegars had sold better than he thought. If he fed Jasper, Jarvon, and Jarto with sable crab shells and roe even just once a month, how much improved their current extracts would be?

    Jar''s vinegar extract did not start thinning in vor until a month had passed. A twice-monthly expenditure on sable crab parts would still be an eptable trade for an increase in quality.

    A mental note to check on the Lowpool fisher''s guild for local prices of sable crab appeared in the forefront of Defi''s mind and was carefully tucked away with the rest of his mental notes.

    Hah. If Sarelined, he''d point out that herpany came up with eptable cover stories well enough, didn''t it?

    Finished with the evening''s slime extraction, Defi cleaned up, dried his hands on a rag.

    He flung himself onto afortable chair in the central hall, a tray containing samad and left-overs from lunch ced on a table beside him.

    Sipping at the samad, he turned on themp and reached for a pen.

    The nextbat ss was the day after tomorrow. But there were several ideas he wanted to note down based on observations of the morning''s lesson before bed.

 Chapter 83: Mite and the Lament of an Apothecary

    Chapter 83: Mite and the Lament of an Apothecary

    It was the day of Seers, and there were two slimes in Turq''s basket.

    Defi was disappointed he had not seen the splitting happen. It had been some time since thest one. But he was till smiling as he lifted the slime from the basket.

    The new slime was a lighter green than Turq, a more yellowish cast to its hue. It was also smaller.

    A consequence of too little vitality in the food, maybe? Hybrid Herbs did not have as much power as the originals, and there had been no other mystic ingredients in Turq''s diet since thest splitting.

    "I''ll call you Moldavite," Defi decided. "Mite."

    Curious, he put Mite in a kneading bucket first. What kind of extract did the slime have?

    The resulting extract, like all the others, had the rity of water. The Current did not detect any wrongness or poison in the substance. It was only slightly thicker than water.

    Defi dipped a finger in the extract and brought it to his mouth. It tasted like concentrated zaziphos juice with hints of spice.

    Not bad.

    The Current, active and swirling, did not sense any negative effects in him from the ingestion. Defi considered the extract thoughtfully.

    Then he dunked a cup into the extract and drank a mouthful. The burst of sweetly sour zaziphos, grounded by a hint of earthy spice, was heavy but refreshing. There was a slight increase in the strength and speed of his heartbeat.

    There were no other effects.

    He put down the cup. He had thought the next slime would be Ziv''s recement. This heavy vour was unexpected. He should have guessed. Turq''s primary diet was zaziphos after all.

    The hint of Shyleaf in the vor and the vigor imparted by the Liongrass were only advantages. If he added Savras to Mite''s diet, would it impart some healing ability?

    A cordial with this heavily vorful taste and a side effect of healing would likely be popr.

    In Ontrea.

    Ascharon''s mystic cooking, so entwined with the inner vitality of the people, already had the side-effect of making a person''s body hardier and more resistant to illness. It was something Marmocha had proudly proimed when they first met in Stahlchausses. Defi had thought the man only boasting.

    He wasn''t.

    Ascharon did not need doctors when they had mystic chefs. The physickers of thend were only trained to sense the body''s humors, and their role was to rmend the food that would bnce said humors for the health of the body.

    Defi only learned that recently, from hisst foray to the library.

    That meant the savras extract from Ziv and Zav could only be sold to those that could not afford mystic cooking. That meant it had to be distributed inexpensively. But to profit with low-cost products, the amount sold needed to be high. Defi''s current production speed, with Ziv gone, was one and a half quartels a month.

    That was not promising.

    Defi filtered Mite''s extract into a jug and corked it. He put Mite and Turq in the same feeding basket. For now, Mite''s diet would be zaziphos as well.

    A thought from yesterday came back to him.

    Could slimes make wine? The taste of Mite''s extract had good fundamentals. If he fermented the stuff, he could probably make wine.

    He smiled wryly.

    He was getting ahead of himself again.

    To make proper wine outside of slime extraction, he would need another building and more zaziphos trees nted. He did not have the resources, and the knowledge he gained from fermenting suirberries with Hames did not delve into specifics.

    He stowed the jug in the corner of the room and started on the other slimes.

    Come to think of it, he had not visited the apothecary yet to see what conclusions the man made about the savras extract. Fortunately, he had no pressing business untilte morning, which was his usual time to go to work.

    He finished his chores, took a breakfast of bread with cured squid and samad, and floated down the Treachery leisurely. The warming air of the morning, the brightening day, the soothing sounds of the river  he wasing to love the beauty in these Ascharonian mountain mornings.

    If only it wasn''t so cold.

    *

    Defi roamed the dawn market, having already visited Marte and Grenia.

    Like yesterday, the savras sellers weren''t present.

    If they nned to arrive on market day, Defi would have a problem. He''d miss the chance to buy savras.

    The primary market day for the Lowpool was the day of Duels, which came after Moons. He would still be in Ecthys then. Sarel said their business would not take more than two days, so they''d be returning on the day after Duels.

    He still wanted to acquire the mystic grass.

    Even if it was not profitable, Defi could still make savras extract for himself.

    Months into his stay in this other world, he was aware that his constitution was not as hardy as the average Ascharonian. He could cheat using the Current, healing fast and purging toxins, but having medicine around was useful. The Current was not unlimited, and he had to conserve energy for the farnd.

    The apothecary''s shop was quiet when he entered. It was cleaner than thest time, the numerous bottles and boxes on the shelves behind the counter had been dusted.

    "Good morning, young sir. May I be of assistance?"

    That sounded familiar, both the voice and the words. Defi turned to see a truly eye-catching pattern of embroidered bees and earthworms on the other''s waistcoat. He remembered abruptly. The boy from the dried fish shop!

    "you work here as well as the seafood shop?"

    The smile on Haral''s face grew strained, but did not drop. "I don''t work there anymore."

    "Does your grandfather own this ce as well, then?" Defi could understand elders pushing their young family members into a wide range of experience in order to understand the family business.

    "No." Haral answered shortly, even his professional smile fading.

    Defi, surprised at the current change from the energetic manner of their first acquaintance, turned fully from the shelves to study the other. Haral''s brown hair and clothing was slightly untidy, his green eyes had a dullness that was not helped by the faintly dark circles under them.

    Before Defi could ask what was wrong, Haral had recovered a smile that did not reach his eyes. "So what are you looking for again?"

    "I left something with the apothecary here some days ago, and wondered if he had some insight since then." Defi acquiesced with the obvious desire not to talk about it.He made a show of looking over the other''s clothing. "Your vest looks better than thest one."

    Haral chuckled, some lifeing into his eyes. "Yes, thanks for the suggestion. My sister was ted at the possibilities. One moment, I''ll get Kant for you."

    He had taken some steps toward the inner door when it banged open.

    The figure in the doorway, garbed in red, snapped an order out without looking up from a bowl gripped in one hand. "Haral, more whistle-pine needles!"

    Haral turned on a heel, headed into the shelves behind the counter instead, calling over his shoulder. "There''s someone here for you!"

    Kant scoffed, but when he looked up and saw Defi, his eyes narrowed in almost hate. "You."

    Defi met his gaze.

    "You did this! Is this a plot?"

    "Your pardon. What are you saying?" Defi kept his voice even, keeping his confusion from showing.

    "You only gave this to vex me! What is this? <em>How</em> is this?!"

    Did he mean the savras extract? Realization started to dawn. It appeared that Kant had not managed to recreate it yet.

    "I did say it was given to me."

    Kant grew even more incensed.

    "Useless! How could you let them go! This substance, this stupid impossibility" His yells devolved into furious muttering as the contents of the bowl puffed a bare wisp of smoke. He stuck a finger in the bowl and started stirring frantically.

    "He''s been like this for days," Haralmented as he appeared from the shelves, a long, t box in his hand. He opened it, nudging wrapping paper out of the way to reveal several blue-colored needles, as long as a person''s forearm.

    A faint cool breeze seemed to emanate from the box as the whistle-pine needles were uncovered.

    A mystic ingredient? Defi moved for a closer look.

    Kant''s hand took one of the needles and slowly swirled it into the bowl.

    Arger puff of smoke.

    Kant''s expression grew ugly. "Wrong!"

    He flung the bowl away, uncaring where itnded. Defi ducked. The bowl smashed into the wood of the door behind the shop''s only customer.

    "If we need to rece a window again, I''m not helping the builders."

    With Haral''s dryly calm statement, it looked like this had happened before.

    Just how much stress had those small bottles of savras extract put on the apothecary?

    Defi picked up the now emptied and dented bowl that ttered on the floor near his boots, nced away from the pale yellow liquid dripping down the wall to the apothecary.

    Kant was panting in exertion, eyes wild.

    "Is it so important?" Defi asked, putting the bowl on the counter.

    "Ignorance!" Kant mmed a hand down beside the bowl, making it jump. "Do you know what I could do with something like that?"

    "Many things, I imagine."

    "I could finally make soap!" Kant continued as if he didn''t hear Defi.

    "Soap?" Haral sounded incredulous.

    Defi shared his disbelief. Soap wasmon. Apart from apothecaries, it could be acquired from butchers, candlemakers, oil-sellers, the average home-maker with some time on their hands. It wasn''t rare, just varying in quality. The better soaps were sold in packages, ranging from fifteen to fifty rond per kilogar.

    "Soft, scented soap that does not make a bath feel like wallowing in greasy mud, that does not burn the skin! The highest quality soap ever seen! Do you know how many solstices I could get for that?"

    Defi and Haral nced at each other. Haral shrugged, looking interested.

    "None." Kant snarled. "Because I would be earning in djamants instead."

    **

    **

    Notes:

    Djamant  a crystal-based currency in Ascharon, in the shape of a triangr prism, worth 1000 gold solstices. It is used in great transactions, like those between nations orrge merchantpanies, and is recognizable for the iridescent gleam of its surface.

 Chapter 84: Vague Plans

    Chapter 84: Vague ns

    Defi felt that Kant''s deration was too much an exaggeration to believe.

    But it gave him an idea.

    External application.

    How could he not have thought of it? Didn''t he expect Lar''s extract to be made into lotions and unguents? Defi had witnessed how multiple application of Lar''s extract had made his skin softer, even healed minor problems.

    Only, thesest weeks, he had been thinking too much on food and alchemy that his focus was set on possible products that needed to be imbibed and ingested.

    There were other possible products.

    Like soaps.

    Soaps, hair oils, emollients.

    The savras extract could be further made into creams and salves, to be applied to skin. It didn''t need to be drunk.

    He had no idea how to go about making such products, but possibly the people working at the Bluzand Merchant Company could find someone with the knowledge.

    Defi''s visit to the apothecary had been more fruitful than he thought it would be, despite the yelling. Even if he couldn''t ask more questions because he was escorted out of the shop at Kant''s direction by an apologetic Haral.

    "Do you think he would be able to seed in recreating the liquid?" Defi asked the other at the door.

    Haral made a nomittal sound. "Wouldn''t really know. I''m not much interested in apothecary things."

    "You didn''t apprentice yourself?" Defi was surprised. Why else would he be working in an apothecary?

    "You don''t think I''m too old?" Haral snorted. "I''m nearly seventeen. No guildmember will take a chance to apprentice someone my age, even if I did have the coin."

    "That sounds short-sighted." Students in Ontrea were allowed to study in the learning halls until the age of twenty or their second attempt at the Trials. The Song of Damarof was known far and wide, telling those who listened to the tragedy that the consequences to rushing an apprenticeship could be dire. Many only chose their ultimate profession in their twenties.

    Haral shrugged. "Maybe, but I''m not apprenticed either way. I''m just making wage."

    "It does not seem to agree with you." Defi made a motion to indicate the other''s uncharacteristically untidy state.

    "I do a few deliveries from the docks before Ie here. Kant pays little." Haral shook his head, turned to enter the shop again. "Have a good day, Defi."

    "And you as well." The door closed softly. Defi turned his steps toward the library.

    He had a few hours of free time left.

    *

    As usual, Orain was behind the counter at the library. He''d just finished sending off a rather cheerful youth with a book when Defi entered.

    Defi recognized Obren, the musician, one of Han and Hn''s friends. The other disappeared into the library too fast for Defi to call out. It was surprising, he would not have thought the other an enthusiastic reader.

    Then again, Defi had only met him once.

    Defi put it out of his mind and greeted Orain politely, before asking. "Are there journals about glyphmaking? Or the apothecary trade?"

    "Most guilds publish their own journals, yes." The librarian answered with his soft rumbling voice. "This library used to subscribe to all the guild journals. I''m afraid the volumes we have are old."

    "I don''t mind. Do you have ones in Abrechal?"

    "Hm." Orain stood and put his book down. "Journals became a popr publication after the shift to Ascharonian. There are a few studies on thenguage itself by the Journal of Linguistics. I will see what I can find."

    He disappeared into the stacks.

    Defi noticed two people whispering over a shelf in the corner that hadn''t been there before. <strong><em>For Sale</em></strong>, the sign on it said, with a number of books neatly stacked below the sign.

    He moved closer in interest, nodding at the other two who he could now see had a book held between them. Thedies looked like each other enough to be sisters.

    They smiled back and continued with their softly spoken discussion on whether they could re-create the embroidery patterns in the book.

    Defi turned his attention to the single shelf.

    Most were bookshop copies, bound in stiffened cardpaper and cloth, much like the books he acquired from Orain before. Their prices were marked in varied amounts from one to five uds.

    Defi pulled out a tomebelled ''<em>The Northern Isles</em>'' and leafed through it, curious.

    It was an old history of ron Isle and Ash Ind, which were the tworgest inds belonging to Ascharon and both located in the northeast of the maind. He stopped at a passage.

    Oh. Ash Ind was the one Adan had mentioned when talking about mystic wine. Ash Ind Bloodwine was so called because it could only be made on the ind.

    Interesting.

    He tucked the book under an arm and went over the others. He took out ''<em>A Collection of Treatises on Ten Ancient Glyphs''</em>which was too dry for casual perusal but the analysis on the glyphs did look like something he wanted to spend focus on. He wavered. It was eighteen ud and fifty, a premium copy.

    Premium copies were bound in wood and leather, with careful flourishes in brass or iron. The paper used in the printing was smoothly fine and white, where the paper in bookshop copies could be uneven on the surface and tawny in color. The feel of reading a premium copy was very different from reading a bookshop copy.

    Still, it was more than he paid for the eleven books that he acquired from Orain the first time he bought from the library.

    Defi reminded himself that he was due to acquire the payment for vinegar, and felt his miserly feelings abate. Any knowledge was needed, if he were to live in this world.

    He was fascinated by a page from ''<em>Three Discourses on the Preservation of Food</em>'', when Orain returned.

    Defi looked up from reading about using Shade in the fermentation of condiments when the librarian cleared his throat politely.

    Orain had five journals in his hands. "Nothing on Abrechal. Two on glyphs, and three issues of the apothecaries'' guild journal."

    He pushed the five journals toward Defi.

    Defi eyed them as he ced the books he found on the counter, waved the ''<em>Three Discourses</em>'' at Orain. "I read this in The Home-maker''s Journal. Do journals and books copy each other?"

    "Many send their work to journals first, or sell independently as booklets. If enough interest is garnered, the publisher would collect the works for re-printing in a book."

    Defi nced at the shelf of books for sale. "Is that why so many books are collections of treatises?"

    And why a book could have different authors for different parts.

    "Hm. Byw, a collection of writings cannot be sold as a ''book'' if it does not have more than a hundred leaves." Orain peered at Defi from behind the beard. "Be wary. Unscrupulous booksellers may simply bind unrted works together, to inte the prices."

    Because books cost more than booklets and independent treatises, regted as they were.

    Defi put the ''<em>Three Discourses</em>'' with the other two books he thought interesting. "Wouldn''t it be bad for a library to sell its books?"

    Orain chuckled. "I hired two helpers after Een left. My stacks are being organized at a frightening rate. I have more multiple copies cluttering the shelves than I thought. It''s best to sell and buy new books, rather than have them waste space. What will I do with eight copies of ''<em>Ambune Bads</em>''?"

    "Did you say you had ''Bads''?" came an incredulous voice. Obren had spied Defi and wasing over when he heard Orain. "Did you say you were selling?"

    Orain gestured to the shelf. "I am."

    "Well, that wasn''t there before." Obren mused. Then his smile widened. "And neither were they. Defi, let''s meet another time. There are chances that cannot pass by."

    He winked at Defi and sauntered toward the two women by the shelf of books for sale.

    Defi only lifted a brow, turned back toward the librarian who looked slightly amused. It was difficult to tell with Orain; the bristly hair covered too much of his face.

    "Thirty-two ud seventy. I''ll wrap them, and you can get them here when you''re ready to leave."

    "I don''t suppose you sell journals as well?"

    "Hm, no. Most journal publishingpanies offer subscription services."

    The word was unfamiliar. "Subscription?"

    "You can pay the publisher to deliver regr copies to your door in the cities, them having numbered houses. Most in the Lowpool who pay for subscriptions have their copies delivered here or to the town hall to be picked up."

    It sounded convenient, but convenience had its own price. How expensive would it be? Defi nodded his thanks at the exnation without asking more, as he noticed several people enter the doors and make a beeline for Orain.

    He took the journals and went to find a secluded table.

    Defi opened one of the apothecary journals first.

    Sure enough, it was full of ideas.

    His lips curled up briefly in amusement at the single-page advertisement of a cream that allegedly would re-grow lost hair.

    As most of the medical needs of Ascharon would be seen to by physickers and mystic chefs, it appeared that much of the business that apothecaries did was in the area of social vanity. Products to enhance beauty, products to hide or lessen physical imperfections, perfumes, soaps, etc.

    A lucrative market, it appeared.

    He flipped the page, to a very persuasive essay exhorting the benefits of cleanliness to the health of children and the future of society.

    Defi read it to the end, brows rising. Then read it again to appreciate the many little ways it led the reader into what appeared to be faultless logic.

    If this was how the apothecaries sold their soap, he could understand how Kant was so enthusiastic.

    Even if everyone and their retired grandmothers made low-grade soap, it was so ruthlessly advertised that any high-quality soap would sell well enough to make the one with the recipe wealthy.

    A soap that would sell for djamants, however

    No, he still didn''t believe it could be made.

    He paged through the journals slowly.

    The guild of apothecaries also sold practical products like pest removers, wood varnishing substances, and poultices for wounds. Teas for drinking, tobo and other herbal concoctions for smoking, various cordials and infusions were also touched upon in several essays.

    He stopped at the illustration of a familiar item, nearly the same as the tablet that Kant used when he tested the savras extract. The writing on the page named it the Apothecary''s Trace-Table.

    It was used to determine whatpounds were present in liquid substances and powders.

    Defi read the scant information closely. It looked more reliable than depending on the Current to tell whether a slime exuded toxic substances.

    The price stated was sixty-seven crescents. He flipped to the cover of the journal, made a face when he saw that the date was over five years ago. On one hand, there would have been advances to the trace-table. On the other, it would only have gotten more expensive.

    He tapped the illustration of the trace-table for a few moments, then mentally made a note to acquire one in Ecthys.

    It was just too useful.

 Chapter 85: Possibly A Good Influence

    Chapter 85: Possibly A Good Influence

    Lergen watched the young man Sarel had taken in weave between the two ragged lines of youths he was instructing in a strange stretching dance.

    "Watch your breathing," called thed. "Steady and stable. Or your movements will not form properly."

    When Defi had informed him that Markar, that Arac had asked for lessons in swordsmanship and requested him moved to the afternoon sses at the school, Lergen had expected Renne, Mureil and Saston to follow.

    Renne, Elen was only too enthusiastic about learning to wield weapons. Lergen advocated everyone knowing how to protect themselves, but the look that sometimes appeared in Elen''s eyes when talking about subjects that touched on the three siblings'' past had him concerned.

    Aire said that as long as Arac and Bree were doing well, Elen would too. Lergen''s wife was better at gauging people than he was, so he put his concerns away.

    Elen might be following Mureil to the military, if her questions to the older girl were not just sheer curiosity.

    Mureil had been determined to enter the military since she was eleven and found out that the town gave money to the orphanage for every orphan that entered the army as tribute soldiers. Lergen and Aire had not been able to dissuade her.

    Lergen''s jaw clenched as he thought about the housekeeper who had told Muriel that. Said housekeeper had been booted out of the house without a rmendation letter.

    He and Aire would have preferred apprenticing the children to trades where fatality was not so imminent.

    Saston wanting to learn how to fight was no shock either. His father had been killed by bandits; he talked at times, fiery and fierce, about wiping out banditirs. Lergen did not think Saston understood exactly what exterminating bandits meant, but the boy was determined in his path. Joining the town guards would likely be good for him, to dampen the anger with responsibility and exhaustion.

    Alvis and Orlet were a surprise, however. Alvis had only ever voiced dreams of being a chef, and Orlet wanted to join a trade caravan to travel all over the empire.

    Lergen sighed.

    He had encouraged them to learn to fight, but was this really alright? He was a me Shade, and by nature he was more attentive to ''fire'' within the body. Shades were not all rted to fire and heat, of course, but me was the mostmon Shade in Ascharon.

    Of the thirteen youths that were Defi''s students, five were Red me and three were Orange Earth. One each of Yellow Sunlight, Blue Water, Indigo Air, Violet Moonlight, and Green Healing.

    Air and Moonlight were the rarest of the shades, followed by Healing, but all were present here.

    Normally he would not be able to tell what their Shades were, apart from me and Sunlight. The ''fire'' of others was banked until their Shades were strong enough to manifest externally.

    But these ''Guiding Forms'' that Defi was teaching, Lergen could feel them stimting the vitality within the children, and shes of Color showing in the senses granted to him by his Shade.

    He nced at the oldest of the students, someone he had seen running deliveries for the docks. The young man had gained his shade-ability and could control the heat of his body. It had taken Lergen years after that initial activation before he found he could sense the ''heat'' in others'' bodies as well.

    If the young man continued with these exercises, his shade-ability would strengthen and grow faster; it would not take years to evolve.

    He was both impressed and envious. If he had known these Forms when he was younger, what heights might he have reached before he retired?

    His lips twisted as the answer came to him.

    He would never have been allowed to retire. He was only pensioned off eight years ago, at the rtively young age of thirty-six, because of extenuating circumstances.

    If they could say being assigned to Ash Ind too long was ''extenuating''.

    That cursed, godforsaken ind. He and Aire had been nning for children after he had been promoted to magistrate. The ind had taken that choice away from them.

    He shook his head free of old grudges. Most of the people who were responsible were now dead or punished for other more overt crimes.

    Aire said once that Defi was trained from a young age, and Lergen had caught a glimpse of his swordsmanship. These Guiding Forms, however, were not something taught to ordinary soldier''s children.

    Lergen had been told that there were techniques to make Shade manifest young, but they were the sphere of ancient ns and the children of elite forces who have proven loyalty to the emperor.

    Thetter were restricted from teaching those techniques. Of ancient families, there were many who called themselves that, noble andmoner alike.

    Possibly Defi was a scion from one of the more secluded war-like ns. It would make sense. Lergen chuckled under his breath; really, the things that the boy did not know sometimes.

    Aire had floated the possibility that Defi was from beyond the Gate, noting that his skin color was natural and not the result of long days in the sun. The Gate merchants had simr coloring, if darker by far.

    Lergen argued that he could just as easily have blood from across the southern seas, as many people in the south of the empire did.

    If he was, Aire retorted, Sarel would have refuted the gossip that said he was her nephew. That meant the rumors that Defi was Sarel''s rtive from the south had no substance other than Sarel''s unspoken allowance.

    Lergen knew Sarel''s only rtive had no male children and that she was careful to stay away from said rtives, so Aire''s supposition could not be refuted easily. It would also fit the peculiarities in the young man''s behaviour.

    "Worried about what he''s teaching them?"

    Lergen nced at Karles, who had stopped at his side. "I look worried?"

    "You would not havee here if you weren''t." Karles leaned against the stone wall of the kitchen courtyard. "The boy does not seem like someone who would defraud others."

    Lergen could not help the smile growing on his face. "Karles, are you defending an outsider to me?"

    The younger man sent him a half-hearted re. "There are outsiders, and then there are <em>outsiders</em>."

    "From the one who advocated, in a council meeting no less, that thends of theke be closed to all who were not born in the Lowpool?" Lergen continued, despite the other man''s scowl growing ever more pronounced.

    "I know the difference between unredeemable trash and trash that can be salvaged," Karles snapped. "We suffered for unredeemable trash. That one," he jerked his head toward the group of children, "I''m not sure if he''ll leave or stay, but as long as he''s strengthening the blood of the Lowpool I got no objections."

    "Spoken like a true child of theke."

    Karles eyed him, snorted. "You came because you were worried the boy was making his own army."

    Lergen''s smile faded. "I looked so worried?"

    "Boy''s lost," Karles said, echoing Lergen''s own thoughts. "But he''s got no ambitions like that. Don''t know why. If someone betrayed me enough to look like he does, I <em>would</em> raise an army to destroy them."

    "You''re sure?"

    "He''s put too much into the homestead, I think. He might think of revenge yet, but not today. And not with catspaws."

    Lergen felt a part of him, the suspicious part that needed to always satisfy the smallest concern, slowly rx.

    Karles was one of Aire''s friends, and she said he had good eyes when it came to people. He''d rmended the current orphanage housekeeper to them. Lergen had many times in thest few years been grateful for Gran Lari''s presence.

    He turned his attention to the group again, watched Defi correct movements and demonstrate again and again until they were absorbed to near-perfection.

    "Raise your elbow a little more."

    "I''m doing it, I''m doing it!"

    "You are not. If you were, sweeping your arm in the next movement should not tremble like it did."

    "Because you had me do it a hundred times already,"ined the younger boy.

    Mally, Lergen thought his name was.

    "Then do it a hundred times again until you get it right." Defi had him do the movement again, hand under Mally''s elbow. "Like so."

    "Does it have to be perfect?" Mally groaned. "This way is even more painful than thest time."

    "Because you have been doing it wrongly all the times before and now you have to correct the habit. A good foundation is important." Defi watched as Mally did the movement on his own. "The Guiding Forms give a solid foundation to any arts you may wish to learn in the future."

    "I just wanted to learn how to use a sword!"

    Defi shook his head. "None of you are ready for the sword yet."

    "How long before that then?"

    Lergen chuckled as Mally didn''t give up. He saw Defi pause at the question, then dark eyes sweep over the group that were doing movements that Lergen still saw as an oddly intense dance.

    "Take the time to master what you can today. I am not going to be here on Moons-day. If all goes well, we will see each other on Thunders-day. If you practice the Guiding Forms everyday until then, we might be able to start on staves."

    "Really? Yes! I''ll practice every morning and night."

    "Oh? So diligent. Excellent idea. Everyone should do it."

    There were more than a few ugly nces sent at Mally when Defi dryly announced that.

    Mallyughed boisterously. "Of course! If I can rate an officer''s uniform, then more girls will fall for me. Isn''t that something to work hard for?"

    The girls closer to his age shot him murderous res at that. Oddly, Mureil only looked like she was smothering augh.

    "I''ve heard worse reasons to join a war," Defi finally said, after a moment.

    Lergen heard something under the light words. He''d been witness how the young man had slowly warmed up to people over the course of months, but it was still undeniable that Sarel''s pseudo-nephew''s light-hearted quietness was half a mask.

    The kid was slowly opening up to Sarel and those she trusted, and under all the passive sociability was a cautious and determined boy that Lergen wasing to like.

    Lergen hoped he would stay in the Lowpool. He was good for the little ones.

    He and Karles watched the lesson until the lesson ended.

    "We will be picking fruit today, instead of digging holes," stated Defi to the group. "The fruit-pickers from thest time should show the others what to do."

    Cheers sounded loudly from what Lergen surmised was the part of the group that had been digging holes. The smaller ones started in the direction of the porch, where there had been baskets stacked, dragging the others with them.

    "Are they really ready for actual weapons?" Lergen could not help but ask. Their next meeting would only be the third lesson after all.

    Defi nodded. "If they continue to practice the Forms throughout the basics, then by the time they are ready for the next stage they''ll be ready to wield a halberd in ways it should be wielded."

    Lergen blinked. "You''re rushing them?"

    "All of the older ones are nning to enlist. Then, if I recall correctly, the deadline for enlistment as tribute soldiers end one month before training begins in Snowfall. Mureil turns fourteen in two months, just before the recruitment period ends. I have one year and three months to get them topetence in halberd and sword before half of them leave for the battlefields."

    "You know Mureil''s birth month?"

    Karles looked at him, as if questioning why that was what he asked about.

    "We talked about many things," Defi said. "Her determination to join the army cannot be shaken at this point."

    Once again, Lergen felt a spike of helpless anger that was threaded with unashamed pride.

    He and Aire created the orphanage to protect the children of the Lowpool. The orphanage was doing fine. It had never needed nor will it ever need the tribute subsidy provided by the town.

    But this was also Mureil''s way of iming a ce for herself in the world. He could caution her to be careful, rmend another path, but how could he stop her if she had already made up her mind?

    She was as stubborn as Aire.

    "Thank you."

    "What?" Defi took on the stoically interested look he took on when he was confused or uncertain. It did wonders to get others into talking, giving the boy information for free. Lergen only managed to know that much because his beloved keen-eyed wife pointed it out, impressed by the tactic.

    But there was no need for it here.

    "Thank you for teaching them."

    "It was I who made the offer to Renne and Markar. They only took it."

    "You had no obligation to teach the others."

    "The orphanage has helped me greatly, and an additional few did not unduly bother me."

    Defi''s words started heading into the more formalnguage, so Lergen left it at that.

    "I hear you are going to Ecthys?" he asked instead.

    "Yes, did you need anything from the city? I''d be happy to y courier."

    Lergen chuckled. "You''ll be sorry you offered. Aire will have a list."

    Defi shrugged, unconcerned.

    "Shouldn''t you be looking after that?" Karles nodded at the mass of basket-carrying youths heading west of the house.

    "They''ve done it more than once by now, and there are some very responsible children there. I''ll be joining them in a moment." Defi waved away the concern. "But before that Karles, you don''te here every day. Is there a matter?"

    "We''ll be done with everything by the end of this week. We need to talk about final agreements. What are you doing this afternoon?"

    "Digging holes, I thought."

    "Holes?" Lergen could not follow.

    "I''m nting trees on the homestead. Since today we''re going to pick zaziphos at Sarel''s, I nned to get more holes dug this afternoon."

    Oh. Karles was right. The youngd was investing himself into the ce.

    "With the group?" Karles motioned to the west.

    "By myself. I can''t monopolize their whole day with farmwork when they came here to learnbat."

    "Then we''ll talk now."

    Defi nodded, then paused. "I nearly forgot, I bought wine."

    "My people thank you. It was good wine." Karles'' expression lightened somewhat.

    "Adan said to buy for you as well." Defi waved both of them indoors. "I''ll go get it. You can wait inside until wee back. With the baskets they have, we''ll be back within the hour."

    He left them in the kitchen.

    Lergen grinned at his friend, once the boy had left. "What do you think of him now?"

    Karles was silent.

    Defi really was a good influence, Lergenughed inwardly.

 Chapter 86: Angering Blacksmiths

    Chapter 86: Angering cksmiths

    Defi entered the smith''s shop, once more greeted by the full suit of armor.

    Turq was in his arms, because he needed to be cheered up by that inexplicablyforting squishy firmness of the slime.

    Digging holes by himself yesterday had fully brought to light how poor the tools in the old warehouse were. Even after he got one of the builders to fix the old tools to serviceable quality, they were still old.

    It would be better to just sell all the old things for scrap metal.

    Now that the builders were finishing up, he couldn''t keep relying on them to fix up the old tools from the Garge homestead.

    Really, how had Kern and Leraine coped all these years with worn-down tools? Wasn''t farming their main source of ie?

    He flexed his fingers, grimacing slightly at their still faintly numb state. The haphazardly repaired spade had caused slight blisters to form on his palms.

    It was clearly time for new spades and hoes. Also, a new axe, since Karles had offhandedly mentioned that the scrap wood had been ced in a shed for firewood. Clearly the man had seen that there was no firewood in his central hall, nearing winter as it was.

    Since Defi had been relying on Emblems to warm up, he''d neglected the hearth in therge hall. It was toorge to simply light up every day on a whim, and he was away from the house most of the day.

    If he kept embers burning in the firece, what if some spark got out of the hearth and burned the central hall down.

    That would certainly have Aire be decidedly more despairing at the kind of ''hospitality'' implied by burning down his own receiving hall, wouldn''t it?

    His lips curled up slightly.

    Thinking about what winter would be like in these chilly mountains, Defi lost his amusement. Had he been too busy feeling sorry for himself andmenting all he lost that he neglected such an important consideration?

    This empire beyond the Gate functioned on Emblems. If he really wanted to light the hearth, then there should be Emblems to keep embers burning so that it would be easy to make a fire at any time, Emblems to keep the fire from leaping out the grate, Emblems for safety and convenience.

    He had not thought of it.

    Even if winter in Ontrea was so short that the water in the irrigation ditches barely iced over, even if he was not used to making such preparations for a snowy winter, it was toorge an oversight for him.

    His fingers clenched into fists.

    He finally admitted to himself that even with his firm resolution to live in this world, he had been avoiding thinking too much about the future.

    It was the end of the month of Rainfall, and there were three months of Autumn in the Ascharonian calendar before the month of Snowfall dawned.

    The reminder from Karles, a whole three months before snow actually fell, meant that the Lowpool winters must be difficult. From the names of the months, he could tentatively confirm such a supposition.

    After Snowfall, there was the month of Icewerth, then the month of Snowmelt before the first of the three months of Spring. The month of Snowmelt was the first of the thirteen months of the Ascharonian calendar and ording to Farbar was when people started to ready the fields for the next nting season.

    The year would only grow colder from the present, which Defi was not looking forward to. He could feel his limbs almost shrivel at the thought of the impending icy future.

    He squeezed Turq tightly to himself.

    He shook his head. He had one or two months to get ready for the winter yet. That was enough time, wasn''t it?

    Defi had entered the smith''s shop for tools, not to worry himself thinking of his very first winter.

    He should be excited for the experience, yes? He was in a wondrous new world! A snowy winter was something he had never seen before.

    Surelye spring, he would be all the better for having experienced it!

    Come spring, he would be all the happier for the warming weather, and he definitely would not be a frozen corpse in the corner of his cold central hall because he ran out of firewood

    "Young sir, are you well?"

    Defi jolted out of his thoughts at the question.

    There was a middle-aged man looking at him in concern, with ck hair curling around his shoulders and a small neatly-kept moustache. It was not Charol, who had been minding the shop thest time Defi came.

    He looked somewhat familiar, but Defi could not remember where he saw the man.

    "Certainly," Defi said calmly, his tight hug on Turq not loosening. "Why should I not be?"

    The man hesitated, then smiled in the way that shopkeepers smiled when they were forcibly ignoring a customer''s entricities. "Of course there would be no reason. May I help you? Are you interested inbuilder''s nails?"

    Defi nced in the direction the man had looked. Defi had indeed stopped to brood beside a barrel of wrought iron nails.

    Beside the barrel of nails were several boxes of various types of small metallic hook-and-eye sets. Weren''t those the sort used in delicate clothing?

    How strange that they were sold next to builder''s equipment.

    A hand patted his shoulder, and Defi looked up to see a rather intense gaze set on him. "Fasteners, young one, just one crescent a kilogar. I guarantee they will keep for years without rusting, and if you buy multiple types, you can match them with any sort ofproject."

    "Ah." Defi moved out from under the man''s hand, slightly bewildered. Then he put the pieces together, and nearly hit the man.

    Did this shopkeep just imply that Defi was the sort to wear women''s undergarments?

    Men''s undergarments used the fasteners too!

    The inane thought, of how many men came to a cksmith shop to buy fasteners so they can make ''alternate'' underclothing, crossed Defi''s mind.

    He pushed it away and made a note to take care where he brooded in the future. "I''d like to buy four spades, two shovels, and a good axe."

    The man nodded knowingly at the words. "Of course, of course, young sir. Our spades are merely two ud and forty each, our shovels the same. Our wood-axes cost four uds. I assure you, you''ll find no better price anywhere within a hundred kilomar!"

    The man was oozing pride at the words. Defi nodded, ignoring the sly looks.

    "I am Fraise, young sir," continued the man. "With yourrge purchase, I can ask one of my many nephews to send them to your residence. If I may?"

    Defi nodded. "Garge homestead."

    The man froze. He looked at Turq, who was in Defi''s arms, then narrowed his eyes on Defi''s face.

    "You" His face contorted. "You''re the whelp of a farmboy that is the reason little Agreine left town in tears!"

    Oh. Now he remembered. This was one of the people standing with Calor Ducan the first time Defi met Agreine in the town hall.

    "She left because of me?" Defi put on a surprised face. "How strange. We had little to do with each other, after all."

    Fraise''s moustache quivered in outrage, and he leaned threateningly close. "You little mutt"

    Turq chose that moment to interrupt with an explosion, unable to endure Defi''s tight hug anymore.

    A drop of liquid slid off the rather sharp point of a now drooping moustache.

    "Ah." Defimented faintly. He loosened his arms from around Turq.

    Fraise''s eyes were nkly bulging.

    Needless to say, Defi did not manage to acquire tools from the cksmith shop that day.

    *

    When he got back to the house, he sighed.

    None of his endeavors in the afternoon bore fruit.

    The savras sellers were not present, and he found himself at loggerheads with the cksmith shopkeep.

    He slumped into a chair in the central hall and picked up a sheet of paper, in an attempt to distract himself from depressing thoughts.

    It was the notes on yesterday''s training.

    All of the thirteen people had attended the second session.

    He had felt their determination and was a little ashamed.

    On the sheet of paper was a list of pole-arm styles that would do well with a halberd. There was a sh across the list, negating all of them.

    After he''d made the list and was debating which to teach, he questioned why he needed to teach them a style at all.

    He was not obligated to them, nor were any of them of Ontrea or aware of the Teachings.

    Why was he worrying so much about what to teach them?

    The line of thought was so inescapable that he could not focus. This was the reason the notes were slightly crumpled; he''d nearly tossed them away in frustration.

    Even now, he didn''t know what to teach.

    The Thundersnake Spear, which Natan already knew?

    No, he was a little wary of how Natan wanted him to hide it.

    He shoulde up with some rules.

    For instance, people shouldn''t train while injured. He wrote Boone''s name on the sheet of paper and encircled it.

    He could give the other boy a bottle of savras extract, but he was certain it would be rejected.

    He shook his head.

    He''d only picked up on the strain in Boone''s body once they started digging, and then he couldn''t draw attention to it. His friend Vesen had made a nuisance of himself subtly attempting to prevent therger boy from doing too much in any case.

    The Guiding Forms, he wanted to say he hadn''t been surprised when the vitality of a bunch of Ascharonian kids had reacted to the exercise but he was.

    He already knew that the energies between the worlds were simr in many aspects. He shouldn''t be surprised.

    Should he add a few of the philosophies? They, who were not warrior born, would not know the traditions and mindset that would make it easier to enter a battlefield. How many of them wanted to join the Ascharon army again?

    He once more went through the list of styles he could teach, with the thirteen people in mind.

    Nothing stood out.

    He tapped the pen on the list.

    He should ask how Natan''s training went.

    Was it possible that Natan''s teacher did not introduce the Guiding Forms to his students before teaching the Thundersnake Art?

    His brow furrowed.

    The people of Ascharon did not have the Current, and their Shades might hinder the full utility of the Forms. Even then, with Defi''s understanding, wouldn''t the Shades of the students only strengthen with a proper foundation?

    It would be easier to teach an Art if the Shades could mimic the Current, yes?

    Or were the internal energies too different after all?

    His mind wandered.

    Defi had little to do with the Gates, only a small interest in them, despite the wealth of Rimet connected to it. His understanding of the rtionship between the two worlds was that both had only signed agreements of neutral trade and little else.

    From rumors of the ''Ontrean princess'' that reached the Lowpool, Ymirin was being treated well.

    He was probably thinking too much.

    Defi had promised to teach the sword, and to teach the only sword art he was qualified to teach he needed his students to at least reach the meditation stage of the Guiding Forms.

    He circled two of the Arts on the crossed out list, remembering the lecture series on evolving Arts andbining styles.

    Humming Snake Spear.

    Interceptor Spear.

    They were not the strongest Arts but Defi had worked on abination of them for the lecture project. It had been an interesting puzzle.

    The spear-master hadughed at his initial results, then proceeded to skin the style down to the very basics while insulting all the notes Defi had added to the forms. Why put on too many individualistic elements when a warrior only needed the Current?

    Defi had not the chance to implement the spear-master''s pointers, but he was informed that he had the beginnings of a promising Art. The unfinished nameless style could work.

    In fact, thinking about it again, it was perfect.

    The Shades of Ascharon would not mesh well with an Ontrean Art meant to work with the Current. But a style that had the chance to adapt to a Shade?

    Defi stood to retrieve the ive that had been sitting too long in his bedroom.

    He had work to do.

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 87: Flight to Ecthys

    Chapter 87: Flight to Ecthys

    Though disappointed, Defi did not have more than a night toment that Leraine''s cousin was still giving him misfortune. Sarel unceremoniously roused him from his pre-dawn meditation with the Current that went hand in hand with healing thend under the sansu trees.

    He was immensely relieved that he''d milked the slimes first, not willing to brave the colder air outside the house this morning, or he''d have to make the woman wait over an hour as he did the morning chores.

    He did ast survey of the house as Sarel made a quick breakfast, doing ast tidying up and distributing the kilograms of hybrid Naranj herb he''d harvested yesterday, before shouldering his travelsack and following Sarel to the pier.

    He took Turq with him, giving Mite the rest of the zaziphos that was in the storage barrels.

    Defi had ced more than one day''s feed in all the slime baskets, as he wouldn''t be present to feed them tomorrow. He didn''t think they would mind if they missed a meal or two, in any case. He''d been feeding them over ten times their bodyweight every day.

    They had survived a day or two without feeding before.

    He shifted in the sailboat, hiding a yawn and a shiver, even as he peered forward toward a particrndmark in the distance.

    It was a cliff, just like any other cliff in the Lowpool. He only knew what particr cliff it was because he''d been thoroughly lectured on its minute differences from other cliffs in the vicinity. Sarel had made him take the tiller, and was keeping an eye on the lines.

    The air over theke was even colder, and the speed of the dinghy over the water made the icy windsh harshly over unprotected skin.

    Sarel frowned at him. "You need warmer clothing. That coat won''t keep the winter out, even with the warming Emblems of your house."

    He nodded.

    He was aware. There was a list of things a household needed for winter that Aire gave him when he asked, together with the list of things she wanted him to acquire in the city.

    The list of things she swore he needed was unexpectedly long enough that he feared all the profit from Bluzand would be spent getting ready for winter.

    Defi tugged his scarf higher on his cheeks with an inaudible sigh.

    The scarf was something he had gotten made at a seamstress shop in the Lowpool. He''d seen the Gamber des and Major il Vons, plus several of the retired soldiers, wearing lengths of cloth around their necks and had eagerly questioned a few people as to where they could be acquired.

    The soldiers'' neckcloths, called scarves, were mainly worn as something to clean the face and wipe off sweat but Defi had quickly adopted the fashion to help keep warm.

    It was something he would''ve never worn in Ontrea.

    That the scarf he described to the seamstress could be reliably used to hide his lower face in a pinch was a provident extra benefit. The warming Emblems that had been carved into his coat''s buttons could not be applied in the same manner to the scarf, so it was one of the things Defi was going to Ecthys for.

    It was knitted from quality wool, and thick enough to hold up semi-valiantly against the wind even without additions.

    There were several warming Emblems in the public roster of designs put out by the guild of glyphmakers, but they were all too high-leveled for his current skill. Warming Emblems were third-level designs.

    Defi was near to recreating Jast''s test, and therefore nearly as skilled as second-level glyphmakers. Third-level Emblems were out of his reach.

    "We''re here."

    Defi stood to help dock the dinghy at a familiar pier. Then sun had already lifted itself above the eastern horizon, but it was still early enough that the mists in the tree-studded cove that Marmocha built his home in hovered thick about thendscape.

    Marmocha was talking to several people as they approached the house. One of the men flinched as he saw theme unexpectedly out of the mists.

    "Sarel! Defi!" The man beamed after he whirled to see what had shocked hispanions. "I expected you in the afternoon."

    Even with words of rebuke, his eyes were warm.

    Sarel shrugged in apology. "Things came up."

    Defi nced at her. She''d not answered his questions on why they had to travel so early, and there was only so far he was willing to push an elder to whom he owed his life.

    Greetings out of the way, Defi discreetly eyed the people Marmocha had been talking to who were casually ambling away in the manner of people who did not want to be acknowledged.

    A familiar stride; he had seen Garun do the same. Defi''s thoughts churned, straying into paths he''d long put aside as baseless fantasy.

    "I''ll need a small while to ready the carriage," Marmocha was saying, concluding the discussion he was having with Sarel. "Won''t youe in for some food before we leave? I have some preserves that might be of interest."

    Defi took a single cup of lemon water to be polite, then left the two to talk. He wanted to watch the winged goats be harnessed. He tucked Turq into the curve of an arm.

    The stables had several stable-hands, and they were taking the carriage and the goats outside the stables to be harnessed. Defi stopped close by one of the goats and started petting its wings gently.

    "The carriage-box is able to float by itself," The stablemaster Omfe exined when he saw Defi''s interest. "It is kept steady by a series of Emblems. I believe also to prevent collisions with the ground or buildings. No," heughed. "I don''t know the configuration. It is a secret of the glyphmaker''s guild."

    The wings of the goats were toorge to be able to fly side by side, so a team of four or five were harnessed in a formation simr to geese.

    It was not a simple thing to harness a wing-carriage, with all the tack involved.

    "Wouldn''t it be easier to fly astride the goat?" Defi lifted a thick braid of rope to untangle it from a dozen other braids. It only made the tangle tighter. He scowled at the ropes. He''d been trying to fix the tangle for some minutes now.

    "It would. But mestre Marmo needs the space of the carriage." Omfe took the knot from him and with a few deft twists, the braided ropes fell apart.

    Defi gaped. What was this magic?

    Omfe chuckled, his bright green eyes crinkling. "Besides, riding the skyroads is cold even at the height of summer."

    There were always downsides.

    "There are smaller carriages for one or two people, which would not need soplicated a harnessing." Omfe gave him back the ropes and returned to his work. "The government gives out permits more easily to those, than therger carriages."

    Omfe patted the carriage fondly.

    Ascharon prohibited using winged animals in trade unless in certain circumstances, like the exemption for sea merchantry or the grand blue eagles that were bred by a former empress. Even then, the sky-trade was greatly regted.

    Large carriages like the one Marmocha owned, which looked spacious enough for four people, especially with the man flying here and there on a whim, would often be under suspicion of illegal trade.

    He stood back and let Omfe activate the emblem to float the carriage. The stablemaster did another inspection, eyes keen and careful as he looked for anomalies.

    "Gosseu," Omfe called. One of the stable-hands looked up from inspecting the harnesses around a winged goat and jogged over. "The inside."

    Omfe turned to him. "Gosseu is going to be the coachman for this trip."

    The coachman Gosseu had ck hair, sun-kissed skin, and a wide smile under amethyst eyes. A young man in his early twenties. He eagerly inspected the inside of the carriage, testing several hidden drawers and dusting every surface.

    He plopped himself into the coachman''s seat, which was a closed partition at the very front of the carriage, and saluted Omfe and Defi. "All ready and waiting to go!"

    Omfe nodded, with a sigh.

    Defi was d the carriage was finally harnessed, with the goats standing around it in the yard. He was having second thoughts about acquiring one for himself.

    Hah, he mocked his indecisiveness, only months out of Rimet and he was gettingzy and dull. What a fine former noble scion he was.

    Omfe sent one of the stable-hands to call Sarel and Marmocha, while Defi followed to retrieve his travelsack.

    The luggage was soon squared away, there being more than enough room.

    The inside of the carriage was upholstered well, andfortable. Marmocha waved Sarel and Defi in first, talking to Omfe and Gosseu.

    Defi sat himself across Sarel, the seats of the carriage facing each other.

    Marmocha heaved himself into the cushioned seat beside Defi. Omfe closed the door. Defi saw him step back and make a motion to Gosseu. Wings pped, one after another, and the already floating carriage lifted more off the ground.

    "Is it long to Ecthys?"

    "Two, three hours, the sky-roads shift a little, depending on the winds." Marmocha made himselffortable on the seat.

    "We''re stopping by your ce first," Sarel added, taking a book out from the small bookshelf she pulled out from under her seat.

    Defi tilted his head to read the titles, then grabbed one that looked promising before she snapped the bookshelf closed.

    Her words registered. His brow twitched. "You could have gone back for me instead of dragging me across theke before dawn."

    "Hm? Oh, you''re right." Sarel''s absentminded answer exasperated Defi. "Well, you were useful with the boat."

    Marmocha snickered from beside him. "Was he?"

    These were the adults he most trusted in this other world, Defi thought in mild despair. There was Garun, but the old man was doing his own things in the south.

    Defi leaned into the thick ss window, an unopened book in hisp and Turq on his head, watching the fishing boats on theke below.

    "Should we bring everything, or just the vinegar?" There was no other reason to return to the homestead but the barrels of slime extract.

    "How many barrels do you have?"

    "Eleven full quartels."

    Marmocha nodded and hummed. "We couldsh some of them to the roof above. The carvings will hide them from street-level view."

    Defi smiled wryly. It wasn''t like Marmocha had ever hidden his streak of slightly gleefulwbreaking.

    "I''ll need a guide." He was not blind. He could see that Sarel was preupied, and likely would be busy when they got to the city.

    "You wouldn''t be able to do much sightseeing in a day and a half." Sarel looked up from where she was abstractedly turning the pages of her book without reading them.

    "I have things to acquire for the orphanage. Also, like you said, I need more clothes."

    A corner of Sarel''s lips lifted. "Aire has never given me lists since the first time she attempted to reroute my travels and failed."

    "I do not mind."

    She made a wordless sound and held out her hand.

    Defi took the first folded paper from his inner jacket pocket.

    Sarel looked over it, nodded. "I''ll take care of it. We''ll be going back by caravan."

    Defi opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again. They were going to be in Ecthys only briefly. Splitting up the things to do was the logical choice.

    "So cold, it''s like I''m being abandoned." Marmocha snatched Turq off Defi''s head and hugged him, dramatically despondent. "What am I, eh? You think I can''t carry all your souvenirs?"

    Sarel raised a brow and passed him the list.

    The very first item struck him in the heart. His eyes widened in surprise.

    "Ten cental? Chelua," he read through the long list, looking faint, "this will kill my darlings, break their wings."

    He shoved the list back at Sarel. "Take it, take it! I retract my objection."

    Defi ignored the man''s hysterics, rummaged through his travelsack for the pouch of coin Aire gave him. He handed it over. Sarel stuffed the list into it and tossed it into her own bag.

    Turq slipped out of Marmocha''s hold to bounce to Defi''s shoulder.

    "Hey! Ah, even the pets are leaving me"

    "You don''t want to hug him too long," Defi said direly, thinking about yesterday. He patted Turq, who was burrowing into his scarf.

    Eh, he probably couldn''t have swayed the cksmith to his view long enough to buy the tools he needed, if the man was much like his rtive.

    He did hope the only cksmith shop in the Lowpool didn''t cklist him from their premises though.

    "I''ll still need a guide," Defi leaned back against the seat.

    "What do you take me for?" Marmocha rallied. "I''m not the one to leave an innocentmb in the ughterhouses that are the city streets."

    "Very descriptive." Defi had never been amb though.

    He settled to ask questions about the first Ascharonian city he would ever see, the clear blueke below them reflecting an endless sky, and the beating ofrge wings above them sounding with soothing regrity.

 Chapter 88: Welcome to Bluzand

    Chapter 88: Wee to Bluzand

    Ecthys was a city cloaked in rose and red.

    The first thing that Defi took in was the red of the roofing tiles and the pale reddish tint of the thick city walls.

    It was built on a little spit ofnd that jutted out into the river, and there were harbors on three sides of the city. The north of the city were low hills and t ins that were arranged in cultivated parcels.

    The intimidating walls, built for protection against pirates and raiders, encircled the city. In the bright light of the noonday sun, the stone of the walls glowed a pale rosy color that stood out against the green of the river and the gold of ripening fields of grain.

    "The stone is ordinary,"mented Marmocha, "it''s the mortar that they spread over the surface to strengthen the walls that gives the color. I hear they make it out of shells of red ms."

    There was a citadel on the southernmost part of the city, built on a mass of stone, its domed towers and spires rising high above both river and roofs.

    Sarel stirred to look outside the window.

    "It''s called the Rosefort," she murmured when she saw him admiring the structure. "It''s one of the first buildings built using the pavilioned style of architecture which was based on the buildings of Ontrea."

    Defi blinked at her, then looked back at the numerous covered balconies and the columned open levels on the towers of the Rosefort.

    He had felt an easing of something tight in his chest, when he saw that a number of houses in the Lowpool had simr columned balconies as the buildings of his childhood home. But he''d not thought the features were inspired by Ontrea. It would be illogical to assume that an artistic idea could only appear in one ce, even with differing cultures.

    Of course, he thought, the two worlds had been trading through the Gate for nearly a millennium. It was inevitable that ideas get traded between them as well as material goods.

    It had been five centuries since rtions between the worlds had soured to the point that only trade went between them, so the styles of Ascharonian pavilion architecture had diverged from traditional Ontrean designs.

    But still, he could say that there was something of home in this world.

    "It used to be called the Egret Castle, when the city was still ruled by the counts il Maren. The line of the Maren nobles ended with the death of a sick child two hundred years ago and the domain reverted to the emperor''s control. Instead of awarding it to loyal nobles he gave the castle town a city charter. The Drene family still holds a grudge, I hear, even after they were elevated from casters to viscounts." Marmocha tapped on the partition between them and the driver; opened apartment and spoke through it. "Gosseu, make a circle of the city will you?"

    There was a muffled reply. Marmocha nodded in satisfaction.

    The fluttery wingbeats above them changed and the flying carriage tipped slightly as its direction changed.

    Defi caught a glimpse of a number of flying carriages as they flew at the edges of the city. Winged goats and horses appeared to be popr, though there were several grand blue eagles carrying covered litters much like elephants in thends west of Ontrea were made to carry howdahs on their backs.

    "There are twelve gates to the city," Marmocha pointed as he talked. "You can tell the major roads by the fact that they end in one. You can see from here that all the roads lead to Egret Street, the road that leads from the castle to the northernmost gate. As long as you can see the castle, it won''t be difficult to navigate. I advise you to keep to the major streets and don''t go down any alleys near the harbor gates."

    There were carriages and people flowing through the streets, colorful moving patches and specks between the red ceramic tiled roofs. Sails abounded on the western and southern ports,rge and small ships entering and leaving. It was a bustling city.

    The residences of the people were not contained within the city, as houses and buildings appeared to burst out of each gate.

    "How many people live in Ecthys?"

    Marmocha squinted out the window a moment. "About sixty thousand, if I recall correctly. It may be small but its history is longer than some of therger cities on the great river."

    Small? Defi resisted lifting a brow. "Sixty thousand people is considered a small city?"

    "When the capital city of Carmedel has over a million people then yes, Ecthys is considered small." Marmochaughed.

    "The mercantile squares are near the gates, though that is not the case for the two gates in the east. The central parts of the city around the castle are generally residential. The smaller streets in the northwest quarter of the city have arranged themselves into tradecraft areas and are regted by the guilds. You''ll likely find most of what you need there."

    The eastern port appeared to cater only to smaller ships and boats. Defi leaned closer to the window. The smattering of rocks jutting up from the river caught his eye and he understood that therge trade ships would not be able toe near the eastern docks.

    The structures on the eastern parts of the city appeared to be less chaotic, less clumped together. Perhaps they were builtter, with more of a nnedyout.

    "The Bluzand building is on Bolhaven Street, which runs between the major roads of Carmeton and Vane." Marmocha continued as they circled inward from the edges of the city. He eyed Sarel, almost pouting in jealousy. "I have yet to know how such a prime location was acquired by someone who was at the time fleeing Carmedel."

    Sarel ignored him.

    Defi detected a trace of embarrassed irritation sh on her features. He perked up, sensitive as always to possible ckmail material. "That sounds like a good story."

    "Doesn''t it?" Marmocha agreed.

    They stared at her expectantly.

    She stared back, unamused.

    "Oh, it must be quite a tale," Marmocha goaded after a few moments of silence. "An adventure."

    "Daring feats, harrowing escapes," nodded Defi.

    "Exotic encounters."

    "In high and low ces."

    "Was it a lover?"

    Defi slid away from Marmocha the moment the question left the man''s mouth. Fast enough to dodge the book that came flying toward them.

    Marmocha was quick enough to dodge the book but the second,ing speedily after the first, caught him between the eyes as he was protesting the damage to good literature. "Kuh!"

    Defi huffed inughter at the look on the older man''s face. Then had to block a thick projectileing at his own head with the book ''A Bard''s Travels in the Clouded Continent and the Hidden Inds'' that he''d been reading on the journey.

    *

    They alighted from the carriage, on one of the t roofs of the Bluzand Merchant Company building, slightly worse for wear.

    Marmocha was moaning about the swelling bump on his forehead. "I have to meet people, you know!"

    "You have enough lumps on your face that another one shouldn''t worry you," Sarel threw back over her shoulder as she stalked to meet the person who had scrambled up from an open stairway when theynded.

    "Lumps? Lumps?!" The outragedint followed Defi as he jumped out the floating carriage. "What are you calling lumps, you hag?"

    "Thank you for the ride!" Defi called back, then waved at the driver sticking his head out a small window. Gosseu waved back.

    The roof was three storeys up from the ground, high enough to have a good view of the city, even if there were taller buildings around.

    The buildings here and there had domed roofs, spires, and t roofs or pavilions andrge balconies to amodate flying transport. Across the two-way road from thepany building was arge official-looking ce, all white columns and intimidating cornices, with a sculpted garden in the front.

    Looking at the numerous carriages and people below, and the even more numerous carriages on the main street some distance from the Bluzand building, why this was a prime location for a merchant. He leaned over the balustrade, to see that part of the building was arge storefront, with many people strolling in and out.

    The Bluzandpany straddled the space between two streets. Defi nced at Sarel, who was talking intently with two people, and walked to the other end of the roof.

    Two sides of the roof were blocked by taller wings of the building and so he could see only a bit of what was on the other street  it looked smaller than the first, but no less busy.

    Below him was a narrow alley between thepany building and another structure, connecting the two streets together.

    "Defi."

    Sarel waved him over.

    He jogged toward the small group of three.

    "This is Defi, the source of what I believe to be one of your smaller headaches. Defi, Tennar is the manager of the Bluzand Company."

    Defi bowed briefly, smiled at the sharp-eyed white-haired man studying him. "Good day sir. I apologize for the disappointment of only being a small headache."

    The manughed good-naturedly, a bit wryly, his face younger than the color of his hair would indicate. "I assure you, I am grateful. I know thedy would not have said this, seeing that its her, but wee to Bluzand."

    Sarel made a displeased sound.

    Defi''s smile widened, a bit more genuine.

 Chapter 89: Touring with Clerks

    Chapter 89: Touring with Clerks

    Sarel, faintly apologetic, called over one of the clerks under Tennar to guide Defi around the building.

    Defi hadn''t expected them to go directly into business in any case, so was happy to have someone take him around. He realized he didn''t know precisely the business Bluzand dealt in.

    "We''re a condimentpany, mestre," said the clerk who had been introduced as Darred. "We create and supply many of the popr spice-mixes traded on the Indar river cities. We also deal in ready-made sauces. We are a smallpany,pared to some, but we are known in our little niche."

    The man, who was in his twenties, shone pride in his warm brown gaze despite the faint dark shadows under his eyes. His hands waved as he talked, and Defi could see ink splotches on his fingers.

    "You have been with thepany long?"

    "I apprenticed with thepany at twelve and was privileged to be chosen to continue working here when the apprenticeship ended. It has been fifteen years since then. Currently, head clerk Ebmond who oversees the offices of mestre Tennar is my supervisor."

    "That is a long time."

    Darred smiled at him. "The Bluzandpany is one of the better employers in the Indar merchantry, mestre Defi. I do not think you will be disappointed with thepany."

    They had already bought his vinegar at prices higher than he''d expected, so he was satisfied. Defi didn''t tell the clerk that, and asked instead. "What does it take to be a clerk in Bluzand?"

    "Mestre?"

    "Just your general experience. The people are often more indicative of the state of thepany than the grandness of the building."

    "You are wise, mestre. As for my experience, I was epted as an apprentice because of the rmendation from the headmaster of my school and Bluzand was looking for those who could read and had neat handwriting. The one ud a week of apprentice pay was very wee and helpful to my family. To be one of the first graduates of the first reading school in Ecthys formoners, I was fortunate."

    "That sounds low for weekly pay."

    Darredughed. "A decade ago, it was unexpected forpanies to offer pay to apprentices much other than room and board, so when word got out many wanted to apprentice with us. In many ces, to pay apprentices is still unexpected. Of course, apprentice pay in Bluzand is more now, three ud thirty rond weekly I believe. Considering that a junior clerk earns just ten ud a week, it is an appreciable sum to an apprentice."

    "I see. What does a clerk do?"

    Darred''s expression at that question was dry. "We copy anything that is given to us to copy. Depending on which area of the business, others keep ounts or deal with outside businesses. You may not believe this, mestre, but the paper produced by a merchantpany is enough to fell a small forest of trees. It is repetitive work, and endless."

    "I hope I do not intrude on your work."

    "No, no." Darred looked rmed. "You are a wee guest. For mestre Tennar to introduce you to thedy, you must represent one of the top business partners of Bluzand."

    That wasbackwards, but it was true that Defi was to partner with the Bluzandpany, so he did not refute the supposition.

    It was less gossip-inducing to be introduced to the owner of thepany rather than the owner herself introducing him to thepany manager.

    "You tter me. I am certain that my small efforts do not merit such consideration. Perhaps thedy and I were in the same building coincidentally?" He waved an idle hand, with a lightugh. "As you see, I am being cated."

    "Just being able to meet the manager alone, is something that many cannot say. Mestre Tennar is upied with much these days."

    Obviously, thepany was experiencing some great change.

    "You appear to be tired. Is something happening?"

    Darred paused. "I hesitate to recount rumours, but we have been having much more work ofte."

    He did not say more.

    Defi nodded. He looked around. "Continuing, when did you make junior clerk?"

    "Ah, I was eighteen. The clerk who was my superior then rmended me for a full hiring contract. I became a senior clerk justst year. It was fortuitous." A wide smile grew on Darred''s face. "I met the woman I am to marry on the same week. We are currently saving up for the marriage. With the eighteen ud a week of the senior clerk, and the increases for seniority, I believe we can marry in two years!"

    "Congrattions," murmured Defi. "to you and your fiance."

    The clerk beamed.

    "She must be a wonderful woman, for you to be so happy."

    "She says we fit well together, though I am not worthy of her grace. She deserves much more than me. Her grandfather is a judge, you see."

    If this were Ontrea, certainly a match between the granddaughter of a judge, a profession generally given to schr-priests, and a merchant would never have been countenanced. But this was Ascharon, and Defi had already learned to adapt to the differences.

    "Love grows with courage, do you not think so?" Defi was once told that love was knowing that you were throwing your own self into pain, and leaping off the cliff anyway. Perhaps instead of courage, it was reckless masochism?

    He had heard many songs of love, and in truth they were all illogical.

    But Darred lit up when he said those half-hearted words cribbed from years of listening to literary romance, that Defi felt a little guilty.

    "Mestre Darred, one of the clerks seems to have misced a contract agreement." A young woman dressed in the dark vest marked with the Bluzand symbol sidled close and whispered, low but understandable to Defi''s passively enhanced hearing.

    Darred''s bright countenance dropped into a dark hole. He turned to Defi. "I apologize deeply. I will call another to escort you around thepany."

    "There is no need. I remember the way to the offices, mostly. Do not mind me."

    Darred nced at the woman, looked apologetically at Defi, before he rushed off.

    The woman approached Defi with a professional smile. "Mestre, I am Vesia, a junior clerk in thispany. May I assist?"

    Defi returned her smile. Of course they wouldn''t let him roam around on his own. "Defi. A pleasure, miss. What is at the end of this corridor?"

    Darred had been introducing him to the main areas of operation in the building. They were just heading to thest ce on the second floor before heading down to the first level and the Bluzand shop.

    "This leads to the rooms where we mix our spices, mestre. And also to the storage houses." She pointed to a building outside the window that seemed separate from the main structure.

    That was interesting. There was a path from the second level to there? "How many spice-mixes do you have?"

    "Currently, we have sixteen spice-mixes in production for different types of recipes. We also sell individually packaged spices, but we are known more for the mixes. We have thirty-seven sauces and ten vinegars."

    Defi was surprised. Thirty-seven sauces? "Surely you do not make all of them here?"

    "We have other locations, of course. Ecthys is only where the main branch is located. We also have a ce in the east of the city where we make our most popr roasting sauce."

    A sauce just for roasting. Defi would like to try it sometime. His mouth watered at memories of roasting game over campfires.

    "Oh?"

    "Yes, of course! I never thought a sour sauce would go well with the taste of mushrooms, but our chefs are really outstanding."

    Defi paused.

    "Yes," he said faintly. "Mushrooms do better in sauce than in wine."

    She blinked in confusion. "Ah?"

    "It''s nothing."

    They continued the tour. Vesia apologized that she could not let him see the actual mixing process, but wavered and agreed when he wanted to see the storage houses.

    He was curious what spices and essences Ascharon had that might be simr to spices in Ontrea. It had been a while since he hadst eaten an Ontrean stew, fragrant and thick with spices.

    Not the least because meat was expensive in the Lowpool.

    At the very least, he wanted to see what Ascharonian tamal were like.

    The dishes he had eaten in Ascharon were vorful and exotic to his tongue. But sometimes, Defi craved food that would burst with vor while burning its way down his throat.

    The storage house had multiple levels, two above-ground and two basements. It only had small windows high up on the walls.

    "We store our raw spices in Emblem-preserved crates and barrels," Vesia introduced, as she wended through the shelves full of crates, barrels, jars, sacks, and bottles. "The building is of course inscribed with a high-grade preservation Emblem, but we transport so many things between locations that the crates need to be properly prepared as well."

    "Naturally." Defi picked his way between the shelves, eyeing a number of the open crates that held vegetables.

    Some of the containers were being opened by workers, who were measuring various ingredients into smaller bags and jars.

    He took the lid off arge ceramic jar and sniffed. A fermented fish sauce, he realized. The air of the warehouse, which he expected to be heavily aromatic with fragrances, like the spice markets of Ontrea, was fresh and chilly instead.

    Once he thought more, it was logical to inscribe Emblems that took care of the smell as well. Some ingredients were delicate, and might be contaminated with the scent of stronger spices.

    Defi watched with interest as the workers moved smoothly through the shelves. He noticed that the most used shelves were close to the main doors. Did that mean the rarer or least used spices were further from the doors?

    He made his way to the back. "Do you have"

    What was the Ascharonian word for tamal again?

    "spices that have a burning taste?"

    "Oh, we have a few chillies, from Zaturias in the southwest seas." Vesia followed him through the shelves as he explored, smiling here and there at people she knew. "It is rare to sell them in pure form. Most of our stock is mixed with other spices."

    He turned to her. "Can I see these ''chillies''?

    Something ttered in the dimmer parts of the warehouse.

    Vesia stopped, and called into the forest of shelves. "Be careful!"

    Defi smiled at her. She shrugged. "Many of our ingredients need careful handling."

    Something thudded, like a barrel falling.

    They shared looks and went toward it.

    There were two people crouched before an open crate.

    "Head clerk?" Vesia''s voice was hesitant.

    The man turned, stood with a scowl. "What are you doing here? This part of the storehouse is restricted!"

    He didn''t wait for their exnations before yelling. "Guards!"

    Defi inwardly sighed. He had thought the rest of the day would be peaceful.

    **

    **

    *

    Notes:

    Reading school  a school that teaches reading, writing, arithmetic. Generally, from age eight to twelve.

 Chapter 90: The Manager Tennar

    Chapter 90: The Manager Tennar

    "You let some stranger wander around the ce unchecked?" The head clerk of the purchasing department, Vodren, was in a righteous dudgeon.

    Well, Vodren was the type to be high-strung about many things, but his tone today was more outraged than usual. The man''s voice was loud enough to be heard in the corridor.

    Tennar entered the room, with thedyzily sauntering after him, to see Vodren ring at two young people. His assistant Caria stood behind him, lips thinned in disapproval.

    There were two of thepany guards book-ending the seated youngsters.

    Vesia, a junior clerk if he remembered correctly, was cringing in her seat. Tennar narrowed his eyes. Why was it her and not Darred who was showing the creator of their newest vinegar products around?

    Tennar nced at the boy. Defi of the Lowpool was sitting calmly, an expression of intent listening on his face, a blue-green slime resting on his head. Too old for a pet, wasn''t he? Dark eyes briefly nced at them upon their entry. Despite Defi''s features not changing, Tennar got the impression of a smile from the unperturbed gaze.

    Bluzand''sdy definitely had an eye for talent and odd people.

    The vinegar products alone were set to be at the top of thepany''s product offerings. This was the first rmendation of thedy in five years. Considering how thest rmendation was still creating some of their top-selling products, Tennar had ced great consideration on the barrels sent for testing from the Lowpool.

    He had not expected the creator to be so young. Possibly thedy had given pointers, or it was a family craft. There was no way to make <em>that</em> vinegar in less than two decades. Full-vored, deep and rich  even now the taste lingered in the back of Tennar''s mind.

    To make such a taste, wouldn''t it take a hundred years to slowly coax the vor into the vinegar? It had to be a family recipe, and the youngd was the lucky sessor of the already prepared barrels. He imagined a basement full of barrel upon barrel of top quality vinegar and swallowed.

    No, enough with the fantasies. He didn''t even know if the imagined basement existed. Even asking thedy only got him an amused smile.

    Speaking of thedy, he could see her nce meaningfully at him.

    It seemed the situation was his to manage. Thedy did not meddle much inpany affairs these days, and by her nce just now she seemed to have no inclination to return to active management. Still, it was indeed more expedient to hide that their newest business partner had such proximity to the owner of Bluzand.

    It would distance the young man from their current problems.

    Tennar stepped forward.

    "What is happening?" he greeted in mild tones, making four faces turn to him. "Vodren, your voice is reaching the lower floor."

    Every merchant knew that even if the business was crumbling to dust, the customers must always see a smile on their faces. Any rumor may affect profit. Any deluge of gossip may turn a crack into a dam-breaking catastrophe.

    Vodren lowered his voice, but did not relent. "These two were in the rare section of the warehouse! You must agree, manager, it is suspicious!"

    If people did not know that it was thedy who recruited Defi, then yes it was suspicious. But thedy herself did not want Defi to be involved with internal matters, which the young man would be if it was known he was her rmendation.

    It was true that Defi would not be staying in Ecthys. But he lived in the same town as thedy, who did not want her whereabouts noised around. Yes, rifying the connection between the two would be detrimental for both thedy and the boy.

    He felt a re bore into the side of his head, felt a cold sweat on his neck.

    Should heugh or cry?

    Mydy, if you wanted to protect the child, shouldn''t you speak up yourself? Just a word would clear all of this up.

    He looked at the two seated young people. The young clerk was looking at them in despair and slight hope. Defi however, was still studiously calm. Tennar was a good judge of people, and thed did not appear to expect thedy to assist him. Did not expect anyone to assist him, in fact, and was waiting for a suitable time to speak.

    All thedy''s rmendations were interesting, weren''t they?

    "He was given permission," Tennar cleared his throat, face serene. "Young Defi is our newest business partner."

    "Manager! Mydy! Even if he is a new partner, do we let outsiders walk around our secrets like they owned the ce?"

    At Vodren''s incredulity, thedy smiled. "Your care ismendable."

    Tennar despaired inwardly. That''s all you say? Mydy! Are you condemning the child? What if he leaves? Think of the vinegar, top-notch secret vinegar!

    "Defi''s craft needs certain ingredients," Tennar continued, voice still mild. "It was my decision to let him have the run of the warehouse. Though, I assigned someone else as his guide."

    He lifted a brow at the two. It was Defi who answered the silent query. Vesia was too overwhelmed to speak. Tennar supposed it was not everyday that a junior clerk meets thepany manager, thepany owner, and a head clerk of one of the major departments at the same time.

    "Mestre Darred was called away by an emergency." Defi said, his voice clear and unrushed. "Someone lost a contract, if I heard correctly."

    Vodren nearly choked in fury at that ipetence. Tennar narrowed his eyes. Beside him, thedy gave a nearly inaudible sigh.

    Contracts were the lifeblood of the merchant world. Themerce ministry only moved to protect and uphold transactions that had an official contract. A contract that needed a senior clerk to manage, not just a senior clerk but one from thepany manager''s own offices, would not be an insignificant contract.

    Defi''s words changed their focus neatly away from the two young people in the room.

    Andpounded the dread Tennar had been feeling since he saw the anomalies in thepany ounts.

    *

    Defi and Vesia and Turq were unceremoniously kicked out of the discussion that urred next.

    Defi sighed. That was more peaceful a resolution than he expected. Still, it was likely not over yet.

    Vesia doubtfully looked at the pouch of coin that had been tossed to her by the manager, as if she and Defi were children to be cated.

    Defi let himselfugh. "It appears I''vee to Bluzand at an interesting time."

    "Are you really a new business partner?"

    "I suppose." Not quite. He had signed nothing yet.

    Vesia nced at him, sceptical. But she had been with thepany long enough to know not to talk too much about contracts. She lifted the pouch of coin. "Since we have been shooed off while the adults talk, are you hungry?"

    The door opened, and Sarel came out to hear the question. "How is the food in thepany refectory these days?"

    "My..mydy?" Vesia''s eyes widened. "The sameas always?"

    Sarel clicked her tongue. "That Tennar is as stingy as ever."

    She waved over a clerk that was younger than Defi. "Send five meals from the regr kitchens to this meeting room. See how they like it."

    "Yes, madam!" The boy scurried away.

    Sarel nced at the two of them, narrowed her eyes at Defi. "I left you alone for less than an hour."

    Defi looked wounded. "I didn''t do anything."

    "Well. At least Tennar''s not nagging at me anymore. Come. I''ll treat you two to a meal at Watersiders."

    "How good is it?" Defi followed in Sarel''s wake.

    "Good?" burst out Vesia, looking surprised at having been invited. "It''s excellent! One of the best foodhalls in the city!"

    "Oh?" On the scale of one to hidden master chef, what does ''best'' mean?

    "The tables and private rooms are always packed," Vesia murmured. "Not even nobles can easily eat there. Thedy is truly incredible, to be able to get a table."

    "I know the owner." Sarel nced back at them. "The food there is eptable."

    Vesia blushed at having been overheard. Defi nodded in anticipation  if Sarel said the food was eptable, then wouldn''t it be better than average?

    He said instead. "Aren''t you supposed to be working?"

    "It''s not so serious." Sarel led them down the stairs. "Tennar can handle it without me."

    On the first level of the Bluzandpany was a spacious shop whose shelves wereden with variousbelled bottles, boxes, jars, and pots.Somewhat like the warehouse, but in smaller quantities. The containers were also of better quality than the ones in the warehouse.

    Unlike the warehouse, the scent of spices lingered in the air.

    Perhaps like an advertisement?

    Defi looked around in interest. "These are all mixed condiments?"

    "This is Bluzand''s primary shop and headquarters. All the products that are made under our banner are showcased here. We mostly deal in condiments yes." Sarel exited the shop, trailed by the two. A youth wearing a vest with the Bluzand mark quickly led them to a light carriage. "You actually made Tennar seriously look into expansion into a market other than food."

    Defi took that to mean that the slime lotion had few uses in the food industry. Had Tennare up with a viable selling point, he wondered.

    He hadn''t pitched the savras extract yet, but he thought it could be used to make a solid entry into the beauty market, made into a skin-rejuvenating cream or something simr.

    He was well aware that to many who flitted under the banner of ''society'', the concept of dignity was almost synonymous to vanity, after all. The concept of beauty being alike to virtue was well-developed in Ontrea.

    It was not so prevalent in Ascharon, but the idea also existed. Otherwise the apothecary''s guild would not be so well-advertised.

    "Bluzand is expanding out of the condiment business?" Vesia looked shocked. "Imydy, that is why you returned?"

    Sarel smiled at her. "At the moment, it''s just spection."

    Vesia nodded. "Of course. I won''t talk about it."

    "How long have you been with thepany, might I ask?"

    "Three years as an apprentice and five as a junior clerk, mydy."

    "Just three as an apprentice?"

    "II started at sixteen. My mentor said it was too old, but took me anyway."

    "After graduating from a schrium."

    Vesia lifted her gaze to meet Sarel''s calcting eyes, surprised. "Yes?"

    "Hm."

    The junior clerk looked slightly intimidated by the shortly hummed syble.

    Defi nced at Sarel. A junior clerk who knew just a little too much for her own good. There were several ways to deal with the matter.

    He returned to watching the bustling streets of the city, so noisy and redolent with various smells. So different from the slower pace of the Lowpool. The carriage stopped by a four-storey high building. Therge decorated banner fluttering on one side proimed that it was the Watersiders'' Foodhall.

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 91: Renegotiation

    Chapter 91: Renegotiation

    Even dressed more ''casually'' than any of the patrons on the upper floors, it appeared the staff recognized Sarel and the service was fast.

    Defi raised his theory of Sarel owning the ce higher by a few points in estimation.

    The private room Sarel entered wasrge, light and airy in dcor.It looked like a room for arge party. There were two tables, one within the confines of the room and one on the pavilion attached to the room.

    "There is a balcony?" Vesia trotted toward the space that was open on three sides. The sight appeared to have restored the natural cheerfulness suppressed by unexpectedly being in thepany of her ultimate superior.

    "Most of the private rooms here have one," Sarel followed the excited clerk. "This is one of the better views."

    Thend under the city rose to a series of small hills norger than bumps in the middle, which meant the city center was raised slightly and sloped down toward the waters of the river. The rose-colored city walls, a fair sight in the mid-day sunlight, were visible from every part of the city.

    From the balcony of the foodhall which was built on the slight rise of thend, the viewer had a sweeping look at the city of Ecthys. The walls curved around, and the citadel rose imposingly on the far right of the view.

    Watersiders was built not on the docks but on an artificial water channel that reached toward the city center, and the road that paralleled the water channel was festooned with gardens visible from the upper floors.

    No wonder the ce was popr.

    With a location like this, people woulde simply for the view.

    Many buildings in the city had pavilions and open spaces on the upper floors. It was not the same as the architecture in Rimet. But simr enough that Defi suppressed a pang of homesickness.

    The servers startedying the food out on the balcony table.

    "Mydy, mestre and miss, today we offer pear-and-wine-roasted duck stuffed with pepper-sprinkled cloudgrain, and herbedmb stew with sour plums and onions. The chestnut soup is particrly popr this season, and our greens are especially grown in our own gardens."

    Sarel nodded, and the head server smiled in satisfaction. He waved to the others and withdrew.

    Curiously, they set out all the seven courses together. Defi had thought Ascharonians preferred bringing out the courses a bit at a time, in ritualized dramatics, to ensure freshness of course. He might have thought he was too used to Marmocha''s style of unveiling food, but the little he saw of the tables on the floor below also served a few courses at a time in such manner.

    He nced at Sarel. "Preservation emblems on the serving tters?"

    "The food won''t be as good if it sits too long," Sarel agreed, as she pulled open a panel on the wall to reveal a good collection of wine. "So eat already."

    Defi nced at Vesia, then sat without ceremony and put Turq down on the seat beside him. He starteddling out the soup silently. He was still the youngest in the room. Vesia sat as well, though more hesitantly.

    There were no servers, no other people in the room. Was that the point ofying out all the food at once? The arrangement lessened the chances of people eavesdropping.

    The staff looked like they were used to serving like this, so Defi cemented his theory of Sarel being at least part owner or patron of the ce.

    He put it out of his mind with one spoonful of the soup.

    It was delicious.

    He barely heard Vesia''s exmation of delight, barely noticed Sarel pouring wine. His hunger made itself known vehemently after one mouthful of vor spread across his tongue.

    Thankfully, the others were simrly taken enough with the dishes that the meal contentedly passed in near silence.

    It was an hour and a halfter, the three sipping cups of hot tea to apany thest of the tiny crunchy bread-cakes, that Defi spoke. "The river here is not as calm as it looks like from the air."

    Sarel''s lips curled up at the edges. "Not as pretty as you expected?"

    "I''m surprised there are so many boats still able to sail on it." He ced some more of the meal''s leftovers on Turq''s te.

    The eldest of them rolled her eyes, her posture like a loungingzy cat. "You should visit during storm season."

    Vesia looked from one to the other, stared at Defi incredulously for a moment, then quickly pretended to concentrate on her tea while listening avidly. It''s not everyday that she heard someone not even in their twenties so casually open to re-negotiate a previous agreement with the actual noble owner of thepany.

    "I would not know the correct tack to take." Defi murmured the words into his cup, his attention seemingly on Turq, patting the slime in praise when the te reappeared from within the slime''s body cleared of all traces of food.

    "Don''t be tedious."

    Defi smirked at her, eyes sweeping up. "No ink has been shed so far."

    Sarel made a sound that was almostughter. "Can you change the weather?"

    Defi''s expression didn''t change. "I hear there''s an Emblem for that."

    "Is there? It must be expensive."

    Vesia pulled the te of crunchy bread-cakes closer to her, carefully selecting one that had a bit more sweet powder on it than the rest.

    "Howplicated could it be to make just a nudge here and there. Isn''t the weather fickle?"

    A curve formed on her lips, nearly as smug a smirk as he had. "If you say so. I''m sure there''s something we can do about it."

    Defi shrugged. The workings of thepany itself were not his business; he just wanted more control over the extracts he sent to Bluzand. There were several ideas that popped up when exploring thepany.

    Sarel put down her cup. "Vesia will be in charge of your coboration with thepany. You will have to coordinate with her."

    Vesia froze, teacup halfway to her lips. She put it down slowly. "Uh, mydy, junior clerks don''t handle client ounts, much less those for supply partners."

    Sarel waved her protest away. "You''ll be promoted, of course. It''s just the one ount anyway."

    "That''s"

    Sarel eyed her, stern. "Can you manage it?"

    "Yes! Of course! But I don''t have much experience"

    "I don''t mind." Defi put in. "Currently, there''s only the vinegars anyway."

    "Vinegar?" Vesia thought through all the current vinegars of Bluzand. The newest product washer eyes widened. There was only one vinegar series that had not been announced to the public yet. "You don''t mean the new crystal vinegars? Those are yours!"

    Sarelughed a little. "Is that what they''re called now? It''s a far cry from ''slime sauce'', in any case."

    "I was joking that time." Defi sent her an aggrieved look. He turned to Vesia, who was still staring at him. "If you mean the clear vinegars, then yes I made them."

    "They''re poised to be some of the most popr new unveilings next spring," Vesia said nkly. Then she realized her position. "The crystal vinegarsmy ount? No that''sisn''t it"

    A look of determination crossed her face, and she straightened. "I''ll do my best!"

    "That''s what I want to hear." Sarel smiled like a satisfied shark. "We''ll take care of the particrs today. I''d like Defi to have a Tesorium ount before we leave tomorrow."

    "I''ll get it done, mydy." Vesia nodded, turned her attention to Defi. "If there is anything you want to know about thepany, mestre, do not hesitate to ask."

    Defi nodded, raised his teacup to Sarel.

    The hermit had, with this move, hit two bucks with a single spear.

    The problem of Vesia knowing too much was neatly handled by the show of trust. And with his partnership being managed by a newly promoted clerk, who would think Defi or his business was that important to thepany?

    Defi already knew that the thicker vinegar would sell well, but from the clerk''s words, the other lighter vinegars would be marketed as highlights of the next product lines. Possibly as novelties. He had never seen clear vinegar himself after all.

    It was still surprising.

    With Sarel as the owner of thepany, shouldn''t they have better products than haphazardly-discovered vinegar? She was a master chef, wasn''t she? Creating more spice-mixes would be simple.

    "We don''t sell a lot of mystic spices," was the answer when he asked. "Too vtile."

    Mystic spices made up the most popr and sought-after condiments in the nation. Suffice to say,mon spices were neglected.

    Vesia agreed enthusiastically. "We bring quality vors to everyone, no matter who they are. Who says the best food can only be eaten by people who can afford mystic ingredients? Common spices were never so popr before Bluzand started putting out recipe books that used little to no mystic spices. Better food, lower prices."

    Thest was said so fervently that is sounded like the mantra for a religious movement. Considering the Ascharonian worship of food, it may well be, Defi thought to himself in amusement.

    "I don''t imagine it was easy." He reached out to refill his tea.

    Sarel smirked. "There were so many ''professional'' articles about food that came out when Bluzand unveiled their first products. Most didn''t think we''d survive."

    Vesia huffed. "As if makingmon dishes more appealing was cutting into their profits. Mystic cooking and delicious food are not always the same thing, don''t they know?"

    Sarel''s grin widened. "I like you."

    Vesia beamed. "I''m happy you think so, mydy. You''ve always been an inspiration to me and my friends."

    Defi''s brow twitched involuntarily. Somehow, he felt a looming headache at those words.

    Miss Clerk, precisely what attributes of thiszy hermit did you decide was inspiring enough to emte?

    For some reason, he did not think it was the cooking skills.

 Chapter 92: Joining Hands

    Chapter 92: Joining Hands

    After the meal, Sarel took his winter supplies list and went off on her own, sending Defi and Vesia back to thepany in the carriage.

    How did she even know he had a list?

    On second thought, he did not need to ask. It was Aire. Of course it was Aire.

    Though, the way Ascharonians sent gossip around was something to note.

    Tennar, somehow, knew what had been deliberated at the foodhall before they set foot into the Bluzand front door. The manager directly sent Vesia to sign promotion paperwork and took Defi to his office for a discussion.

    Efficient.

    Defi was impressed.

    Still, while Sarel was the owner, Tennar was the one who was in charge of the details.

    And he wasn''t happy.

    Defi understood. After all, Bluzand was a merchant organization. They must operate at the lowest cost and effort to produce the highest quality and profit that they could. If the cost was too high or the profit too low, it was more prudent to simply cut away a partnership than keep it.

    But then there was the fact that human beings did not operate on simply cost-profit considerations. They had ties and limits, feelings and values. It was a bnce that was constantly shifting.

    Currently, Defi was high on the quality and profit column as well as the human consideration column.

    That is to say, he had leverage. Even if he did not state so outright, Tennar was aware of where Defi stood as well. As long as Defi did not push too far, he would get most of what he wanted.

    Probably.

    "You understand that you are asking far more leeway than we give our supply partnerships." Tennar tapped his finger on the desk, the soft regrity of the rhythm somehow still agitated. "This level of control is frankly unprecedented."

    "And yet you have not outright refused."

    The bitterness in Tennar''s eyes could not bepletely hidden. "You have surely appeared at the most auspicious time."

    Defi gave him an innocent smile, slightly sympathetic. "As you know, that is not my doing."

    It was Sarel that brought him here, and the timing was hardly anyone''s fault. Sarel knew that he had no ties outside the Lowpool, much less with Bluzand''s enemies. It was one reason she had been willing to agree to so much in Defi''s favor.

    That he hade at a time that thepany needed a strong presence to push past its vicissitudes was just coincidence.

    Truly, for this deal, he was still leaning on Sarel''s influence.

    He vowed to repay her in the future. He was not someone who forgot debts owed.

    "That may be so," Tennar sighed. "but to apply the same conditions to all your products  that is something I must refuse."

    "The lotion?"

    "Indeed. In the form that the substance was given to us, I can only see it as unfinished. To sell it as is would be difficult unless we sold it to a manufactory as raw material, and that route is a jokepared to what potential profits Bluzand would rake in if we did the manufacturing ourselves. The problem is that manufactory effort on the part of Bluzand may be troublesome."

    Defi thought back to the information he had unearthed while searching for product ideas. "Because the apothecary''s guild will say you are infringing on their prerogatives."

    Tennar nodded sharply. "To create a seble product with your lotion, a period of research and trial is needed to ensure that the result can be used without side-effects. I have no one who can do so within Bluzand''s current ranks, and have been discreetly making enquiries. The conclusions from multiple sources are as one: Bluzand needs a guild apothecary."

    "Who will no doubt have obligations to spy for their guild."

    "As you say." Tennar''s brow furrowed in distaste.

    There were manyws forbidding the guilds from exerting too much influence over trade in the empire, but their power was still undeniable because of the trade secrets they held. Defi''s studies mentioned that the trade guilds controlled the education of their members.

    The techniques, the methods, the materials, the support  even if a guild could not create monopolies, who knew what oaths their members swore to have ess to the treasure trove of knowledge and resources thaty within each guild, what lengths each guild would go to protect or add to their ''trade secrets''.

    Tennar''s tone bore an annoyance that had beenpounded for many years.

    "It ismon for members of guilds to modify contracts so as not to conflict with their oaths. Of course, the particrs of their oaths are not something that they can tell."

    In such a manner, any contract involving a member of an official trade guild would have loopholes.

    The apothecary''s guild was widespread and their products were sought after. This was enough influence that if they decided to turn their eyes on Bluzand, it would be troublesome as Tennar said.

    "You are searching for apothecaries who would be willing to sign a secrecy contract?Have you asked Sarel?"

    Defi was fairly certain Lemat would work for Bluzand if it was Sarel doing the asking. The expression on the man''s face when he said he had killed all Sarel''s detractors was still fresh in the eye of Defi''s mind. Also, Lemat''s apothecary business was closed four days out of the week. He couldn''t be so busy.

    "Thedy has no suggestions."

    Aha, of course that route would not be easy. Defi did not know what rtionship the two had. Sarel appeared not to like dealing with Lemat but also she cooked for him if he showed up, and he seemed content to stay on the fringes of her life. He was never sure if they loathed each other or decided to be stuck to each other mutually.

    Well, Lemat popped up in Defi''s location once a week or so. Asking the irritating man about apothecary techniques would go a long way to alleviating the annoyance.

    Alchemy was not something Defi knew much of, but he could make the basic concoctions. How different could it be from apothecary techniques?

    Besides, the slime extract would be doing most of the work.

    "If I were to create a form that would ''finish'' a product using the lotion, what would Bluzand offer me in return?"

    Tennar blinked at him. "A hypothetical?"

    "Perhaps."

    "I cannot give you a profit percentage on that. But you were willing to sell the form, apart from giving you a favourable deal for the materials...." Tennar eyed him, gaze sharp. "What did you have in mind?"

    Defi''s lips nted in a half-smile.

    *

    Tennar sent Defi out with Vesia, to register with the Tesorium as an independent merchant. Vesia took the initiative to assuage her curiosity about the slime the young man carried around all the time.

    He stared at their backs, considering. "Mydy, where did you find him?"

    "He just floated by my house one day." Thedy appeared at his side. "I fed him once and he never left."

    "You have no patience for strays."

    "I still wonder why you''re still here, were that so." Her lips curved. "Perhaps I''m getting sentimental and starting to miss the noise in my old age."

    "You look the same as when I first met you, mydy." Tennar bowed her into his office.

    Thedy snorted amusement, sat down while Tennar made tea.

    Tennar nced back in the direction the two young people disappeared to as he poured hot water. He looked at the pile of paper on his desk, the final result of nearly two hours of intense haggling. "The contract has been signed."

    "Which one?"

    "The third, with modifications."

    Thedy nodded.

    "Mydy, did you tell him it was possible to ask for shares?" Tennar had been surprised when the youngd had made the offer. He ced a teapot on the low table, along with a selection of pienti, and sat across from thedy who had raised him and the Bluzandpany at the same time.

    "The boy isn''t someone to make a deal without at least looking into the situation." Thedy leaned back in her chair. "I''m actually surprised he signed today. I was expecting him to poke around the ce more, and sign tomorrow."

    Tennar hid a smile behind a bite of smoked ham. Thedy often neglected to take her influence into ount. Even more so now that she had distanced herself from social concerns. "In any case, he has joined hands with Bluzand so decisively at a critical time. Are you worried?"

    The tea had steeped by the time she answered. He poured the tea, the color deep and rich, into their cups.

    "You say no one on the barge saw anything?"

    "Vodren investigated in secret. The cargo appeared to have been reced enroute. The cargo was checked by our people when it was loaded. When it was unloaded, no one suspected until the crates were opened at the warehouses. Third-grade carom spice, fifth-grade ambess herb, all reced by bales of weeds."

    "That is not the work of average river pirates."

    "No, mydy."

    Thedy sighed. "And in all of this, the supplier appears clean. Are they?"

    "There is nothing pointing suspicion at them."

    "Suspicious in itself."

    "I have not called back those sent to look into them."

    "Hm. And how was the cargo reced?"

    Tennar looked embarrassed. "We have no idea."

    "Not yet." Eyes shed above the rim of the teacup.

    "Yes. The people on the barge were ours." The words he spoke were measured and even but Tennar could not help but swallow reflexively.

    "Are they?"

    "If they are not, they will know how Bluzand takes care of their own."

    "Good."

    Tennar turned over a thought in his head for a good minute, letting the tea soothe and order his thoughts. "Are you truly sending Defi back home tomorrow?"

    Thedy''s eyes sharpened as she met his gaze. "He does not need to involve himself in this."

    "Do you think him too young? You said it yourself. He knew what he was doing when he asked for shares instead of gold. He ced himself categorically in support of you and Bluzand. He is no nave child."

    "I did not bring him to be bait in a trap, Tennar. Even if it were with his permission."

    Tennar nodded.

    "Nothing to say?"

    "I apologize, mydy. I admit I am relieved."

    The curl at the edges of thedy''s lips was only pretending to be humor, and made Tennar think of years long past. "Perhaps I even surprise myself every now and then."

    The strong tea soured on Tennar''s tongue, and he regretted having asked such a question. "Possibly you <em>are</em> getting sentimental."

    The smile on thedy''s face softened into actual amusement. "Do you believe it?"

    Tennar put down his cup. "I believed and lost belief in many things. And I continue to believe in many things that have not been lost."

    Thedy looked at him for a long moment. "So I see."

    The afternoon was colored softly, in golden sunlight.

 Chapter 93: Trace

    Chapter 93: Trace

    While the two heads of Bluzand were dealing withpany matters, Defi was experiencing what a main road was like in Ecthys. Surprisingly, the Tesorium was only a half-hour''s walk away from Bolhaven Street, where the main Bluzand headquarters was situated.

    There were fewer pedestrians on Vane Road than the side streets, and therge expanse of roadway was choked with conveyances of all sorts. The hooves of draft animals and summon-beasts struck up the dust from the stone-paved roads, but it was a different dust from the desert-adjacent cities he''d grown up in.

    The main streets of Ecthys in thete afternoon were more crowded than earlier in the day, sweat and dust mixing with the faint smell of offal and river-rot. Defi wrinkled his nose briefly at the lingering malodor in the city air.

    That the evident profusion of animals on the roads didn''t stink up the streets even more was a testament to the good management of the city. With the veritable river of animal-pulled transport in the ce, there should be tons of animal waste being cleared away at all hours of the day.

    He knew he should be thankful; he''d been to towns where no one dared walk on the streets because the mud was half made of piss and crap from both human and animal. Defi still missed the more pleasantly-scented air outside the city however.

    Heughed at himself. The primary city of Rimet had no worse a smell than Ecthys. Not to mention he''d lived on a spice farm, which arguably had stronger aromas than the average city street. A few months of breathing in the delicate scent of fruit and flowers and he couldn''t handle the smell of a city anymore?

    Maybe he <em>should</em> just be a hermit. He rejected the thought in the next second. He was happy to be part of the material world, thanks.

    "Come on." Vesia put down the hand that hailed an empty one-horse carriage and urged him toward the conveyance that turned toward them and wasing to a stop. "Since you already have the Tesorium token, you should see some more of the city before leaving tomorrow."

    Defi was grateful that while he was with Tennar, Vesia had been dealing with processing his papers at the Tesorium which included rmendation letters from both the Lowpool and Bluzand. By the time they got there, he only had to rify and sign the application contracts for an ount with the organization before he was handed the badge that said he was a reputable merchant registered with the Tesorium and themerce ministry.

    The badge now sat in one of the secure pockets of his belt. It had been modified by the Tesorium to represent his identity in all merchant matters, so it was a fairly important piece of metal.

    They''d barely been inside the marble halls of the Tesorium for a quarter-hour before they were walking out again. It was a relief. If he had to have another tricky discussion about a contract this afternoon, he''d go insane. He knew paperwork but before, he had advisors for negotiations when doing his duties as a son of the Rimet bloodline. This time, he could only trust that Sarel''s friendship was enough so Tennar wouldn''t ce too many precautions on a contract with him.

    Defi was certain Tennar had also been pained by the negotiations though, so he hadn''t done too badly. Using the Current to read the flow around people was difficult at his level. It was a good thing learning to read people cold was a skill that his tutors thought was important. He was passable at those lessons, and using the Current only enhanced his skill.

    "Are youing or not?" Vesia asked cheerfully.

    He eyed thevehicle that Vesia had waved over. It was painted a cheerful yellow, ented with grass and leaf motifs in various shades of green. The grey horse that pulled it was clothed in a brief caparison dyed the same colors.

    Cheerful or not, there was no denying thatpared to the average carriage, it looked like a stiff breeze could blow it over. The only fully covered sides were the top, front, and back. The two sides were open to the road, the only protection being the overlyrge wheels that covered part of the sides.

    Vesia all but dragged him over and he had no choice but to hand her up onto the flimsy thing.

    "Are you sure this is safe?"

    Sheughed as she took a seat, facing the back of the carriage. "Thousands use these each day. It''s the fastest way to get around. And we''ll see more of the city this way."

    The carriage was narrow, with only two seats facing each other. Defi sat on the other seat, which was facing front, a bit ufortably. Their knees were only a hand-span apart. While it was still proper for both Ascharonian and Ontrean sensibilities, he was slightly uneasy that there was no screen separating them.

    "Where to?" The driver''s seat was level with the roof of the carriage, and his voice was slightly muffled by the turned-up cor of the voluminous coat he wore.

    Vesia leaned out the open side with a smile. "Down to the Circle, thread the market streets, through the Gardens and up Termorance, then to the Bluzand Company on Bolhaven."

    The driver leaned over precariously, twisting in his seat to look at them. "I could take Duran Point from the market ande out near the Kings if you want to see the ships before the Gardens."

    "Oh yes." Vesia turned to Defi. "Do you have any business after this? The route would take near an hour. But it will be all beautiful!"

    "I don''t. I''d like to see as much of Ecthys as I can, as you said."

    "That sounds great, thanks!" Vesia called to the driver, who nodded.

    The carriage started to move.

    "The interesting streets will show themselves as soon as we leave Vane Road. That''s not to say Vane is tedious, just there are more exciting ces."

    Defi looked over, curious. "You know Ecthys well?"

    "Lived here my whole life," she nodded proudly. "My brother and his friends drove a carriage like this one for several years to supplement their school fees, so I''ve visited most of the city with him. You''ll not find a better guide!"

    Defiughed. "It seems I''m lucky. Thank you for assisting today."

    "This is part of a merchant clerk''s job too. Yours is the first ount I have to manage, I''m a bit nervous."

    "Is there so much a gap between a junior and senior clerk''s duties?"

    Vesia perked up, nodded. "There''s less copying to do, but you''re right. I''ve been training for years to do this."

    "Your performance won''t be worse than miscing a contract." Defi teased.

    Hispanion paled.

    Oh.

    Was that too much?

    His reading did say contracts were the most important thing to merchants. He looked around for something to distract the nearly shaking just-promoted senior clerk. "Oh, why is there a statue of two half-naked men in the middle of the road?"

    Vesia shook herself out of her horrified trance. "Thatthat''s the Circle. It''s where five of the gate-roads in the city connect. The statues weremissioned by the first mayor of the city. Calvus and Tarven il Maren, who the stories say raised Ecthys from a fishing town to a city and built the walls."

    The mayor did it to pacify the people who were incensed by the city being added to the imperial central government, Defi surmised. If the first mayor had not acknowledged the family that had ruled the city for generations, his stay in Ecthys would not have been smooth.

    Of course, the nobles wouldn''t have been swayed no matter what cating gesture was used; especially those who had been expecting to inherit the city due to blood ties.

    The imperial central government was nominally the emperor''s power, and with the rise of that power, the influence of the nobles on the affairs of the empire weakened.

    "Oh, do you know the Gate?"

    Defi smiled wryly, the sudden question breaking him out of his theorizing. "I do."

    "The princess from the Otherside recited a poem when she saw this statue. Hm, let me thinkit was published a month ago, but I should remember."

    Vesia didn''t see how Defi tensed at her words.

    "Ah," she nodded. "It went like this:

    "How could celestials fall unheeding,

    "To the singing harp, the holy harp?

    "Their ears fall deaf unknowing,

    "And mired their sight in dark, ignorant dark?

    "Judge they the fateful sprouting

    "Seeds from the seethingkes of life, hallowed life?"

    There was a short silence in the carriage when she finished reciting. Defi could not even think of poetry.

    "A princess?" His voice was even. "She was here?"

    "It''s too bad you didn''t visit two months ago, or you would''ve seen her." Vesia said, then frowned a little. "Or were you? You should have apanied the first batch of vinegar here, and I know people started talking about the new vinegars in thepany about that time."

    "I wasn''t," answered Defi, then muttered under his breath. "Praise the Creator for that."

    "Eh?"

    "I said, nowadays, there can''t be much more than trade between the Gates. Why would a princess appear?"

    In the same city he was in now? It was too close. Defi felt something clench in his chest, very like dismay.

 Chapter 94: Concerns in the Distance

    Chapter 94: Concerns in the Distance

    "Defi, are you well?"

    Vesia''s concerned tones broke Defi of a mildly panicking spiral. He realized she''d been talking while he sat there silent, clutching Turq in his arms like a lifeline, his mind rushing through numerous ns.

    Needless to say, many of the ns, including the one that said drop everything and take a ship across the ocean, were discarded as soon as they formed.

    He took a deep breath.

    He did not need to do anything at all.

    Ymirin was only being diligent. It was logical to survey an unknown city at least once personally, in case it became a battleground.

    His hand went to where the Tesorium badge was tucked into his belt.

    There was no one other than Garun who would connect the name Defi to Desif Rimet, he reminded himself.

    The lord of Rimet could have heard mother call him that, but the man''s indifference generally caused him to forget trivial things unrted to the governance of thend. His siblings would not know the nickname, they were not that known to each other.

    Defi af Gargehom of Sottc was the official name and residence on the documents.

    He didn''t even know he could use the name of the Garge homestead like that. Vesia said his rmendation letters were from Tennar and Mayor Sforza, as well as Marmocha and Sarel.

    The mayor''s letter most likely was the cause of such a name.

    It was so far from Desif Rimet, the name of Defi af Gargehom. It was amoner name, the name of a farmer who owned his ownnd.

    Defi''s heart lightened a little.

    "Iyes, just thinking of the poem. You seem to have memorized it well?"

    "Of course! It was different from thepositions we studied in school, but it was hmlike a fresh breeze on a stuffy day, you know?"

    Well, thinking about the poem was better than thinking about running away. "Calvus and Tarven il Maren. They were controversial figures?"

    They had left the towering sculptures behind in the center of the ring road, but the proud bearing and stern look on the faces of the statues were still clear to Defi''s mind. There was a hint of a smile on their lips, a hint of a scowl on their brows, like the sculptor did not know what emotion to express on their features and at the end tried for expressionless.

    So many centuries after their death, the sculptor could only rely on what the masses said of them. The lens of history was cruel, and in the end even the victors of old may be ridiculed.

    Ymirin was meticulous, even at her age. She heard the story, distilled the elements of past, older past, and present, then leisurely made up a poem on the spot?

    All the while subtly glorifying ancient nobility...

    Defi agreed with Marmocha. That child was a very scary child.

    He knew it was her work because it diverged from the traditional poetry of Ontrea, even the popr poems that only loosely followed traditional forms. It was clearly made for Ascharonian consumption; the sentiment and arrangement was Ontrean but the words were organized in verses appealing to the average Ascharonian, like a song.

    Even Defi, who had studied thenguage for months and was now using it casually, was not fluent enough in how the Ascharoniannguage flowed to spout poetry no matter how free the verses.

    "It is a good poem," Defi said atst, after listening to Vesia gush about the criticisms of the work in some literary circry.

    In the end, the hero of that bit of history and also of the poem written so long after it was that long ago first mayor, who kept his life and position by adding just the right amount of pressures in the right ces. Defi felt some appreciation as well; he didn''t think many people in a nation whose primary concern was food would use art like an Ontrean politician.

    Vesia beamed at him. Then her attention was caught by one of the buildings outside.

    "Oh, did you know, the brothers were also responsible for the growth of the guilds in Ecthys. That bakery has been around for several hundred years. Ah, at this time, their small breads have run out already."

    She sighed in disappointment. "Their stuffed buns always sell so quickly. I don''t have time to go there in the morning and by mid-day all the good ones are gone."

    Defi leaned back in his seat, his unease at finding Ymirin had been in this city slowly leaching away at Vesia''s chatter. He shifted the scarf higher on his face, and smiled at the older woman from behind it.

    "It sounds delicious. Do you think I''d be able to get a few for tomorrow''s morning meal?" Near the Bluzand building was the Sunsparrow Inn, which Tennar said thepany used if their affiliated suppliers and merchants were too much in a hurry to find amodation of their own.

    Defi was informed that he had a room there.

    "Oh, I''m a senior clerk now," Vesia''s eyes widened. Then she smiled brightly at Defi. "If it''s for a client, I can send one of the runners to buy the breads."

    Defi of course got the full st of her hopeful eyes.

    "Excellent," he said dryly, going with the flow. "Will you eat with me in the morning, and tell me how Bluzand works?"

    Vesia shone with happiness. "Of course!"

    Seeing her enthusiasm, Defi now really wanted to taste the bakery''s bread. Ascharonian food rarely disappointed him since he crossed the Gate, so he was secure in anticipating tomorrow morning.

    He really did want to know how a merchantpany worked. In Ontrea, his studies were focused on greater economics and not merchantry. Now that he was an affiliate of a trade business, he should at least learn the basics.

    If the lord could see a son of his learning merchantry openly, even going so far as to register as a merchant, what would he think?

    Defi smiled.

    The lord would disown him again. Disown him more than once if possible, heh. Probably hunt him down and erase all evidence that Desif Rimet had ever existed, strike him from the annals of the bloodline.

    The lord was a diligent person as well.

    His smile faded a little. What would Ymirin think of him now, this disowned brother? Her poem was somewhat more sentimental than he thought from a disciple of his father.

    Was Ymirin adapting to this world as well?

    No, it was probably because she was young still. She was only halfway to thirteen years in age. Of course the ideals of the Teachings would resound stronger in her mind.

    She was raised to the philosophies of the Red River more closely than he. She would understand, but still disdain his break from tradition and the perceived dignity of an Ontrean noble.

    He felt a soft ache in his heart. They were not close, but she was still his younger sister. The thought of her seeing him in contempt was painful.

    Of the lord''s children, the two of them were the ones most talked about negatively for things they could not change. Him for having a ve for a mother, her for herck of talent in the Current.

    He shook his head.

    He had chosen his path. To regret now was useless. Besides, this affair did not only impact him. Coming here, Ymirin''s standing in Ontrea was also affected.

    Ymirin had advantages over him. She was the daughter of the lord''s first wife and Defi had always suspected that her mind was the sharpest and deepest of all his siblings. She would survive in the courts where he did not.

    The Current was not everything after all. Ymirin''s backing was not insignificant. It was entirely possible that one of his siblings or one of the enemies of her mother''s family had her sent here to disadvantage her.

    Defi sighed. Court politics, he had not missed it.

    Even then, possibly her crossing the Gate to Ascharon would be good for her.

    But that had little to do with him at the moment.

    How Ymirin saw this world was entirely up to her.

    As for Defi, he was a farmer and would prefer not to have any great acquaintance with any royals, rumoured or real, thank you very much.

    He bent his focus to Vesia introducing the market streets that the carriage passed through.

    "It''s usually more lively than this." Vesia waved at one of the street-cart merchants, who gave her a wide gap-toothed grin and jogged to the slowly-moving carriage to hand over two cups of some kind of fruit juice.

    "Miss, mestre, the best and freshest volonut juice in the city!"

    Vesiaughed as she epted the cups. "You all say that."

    The child, barely ten years in age, grinned wider. "I''m the one not lying!"

    "Oh? How do I know that, I wonder?" Vesia handed over one of the cups to Defi, bantering with the boy as he trotted beside the carriage.

    It was milky and slightly earthy, melding well with a light fruity sweet and sour aroma. The fresh andplex taste slid down Defi''s throat, washing his cares away.

    "It''s good. Thank you."

    Both beamed at him.

    "Luck to you!" called the very young street-merchant as he carried away the empty cups that had several small coins rattling in them.

    "You as well," Vesia called back.

    Defi watched the boy dodge pedestrian and carriage alike to return to the cart manned by a slightly older girl. In the market streets, there were more pedestrians than conveyances. The plodding of the one-horse carriage was barely faster than the walking people.

    There were many people in the markets. To Defi, it was a ce that was loud and noisy enough. How could it be livelier? Vesia''s words made Defi look closer. There was indeed a subtle despondence in the air, making the smiles andughs of the people, the loud cheerfulness of the cart-hawkers, look slightly forced.

    "Thetest notizie says that the war in Jebrimea was in the final stages, and the emperor is drafting one person from every family within the age of sixteen to forty into the army for thest push. It''s going to be done over the next three years."

    Vesia sighed, a faint line of worry forming between her brows.

    "My brother is already getting his employment terminated to enlist. He''s very excited. There hasn''t been a draft since General Sorad died taking the cktree Hills fifteen years ago."

    Notizie were public announcements distributed in the form of folio papers, smaller versions of the circries that disseminated news stories and information to the public.

    "A prepared soldier is a sessful soldier. Even if he''s excited, they likely won''t have him on the battlefield without training for a long while."

    Defi thought that the six months of training that Ascharonian soldiers got was insufficient, but also knew that training and equipment were expensive even for a rich nation.

    The emperor must be certain of victory. The cost of such a draft, even spread over three years, would be more than most countries could afford.

    With the urgency of this draft and the staggering costs of training, Defi only hoped they did not cut the training schedule and simply throw the recruits into the war to gain experience.

    Old soldiers knew that the best training would be acquired on the battlefields. Even Defi, who had trained for over a decade, would not be seen by a veteran as a true warrior. He had participated in minor skirmishes, but had never known war.

    The thought would undoubtedly be in the minds of the war leaders.

    Vesia nodded. "You''re right. He wouldn''t be thrown into battle without preparation."

    Defi eyed her. "Do you know where I can get a subscription to some circries? I''d also like one for the apothecary journal."

    She nodded again, then let herself be distracted. "It''s a bitte right now. We won''t be able to get to all the offices before sundown. Will you have time tomorrow morning? It won''t take long."

    His two lists were with Sarel, so he didn''t have that much to do. Maybe buy some things for the children? He did want to see what the cksmiths in Ecthys were like.

    "Some small errands. I''ll be leaving in the afternoon though. Most of the business with Bluzand is done. You don''t have to apany me tomorrow."

    "Manager Tennar hasn''t given me new duties yet, so my only concern right now is you." Vesia smiled dreamily at the streets outside. "My first client"

    Defi tried not tough, and said solemnly. "The honor is mine."

    "That" Vesia suddenly reddened, only now realizing that she''d been treating her first ever client too casually. She cleared her throat and looked out of the carriage. "Mestre, we areing up on the Maze of Kings, where the sculptures of the old emperors weremissioned by the old counts of Ecthys. Of course, this tradition has been continued into the present time. The sculptures of the current andst emperors are particrly fine."

    More art?

    "I''m looking forward to seeing it."

 Chapter 95: This Day is Not For Firsts

    Chapter 95: This Day is Not For Firsts

    The peaks of far mountains upriver held thest vestiges of golden light and the walls of Ecthys were bathed in the blood of the setting sun, reflecting that gory color onto the pale sails of the ships gently swaying in the harbor.

    "A beautiful sight."

    Hispanion only sent one nce in the direction of the ships. She nodded in disinterested agreement, looking around in small jittery movements. "This has already taken too long."

    "Has it?"

    He sighed. Not everyone can appreciate the sight of a beautiful boat, her sails sharp and her lines graceful. Her sails soaked in blood and bone.

    To sail openly under red and white, wouldn''t that be just grand?

    "Bluzand is already investigating. You should stop, mestre Ramad."

    Stop? Eh, this cowardly old woman.

    He shook his head.

    This drnder, has she even stepped on the deck of a boat before? No, she would not understand.

    "My dear madame, if I cowered at every attempt to catch me, would I be me?" He spread his arms with a grin and winked. "Besides, are you satisfied with this?"

    "What?"

    "You have lost a son to thesepeople." He waved his arm in simted disgust. "You have lost a husband. Does the world not owe you, does not Bluzand owe you? You have two daughters, yeah? Is it enough for them, these few measly cargoes? Your daughters have grown up without their brother, their father. A pity, a pity."

    He watched her waver, and smiled so widely that his eyes curved pleasantly.

    "The older one is about to be married, isn''t she? She should have a good dowry, the best. If not for fate, and those people."

    "Yes."

    He leaned close, patted her arm like he was her closest friend, and lowered his voice. "All that we are taking, we are both owed."

    "Yes," she said again, her voice more resolved. She smiled at him, grasped his hand. "I am d you are here with me, that you understand. It''s just, those river pirates"

    He clicked his tongue, a disapproving sound. "Those greedy honorless fools. They do not understand justice. But they are only led astray. I''m sure that with what we are paying them, they will love a better life."

    She nodded. "Those poor boys. I hope you''re right."

    "Worry not, we are in the right and the Seven-colored God watches over us. I will give you justice, dear madame. Count on my word." His lips curled upward sharply. "Now, there is a new shipment?"

    "I have the details here." She slipped a piece of paper out from her sleeve.

    An anticipating and bloody light in his eyes shed as he took it.

    She quailed, but then his eyes curved and she only saw his friendly visage. "Thank you! Soon, we''ll be free of this."

    She shook her head. It was only the sunset reflecting in his eyes.

    "Yes. I think I need a rest after all of this."

    He chuckled. "I am with you on this, madame. To the very end."

    *

    "The Kings and the Garden are both part of the Rosefort. They were opened to the public just twenty years ago. I spent many of my rest days rxing in the Garden and many of my school days cursing the Kings."

    Defi nodded sympathetically. "They made you write so many history tests on kings and sessions too?"

    She groaned with an expression of pained reminiscence. "So many"

    Vesia''s bted attempt at cool professionalism fell through nearly immediately as her enthusiasm for showing Defi her home city leaked into her words and actions.

    They were already going through Termorance Street. Compared to the market streets, Termorance had no street-cart merchants, and carriages more stately than their own hired conveyance was the norm. The people were better dressed, for the most part. It was a shopping street full of carefully designed shop-fronts, made to attract those with higher ie.

    The streetmps, something thest emperor ordered installed in all the popr streets in the empire''s cities to help against crime, were starting to be lit. Themp-lighters chatted while ambling from pole to pole, sparking light to battle the darkness as thest vestiges of the day lingered in the sky.

    "That''s the only bookshop on Termorance. Unfortunately, it only sells premium copies." Vesia saw him studying a shop that had books carefully on disy. She pointed at a short stair between a haberdashery and a milliner.

    "If you go into that alley, there are three bookshops with affordable prices. The other end of the alleyes out at Venter  you can find glyphmaking supplies there. The street after that is where the circry offices are." Shehuffed, faintly embarrassed. "Just don''t speak to anyone but the office clerk, or you''ll be there for hours. Gossips, all of them."

    A street full of gossips? Defi wondered if they sold information privately.

    He discarded the thought of approaching for information. No doubt Ymirin had already scouted the ce. Who knew what traps she had left behind?

    "Do they sell trace-tables at the apothecary guild?"

    Defi hadn''t ced the item on the list because the price was too high. With the advance payment from the contract, he wasn''t worried about not buying a good one.

    "No, that would be"

    Vesia trailed off and an odd expression flickered on her face. She leaned to one side for a moment, as if avoiding something.

    "Miss Vesia?"

    "It <em>is</em> the head clerk''s" There was a stunned look on her face. She looked at Defi. "I just saw Madame Caria with Gylen Dahall."

    "Head Clerk Vodren''s assistant." Defi rified, confused.

    She nodded. "With the vice-manager of Amberlon''s grandson."

    Amberlon was one of Bluzand''s fiercestpetitors. Defi learned that by hearing casual conversations around the Bluzand building.

    And from less than casual conversations that he may or may have not eavesdropped on, he knew that thepany had problems. He had still signed because Sarel wasn''t someone to give her guarantee easily.

    As he was now a partner, it would be nice if the business didn''t copse just as he signed the papers. This was his first venture in this world, too. Creator, he couldn''t fail now.

    "Follow them." His words ovepped with Vesia''s spoken: "We should follow them."

    They met each other''s eyes in understanding.

    Vesia tapped the roof of the carriage.

    The driver leaned over, with a questioning grunt.

    "Follow that carriage, if you would." Vesia pointed at one of the fancy wheeled conveyances that had passed them by. "Oh! Um, don''t let on that we are! Following them, I mean."

    Defi hid a smile.

    There was a silence from the driver, and Defi could feel his eyes studying them. He narrowed his gaze on the shadowed area under the driver''s hat brim.

    "Why not?" The driver straightened.

    It was fortunate that Termorance at this hour had fewer traffic. Their one-horse carriage turned quite easily to the otherne of the road.

    The driver''s head showed again. "Your givvy if my rig gets shot."

    Defi blinked. "Ah?"

    Vesia smiled. "He says we''re paying if the carriage gets damaged."

    The driver nodded. "Or if old Lili''s cracked."

    "I''m assuming that means if the horse gets hurt." Defi nodded when the driver acknowledged. "Yes, of course."

    "Top luck to us then, brud." The silhouette of the hat disappeared.

    "Yes?"

    Vesia stifled a giggle at the look on his face.

    He tipped a smile at her. "And I thought I knew Ascharonian."

    "He''s turning on Erly."

    The driver''s voice sobered them. Before either could speak, the carriage horse moved to enter another street and sped up until it was in a fast trot.

    "Oh, clever." Vesia nodded.

    Defimented hisck of knowledge. If this city was Egorau or rad, he would know the alleys in the central districts like the back of his hand.

    Even if it were the Lowpool, he was familiar with most of the streets and turns in the northern area.

    Here, he was uneasy at not knowing where the paths led to.

    "This is one of the more expensive residential areas in Ecthys. Not a lot of bunkreys like this one here. This street parallel''s Ely, and we can see the other carriage in the gaps between houses. Well, if there aren''t high fences and trees."

    "Bunkreys?"

    "They call this lovely conveyance a bunkrey." She patted the carriage wall fondly.

    Bunkrey? Defi couldn''t have thought up a less graceful name.

    "Because," Vesia continued. "If you bump it, you cry."

    Defi stared at her. "Because it breaks and I have to pay for it?"

    "You got it."

    He didn''t know if he shouldugh. "You said this thing was safe."

    "If you''re not stupid, it is."

    Defi tilted his head. "How stupid is it to chase a three-horse carriage down a street at night?"

    "Oh, that depends on the speed."

    Defi considered the fact that their speed had again slowed to nearly a walk.

    He looked with all the admiring earnestness he could muster at his ount manager. "You daredevil, you."

    She fanned herself with a fluttering hand, pretending to be flustered and proud. "I am, I am."

    Then she nced out of the carriage and her joking manner turned into aplicated expression. "It really is Madame Caria"

    Between the houses, streemps red, already lit. The sight of another carriage on the street parallel to them was still evident. It was nearly close enough to see the faces of the upants.

    But Vesia had recognized one of them.

    "You are friends?" If Defi remembered correctly, the head clerk''s assistant was over twice Vesia''s age.

    "She likes to mentor a few of the apprentices every year. I was one of them, when I started at Bluzand. Madame Caria, she was very kind. But these few years, since she became assistant to mestre Vodren, I suppose she was too busy. We haven''t had a long talk in some time now."

    "That''s because she likes us better now."

    Defi''s head whipped around at the unexpected voice, and he half-lunged from his seat as the Current swirled in warning. He cursed silently as they were surrounded.

    He had thought the uneasiness he felt to be because of unfamiliar streets. Some of it had been, but not all of it.

    What an idiot he was.

    "Out of that stupid cart, quickly. And you, driver, get down."

    "Who are you?" Vesia shot the demand at the speaker.

    "The one with a sword."

    Defi hid a grimace as he saw that two of them had readied bows, too far away to attack unarmed.

    "What are you doing? Why are you doing this?" Vesia looked around at the armed people.

    "Hm." The leader pretended to think, mockingly. "How about, it''s punishment for trespassing on private property?"

    "Oh, yes, that''s fine," Defi answered. "It''s not like it''s the first time today."

    Vesia snorted augh, slightly hysterical.

 Chapter 96: An Inedible Dinner

    Chapter 96: An Inedible Dinner

    Three people sitting on chairs in a rather well-appointed receiving hall nced at each other silently, as they had done every so often since the half-hour they''d been marched into the house and forcibly settled in their seats.

    None of them spoke.

    On opposite sides of the hall, near both exits, two of the men who had captured them were lounging against the walls, standing guard.

    Defi pondered the merit of tossing Turq at the windows and letting him transform to break them.

    He shook his head at the fanciful idea.

    For one, the two with him would not move fast enough. Two, he could hear water outside.

    How curious. Possibly an artificial pond? Or another created water channel like the one the foodhall Watersiders was built on.

    His mind went over the route their bunkrey had taken. To follow Madame Caria, they turned back south. Then northeast toward a wealthy residential district. They were fairly near the docks, he thought. He leaned back on his chair  the cushions were well-made and the chair richly upholstered.

    The owner of the house was not afraid of his furniture rotting in the humid air of the dockside, it appeared.

    Emblems, Defi reminded himself. The empire of Ascharon ran on strangely magical food and Emblems.

    Marmocha and Sarel had mentioned that the eastern side of the city were private docks, so it was to reason that the buildings near the harbor east of the city were private homes instead of warehouses.

    The wall on the eastern side was built mostly on the water, with a great part of the eastern docks within the walls, the boats having to pass under the massive arches that were the guarded rivergates before they could safely enter the protected parts of the eastern harbor.

    He closed his eyes and dropped into the Current. To hispanions, he only looked like he sumbed to exhaustion. He wasn''t even pretending. The day had been exhausting and it wasn''t over yet.

    He wished he could just unleash Turq on their captors, really he did.

    Apart from the five people in the receiving hall, there were fifteen people in the house.

    He took himself out of the Current, feeling slightly more refreshed. Turq bounced down from its nest on Defi''s shoulder to hisp. Defi started petting it immediately, feeling better.

    Even if Turq could take on the form of an impressive seakrait, it was still just a slime and did not have the scales to protect itself. Fifteen people was a stretch, even with the element of surprise.

    Defi hadn''t forgotten that his first pet had be smaller after it had participated on the raid at the Groaning Cliff. Losing mass meant chunks had been torn out of it during the battle, didn''t it? Good thing Turq was back to its original size, but it probably won''t be able to hold its seakrait form for very long.

    Night had fallen already. Sarel and Tennar would be suspicious by now.

    An opportunity woulde, sooner orter.

    Not all the people in the house werebatants. The servant that had offered them tea earlier did not have the walk of a fighter, for instance.

    At the very least, they were not in a dungeon.

    He looked toward the other two, seated in chairs near him. Once again, three nces intersected.

    "M''name''s Chomar." The driver sighed some words atst.

    Vesia and Defi gave their names, Vesia adding, "I''m sorry you got caught up in this."

    "Oh no, my fault for wanting a bit of excitement in my day." Chomar waved off her apology with slightly frantic movements. He pulled off his hat to run nervous fingers through curly wood-colored sweat-matted hair.

    Vesia sunk into her seat slightly.

    He was younger than Defi thought. The wide-brimmed hat and therge coat did much to cover up the youthful slenderness of his frame. He might even be younger than Defi.

    Chomar looked around, apprehensive. "Since we''re not in chains in some underground dungeon, I guess there''s some hope for getting through this intact?"

    Defi''s lips pulled up at the edges and he said softly. "Normally we would profit from this but I don''t like turncoats."

    "What?"

    A door opened at the far end of the hall. The two men guarding them straightened at their posts.

    "Gylen Dahall," Vesia identified under her breath.

    Defi thought over the strange tone in her voice, thenmented casually, "He''s very handsome."

    "Yes he is," she breathed.

    Defi eyes met Chomar''s slightly indignant and disbelieving gaze. They both snorted in amusement and looked away.

    Vesia came to herself, whipped around, and yelled at them in a whisper. "Not like that!"

    "Sure, sure," Chomar whispered back, teasing. "In the snatch-dodgy bigman kinda way."

    Vesia red at him. "It''s just his face! How many times can you see a face like that?"

    "So you don''t think he fills that suit out very well too?"

    She reddened and dropped her face into her hands at Defi joining in.

    Chomar ducked his head to hide a smirk from the iing group.

    "You appear to be enjoying your time in my house."

    Gylen Dahall without ado sat down facing them all, a slight smile on his face. His eyes were the green of the sea. Skeins of dark hair fell down his shoulders like a waterfall, catching the light in shes of reddish color. His age, Defi would put it in the early thirties.

    The three of them straightened, not answering.

    "Good," continued the man. "I apologize if you have been inconvenienced. I do not like people following me and mine."

    "Is she?" Vesia took the chance to confirm.

    Dahall set his gaze on her. "You are referring to Madame Caria, I presume. She was a dear friend to my mother. My sister and I view her fondly. Her grief ofte has been wearing at her."

    Vesia lowered her gaze.

    "I see that we were mistaken," Defi nodded politely and stood. "Then, we will trouble you no further tonight."

    The man stood as well, as Vesia and Chomar quickly got to their feet. "No, it is I who has troubled you. Will you eat at this house''s table tonight? I make the offer in apology."

    The three paused. There was no good way to refuse. Defi hid his grimace. By offering a meal in apology, by one of his stature to the three of them, it was too great an honor.

    The other two knew it too, better than Defi.

    And yet, he had never introduced himself nor asked for their names.

    "You are very kind," Vesiaposed herself, with only a faint shadow in her eyes expressing her disquiet. "How could we decline, mestre?"

    Dahall smiled widely. "You honor me. Come."

    He waved them into the dining room.

    The table was already set, elegant and waiting. The three who considered themselves prisoners just minutes ago, even thinking of dungeons, stared for a moment.

    "Please," Dahall extended an arm to urge them to enter. "Do not stand on ceremony."

    Chomar straightened as if electrified, nced with wide eyes at Vesia and Defi, then muttered under his breath in irritated defeat. He walked forward to stand by the lone servant in the room, not quite hiding his unwillingness.

    Dahall smiled.

    Ascharonian tables were divided into two, in formal dining. One side fordies and the other for gentlemen. Defi and Vesia stood beside their respective ces and waited for the host to sit down.

    "This is not a formal asion." Dahall looked exasperated as he sat.

    "It is always pleasing to be mannered," Vesia countered, politely.

    "So it is."

    As soon as the host sat down, the server disappeared. When the other two were settled in their seats, the server reappeared beside Chomar with a tter in his hands and four small cups of the initial course, with small tes of sliced bread.

    Chomar and the server rounded the table, the server carrying the tter and Chomar carefully cing the cups and bread before each person. He ced his cupst and bowed to the table before sitting down.

    Dahall picked up a piece of his bread with a smile. "Eat. A fine cream from the north was used to produce it, very delicious."

    The meal went by silently.

    When the first course was over, the next five courses were served by Dahall''s servants, the small dishes of pienti appearing between the courses.

    The dishes were made with first rate ingredients, many of them shining mystic in when Defi checked with the Current. All of the tes carried what Defi was sure were delicacies. But with his mind whirring, the food was almost tasteless.

    From their faces, he was certain only Dahall was enjoying the meal.

    Atst, a hot tea was served, thest course finished.

    Defi wanted to breath in the cold night air after this suffocating dinner.

    The look Dahall bent on him had Defi feeling slightly exasperated. The man wasn''t even being subtle.

    "You are thetest contractee of Bluzand, I hear?"

 Chapter 97: Ill Have to Trouble You

    Chapter 97: I''ll Have to Trouble You

    Defi saw Vesia tense. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to catch Dahall''s attention.

    "Isn''t it great?" She asked, her tone falsely blithe. "I got my promotion and my first ount in the same day. And this is like a celebration dinner. It''s all a dream, isn''t it?"

    Dahall looked genuinely interested. "They promoted you just to take his ount?"

    "I asked that too!" She was suitably emotional. "Mestre Darred said I have put in the necessary time and work, what with thepany being busy for so long."

    "Oh?"

    "Mestre Tennar said we needed more spice-mixers."

    Dahall took on a look of surprise.

    "A spice-mixer and a recently promoted clerk," the manughed. "and yet you both already met the manager of thepany and thedy owner. What luck you have."

    "Bad luck," Defi openly grimaced. He knew what Vesia was doing, trying to lower his seeming value to thepany. "Thedy wanted to test my tongue and my nose."

    Vesia breathed a briefugh. "That was funny. I couldn''t eat."

    Gossips were everywhere.

    By this time, Bluzand''spetitors would have known that Sarel had a meal with some unknown and a clerk in Watersiders. With Gylen Dahall''s connection to Madame Caria, he would also know thatpany gossip put Defi in seclusion for a few hours in Tennar''s office and that he had permission to wander around the rare spice aisles in thepany warehouse.

    "It was punishment for causing amotion in the building." Defi added.

    "How interesting!" Dahall looked between them with a smile. "You must have a very good tongue. Would you indulge your host''s curiosity?"

    Defi mentally tranted that to: ''You think you can fool me with talk? I''ll test your ims until you die.''

    Dahall did not wait for their agreement. A single nce to a servant and sure enough, an army of small tes with a tiny pile of powder or a smear of paste in the center were soon arrayed before Defi.

    On the lip of each te was a delicate silver spoon, thin and long-handled, with a bowl so small that looked like it was made to feed fairies.

    "Isn''t that too much?" Vesia goggled  there were over a dozen samples.

    Even Chomar, who had been determinedly silent throughout, made a noise of dismay.

    "Hehe is still to be trained, you know." Vesia tried to salvage the situation.

    Dahall waved their protests away with a gentle look. "You do not have to be humble. For the Lady il Camarene to acknowledge you, you must be a vor savant, with a naturally sensitive tongue. These are, of course, different than what might be at Bluzand but I believe you will surprise me."

    That was: ''Haha, I got you, you peons.''

    Defi gave the man his most believably innocent smile. "You tter me, sir. I shall do as best I can."

    Vesia looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her lip.

    Defi pulled the first small te toward him, a tiny pile of green, gold, and yellow kes. He dipped the delicate spoon into the spice mix, not scooping it up but letting the spices cling to the surface of the metal.

    He brought the spoon close to his nose.

    The aroma swept through him like the sea greeting him with a wave.

    He licked the small bit of spice from the spoon. It tasted slightly familiar.

    He paused.

    The image of a house formed in his mind, an ever-fruiting orchard just a few steps away, and several pools of water being filled and drained by a violently rushing river.

    He put the spoon down. The slight twist in the Current said that these were mystic spices.

    "Delicate and powerful," he started. "A great choice toplement all kinds of seafood and white meats like the breast of poultry. There are fiveponents of this spice? I do not know the exact names, but they go very well with each other. Oh, wait, is one of them Southern Songbark? It tastes like it. If you add something earthier, like Garginger, you can make it strong enough to enrich the lighter cuts of meat, like pork and poultry."

    He nced at the empty ss beside him. The server immediately took the cue poured pale wine into the receptacle. Defi sipped the wine to remove the taste of spices in his mouth.

    "It''s a spice-mix that tastes like it''s mostly made of infrigidants, so would not rmend it to those who are of cold humors. It''s also why adding something like Garginger, which is a calefacient, would make the taste better for more people."

    The whole table stared at him. Obviously none of them were expecting him to say so much and so little at the same time.

    Haha, he thought, wryly mocking himself.

    He had eaten both the highest and the lowest examples of Ontrean cuisine. Not even mentioning that a good number of his meals since he entered this world were made at the hands of a master chef who had once been the foremost tyrant of the imperial kitchens, a chef acknowledged by the emperor.

    All that and yet, this was all he could say about a spice mix that was simr to something he was sure he''d encountered before.

    He was lucky in that his tongue was trained to know good cooking from bad.

    As for the finicky details, he was not a chef and had no strong wish to be one. He only knew enough to cook for himself.

    Sarel said that it was only because of his tongue that he managed to be an average chef.

    Heh, he knew enough of this world by now that those words from a master chef of her cranky disposition meant he cooked better than half the hopefuls that entered the imperial chef examinations.

    It did not mean he would pass said exams, but it was still an unexpected evaluation.

    He was content with that, usually.

    At a time like this, however, Defi wished he could remember more of Sarel''s methods.

    "It is Southern Songbark. Very nice." Dahall was now looking at him with more interest.

    Interest was good, Defi told himself; the man would believe their story more if this was enough to catch interest.

    Dahall motioned to the next te.

    Defi set the first te aside and picked up the next.

    There was no time to waste.

    *

    By the time the three of them were escorted out, they had already been in the house for hours.

    Chomar''s bunkrey was standing serenely in front of the house gates. Chomar, upon spotting it, looked relieved and immediately ran to check on his horse.

    He leaped up to the driver''s seat. "Let''s skiddy on out of here, you two!"

    Vesia and Defi took their seats with no ceremony and they took off at a canter. A few shadows around the house moved suspiciously.

    "We have to hurry," Defi said the moment the house was out of view.

    "He was stalling us, wasn''t he?" Vesia was pale.

    Defi nodded.

    What had been done?

    What had been done in the hours that they''d been trapped in that house?

    A faint dread coursed through him.

    "It shouldn''t be so bad, if he let us go so easily." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

    Even with suspicion on Madame Caria, there was no evidence but Vesia''s word that she was with Gylen Dahall. The man knew it too.

    Defi leaned out the carriage, about to say something, but then thought the better of it. Despite the carriage swiftly running, he stood and twisted his body so that his upper half was leaning forward, his head parallel to Chomar''s torso.

    He put a hand to his shoulder to keep Turq in ce.

    The driver sent him an impatient look. ''Didn''t Defi see they were speeding?'' was what his nce conveyed. What Defi was doing was dangerous, and he should stop before Chomar was responsible for the other getting into an ident.

    As Defi took the seat with his back to the horse, he was able to speak softly enough that Vesia didn''t hear.

    "Chomar, take Vesia to Bluzand. You know the headquarters at Bolhaven?"

    "Of course," Chomar said shortly. "My ma likes their spices and recipes."

    The Maze of Kings was on a high point, a rocky formation that rose above part of the city. High enough to see the harbors, though the western view of the river was somewhat hindered by the bulk of the citadel fort.

    Ecthys residents just called it the Kings. There was a gradual rise in the road until there.

    "I''m going back, so you should hurry there."

    "Back?" Chomar whipped his head toward him, wide-eyed. "Are you a crumninny? There''s going to be bluntheads waiting to beat you to the ground!"

    "Not to the house. Just tell them I went to the eastern docks."

    Chomar opened his mouth to protest.

    "Will you be taking Miss Vesia back there?"

    Chomar pressed his lips together, before snarling, "Be it on your head, then."

    Defi smiled faintly at him. "I''ll be getting off here."

    They were approaching the rise to the formation, the bunkrey slowed naturally topensate. Defi quickly twisted back into the carriage space andunched himself off the open sided vehicle.

    He heard Vesia make a startled sound.

    He hit the ground running, Turq transferred more securely to the crook of an arm. Behind him, Vesia made a startled cry. She would be mad at him, surely.

    But he also heard Chomar urge his horse to speed up again, and Vesia had no way of asking questions at the moment.

    "What are you doing, idiot?!"

    Or she could just yell the words at his back, he amended wryly.

    He raised a hand without looking back.

    The moonlight was bright enough for her to see it before he disappeared around a bend.

    It had to be the river, and it had to be nearby. Gylen Dahall had not been subtle in his efforts at keeping them upied. Almost desperate. The questions about Defi were nearly secondary.

    Gylen Dahall''s grandmother was the vice-manager of a Bluzandpetitor. He had been meeting with Caria, who was the assistant to the Head Clerk in charge of a whole department dedicated to acquiring ingredients for Bluzand products.

    A family friend? Who would believe it?

    If Bluzand knew Caria was so close to Dahall, they would have been canny enough not to let her work too near ssified materials.

    Defi was savvy enough to know that logistics was as important to merchants as it was to generals.

    If Vesia''s mentor was truly involved in this, and intuition said she was, then this would be ugly if it were to be known. Gylen Dahall and the Amberlon Merchant Company would not want it aired that their spy in Bluzand had been caught.

    There would be serious consequences. In prevention, they would want to cut that thread that lead back to them.

    At least, he would spare his new ount manager the pain of catching the woman in the act.

    If she even was here anymore.

    Defi came to the eastern docks, breathing fast from his run. It was a greater distance to the eastern docks than to the house they''d been kept in. He had made good use of the information gained from his earlier tour.

    The eastern docks were tranquil, nearly serene.

    But not empty.

    There were fewer warehouses, as it wasrgely made of berths for private boats andrge ships could not enter.

    It did not have the hustle of themercial docks, nor the bulky hulks of the trading ships that docked south and west of the city. The wall rising above turned the scene from picaresque to something that from the right angle might be seen with majesty.

    In truth, it was a slim chance that he''d see anything. He didn''t even know what to look for.

    Did he have the ability to look at some boatman and know he was a fiend?

    Of course not. What was he, a sage?

    He jogged along the docks anyway, blending in as an ordinary dockboy message runner. He''d seen enough of the Lowpool docks that he could y the part credibly.

    Was he wrong, and Dahall was not stalling for time to hide evidence that Amberlon had been sticking their fingers into Bluzand''s supply lines, but only making it so his men would muddy the trail between him and Caria?

    But no, the man''s familial connection to Caria was easy enough to hide. Like he said, the only evidence was Vesia''s word. It was too easy for the blunt and half-anxious manner that he kept them out of the way.

    Then again, it was only Defi''s thoughts that led him here.

    He could be mistaken.

    He put his hand on one of the pilings of the wooden pier, paused to catch his breath.

    There were several small ships on the water, and a few barges.

    He peered at them, heart falling.

    Defi froze, all thoughts in his mind shoved aside to focus on one thing.

    It was a barge, only just embarked, but still close enough to see the people working on the deck. There was a figure standing at the rails, looking back at the city.

    Defi remembered the roaring sound of a rushing river, water choking him as he iled to stay afloat, andughter from a man who thought his drowning was only a passing entertainment.

    He dropped into the Sixth Circle, nearly subconsciously. The chaotic raging swell of the Current in him smoothed out into cold serenity, the chaos all shoved into the depths to roil and seethe.

    In the grip of that icy coldposure, only one word could leave his mouth.

    "Turq."

    A form slipped through the water, making no sound.

    Defi did not take his eyes off the man on the railing of the barge slowly moving away.

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this hapless author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 98: Bright and Shadowed Morn

    Chapter 98: Bright and Shadowed Morn

    When Defi woke, half the morning had already gone.

    He frowned.

    The bed was unfamiliar, so was the room.

    He pushed himself into a sitting position, looked around.

    He spied his bag on a chair next to the table in the room. Did that mean this wasn''t an abduction?

    He slid out of bed, padded to the window. The street outside was not familiar, narrow and murmuring gently with morning pedestrians.

    He opened the wooden shutters and leaned out, curious. The sun was already halfway up its climb to the zenith, drenching the city in pleasant warmth.

    Ah.

    Therger street to his left had some familiarity. He was likely in the Sunsparrow Inn, on the same street as the Bluzand building.

    He pulled his craning neck back inside and closed the shutters.

    He didn''t remember how he got to the inn. Defi pressed a finger to the slight crease between his brows.

    The events ofst night were muddled slightly.

    One moment he was watching a barge pull away from the docks, the next Tennar was before him, hands on Defi''s shoulders and saying they should leave the docks.

    What he felt though.

    He felt a sliver of the rage he''d wieldedst night return.

    The man on the barge

    A figure he thought he''d only see after much time searching; improbable to coincidentally run into again.

    And yet,st night, the improbable had been before him.

    He had many daydreams of meeting the man again, many bloody dreams, satisfying dreams.

    He''d taken the opportunity.

    He jerked, looked around. Where was Turq?

    He could still feel the summon bond, so the slime was not dead.

    It was also nearby.

    He washed quickly, changed to fresh clothing, and strode out of the room.

    *

    Vesia was sitting at one of the tables, talking to Chomar who was gesturing while stuffing his mouth with bread.

    Both of them were feeding Turq small pieces of various foods and watching in fascination as the foreign pieces of material that entered the slime''s body were quickly assimted, visibly disappearing within the semi-opaque body.

    Vesia looked tired, but Chomar''s energy was making her smile.

    Defi walked toward them.

    It was Turq who first noticed, crawling toward him on the table top.

    "Defi!" Vesia beamed. "You''re awake already."

    He nodded. "You are all well?"

    Chomar mumbled something.

    "I''m not sure what that meant," Vesia huffed, "but it''s certain to be on the lines of ''we weren''t the one to leap off a moving carriage and run toward danger like an idiot'' or something very simr."

    Chomar nodded emphatically, mouth full of bread. Then he pointed at her and made a gesture.

    "We are not the same!"

    Chomar made a gesture to himself, then waved his hand at them all, looking at her in disbelief.

    Defiughed lightly and pulled out a chair for himself. Definitely, it was both of them who had pulled Chomar into this. He was just happy none of them were hurt. He reached out to pat Turq on the back. Or was it the head? It was all the same anyway.

    The gloomy shadow cast by yesterday inside him was slowly dissipating.

    A cup was ced before Defi, the fragrance of sweet hot tea reaching his nose. He nced thankfully at the server.

    "What happened yesterday?"

    The two turned to him, surprised.

    "You don''t know?"

    "Parts of it are a blur. I''m guessing you met the Bluzand people and followed to the docks?"

    Chomar swallowed the load in his mouth, reached for another bun. "They flip all iled around when we told them you''d gone after, what, smugglers or thieves?"

    Vesia gave him a half-hearted re.

    The boy shrugged. "When merchants fight, it''s always smugglers and thieves, ey?"

    Vesia wrinkled her nose but did not refute.

    Chomar then eyed Defi, nudged over a te. "Eat more, you look draped."

    Vesia snorted. "You''re thinner than he is."

    Defi picked up a bun and bit into it. ky on the outside, soft insides surrounding sweet fruit pieces. "This is great."

    "Told you that bakery made the best buns."

    Defi btedly remembered that he''d promised this meal to her. "Definitely worth a rmendation."

    He shared the bun with Turq, grabbed a few more before Chomar couldpletely decimate the table.

    "Try this one as well." Vesia pushed a te at him. "People say it''s the best of the bakery."

    He thanked her.

    "Go on, try it," she urged. "Tell me what you think."

    He paused at seeing her expectant gaze. Chomar looked over in interest as well.

    Realization crossed Defi''s mind.

    "Most of what I saidst night was rot, you know." His technical knowledge on cooking did not reach even an average cook in Ascharon, so his ''analysis'' ofst night''s spices were mostly personal impressions.

    In short, he''d run his mouth as far as it could go.

    "I knew it," Chomarughed.

    "Even then," Vesia sighed, "in an atmosphere like that, you had the stones to filibuster?"

    Defi shrugged. He picked up one of the rmended buns. The filling was not fruit, but a soft paste of some kind. The sweetly nutty, earthy taste was surprising.

    "It''s very good. What is this filling?"

    "Yubiroot and groundnut." Vesia nodded in satisfaction.

    "Enough with the buns! Do you know," Chomar looked at Defi excitedly, "they captured the leader of a pirate crewst night? Not just any river pirate, but Ramad Degaine!"

    "I don''t know who that is." Defi had a suspicion though.

    "The rivers of the empire are toorge and mysterious to bepletely free of pests," Vesia said. "Degaine''s river pirates aren''t thergest, but they''re one of the most vicious."

    "He has one of therger bounties," Chomar looked slightly regretful. "Whoever gets that is in the butter for a lifetime! I hear it''s one of the city guards. I still think it''s whoever blew his barge up."

    "What?"

    "When they got to the pirates, their boat was nearly in pieces. How could you not know?" Chomar groaned. "You were staring right at it!"

    Ah.

    Turq had been influenced a bit by his mindset at the time, likely.

    The Sixth Circlethere were some aspects of it that Defi still could not control. The Sixth Circle was what prevented Ontrean warriors from bing berserkers out of rage, guiding them to use their fury to fuel cold calction.

    "You two were allowed into the docks?" He was certain official people started to flood in not too long after the hull of the barge visibly cracked.

    Defi tried not to smile at that particr memory. That man had nearly topped head over end into the river.

    He gave Turq a whole bun. Good work.

    "When the big fish are parting the waters, you don''t see the small fry clinging to their tails." Chomar downed thest of his tea.

    "They were all captured?" Defi was almost certain none of them died. Not even that man.

    "When the guard deployed their boats, the pirates were already sinking. They couldn''t get away just with swimming away." Vesia sighed, despondent. "Right now, they''re still diving for the sunken cargo, but some of it has already been identified."

    "Bluzand?" He recalled the expressions on Vodren''s face yesterday, and the head clerks nearly excessive actions against strangers in the warehouse. Stolen cargo then?

    "Not a lot, but yes."

    Defi knew that meant Caria the assistant was now under suspicion. "Did you talk?"

    Vesia stilled, then nodded. "I heard her. She thinks her son''s death is Bluzand''s fault."

    "Is it?" Judging by Vesia''s expression, Caria''s case was now more than suspicion. Had she been on the barge as well?

    "I spent half the night in the archives." Vesia shook her head. "He signed up with us after his three-year tribute service in the navy ended."

    "Protecting Bluzand ships?"

    Vesia nodded. "The ship he was on, the ''Darron Belth'' had to put in at the Samrad Isles in the southwest. They decided to do some trading while there. He was killed during a dispute between two local factions, trying to protect Bluzand merchants. They buried him at sea."

    Ascharonians did not cremate their dead, Defi recalled. They buried them, sending their bodies to the depths of earth and sea.

    He studied his new ount manager. She had been promoted because she knew too much but, after spending some time with her, he knew she was level-headed under the lively exterior. She was one to rise to a challenge.

    It wasn''t like his business with Bluzand wasplicated.

    It was just vinegar, after all.

    Tennar was also unlikely to give her any other assignments that would be too strenuousimmediately.

    She would be able to recover well from this blow.

    "It''s just," Vesia waved her hands around in lost confusion. "How could she work for thepany so long when she thought that?"

    Chomar snorted, a trifle bitter, stopped pretending he was engrossed in thest of the stuffed buns. "You can live strong on spite and anger, do you know?"

    The sudden impact of that sentence, revealing perhaps more than the boy wanted them to know, turned the already awkward air darker.

    The server,ing to their table to refresh the tea, felt cold sweat at the back of his neck as he attempted to pour as elegantly as he could in the silence between the three.

    They watched him all but scurry away without saying anything else, in contrast to the smiles and offers of more dishes that the servers at the other tables gave freely.

    "My great-grandfather once survived being captured by enemies by taunting them at every turn, until they turned ck from anger and let him go." Defi suddenly put in.

    To be specific, that great-grandfather turned them against each other with only his words and then simply walked out of the dungeon as the lone survivor. But Defi felt that telling the whole story would plunge the conversation more deeply into depression.

    Vesiaughed, not precisely in amusement.

    "He once said that mentorse in all sorts," Defi added, "and it is the duty of the student to love and hate them at the same time."

    Sheughed again, a bit more amused now. "You''re just saying that, aren''t you."

    Chomarughed as well.

    Defi put his hand to his chest. "Do you disdain the wisdom of my ancestors, distilled from centuries of debate and oratory?"

    "You mean they liked to bullshit a lot, huh?" Chomar smirked at him.

    "I cannot agree with unsolicited opinions."

    "Sure, sure."

    "Why are you here, anyway?"

    Chomar shrugged, his smirk not abating any. "Haven''t been paid yet."

    The air of the morning was lighter. Three young people, who met in odd circumstances,ughed the shadows in their eyes away.

 Chapter 99: A Meandering River Still Always Ends

    Chapter 99: A Meandering River Still Always Ends

    After eating, Vesia dragged Chomar out of the inn to transport her to her duties. Tennar had finally given her some things to do, even if it was running around the city talking to various officials.

    Defi returned to his room, not feeling any urge to go outside.

    He put Turq on the table and flopped onto the bed.

    Meditation was needed, to regain equilibrium. Use of the Sixth Circle required great amounts of energy both emotional and mental.

    Defi took a deep breath and expelled it in a great sigh. He closed his eyes.

    It had been months. Months since he took a boat out of Stahlchausses and was deceived then tossed into the Little Treachery by that boat''s crew. Left to drown and die.

    He thought he''d gotten over the rage he felt then.

    It appeared he hadn''t, if his reaction to seeing that man was to drop into a killing fury.

    Why had he been so angry?

    He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the room.

    He didn''t know how long he''d been thinking when a rapping on the door brought him out of his daze. He got to his feet and padded to the door.

    Sarel let herself in, greeted him with, "You look better than you didst night."

    She saw Turq and went to pat the slime. "Did Vesia tell you of the excessivemotion you caused among the officials of this city?"

    Defi lifted a brow, closed the door. "Is causing a pirate to be caught worth an excessivemotion?"

    "Ramad Degaine was nning to expand his operations to include a regr dose of ckmail, ording to findings. His initial investment apparently involved Ecthys to the extreme. There are some very embarrassed people in the city''s high towers this morning." She smiled, sharp and amused. "It is an opportunity for many."

    Defi waved her to a chair and sat down opposite, sighed. "I did not do it for Bluzand."

    "Mm."

    She already knew that.

    He tapped his fingers on Turq, frowning a little. His thoughts aboutst night were not yet in order. So instead of answering the curious look in her eyes, he asked. "What is going to happen to Ramad Degaine?"

    "Die, likely. Offended too many." She studied him. "The greater part of the bounty is yours if you want it. There were several others captured that had bounties."

    Defi shook his head. "iming it would bring too many eyes. His death is enough."

    "You''ve met before?"

    He looked at her. "You already know that."

    She shrugged. "Turq ripped his arm off. Destroyed his barge. You aren''t one to endanger innocents. It looked personal."

    A corner of Defi''s mouth lifted, humorless. "You might say he killed Desif Rimet."

    He had no qualms speaking the name out loud. Sarel would not havee here to talk if the ce was not secure. An inn for merchantsthere were probably more secrets said and deals made within these walls than he could ever know.

    "Oh?"

    His fingers pressed into Turq''s body. He looked out the window.

    "We came prepared to spend the rest of our lives in another world. I expected to live here in much the same manner I always did. Despite all that had happened, I didn''t really expect my life to change that much. An idiotic thought."

    He paused, then smiled despondently. "The thought of a child brought up to see nobility innate within his person, and all the outer trappings to be deserved."

    Sarel was silent, listening. Defi felt his minde to new realizations as he spoke.

    "Ramad Degaine all but destroyed beliefs that I thought to be pirs of the world." Defi had never thought that all his worldly things being stolen and his life, which he had thought to be precious beyond others, tossed into a churning river like so much trash would engender such a crisis of identity.

    That feeling so helpless would show him that he had been too proud of himself, had held himself higher than others because he despised the trappings of nobility. Did he think himself so wise then, did he think himself an outcast that could see clearer the weaknesses of nobility because he stood on the fringes of society?

    He was a fool.

    Even as he thought himself an outcast, he had taken pride in being descended from family lines that stretched through millenia of history, that had guided and made history.

    It had taken Ramad Degaine throwing him away to die like so much waste that had driven into him that being born noble meant nothing in the greater scheme of things.

    Even when the lord of Rimet threw him away, he had done so in a manner that left Defi feeling as if his death and disgrace mattered to his father.

    To Ramad Degaine, his life and death was nothing noteworthy at all.

    It was a revtion that ripped a wound in Defi''s soul that had never healed, that would never heal all the way.

    The Desif that came through the Gate and the Defi that Sarel had fished out of the river were two different people.

    "I think I know why I was so angry back then. Because he really killed me, Sarel. Left me without reassurance of who I was. Even with my body functioning, what use was it when all reality was wavering?"

    Sarel paused. Then her eyes softened slightly, though they were sharp as ever. "I see."

    Defi scrutinized her. She met his eyes, unwavering. He let out a breath, surprised. "You really do."

    "The birth of a person changes the world, and every step that person makes sounds in the air of the world, soft or loud. Is it surprising that the world echoes back, that the world can change a person? I''ve lived decades longer than you. When I was your age, you think I nned to be a hermit?"

    Defiughed, more like a cough than anything. "Ascharon chefs are crazy. How would I know?"

    Sarel scoffed at him. "Brat."

    He understood what she was saying though. "How different is Sarel from the Lady il Camarene?"

    She stilled for a fraction of a second. If Defi had not been looking, he would''ve missed it. "I don''t think I''ve ever told you that name."

    It wasn''t well-known? "Gylen Dahall called you that."

    She fell into thought, browsing together in a scowl. "Most do not associate the name with Bluzand."

    The table devolved into silence.

    Defi did not mind. This brief conversation helped him understand whyst night he''d wanted to kill.

    Ramad Degaine had killed the noble who was Desif Rimet and allowed the creation of the person who was now Defi.

    Defi didn''t think the person he was before would have stayed in the Lowpool, much less put down roots. He had fought to keep who he was, but going through the Treachery really had been too much an impact on his view of the world.

    And now, when he was just stabilizing and building a life, Ramad Degaine appeared again.

    The river pirate was the only one who could connect the Desif Rimet who fled Stahlchausses and Defi of the Lowpool who was only a farmer.

    If he bbed what he knew and the word got to Ymirin

    He probably would need to leave Ascharon altogether.

    Admittedly, it was a slim chance that the pirate would recognize him. Defi had been less than trash to him, once he had robbed him. But he might, and so his very presence was a threat to all that Defi had in this second world.

    Who wouldn''t be furious? Who wouldn''t rage?

    Fate seemed determined to make them sh.

    It was twice now that he met the god-forsaken pirate coincidentally. The first meeting was a betrayal that nearly ended Defi. And now, the pirate was being given the chance again.

    Did this world have a grudge against him?

    Defi resolved himself. If the fate of one of them was to be destroyed, it was not going to be him.

    *

    It was Defi who broke the silence.

    "Does zaziphos fruit well in the winter?" He wondered idly.

    Sarel blinked out of her thoughts. "Not as much. You can have most of it if you want. Too bitter."

    "Won''t Adan like it more then?"

    "He''s the only one that buys in winter."

    "Figures."

    "I added a few things to your list of supplies."

    "As long as I can afford it."

    "For your assistance with apany matter, Bluzand will pay it."

    Defi opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. "Was Madame Caria on the barge?"

    "A different boat."

    "How did you find her so quickly?"

    "There was nothing quick about it." Sarel leaned back in her seat, and her eyes hardened. "She was running south to Crom, or we''d have lost her. Her hands were all over your pirate''s letters."

    "What''s in Crom?" He didn''t want to think about Degaine anymore.

    "Her son''s grave-marker. Her two daughters as well."

    Defi paused. He''d not thought the woman had more children. He disliked traitors, but understood the need to get something back from those who had wronged you.

    He said, carefully. "Her son''s death, it was a dutiful one."

    "Yes."

    "Someone pointed her at you."

    "Yes." It was said casually.

    Defi studied her. She did not look perturbed, so he let it go. "Her daughters, are they old enough to care for themselves?"

    Vesia would want to know.

    "The elder of the two is getting married, and the younger is said to be talented. They will grieve but she has dedicated much of her time to Bluzand in various ways. They know how to live without her."

    Dedication. Yes, that was what revenge was.

    He shook his head, and emptied it of further questions. Bluzand did not have much to do with him.

    "Thank you for taking care of Turq."

    Sarel sighed. "Be thankful no one would believe that your slime could be a seakrait. Good thing he recognizes me or you''d have lost him."

    Some memories filtered across his mind at her words.

    Tennar had sat him in a closed carriage and Sarel had apanied him to a physicker. The woman Sarel took him to thought he was unresponsive from shock at seeing such a ''tragedy''.

    Then he remembered the way Turq had crushed part of the barge between its coils.

    "Is it normal for emotions to run across the summon-bond?"

    "For summons you have a strong bond with, yes. In general, then no. Slimes though, their emotions aren''t tooplex. You won''t get much bleed-over." She lifted a brow at him. "Your bond with Turq is that strong?"

    "I can feel where it is, generally."

    Sarel nodded.

    "You have summon-beasts as well?"

    Sarel waved a hand. "A long time ago. They died."

    "I apologize." If she could speak on the strength of the summon-bond, then did she have strong bonds with her summon-beasts as well?

    "You know, you were really lucky that it was the Lowpool younded in."

    Defi epted the change in conversation easily. "I know."

    The Lowpool was isted because of terrain, most of its foreign trade was limited to the south of the town and the marketce, and it was generally self-sufficient because of theke. Most other ces near the river, he would likely have been found by Ymirin before months had passed.

    "His death is really enough for you?"

    He smiled. "Are you asking if I want to kill him with my own hands?"

    Sarel just looked at him.

    He quieted, and the tempo of his tapping on Turq''s back slowed. "I had that chancest night, I think."

    "Did you?"

    "Possibly." She knew he''d not been in his right mind. Creator, he had not been practicing the Circles as often as he could have. "My hands or another''s. It doesn''t really matter. Things would end either way."

    "Mm." She epted his answer with a hum.And that was that.

 Chapter 100: Ordinary Day

    Chapter 100: Ordinary Day

    The capture of a notorious pirate was the talk of the city. There were so many more people on the streets than there were yesterday.

    Bluzand was too much a hive of buzzing wasps flitting in and out to befortable. The mood in thepany building was a mix of agitated and excited, too stressful.

    After finalizing his cooperation with thepany, Defi was d to walk out to the noise of the open street. At least the vibrating tension of the people there was not amplified by being cooped up between walls.

    He walked to a wine shop Vesia had pointed out yesterday. Degaine''s capture had brightened the spirits of the city, and theughter and conversation were slightly less despondent. Children were still running about the side streets, ying pirates against the city guard who were armed withwas that a dead snake on a stick?

    Defiughed softly.

    Listening to the gossip, it appeared many thought Turq''s seakrait form was the summon-beast belonging to one of the city guard.

    The wineshop''s door opened with a blooming of aromas from within. Defi felt that a child could get drunk on the scent of the shop.

    He already had a selection of wines on the list, but he wanted some to bring back.

    Sarel, just this morning, had informed him that the warehouse needed a blessing feast and that he couldn''t put it off too long after the construction was finished.

    Basically, he just needed enough wine and bread and viand to feed all the people he was acquainted with. ording to her, it was a good thing that he wasn''t so social yet, or half the town would descend upon hisrder like migrating locusts on a doomed field.

    Because of rumor, everyone ''knew'' that Sarel was his aunt, so it was up to her to arrange part of the blessing ceremonies. Sarel was an outsider though, and didn''t really want to deal with organizing social gatherings, so she pushed off the responsibility to Aire.

    "I didn''t know about this!" Who nned a gathering in one day? How would people know to arrive? Invitations had to be sent!

    "You don''t need to host," Sarel said in exasperation as he mildly panicked. "People are just there to drink. Adan already has set aside some centals of the good ale for you."

    Defi red at her. "It''s tomorrow."

    She waved his concern away. "Already sent Aire a note by bird, when I saw your list. All your reading, you didn''t catch this tradition? The bakery is likely working overtime for you. Everyone who should know already knows."

    Defi calmed down. "Thank you."

    "Go buy gifts for the people saving your skin."

    Which was the reason he sought out the wineshop.

    He already had a collection of jars containing samples of spice-mixes from Bluzand to use as gifts, actually. But it didn''t seem enough. Aire and the others were saving his social reputation, after all.

    In a tight-knit town where he was both outsider and the owner of townnd, his character as seen by the townspeople was important to cultivate. If he missed this ceremony, he might as well be noised to all and sundry as ungrateful towards fortune bestowed by the divine.

    Wine was a simple decision, one that would not be seen as extravagant even if he gave out a slightly expensive bottle. Everybody drank wine, and it was a gift that was always appreciated.

    "Good sir, may I be of assistance?"

    Defi greeted the wine-seller, and went directly about what he wanted. "Six bottles of the Madine Ordaine, madame. Something simr if you don''t have it."

    "I apologize," the middle-aged woman inclined her head. "All of the Madine we have in stock has been reserved."

    "Reserved?"

    "For harvest celebrations, young sir," she rified. "I''m afraid even the Barbrose and the Voroline cannot be bought from any wineshop in the city at the moment. Perhaps the Zamen Ghisar might satisfy? The Chossur Lemorne is a personal rmendation of mine."

    "I''ve not had those before." Defi stated truthfully. "Can you bring outhm, six would do. Yes, six of your rmendations."

    She hesitated.

    Defi eyed her discreetly as he kept his outward attention on the bottles disyed. Her silence went on too long. He nced at her, eyes narrowed. What was the problem? "This cannot be done?"

    She smiled tightly. "Certainly it can, young sir. Please wait a moment."

    He was a little wary when six bottles were ced on the counter. Before she could start her spiel on the names and origins of the wine, he was already uncorking the first.

    It was not a bottle that was native to Ascharon, and the scent of the wine was a little sour for him. He corked the bottle and went on to the next.

    Because of Adan''s forceful lesson, Defi could rank many different wines into tiers just by using the scent and taste examples the tavern-brewer had given.

    The second, he poured an amount less than a mouthful into the waiting cup and carefully let the wine spread on his tongue. By scent and taste, it was far from equal to the Madine.

    Defi put it down and went on to the next. Then the next.

    He sighed when all of them were done. They were good wines. The problem was that...

    "They are all inferior to the Madine."

    The best one of the lot was the second tost bottle. It was still inferior but not by much. Defi studied the design etched on the ss. Chossur Lemorne.

    "Should I prepare another six samples, young sir?"

    "No, this one will do. Your personal rmendation, yes?" His current wealth at the moment was actually a bit short for the Madine. But it was the best wine he could acquire with his budget.

    "It is," she looked surprised, then gratified. "Six bottles, young sir. Thirty-four crescents. I will prepare a carry-box."

    "Make it twelve bottles, please."

    He btedly realized he hadn''t thanked those who wrote his rmendation letters for the Tesorium, and didn''t know how many people he needed to thank back in the Lowpool.

    The carry-box the wine-seller ced the bottles in was lightweight, convenient.

    Defi ced four gold solstices on the counter, slightly pained inwardly. At least he now had a reliable source of money, he consoled himself.

    She returned twelve crescents in change. "Thank you for your patronage, young sir. We hope to wee you again."

    He left one crescent on the counter and swept the rest into a pouch. Her eyes sparkled, bing more friendly as the coin disappeared.

    "I''m curious," hemented as he tested the weight of the packed bottles. "Do wine shops not let customers sample wares in Ecthys?"

    She smiled wryly. "The problem, young sir, is when they sample everything and do not make purchases."

    Defi understood, and tried not tough. "I hope I at least restored some of your faith in the world."

    "Perhaps if you return for further business, young sir."

    Defi grinned at her and bowed in farewell. He was about to leave when he spied a vaguely familiar figure through the window; a figure that was approaching the shop.

    He frowned, thinking, then his eyes widened in recognition and he ducked low behind a disy of empty bottles mere seconds before the door opened.

    The wine-seller only had a moment to lift her brows in amused judgement before the woman blew in like a gale and upied all her attention.

    "Madame," said the wine-seller, her face falling into smiling professionalism. "Are you here to inspect the shop?"

    Inspect, mouthed Defi to himself. Then he understood.

    Of all the wine-shops he entered, he chose one that was owned by Madame Agreine and her family?

    He tried not to snicker at his own Creator-forsaken luck.

    With both women upied, he calmly and quickly walked out the door and lost himself in the crowd.

    Behind him, at the sound of the door closing, two women paused their conversation, but no one else was in the shop.

    Defi, who was on his way back to Bluzand, wondered in amusement: if he went to that wine-shop next time, would he see how that madame''s face contorted if she saw him?

    *

    Tennar was not in his office, so Defi left two bottles with his assistant clerk. One for him and one for Sarel, with folded notes under them.

    It was about time to leave.

    Vesia was saddened, but they would be writing to each other anyway.

    He waved at Vesia, who was busy and even had a massive stack of paper in one arm even as she sent him off, then entered the waiting carriage. Sarel nodded in greeting. "Ready to go back?"

    "Yes." He hefted his pack, set it to one side.

    The quiet river bank and the expanse of green mountainside that were parts of the Garge homestead sounded very rxing at the moment.

    He hadn''t expected a day in Ecthys to be so draining.

    "The furniture and part of the cksmith''s order needs a few more days to be put together. The caravan holding most of the supplies will leave the city in two days, on Thunders. Expect it in town four or five days after."

    "Day of Moons or Duels then. Isn''t that too long?"

    "It''s the harvest. The wagons are allden these days. The caravan''s a littlezy, but they''re careful. The leader''s a friend."

    Defi remembered that the aunts in the market said that bandits and thieves were more active at harvest time. He nodded.

    "Mm. Won''t be back for some time. You can use the orchard as usual."

    "I''ll be sure not to set the ce on fire."

    She remarked calmly. "Should know by now that my Shade is Earth."

    "Resorting to threats?"

    "I''m sure it''s the proper response to people inviting arson."

    "My ears must be going and, of the two of us, I''m not the one who''s old. I''ve not heard this. Who invited what?"

    The carriage ride to Marmocha''s city house was filled with light conversation.

    "Sarel, my friend! Young Defi! Wee to my abode!" Marmocha greeted them enthusiastically, as usual. "You have met my niece Amicha of course."

    Said niece sent him a look that was both injured and reproaching.

    Defi knew the reason. "Good afternoon, Miss Ami."

    Her name was Amren, and she did not like the nickname her uncle was so fond of throwing around.

    He handed her the wine-bottle and the package of spice-jars meant for Marmocha. Thanking the man directly would lead to even more vigorous transports of weirdness, Defi surmised. It was better to be subtle in this instance.

    She beamed at his correct use of her name as she clutched the bottle and jars carefully. "Good afternoon, mestre!"

    "Yes," Marmocha smiled widely at them both. "Good afternoon. What''s all this about a seakrait catching a pirate, eh? It''s all over the city!"

    "The vengeance of the sea on the plunderers that sully her honor!" followed the smaller but no less animated member of the Chacort n.

    Defi could only smile. The energy of these two Chacorts was inherited, it seemed.

    Possibly they absorbed power from the air around their bodies? Is that possible?

    Getting hugged by the two would certainly exin why he fell asleep on the flying carriage and did not notice until Marmocha was nudging him awake.

 Chapter 101: He Who Lives Here Must

    Chapter 101: He Who Lives Here Must

    It was twilight when the carriage pulled by winged goats flew over the Garge homestead.

    From above, Defi noticed that there were people near the warehouse. A fire flickered cheerily in the open space between the trees, casting long and thin moving shadows of various individuals on the ground.

    There was arge canopy set up beside the dark and empty building that was going to be his slime habitat.

    The flying carriage alighted near the house, screened from view of the people by a stand of trees.

    The scent of sansu fruits and blossoms lingered in the air of the ce and Defi breathed in deeply as he disembarked. The smell of the river here was distinctly different from the Indar river that surrounded Ecthys.

    "I thought you lived here alone?" Gosseu the driver asked, as he and Marmocha helped Defi unload packages and barrels from the carriage. He''d seen the people as well.

    Defi noted that the carriage, despite the sizable load packed inside and on top of it, still floated sturdily above the ground. "There''s a blessing feast for the warehouse tomorrow. They''re probably getting ready for it. Pleasee if you can."

    At least, he hoped it was Aire and her cohort who were setting fires in his front yard.

    Gosseu lit up. "Of course. You already know Gide, yes?"

    They started lightingmps. The sun had already set.

    "Just bring anyone who wants to." Defi made for the room beside the kitchen, to check on his slimes and make up a basket of food for Turq.

    Ascharonian ceremonial feasts were public. Anyone who had acquaintance with the host could take part and bring anyone who wants to be introduced. It''s why most of his current cargo was food.

    In the room set aside for them, the slimes all were lounging about in empty baskets, not one missing. He sighed in relief. Thest time he came backwell.

    It was the work of a few minutes to refill the baskets. Turq left to one of the baskets with the rest of the slimes.

    When he returned exited the room, Gosseu and Marmocha were carrying boxes into the central hall.

    "Blessing feast? No wonder she told me to carry so much stuff." Marmocha sighed theatrically. "Why can''t that woman just tell people what she wants?"

    Defi ignored the dramaticment. Marmocha and Sarel had been friends for so long that sometimes, between them, words were trivial.

    Marmocha pped a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "My young friend, it looks like most of our cargo this time is yours. Your first time hosting a blessing feast! We must get ready."

    "What did she want you to do this time?"

    "From the look of the supplies she sent, we''ll be setting up your receiving hall tonight."

    Defi did intend to do that. "I already bought furniture. It won''t be delivered until next week."

    "It does not matter how you order your hall, young friend. But the traditions must be kept and things must be arranged in proper ces."

    Defi understood. He had cleared the room of everything before he rearranged it. So he''d removed the items that made the central hall into a suitably Ascharonian receiving hall.

    "Don''t worry, Defi. You are in luck! I learned the calctions and the ceremony from a master. In my younger days, I was quite the schr!"

    "You''ve done it before?" Defi did not trust the man''s currently too bright enthusiasm.

    "A simple thing like this, it won''t take very long!"

    Defi considered that the man hadn''t answered the question, then nodded with a sigh. What choice did he have at the moment?

    The blessing feast was essential if Sarel rushed to get it done from Ecthys even with the chaos at Bluzand.

    "If you curse my house, you''re paying for what happens next."

    Marmocha just shook his head, looking very disappointed. "Ah, young people these days, no faith in their elders."

    "I have plenty of faith. I will have faith until the moment my house gets cursed."

    Gosseu snickered as he passed them by.

    Marmocha snorted, then waved his hand at the rest of the cargo. Thergest and heaviest package still was on the carriage. "Impudent brat,e and help bring down those stands."

    Surprisingly, to Defi, the process was indeed simple. It was not even an hour before his house had what Marmocha termed a ''proper'' receiving hall.

    What Marmocha called ''stands'' were actually plinths, borately carved stone pieces that were lighter than they looked. The carved stands came up to Defi''s chest, and needed to be ced in various strategic ces around the hall.

    In the light of themps he''d bought in Ecthys, Defi touched a finger to one.

    The stone was smooth, cool and almost silky to the touch, the ck-grey-white patterns of the grain contrasting beautifully. He imagined the stone plinth set against the aged wood of the walls, and was struck with the casual harmony with which they came together in his mind.

    He tilted his head in contemtion. He had talked to Sarel about Ontrean art before, did he give away his preference for stone over wood then?

    Should he write to ask where she acquired the stands? He would like to see what other items woulde out of such a workshop.

    The carved plinths were entric in design and, in addition, not one of the pieces exactly the same. Curious. Was asymmetry considered a major element in Ascharonian art?

    Still, Defi could see they were carefully made, thoughtfully designed.

    Ontrean art was a story caught in many mediums. A single nce at Ontrean artwork and people would know what it was about.

    He was too untutored in Ascharonian tradition to know precisely the details. But art was anguage that transcended culture and Defi knew beauty when he saw it.

    It was impossible that they were made in three days, not even three months. And it would cost a few handfuls of gold besides.

    He wondered idly, exactly how grateful was Bluzand that Turq brought down that barge?

    Defi had the feeling it was arger case of spying and theft than he initially thought. Not to mention, Sarel would not stay in Ecthys if it was a minor problem.

    He put the matter out of his mind as Marmocha started instructing him and Gosseu to carry things here and there.

    Merchantry intrigue was not something he could help with yet, so he focused on the things he could do and started helping Gosseu move the plinths.

    "Three of these will do, generally, for fortune, hospitality, and health. But seven is auspicious too." Marmocha deimed while looking through a surveying mirror and marking ces in the hall.

    As he babbled, the two younger men unwrapped the rest of the cargo that Marmocha needed.

    "It looked like there were seven stands that used to be here." Marmocha bent to study the markings on the floor.

    Defi remembered those stands. They were carved from wood rather than stone, rendering scenes of frolicking woond animals. There was indeed a certain grace to the carvings, but they were too boisterous for his taste.

    The wood of those stands looked older than even the walls of the house, and part of them had char marks from fire. Yet they were carefully polished and there had been attempts at restoration.

    Defi did not think Leraine intended to sell him what he suspected were family heirlooms, so he stored them with the rest in the former master bedroom. Should she return, he would give them back.

    "The old calctions are nearly the same as mine. Eh, saves the bother of checking again," Marmocha pped his hands together in satisfaction and waved them to move faster.

    The bulk of the ceremony was Gosseu and Defi carrying heavy iron candlesticks and cing them on top of the plinths while Marmocha murmured offering chants in Abrechalnguage and lit the candle with his Shade.

    They slowly circled the hall, lighting candles one by one, listening to the rise and fall of Marmocha''s chanting.

    After the final one was lit, Defi and Gosseu stood at Marmocha''s back while he kindled a ze in the firece with the final candle before cing it on thest plinth.

    There was a silence in the hall as the fire crackled to life in therge recessed space.

    Fire, since ages past, had been essential to thefort and survival of humankind. It kept away the predator beasts, the killing cold, the fatal hunger.

    Without fire, would the forges that gave humankind the physical weapons to match and rise above any other predator been created?

    Without fire, would the bonds that gave humans the inner strength to endure the hard uncaring world been strong enough to form kingdoms and empires?

    In Ontrea, warriors revered the ravaging me, the passion that stirred the blood to seek battle. It appeared, in Ascharon, the nourishing me that brought people together was simrly exalted.

    He should have guessed, with how food was so central to various local traditions.

    "The items to ce on top of the stands, traditionally, are chosen as a family. For you, until you marry, the candles will do. You should light them every night."

    Defi had included a fireguard on his list for the firece but had not brought it back with him. He contemted whether there were simr products to guard against candle-me identally setting the curtains aze.

    "That''s done." Marmocha sighed happily. "Now your receiving hall is nearly ready to wee people."

    "I am grateful that you both were here to help."

    Gosseu smiled brightly at his thanks, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

    "I said nearly." Marmocha waved a finger at him in disapproval. "Don''t think I didn''t see the state of your wine cab. A travesty, I say, a travesty!"

    Defi eyed the wine-cab. It was the same as always, and he was certain he''d cleaned the hall recently. He really didn''t want to ask. "What''s wrong with it?"

    "It''s empty! By the seven-colored skies, why is it empty?"

    "I have wine," Defi protested. "Quartels of it, in fact."

    "You should show off your wine, my young friend! Your wines should say: ''He who lives here is a gracious and generous host. He who lives here shall allow you to drink the best of his wines. He who lives here shall blow your underclothes off with the taste of these wines''! Do you understand?"

    Defi gave him a doubtful look. To the side, Gosseu was also looking at his employer half in stifled hrity and half in resigned despair.

    A stretched out grumbling sound cut off the conversation.

    Defi shut his mouth and refused to be embarrassed.

    Marmochaughed, pped a hand on both Defi and Gosseu''s shoulders. "Should we go and see what delicacies those people outside havee up with this evening?"

 Chapter 102: Bone Soup with Likable Friends

    Chapter 102: Bone Soup with Likable Friends

    To Defi''s surprise, it was Falie and Hames who had organized the onsite preparations.

    "Aire''s been flitting around town sourcing the supplies and people." Falie informed him.

    "I see." Defi felt guilt at having someone who already had thirteen children to take care of running around town for this. "Thank you foring."

    Maybe he should have bought better wine or more spices?

    Falieughed, ruffled his hair. "Who else would be here? That Sarel is unreliable."

    "She''s busy in Ecthys too."

    "Ecthys isn''t here, see?" Falie pointed out stubbornly. "Unreliable."

    Defi could only smile, helpless.

    Getting between Falie and Sarel''s endless bickering would be an exercise in regret. He looked around for Hames, who could easily distract his wife, but the man had the habit of blending into the background except when he was sitting at a gambling table.

    "This ce is too far out from the town markets, so we stocked much of what is needed for tomorrow." Falie waved at the mound of boxes and barrels under the canopy.

    "Thatdo we need that much?" Defi knew less than half a hundred people in Ascharon. The piles of food gathered near the warehouse would be enough for five times that number.

    "Normally half of it would be enough. But Aire got ideas." Falie''s voice was exasperated. "You know a draft was announced?"

    When Defi nodded, she huffed. "I hope you don''t get the fool idea of volunteering for honor because single-person households are not included in the draft."

    "No," he said. "I''m not joining."

    All the chaos for this far-away war was a good chance to disappear into another continent. But joining an army with the intent to desert before he got to the battlefield was something no Ontrean would countenance.

    "Good. I was saying, Aire got the idea to bring cheer to the town in these difficult times."

    "Do I need to buy more ale?" Defi didn''t mind giving people an excuse to drown their sorrows in free drink. But he''d have liked to be consulted.

    "Don''t worry about it. It''s only a few hundred people that wille here, probably." Falie smiled at him softly. She patted his cheek, more gently than the rough ruffle she gave his hair. "You''re one of thest people to give a blessing feast since the smuggler. Just your luck that the building was finished at the same time as the announcement, but you''ll not be the only one paying for this feast."

    And tomorrow''s feast would not be the only excuse people find to take their minds of their family members possibly being picked for the first iteration of the draft, Defi understood.

    He returned her smile. "I am d. The initial payment fromthe business I had in Ecthys isn''t enough to feed the whole town."

    Falie didn''t know Sarel had a connection to Bluzand, right? Bluzand sold Falie''s suirberry ''wine'' as a sauce for meats. If Falie ever found out.

    Creator, Defi hoped he would be far away from the epicentre of that explosion.

    "Enough standing about. There is soup and bread. You look like you got thinner in Echtys. Hah, did Sarel even feed you?"

    "It''s been just two days." Defi did not resist as she hooked her arm in his and led him toward severalrge metal vats, the bottoms dark with soot, slowly burbling over low fires.

    As they neared, the scent of meat permeated the air. Defi paused to inhale the heady aroma of cooking pork.

    It was a little surprising. Most of the Lowpool ate the local seafood almost exclusively. Meat was rare, as there were few husbanding farms in the area and fishing took less effort for gain than hunting.

    He''d expected the vats to hold fish stew of some sort.

    He stopped as he realized that one side of the canopied area contained wooden frames of drying animal hides, sticking up from the ground like low banners. On the canopy post, strings of curved tusks hung like drooping willow branches full of pale ivory leaves.

    "The hunters, when they heard you were throwing a feast, got together to try the cliffs." She patted his arm and took a few of the in ceramic bowls stacked on one side of the long table to head toward the cooking area.

    "Did I know so many great hunters?" Defi wondered out loud. He''d met some hunters in Genlet, but not many from the Lowpool that he knew by name.

    "Ah, see? I, as well, am a great hunter," came a voice behind Defi.

    Defi turned to see Nuran press her knuckles into Han''s arm with the impassive casualness that said she had done it a thousand times.

    Han winced and sidled away with a half-hearted re at this friend. The archer then grinned at Defi. "The hunt went well, in case you didn''t know. A few of the old soldiers came too."

    "You came across a nest of rockboars? Your hunt was blessed." Defi was impressed that they had found so many.

    He had not seen Hanel and Nuran since the night that the town celebrated the returning soldiers and hunters from the expedition to the Groaning Cliff.

    Even if Lowpool hunters were fewer than most, they did very well in this hunt.

    Rockboars were incredibly agile and could bound across cliffs using only the slightest footholds. They were difficult to hunt, and vicious if cornered. Inexperienced hunters were often warned to stay away.

    The small boars were often seen in packs that numbered under five. Butrge sounders like the one that had contributed the mass of small sharp tusks decorating the canopy posts were rare. There must have been at least twenty adult boars that were captured.

    "Knowing I have enriched your life," Han threw an arm around Defi''s shoulders. "Can I bring some people tomorrow?"

    "Isn''t everyone bringing people? Bring anyone who wants toe."

    "Really?" Han''s eyes widened and the beguiling grin faltered and then settled into a genuine smile.

    Nuranughed softly. "You are kind, but this idiot wants to bring ten people over shamelessly. You don''t have to put up with his antics, Defi."

    Defi smiled at her. "I will treat it as my introduction to the Lowpool, bring everyone you can over."

    Nuran studied him, as if looking for the joke. Then she shook her head, the red waves of her hair shifting enticingly with the movement. "You both are crazy. It''s only a blessing feast for a building, not a first birth ceremony."

    "We''re also blessing the bridge," Han pointed out.

    "It''s not your bridge, what are you blessing?"

    "Semantics. We''re here to celebrate the blessing of things. Who said you had to own it to bless it?"

    There was also the bath-house containing the pools, Defi mentally added.

    The bath-house hade out with partitions, constructed so that only part of it was open to the sky. A long way from the simple open pools that Defi had first envisioned.

    How it ended was more convenient though.

    Diverting the water for both buildings had been hard work.

    The builders had to cut a portion of the river road out so the stream could flow into the property. They built a rather pretty arched stone bridge to connect the parts of the road that had been separated by the stream of water.

    As the road would never have much traffic seeing as thest farms were backed onto a cliff, Karles had argued that wood would do just as well, but Defi insisted.

    Maybe he was biased, but wooden bridges always felt flimsy to him. Even if he knew that the Emblems in Ascharon would definitely make the bridge the sturdiest wooden bridge he''d ever stepped upon, he was adamant.

    Bridges were made of stone.

    In every song and every epic of Ontrea, where would you find a wooden bridge?

    Oh, well, there was that one line in the chanted legend called the War-song of Six Kingdoms, but that bridge broke and killed the hero''s lover.

    Wooden bridges were tragic elements of story.

    Defi would never build one to be permanent.

    He had to admit that he was curious what an Ascharonian blessing feast was like. Ah! He should have asked Marmocha what was expected of the host in times like this.

    Sarel said he only had to let the people eat and drink. It seemed tooid back to Defi. Was it not like gatherings across the Gate? The host had many things to do within the duration of a feast in Ontrea.

    Don''t tell him Falie was right and Sarel was unreliable. Even if Sarel had been a chef, she''d been a hermit for years now, hadn''t she? When was thest time she hosted?

    He felt conflicted.

    The sound of wood striking wood turned their heads to Falie. She raised her brow at them. "Eat, then go help the people setting up the other tables for tomorrow. Karles is going crazy supervising those drunken idiots."

    The three of them obediently sat at the table and distributed the bowls and tes between themselves. "Thanks, Falie."

    Falie set a pitcher of ale and cups on the table, nodded in acknowledgement. "If you want seconds, find Lon  there he is. I see my husband is ying the dice-cups again."

    She all but stomped toward a group of people sitting in a circle on the ground.

    From what Defi had garnered from the month he worked for Falie and the weekly mid-day dinners at the orphanage, Falie didn''t like gambling and Hames was an experienced shark who offended people into chasing them into obscurity.

    Falie would join the gambling just so she could beat Hames into not doing it again and he would gamble under her eyes just so he could spend a pastime he enjoyed with his wife.

    Defi saw her loom over him with appreciable menace. Hameszily nced up and grinned sharply at her.

    "They look happy." Nuran was looking at Falie and Hames as well, a touch of wistfulness in her tone.

    "Yes."

    "Wondering when you''ll ever have that blissful married life, since you''re so old?" Han was lucky he sat across the table.

    Defi, in the corner of his eyes, saw Nuran''s fingers tighten on the handle of her spoon. He knew very well, there were many ways an angry and creative person could retaliate with just a table spoon.

    Gathering meals in the children''s court had to take into ount the myriad possible alternative uses of innocent cutlery.

    He turned away, just in case there was something he should not be testifying toter. He nced at Falie and Hames again.

    Blissful married life?

    Did his parents ever look like that? Garun said they were once happy together.

    He turned his attention to the bowl of soup in front of him. It was a thick soup, creamy with pork fat,the chopped herbs and vegetables giving it bright spots of color.

    He took the first spoonful and savored the rich vor spreading to all his tastebuds. The savory soup was interspersed with creamy bits of fat and marrow, the whole thing tasting like the essence of pork poured into a bowl. "How long has this been stewing?"

    "A day, if I scent it right." Marmocha sat down beside Han, carrying a tray of his own. Gosseu, who followed him, set down another pitcher and two cups. "Very nice bone soup. See the marrow floating around? Excellent! Ah, young Defi, you have finally made friends your own age. I must tell everyone tomorrow!"

    His age? Defi was fairly certain both of them were at least three years older.

    The two with Defi were surprised at the sudden appearance.

    "These are Hanel and Nuran. I met Han in Genlet and Nuranter as his friend." Defi simplified the introductions he made. "Marmocha and Gosseu are merchants. I met Marmocha before I came to the Lowpool and he introduced me to Gosseu."

    Another bowl was ced beside Nuran. Defi nced over. "And that''s Haral, who I met in town."

    Haral was the shopkeeper when he went for the first time to the dried seafood shop, then again when he went to the cksmith shop for the first time.

    Defi eyed the boy, who looked more tired than thest time they met.

    Haral shed a brief smile at them all. "Hope you don''t mind. The tables over that way are a bit too unbnced for the soup."

    They all looked over where the tables were being assembled under the supervision of Karles, the builder. One nce and you could see they were having trouble.

    Even the tables that were already standing were dubious in their stability.

    One of the people assembling the tables swayed precariously, tripped over an unsecured table leg, crashed onto the unfinished table which disassembled itself into pieces. Again.

    Defi got to see expressionless stoic Karles drop his face into a hand.

    His spoon paused on the way to his mouth. Was the manughing?

    Karles lifted his face, and his lips were curled into a snarl, eyes promising retribution.

    Oh. He wasn''t.

    Lon, who Defi now remembered the town guard who had been following Cuthes around, was staring at the tableau with wide eyes.

    Defi slowly moved his gaze away, so as not to gain the attention of a raging predator. Unfortunately, he saw Nuran and Hanel whip their heads away from watching the scene.

    He nced toward Karles from the corner of his eyes. Thankfully, the man''s attention was on the useless cohort he was supervising who all had one too many tankards of ale.

    "You know Karles?" He posed the question to the two who seemed to understand the raging bear that Karles could be. Defi had himself had not seen Karles get mad, but he had seen warriors with that look on their faces.

    "He''s my cousin," said Nuran.

    "I was once matched at a gathering with his younger sister," gulped Han.

    Nuran stifled a snicker. As did Haral and Gosseu.

    "You know we''re going to go there after this." Han told them meanly. He pointed at Haral and Gosseu. "You and you, you''re going too."

    There was a tense silence.

    Marmochaughed. "I like your friends."

 Chapter 103: The Blessing Feast (1 of 3)

    Chapter 103: The Blessing Feast (1 of 3)

    The preparations went on into the night, setting up tables near the sansu trees and diggingtrines in more secluded spots. Thetrines were set up as temporary outhouses, walled with debris that was left over from the renovation of the warehouse.

    Lon had, after the tables were sorted out, started them on weaving temporary tters from long leaves and reed strips. He demonstrated, to Defi''s fascination, finishing a single tter in less than thirty seconds.

    Defi took the sample to study, turning it around in his hands. Amazing. The woven tter was sturdier than it looked.

    The canvas sheet canopy tents went up over the tables and the cooking area near midnight when a soft rain started drizzling down.

    The stream diverted from the river, running through the refurbished warehouse and the new bath-house, came in handy when cleaning up.

    Defi only had the chance to take a nap long after midnight. He woke just as the imminent sun was painting the east in rose and salmon, gilding the underside of the clouds in shining gold.

    He stretched, yawning as he made ready for the day.

    Opening the door out of the kitchen, he saw that Reon was at the temporary oven they set up near the kitchen courtyard. There was another canopy tent nearby, sacks and barrels stacked under its shade.

    On one of the preparation tables, the baker was kneading dough, showing arms corded with muscle as he folded and pushed.

    The smell of baking bread was spread by the morning breezes, and there were already a few people eyeing the oven. There was a boy adding wood into the mass of glowing red coals underneath therge baking space of the oven, eyeing those people back suspiciously.

    Reon shed a smile at him. "Good morning Defi. The singers should be arriving around mid-morn."

    The statement told Defi that he should be greeting them as host. He nodded in thanks. "I''m heading to town. Is there anything you needed?"

    Marmocha had only given an overviewst night, but his role as host was really less involved than in Ontrean gatherings. Here, he only needed to greet people and keep the food and drink in plentiful order.

    Reon thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Most of what''s needed is already here. Dyene''s bringing the restter."

    He dusted flour off his hands and turned to open a tter covered by a basket. "Have some herb twists, Defi. First batch out of the oven, so they''re cool enough now."

    Defi paused. "I didn''t see youst night?"

    He had slept only a few hours. Reon should have been here at least that long for him to have already baked and cooled a batch of bread.

    He studied the herb bread the baker pushed into his hands. Spirals of chopped herbs ran through the twists of the bread.

    "I believe Falie chivvied all the younger ones to sleep just before I came." Reon returned to his kneading after urging Defi to eat with earnest gestures.

    He bit into the twist. The herbs were aromatic, the scent spreading up his nose before his tongue registered the earthy, tangy, slightly salty taste, a hint of bitterness. The creamy and slightly sweet bread gently drew all the different vors into a contrasting but harmonious dance.

    "You''re serving these today?" Would he be able to eat more today?

    Reon beamed. "Just for the morning helpers. Take a few, go on. Eat them on the way."

    Defi did not decline, taking a second after he finished the first herb twist and secreting a third and fourth in the inner pocket of his coat. When he returned, there likely wouldn''t be any left.

    The pre-adolescent boy tending to the oven and guarding its contents narrowed his eyes at him.

    Defi broke off a piece for the hardworking little guard as he passed. The boy lit up and thanked him, the words already muffled by therge piece of herb twist in his mouth.

    He walked to the docks, munching on herby bread, waving at those who were already awake.

    The Garge house had too few rooms and, even if Defi opened the receiving hall for some of the tired workers to sleep, there were still people who had simply taken their rest under the canopies and people who just didn''t sleep.

    To prevent idents, he''d moved the slimes to the basement storage.

    If some kind soul fed them, and he knew the children would have been fascinated by how the slimes visibly dissolved their food, all the work he''d done over thest few months may be muddled up.

    The slimes needed a consistent diet to create the extracts he needed.

    With his contract specifying that he needed to increase his output to at least five barrels per type of vinegar by spring of the next year, Defi could not afford to have his production slimes eat items that might unduly affect them.

    Jumping onto his scow and poling past the t barges and other boats that were moored at the dock and at nearby temporary berths on the river, he considered that he could now buy the sable crabs that would make more of the crystal vinegar that Tennar asked so much about.

    The fisher''s guild in town should be amenable to a monthly purchase.

    He nodded to himself. With the profit that the crystal vinegar already gave him, buying one sable crab a month for one solstice each would still make him profit. One sable crab should be enough to increase the vinegar quality of six or more slimes.

    Defi made a face at the thought of summoning too many slimes again. The bacsh of the summoning then was simr to the feeling of waking up in the morning after a night of mild drinking.

    This time, he needed to summon three to five times that number to find suitable slimes for production. Maybe he could stagger the summoning, and not do the search all at once. As long as he could increase the current output five times before spring, which was over five months away, he didn''t need to rush.

    He twitched reluctantly at needing to feel sick multiple times.

    Apart from increasing output, he also wanted to do some experimentation on other interesting substances slimes might produce. It was why he bought an apothecary''s trace-table.

    It looked like he would be putting the experimenting off and concentrating on the production of the vinegars first.

    As for the lotion, it was still in the air. The lotion so far was included in the contract because Tennar was adamant in buying it despite not having a definite way of marketing it.

    Defi wasn''t too worried.

    If nothing came out of it, then he was still paid. If something came out of it, depending on the path Tennar decided to take, then Defi had the freedom of negotiating a separate contract for just the lotion. He knew Tennar agreed to it because he could see the potential as well.

    Everything aside, he knew one thing: the warehouse needed more hands.

    The problem was that what he was doing could be easily replicated. Slimes existed wherever there was water. He needed employees he could trust not to gossip about the process.

    He paused.

    Took a moment to repeat the thought in his head.

    ''Slimes existed wherever there was water.''

    "Why then, have I not seen any slimes in the Lowpool?"

    "One of the reasons we know there''s a blessednd somewhere nearby, young friend."

    Defi whirled at the unexpected voice, tense.

    Seeing that he hade up to the shack built over the river, he rxed. Like always, there was no one visible.

    "Leaf ale," he decided.

    By long familiarity, he brought the Current up to enhance his senses. As usual, he could not detect the people that lived in the strange house. Once again, he wondered what Ascharonian sorcery could block detection.

    If it were Emblems, the designs would be so far out of his expertise that it wasughable to even think of attempting it.

    "That swill again? You''ve been corrupted by that hermit, you." But a cup appeared on the wide t nk against the window that was the serving counter.

    "You said slimes have a connection to blessednds?"

    "All mystic creatures are connected to blessednds," informed the voice. There were usually three voices that manned the odd ce. The one talking to him was the second older one. "You know slimes reproduce when they gain power enough that their bodies can bear it. In blessednds, it''s the opposite. Slimes in blessednds simply be more efficient at storing energy. They don''t split so easily. That''s why there are fewer of them about in waters near a blessednd."

    "I''ve never heard that before."

    Defi had visited the library in Ecthys briefly yesterday morning. The books they had on mystic creatures were the same as those in Orain''s library, and those he hadn''t seen before only reworked the same information again and again.

    "Pah," said the voice, the single sound holding enough scorn to ripple the air. "What do hunters know? Now you hear me telling you, hm. Is it as believable as what you heard before?"

    "I don''t know yet." Defi drank his ale in one long swallow, the coolness chasing down the warm bread he''d just eaten. "It sounds as usible as anything I haven''t seen with my own eyes."

    The voiceughed. "As you say."

    Defi ced three rond coins on the counter and grasped the pole to push the scow ahead. "There''s a blessing feast at my ce today. Come if you can."

    "Your ce?"

    "Garge homestead," he called back as he maneuvered the scow into the more gently flowing waters that led to the town.

    It was Founder''s Day, the day of rest, and most of the fishing boats weren''t going back on theke after returning with the dawn catch.

    The docks were emptier of people and more crowded with boats. The dawn market nearby, however, was bustling.

    Grenia and Marte weed him with smiles when he went to their usual stalls.

    "Aha, back again, eh? That animal feed must be effective if nothing in Ecthyspares."

    "How was the city?"

    Defi smiled, and vowed dramatically. "How could it be good, when I could not see the two of you everyday?"

    They chortled at him. "Did you hone that sweet tongue on thedies of the city?"

    He mimed a stagger. "How could it be? To rece your magnificence with mere sshouse flowers?"

    That particr sally was followed by a coughingugh that wasn''t familiar. He saw an old man leaning on a cane, aplicated sort of amusement on his face.

    Grenia stifled a snicker and mimed surprise. "Oh, there you are. I wanted you to meet Defi. He''s such a sweet youngd."

    Marte put up her hand to cover her eyes and sighed in exasperation.

    Defi saw this and immediately ced a hand on his chest, widening his eyes at the man. "No, you are the husband? ck, what a morning, what a day. My heart cannot be unbroken after this."

    The man gave him a pained smile. "Yes. I am the husband. The one who is no longer sweet and adorable."

    Defi coughed, not knowing if he shouldugh. "Sir, you are most blessed in all thends, for one of thesedies holds you as her own. To meet you is both a fine honor and a great disappointment. I am struck by a hundred arrows and wounded by a thousand swords--"

    "Yes, yes," the husband waved away his words with genuineughter now. "Stop before you are run over by a horde of cavalry."

    Even the nearer stalls and the passers-by were smiling at them by now.

    Defi grinned at the man, surprised. He didn''t think there was a simr saying in Ascharon, but like the architecture it looked as if literature had been shared between the worlds as well.

    He thought in passing, how much of Ontrea''s culture was once originally Ascharonian?

    The thought made him smile wider.

    "I wanted to invite the twodies myself, and I hope you can all drop by. The blessing feast at Garge homestead."

 Chapter 104: The Blessing Feast (2 of 3)

    Chapter 104: The Blessing Feast (2 of 3)

    Defi was able to source silver-blue carp bones and crab shells for the slimes with promises that the three elders would visit the Garge homestead when the dawn market was done.

    Walking the market was nearly habit by now and, despite the fact that he had to be back at the homestead, his feet still led himzily through the throng after he stowed the containers on the scow.

    The dawn market did not have fixed sellers or stalls, unlike the weekly fair. Different things could be sold everyday, outside the zealously-guarded spots that the regr sellers staked out.

    Even the paths between the masses of hawkers shifted from day to day.

    There was still enough of organization that Defi roughly knew the areas where various products could be found. For instance, the seafood sellers were closer to the docks, the butchers were mostly set up on the western side of the dawn market, and fruits would be on the southern side closest to the pedestrian streets and the trade shops.

    Today, he was fortunate enough to catch someone selling the reddish nged starcherry fruits.

    Defi approached, curious.

    Starcherry bushes grew around Ascharon like weeds and fruited vigorously. The prevalence of starcherry fruits meant few people sold it; he''d almost given up looking.

    Yet there were threerge baskets before him, full to the brim.

    The young girl standing behind the shabby baskets full of fruit beamed at him. "Just picked this morning, sir! Are you buying?"

    "You can pick starcherries off the roadside," hemented. "Why are you selling them?"

    "Saved you the trouble of picking them though, yes?" The retort was immediate.

    That was true enough. Defi stifled a smile.

    "What do you use starcherries for then?" He kept his tone amiably neutral. "Can''t imagine there are many."

    She crossed her arms, looking at him like he was a fool. That she barely came up to his chest only made her scowl fairly ineffective.

    "You can do lots with starcherry! Preserves and pickles, they''re great. And sauces. And you can put them in stews. Or just eat fresh-picked. You can eat them with cooking and without cooking!"

    "Really? Versatile." Defi nodded solemnly. "How much for one basket?"

    She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious, but then she frowned slightly at the basket. After a few moments, she said with all the firmness of a stone wall: "Thirty rond."

    The baskets contained a bit over ten kilogar each. It was enough that he wouldn''t have to pick his own starcherries today. What good luck. "I''ll take all three baskets then."

    She blinked at him. "Really?!"

    "Yes. Is this your first time in the dawn market?" He looked around. She was not older than Renne, and most parents didn''t let their children run around the market unsupervised.

    He didn''t recognize her from the orphanage, so she must have caretakers.

    There was no one around her.

    She was alone in a corner of the fruit-sellers area.

    Well, possibly she was apprenticing. Defi remembered that mastercrafters in Ontrea would set various tests for their apprentices.

    He hefted one of the baskets, then the other. He could carry both to the docks. He nodded at thest basket. "Are you helping with that, then?"

    "Sure!" She put her hands on the woven hand-grips of thest basket and lifted it into her arms.

    She looked like she could handle it so Defi didn''t say anything and led the way to the docks. He could lift more than ten kilogar of weight when he was twelve, but he had the advantage of training and the Current over her.

    The vitality and natural healthy physique of Ascharonians, that they could maintain it with just food, was truly enviable, he sighed to himself.

    Heshed the baskets to the scow, offered two bronze uds to the girl who was huffing in exertion.

    She frowned when she saw the coins and thrust them back. "Sir, that is more than twice what the fruits are worth."

    "I am taking the baskets as well," Defi refuted mildly. "And you did not have to carry one for me. Didn''t you save me the trouble of carrying it myself?"

    She red as he threw her words back at her, her frown carving deeper lines as she looked at the baskets that were nearly falling apart. "It''s still too much."

    Defi saw that she would not budge. "Very well, I will take the carrying as done in good faith."

    He took back one of the coins and reced it with ten rond. She likely would refuse it again if he added more than that.

    "Thank you, sir."

    "I''m always looking for starcherries. Will you be here tomorrow?"

    She abruptly looked hesitant, conflicted.

    Defi did not push too overbearingly. "I am Defi, from the Garge homestead. There''s a blessing feast there today. You can tell me your decision when you see me there. Bring anyone you want."

    He stowed the ropes and steered the scow away from the dock.

    "Wait!"

    He turned to look at her.

    Her expression was determined. "My name''s Quenal!"

    He smiled, called back as the distance lengthened between the scow and the dock, "Pleased to meet you. I''ll see youter!"

    Defi didn''t give her a chance to refuse now that she seemed to be amenable to cooperation, as he pushed the scow further away with the pole.

    He couldn''t rely on the starcherry bushes near the homestead forever. A new supply line, especially as he was going to expand the number of production slimes, was important.

    He was willing to pay coin, if needed.

    To a certain extent, of course.

    The gold and silver from Bluzand included advance payment for the usual amount of extract until the end of the winter months. If he sent more than the usual delivery, he would make more money. Thepany hadn''t started selling crystal vinegar to the public yet, but was giving private tastings to people who might spread the word that Bluzand had a new item to offer.

    The limited private sales had boosted the price, but he couldn''t spend recklessly.

    He mentally ran down a list of things that needed to be done and winced. Who was the one saying that once the contract with Bluzand was signed he would not have anymore worries about money? Was he a fool, he mocked himself relentlessly.

    It seemed all his free time in the foreseeable future would be entirely taken by the endeavor of making the slime farm work.

    This was the Day of Founding, a day of rest.

    The massive feast being prepared on the Garge homestead suddenly looked incredibly appealing. Defi could lose himself in the celebrations this day, before he allowed the cares of the future to descend on his shoulders.

    He poled the scow back contentedly.

    *

    The blessing ceremony, despite being called a feast, was simple.

    The singers would chant over the buildings to be blessed and carve traditional protection sigils on the beams.

    Karles told Defi that the protection sigils would be incorporated into the overall protection Emblem of the building.

    It was a design unique to the Lowpool, which is why Defi''s house had easily been burgled. The basic foundation of the Lowpool protection Emblems included the blessing sigils, making the design the same in houses across the town.

    To learn to burgle the townspeople, a thief only needed to unravel a single Emblem. Protection Emblems, Karles'' brother the glyphmaster stated, were more difficult to unravel than kittens in a knitting basket.

    Defi took that to mean it was very difficult, as he didn''t know what a knitting basket was.

    Which meant the burrs had to be professionals.

    Cuthes growled that he had pretty much given up on the matter, stating that outsiders had very odd notions and possibly had simply did it as a challenge to themselves. The criminals were likely long gone and would not attempt it again.

    Or so he said.

    The sharp burning look in the adjutant''s eyes as he looked into the distance meant he would not let the mystery go so easily.

    Defi appreciated the attempt to put him at ease however.

    "You only need make a shallow cut," the very very old man urged Defi with a smile, bringing him back to the matter at hand. "We''ll do the rest."

    As owner and host, Defi needed to make the first cut into the wood for the protection sigil that was already drawn in ink on the central beam of the warehouse.

    The chanting going on below him was unexpectedly powerful however. Distracting.

    Defi nced at the passel of elders near thedder, their voices softly chanting and yet the rhythm of their song reverberated in the wood of the building, in the bright eyes of the people outside the warehouse, in the very bones of the listeners.

    He took the de and shaved a small curling sliver off a portion of marked wood, then smeared blood across the cut.

    "Good, good. You know the foundation." The elder beamed at him, the many lines on his face deepening into ravines and giving an otherworldly shadow to his face.

    Defi abruptly realized that he had pricked his finger and offered his blood to the protection of his own ord. The elder had not told him to do it yet.

    He smiled back, returned the small carving knife, and slid down thedder. The chanting grew louder that the rhythm was like the beat of his heart.

    He had thought the ceremony to be easy. Hemented his loss of ignorance briefly. An old woman stopped chanting to smile and pat his shoulder as he stood under thedder, trying to control the effect the chanting had on him.

    He calmed slowly.

    "You''ll get used to it."

    He had been to simr ceremonies in Ontrea before, but all those were more borate than this, giving due solemnity to the blood-pounding soul-ringing of ritual song and chant.

    This was indeed a simple ceremony,pared to those. But in a simple building blessing, did they have to chant like that?

    By the time the bridge was being chanted at, Defi had more or less gotten used to whatever sorcery the singers were cing into their voices and was able to enjoy the rise and fall of the blessing songs.

    The singers had beautiful voices.

    There was no need for instruments to apany them, so there weren''t.

    He noticed that there were only elders in the singing group. No wonder Reon had reminded him that he needed to greet them as they arrived.

    He just hadn''t expected those venerable elders'' first words to him were: "How much ale do you have, youngd? This is the only time those young people will let me off from drinking!"

    As soon as the one of the elders had affixed a metal te on the bridge with a simple sigil that he''d been skillfully engraving for half an hour, the chanting ended slowly.

    Simply, just like that.

    And now the most important part of the blessing was finished.

    The glyphers only needed to activate the protection Emblems and in essence the blessing was done. The chanting that would ur as the sun went down,ter in the day, wasrgely ceremonial.

    Defi sighed in relief.

    The elder who was in his vicinity turned to him.

    "Young Defi, you''re not going to wait to feed these old bones, eh?" The carving elder winked at him, unsubtle.

    "The ale is this way," he said tly, hiding his amusement.

    The elders nearbyughed.

 Chapter 105: The Blessing Feast (3 of 3)

    Chapter 105: The Blessing Feast (3 of 3)

    Despite the fact that there was no hour set for arrival and people simply dropped by the homestead at their leisure, Defi kept an eye on the dock and the road even while making rounds of the gathering.

    It was not precisely needed in Ascharon, but greeting the people who came was something he felt should be done.

    More than simple politeness, he wanted to create a more solid social foundation.

    It was one of the advantages Ymirin had over him; she had a knack for people that he utterlycked. Her web of acquaintances likely stretched the length of the Indar River by now, from where the Indar split from the great river running all the way to the capital.

    Being a slime farmer was an entricity  he had already heard people talking. An entric, harmless and likely to be bankrupt at such a young age, poor thing.

    It was a fair enough footing to build on.

    But then, in keeping with the greetings, he realized he knew more people in the Lowpool than he thought.

    Admittedly, most of them were brief acquaintances but a small but not insignificant portion of his meeting a number of Lowpool denizens were in some unexpectedly intense circumstances that they stood out more vividly in memory.

    Clearly they thought the same of him.

    Natan pulling him into the mounted search party had made him known to the city guard and the Lowpool hunters.

    The smuggler incident and Defi''s slimes gobbling up several seakrait had spread a favourable reputation in the docks and the northeastern farms across theke. This also made him known to some of the town council.

    The mayor and most of the town council attending a simple blessing feast would definitely engender some talk, he thought as he smiled politely at her and Er, who was the first person in the entourage behind her.

    The mayor''s secretary greeted him with a slightly apologetic smile.

    Defi didn''t trust that smile. Thest time Er the secretary smiled like that, Defi had been paraded across a stage like a showdog.

    Kaska, the town councillor Defi had the most contact with, elbowed his way past Er and grasped Defi''s shoulders. "Where''s that slime of yours, eh? What''s this about a slime farm, are you nning an army of your own?"

    Turq was better off in the basement with the others.

    There were too many curious children running around the homestead at the moment. The slime would only be poked and prodded near to death.

    Especially if it exploded in that now familiar defensive manner. An exploding slime; he had known the orphanage children long enough to understand that the young children would see the explosions as fun.

    Defi didn''t want Turq to die fromck of internal moisture.

    "If I nned an army of slimes, I wouldn''t tell you. Please be wee." The second sentence was offered to Kaska''spanions.

    As he responded politely to their greetings, smiled as they introduced their guests, his brain idly went about the logistics of a slime army that would roll over any enemy Defi coulde across.

    Not viable, was the conclusion. They would strip the surroundingnds and waters of anything edible. Enough slimes to equate an enemy army would beggar a kingdom even if the slimes ate the enemy.

    A battlefield full of giant slimes, with dissolving flesh and bone visible within their confines

    He immediately pushed the thought away and resolved not to eat for a while.

    Seeing the mayor and the council contingent disperse among the guests, he sighed inwardly. People would think he had backing after this.

    That was not such a bad thing, he consoled himself.

    His detractors would be wary about showing themselves so openly if they thought he had someone standing behind him. That was a good thing. The bad thing was, if they didn''t show themselves clearly how would he decisively put them down?

    What a pity, hemented briefly.

    The potentially problematic question was: Why would the mayor make such a move?

    She already knew of his coboration with Bluzand, seeing as a Tesorium ount needed a rmendation from the mayor''s office of the town or city the applicant lived in.

    Surely that wasn''t enough to garner regard from someone like the mayor? She wasn''t someone to be moved by money or influence, Defi knew that much.

    He could simply ask her, one part of him suggested.

    The moment the thought formed, Defi immediately hunted it down and killed it.

    Who just went out and <em>asked</em> about someone''s motives? A foolish idiot who was asking to die or be cheated out of even the clothes on his back, that''s who.

    Before Defi could internally berate himself more, another party docked.

    He stepped forward and reached his arm out to help Emer, the woodcarver who made his fish sculpture, out of the boat.

    "I''m d to see you again. Be wee."

    *

    Most of the guests arrived just before noon or right after it. Most left within two hours of arriving, afterplementing the food and the building, poking around the new bath-house pools, the oddly-shaped configuration of the slime pens in the warehouse, the pretty bridge.

    However, what drew most of the people was the receiving hall. They did not stay long, and a goodly number simply peeked in before leaving, but everyone took a chance to check out the hall.

    Aire, after she and the others of the orphanage arrived, had marched directly to the house and did not manage to hide all her relief when she saw it.

    "A bit sparse," she said. "but you''re a man. It can''t be helped."

    Lergen, who was inspecting his fish sculpture on therge mantel of the firece, made a half-hearted noise of protest.

    Defi looked up from an earnest discussion with the children who had begun learningbat arts under him. Apparently they had been using the orphanage''srge yard to practice in the mornings and the other students that weren''t of the orphanage had joined them there.

    "Better than you expected, is it?"

    He had moved his studies to an empty bedroom, though the shelves of books were still standing in the hall. Markar had immediately buried himself in one of the chairs with a book in hand.

    Aire answered his deliberately smug look with a mock-condescending air. "It''s not the best, but it''ll do."

    Lergen had quickly ushered his wife out to help with various things before they really got into it.

    Tholme, one of the builders who worked under Karles, then dragged him away to the area where the tavern-workers were serving ale and sample drinks under the direction of Berolt and Rocso.

    They passed Jast, the owner of the glyphmaking shop, grumpily ying a board game with Karis, the clerk at the town hall, with onlookers cheering or booing their moves.

    Defi wondered where the board game came from.

    The dice and cards at the next tables over were more self-exnatory.

    Fabar, the elder of the farm north of Defi''s homestead, grinned wickedly over his cards as Tholme manhandled him into a seat and went off to buy drinks.

    "You look like you can''t bluff your way out of a sack," he sneered.

    Defi''s eyes narrowed. He looked at Orain, the librarian, who was casually twirling one of the wooden cards between long fingers, contemting all of them.

    "Deal me in."

    Lemat peered up from his cards, grin widening manically. "Gambling now? I wouldn''t have thought it of you."

    "What are we ying for?" Defi asked instead of answering him.

    "Loser fetches the next round, drinks two portions instead of one."

    It was one of the tracker-soldiers from the caravan scouting group.

    What was her name again? Defi could not properly remember, but it began with an E.

    He nodded and epted the cards that Orain dealt him.

    "So," he smiled as sheepishly as he could. "How do you y this game again?"

    The table burst into smiles andughter, their eyes bright as those of hunting cats and their teeth showing. Fangs, in the case of a couple of others.

    "Oldest trick in history!"

    "Who''ll fall for that these days?!"

    Defi shed his own toothy smile. "You never know."

    Theyughed harder, and their eyes glowed brighter.

    An hourter, he had drunk the least amount of ale and still needed to use the outhouse or thetrines. He excused himself from the table, to good-natured cheers and groans.

    Defi ambled away, slightly tipsy.

    The best way to learn something is to throw yourself into it.

    *

    In theter parts of the afternoon, as the sun was lowering itself tiredly into the cradle of distant mountains, the gathering turned a bit more raucous.

    Voices andughter grew louder and brawls started. The younger children started being ushered home.

    Defi waded into a few brawls himself, the ones that looked to be bing dangerous, to defuse them. He didn''t try and stop people from starting the fights.

    He pushed past the slight dizziness from drinking so much ale and once more lingered near the docks and helped people to their boats, making sure there were people who were more or less sober enough to steer in each party.

    The final chanting started at sundown, led by Singers, around the ring of fires that had been used for cooking. The fires were kindled higher andrger, stronger; they flickered and danced to the chanting.

    Those who were left in the homestead all gathered to watch as the Singers sang the mes.

    Once again, it was like the chants were timed to the beating of his heart.

    Defi leaned back against one of the makeshift chairs hewn out of trees in the nearby wood, listening quietly.

    The day had tired him out, but it had been a good day, a productive one.

    His hand went to the thick leather belt, fished out an item he had not taken out since the first time he saw it.

    The Tesorium merchant token glittered dully in the firelight. He studied it, a thumb running over the design engraved on the metal.

    Defi af Gargehom of Sottc.

    Defi of the Lowpool.

    Ascharonian.

    The moon of Ascharon shone over him, and the songs of Ascharon rang in his ears.

    He clenched his fingers around the token tightly, conflicted, letting the cold metal edges dig harshly into his flesh. His sudden longing for home still coursed through him unable to be curtailed.

    "Defi?"

    Someone tapped his shoulder, and a few bodies sat down around him.

    Boone, Renne, some of the other students.

    "We''vee to report our progress," Mureil said seriously.

    The others protested and groaned.

    Booneughed softly beside him, the pride of an older brother in his tone, despite not having siblings and only knowing the others for some weeks, inviting Defi to share the dubious blessing of being the two oldest people in the group.

    Defi loosened his grip on the token, and listened to them babble.

    He huffed in amusement after a while. Only Mureil was solemnly reporting the results of the training he told them to do.

    Around the group, the enduring fires chased away the chill of the evening, and infused warmth into his body.

 Chapter 106: Morning After

    Chapter 106: Morning After

    A good portion of the revellers drank well into the night and Defi sent most of them near-stumbling off the next morning with a bag of bread and a jar of the leftover soup.

    Slowly, those who were left started to dismantle the canopies and clean the homestead of thest traces of revelry.

    Defi looked around, stretching cramped muscles.

    Nearest to him, Renne and Saston grimaced as they used shovels to turn over the spots of vomit on the ground. The orphanage children, due to both Aire and Lergen staying through the night, had slept in the Garge house.

    Apart from the orphanage people, Falie and Hames stayed as well. Lemat had flitted off into the trees after helping take down and fill up thetrines  Defi was unsure if he was returning.

    Tholme and Racard were carrying some of the buildingpany''s things to their barge. Barrey and another builder called Essa were dismantling the tables.

    Old Fabar and Barham from thest farm before the cliffs helped early in the morning before hurrying back. Allise had given birth only recently after all.

    "We''re not training today, are we?" Renne asked when she saw him taking a break.

    "The others were here yesterday," Saston growled, using his foot to m the shovel into the ground under another spot where some reveller lost his dinner. "If theye here today, I''ll kick their heads off because obviously they aren''t using them."

    "Day after tomorrow," Defi agreed.

    Today was Thunders, and yesterday was Founders. Defi decided to set thebat lessons to the mornings of Thunders, Fields, and Moons, then delve into philosophy and strategy on Founders. One every other day, with no physical work on Founders.

    He wanted his students to be as well-rounded as he could make them. The older ones were all going to the military and even if the rest of them were not, knowing how to fight and when to fight would keep them safer.

    "Don''t neglect the stretches I taught you. Do them everyday." Defi nodded at the two and shouldered his burden again, walked toward the warehouse.

    The canopies and tables were actually knocked together by Karles for the asion, and the canvas and wood used in them bought with the coin Sarel sent over to Aire, so Defi could keep the dismantled items in the storage area of the warehouse for future use.

    By the time they were finished, the sun had nearly reached its zenith.

    They sprawled into the few tables left, Defi earlier deciding he wanted some of the tables intact under the sansu trees. The small orchard had taken on a pleasantly rxing air, with the blooms still on some of the trees and the rest starting to fruit.

    Not all the trees were recovered yet, but the rest were nicely recuperating.

    Aire and Rocso were toasting what was left of the bread over the makeshift grill Defi had made in the kitchen courtyard.

    Defi noted the oven that Dyene and Reon used to create yesterday''s massive amount of loaves had not been dismantled. Aire saw him studying it.

    "It''s useful to have a baking oven," shemented, "especially this far from town. You won''t regret keeping it."

    "I don''t know how to bake." Defi considered learning for a moment, then shook his head. He had too many other things about this world to learn, more important than baking.

    Rocso chuckled as he flipped one of the arm-sized loaves, used arge knife to slice it into horizontal halves, and stuffed it with shredded leftover pork.

    The juices of the pork dripped onto the coals below and sizzled, sending the mouth-watering scent of roasting meat into the air.

    "You''re not going to be alone in this house forever, young man." He slid the stuffed loaf onto a te, sliced it into two pieces, poured some of the thick bone soup over the whole thing to soften the firm shell of the bread. "Now start getting these tes to those poor starving folks."

    Defi took two of the tes, snagged a barrel of ale by the holding ropes, and hurried away.

    The old tavern-keeper was talking about marriage, and the thought brought a sudden memory and aplicated roil of emotion in his chest. He had been engaged since he was ten years old, the lord of Rimet informing him of the fact just before he sent Defi off to the learning Halls.

    Defi had forgotten, until now.

    He''d never met the other party. It was likely as much a relief for her as it was for him that they had never set eyes on each other, never gave substance to hopes and dreams. The engagement would be transferred to one of his siblings or cousins, as the lord of Rimet would not easily let go of a resource he already had in hand.

    It never had anything to do with him, so it was natural to forget. He only hoped the scandal over him that broke out in Rimet would not unduly trouble whoever she was.

    He had no especially strong thoughts on marriage. In this other world however, his first thought on the subject was definite opposition.

    Marriage was a sharing of truths, a meshing of empathies.

    That kind of joining, the situation he was in would not allow it.

    Maybe in the future, his thoughts or the situation would change and he would consider it. Until then, it was not relevant to his present ns, so he put it out of his mind.

    For now, he''d rather learn how to survive.

    As for the oven, it could be used for food other than bread.

    He ced the tes and the barrel on one of the orchard tables, to a tired cheer.

    The younger children, who had lighter duties, had been sent over by Aire with cups. The older children were also tasked with bringing tes out.

    Lemat re-appeared, arge mass of mushrooms in his arms. He insisted on chopping them up and adding them to the tes.

    Admittedly, the freshly harvested mushrooms enhanced the aroma and vor of the meal.

    Soon everyone was eating unreservedly.

    In the shade of the orchard protecting them from much of the sun''s heat, they enjoyed the food, the drink, the scent of sansu on the intermittent breeze.

    The younger onesughed and talked, cups of samad nearly tipping over from their enthusiasm. The older ones were quieter, tired and more willing to appreciate afortable silence.

    "We should be going," Tholme sighed, putting down the cup he''d just quaffed. He and his friends stood. "Thank you for the meal."

    "Aha," Rocsoughed. "You don''t mind taking this old man back? Adan took the boat, I believe. I haven''t fed Rock today."

    The builders weed him.

    "Thank you for all your assistance," Defi stood as well. "Ah, if you could wait a bit, I was gifted too much spice by a friend in the city. It would relieve me if you took some."

    He didn''t wait for them to agree or decline, and took the path to the house. Last night, he''d drawn several jars of wine from one of the barrels he had in the storage basement in preparation for something like this.

    Putting together packages that contained a jar of wine and a pot of mixed spices was simple. He paused, then jogged to his room to get one of the bottles of Chossur Lemorne.

    He ced it in Rocso''s package instead of the wine jars that the other four received.

    A token of gratefulness to the tavern that catered all the drink for yesterday''s gathering. Seeing that most of the tavern-workers were present yesterday, they should have closed just to serve ale for Defi''s guests at the feast.

    He should send Karles a simr packageter.

    Defi handed the five people their packages, as well as the usual bag of bread and jar of bone soup, refusing the protests that they were just doing their jobs.

    He knew that if it was just about work, they''d simply have taken the builders'' equipment and the tavern barrels then left, not helped clean up the homestead.

    Lemat strolled by, a package already in his arms to Defi''s exasperation. The man only waved cheerily as he sauntered onto the barge.

    "We should go as well," Lergen grinned at him as they put away the washed utensils. "Before this pack of wild children breaks something."

    There was a concert ofments and protests from the ''pack'' who were solidly within hearing distance.

    "Who''re you calling a child?" retorted Saston.

    "Yeah, this one''s a toddler, not a child," jeered Alvis cheerfully. Saston sshed cleaning water in her direction. She yelped and ran around the table to ground her foot into his toes, which had Saston bumping into several other children as he yelled in pain.

    The children he bumped into tackled him to the floor of the kitchen, and Alvisughed.

    "They are so immature," grumbled Renne where she was putting away washed empty jars.

    Defi lifted a brow. "Alvis and Saston are your age."

    "I stand by my words."

    "Elen said we''re babies!" One of the younger ones, still sitting on Saston, pointed at Renne, his tufted graceful ears quivering.

    Kenso, nine years old, Defi recalled. The ears were quite distinctive and somewhat simr to the ears of therge wild cat, the caracal, from the ins and deserts of Ontrea.

    He was impressed that one so young knew what ''immature'' meant.

    Renne gave the younger boy a scathing look. "You''re not?"

    "Get her!"

    Renne shoved the jar in her hands at Defi and dashing outside.

    Most of the mob followed her.

    "Good girl," Falie muttered under her breath as the kitchen cleared of small bodies and the rest that were left were freer to move.

    "I don''t think she was thinking of your convenience," Aireughed as she tidied the things she brought over from the orphanage.

    Markar, wiping down the table, sighed. She really wasn''t.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    The days of the Ascharonian week are: Thunders, Seers, Fields, Suns, Moons, Duels, Founders. The first six are work days, with Duels being market day and Founders being the day of rest.

    [Curiously, in many worlds that are near and far from each other, with little simrity between them, there exists the convention of the seven-day week that ends in a trade day before a rest day.  from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions.]

    *

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this hapless author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 107: Restraint and the Future

    Chapter 107: Restraint and the Future

    Defi went to help as Aire carried the borrowed tableware to the boat she and Lergen used.

    "Thank you for doing this," he said quietly when they were nearing the dock.

    "My dear Defi, it''s not a problem. It''s been a while since I nned something like this, so it''s been fun." She was smiling brightly, obviously tired but happy.

    "Apart from the obvious, is there anyone I should visit personally?" That is, apart from her and Lergen, Falie and Hames, the tavern-keepers, the bakers, and Karles, were there others who were part of the nning that he needed to thank in person?

    She shook her head. "I can handle the rest. Some of them didn''te to the feast. You might need to visit the Singers. The mayor as well."

    He nodded. In all, that was ten bottles of the Lemorne.

    He had two to keep in reserve.

    "Are the pots of spices alright? I can buy more wine."

    The good wine, but not one even nearly as expensive as the Lemorne. He couldn''t afford another ten bottles of that. Five and a half crescents per bottle, eh.

    "The spices are fine," sheughed. "Don''t look so solemn about it, Defi. As long as it''s given with good intention anything is fine."

    He frowned. "Is a five crescent bottle of wine too much?"

    Aire''s eyes widened. "Chelua above, it''s not like they birthed your child."

    "I already gave one to Rocso."

    She paused. "Does that mean you''re giving one to us?"

    He nodded.

    She grinned cheekily. "It''s definitely fine, reasonable even! Please gift your wine without restraint this time."

    Defiughed. "Understood. Next time, I''ll restrain myself."

    She nodded, happy that he could see what she wanted to convey.

    The first time was fine, if he went overboard. He was new in town, after all, and maybe expensive bottles of wine were their custom in other ces. But the second time, the third, too expensive gifts would already be beyond propriety.

    Defi spoke to Aire about appropriate gift-giving as they stowed the tableware carefully on the boat and walked back to the house.

    He listened attentively. Gift-giving in Ontrea wasplicated and borate, and he was happy that the traditions in Ascharon were looser even if they were just asplicated.

    For a simple blessing feast, the Chossur Lemorne was something the people who helped wholeheartedly would look askance on, as if Defi was forcing debt on them.

    But it was Defi''s first ceremony in the Lowpool.

    Not to mention

    "I heard my mother say that Kaska gave gifts to the whole town and that made them ignore him for a month before he realized and rified that he wasn''t bribing them for anything. There''s a reason his house is so entric. Entire families sent their members to help him build it until they returned at least the price of the gifts he gave out. And then some years ago, Sarel," Aire giggled. "obviously she cooked. She cooked so grandly that her first feast, everyone couldn''t eat the food!"

    Falie and Lergenughed as they overheard the discussion and Aire told them Defi''s predicament.

    "That idiot," Falie reminisced, fondly. "All the dishes she brought out were so obviously vital cooking, the entire ce was silenced."

    "Then she said," Aire could almost not speak for mirth. "to forgive her for the poor fare, as she was in dire straits at the moment!"

    The adults all broke out inughter.

    It was just like Sarel, to shock people and then incite them to outrage in the same breath.

    "Everyone thought she was showing off," Falie shook her head. "Unlike Kaska, she didn''t care to correct that impression, until the mayor roped her into working with the physickers."

    Defi considered. "Is that the reason for the massive orchard?"

    "Of course," Falieughed. "She mentioned wanting to grow some trees, and everyone wanted to lighten their fortune."

    "Compared to them," Lergen saidfortingly, "a bottle of too expensive wine is nothing."

    *

    After thest of his friends were farewelled down the river, Defi walked through the homestead, Turq on its familiar ce on his head.

    They started at the warehouse, closely scrutinizing the graceful almost honeb configuration of the slime pens.

    A smile touched Defi''s lips.

    The myriad looks on the faces of the people who had seen them was both amusing and gratifying.

    Defi touched the wood of one of the pens, opened the mesh door. It was a simple enclosure, the only noteworthy feature being the water from the river running and falling into bowl-shaped structures on the innermost side of the enclosure, then draining silently away.

    "Turq, how do you like the new slime house? We can stop using the dining area in the house as a slime room, now. More space, more storage."

    He and Turq slowly surveyed the warehouse, the storage bins, the moving feeding bins, the separate storage area where the tables and canopies of the recent feast were kept.

    "This is for production slimes though. I don''t suppose you can split again? I don''t really want to get a summoning headache. Or, if you could tell me, how close are the others to splitting? Knowing would be useful too. You''re still living in the house though. Sorry if you wanted to try one of the pens."

    Defi paused.

    "I think we can build an indoor slime habitat in the house, just for you. What do you think, Turq?"

    Finally, he exited the warehouse and took a stroll around the homestead.

    Thest several days, he had few chances to be by himself.

    The sudden break of his solitary living into days where he was nearly never alone had made him realize that he was not as social a person as he thought, but also not as solitary as he thought.

    Defi, who had once spent an entire week contentedly throwing soirees for government officials in order to facilitate advancements on various projects, now craved aloneness every now and then.

    The change had likely already started before he crossed the Gate.

    He had met betrayals on both sides of the Gate and the warmth he could easily show other people before was now harder to find.

    He had lost and gained, had found something of himself.

    He paused at the sight of the circr holes where he had been intending to nt zaziphos. There were more holes bored than when he left.

    The recent discussion on reciprocal gifts was still at the forefront of his mind.

    It seemed his new students did not think digging holes and picking fruit to be equal to learningbat. He frowned at the neat array of holes for a long moment.

    The ones who wanted to go into the military, most likely were the culprits.

    Defi knew thatbat skills, especially sword skills, were prized in military recruits.

    If seen from a particr perspective, it did seem that Defi was giving too much for too little in return.

    He should have a discussion with them about the matter when next they came together for ss. He was teaching them something that would help with their chosen profession. As for what he asked them to do in return, did they think that digging these holes was a whim?

    This was helping with Defi''s chosen future as well.

    The edges of his lips lifted slightly, his countenance warming. He had to find some way to thank them for their regard, however.

    It was good that they were not taking what he was teaching for granted.

    The people he met in this world, they were of varying temperament. Good and bad.

    People are people, Garun said.

    They choose the actions that bring them the future.

    Defi looked at the horizon, blue mountains climbing the sky far away.

    It had been his initial n, to get as far away from the Gate as possible, then simply live as he wished.

    He looked around at the patch ofnd that was his now, his homestead, illuminated gently by the afternoon light.

    It had not been his n.

    The Lowpool was too close to the Gate, practically sitting under it on a map. To be a farmer again, and to produce condiments, that had not been a n he seriously wished to aplish in this new world.

    The ckspice seedlings he had included in the luggage were only because he did not wish to sacrifice the taste of Ontrean spice, nor pay premium for it when he could have servants grow it for him in his personal gardens.

    Defiughed, sudden, its reasoning unknown.

    Heughed until he couldn''t anymore, the sounds ringing in the air of the cooling afternoon until they softened and stopped.

    The smile on his face did not dim as he viewed the horizon again.

    In the distant future, perhaps that childlike dream would be realized, and he would see those mountains as close to him as the tree he leaned against.

    Now however, this peculiar farm in this odd town by a mountainke was something he wanted to see prosper.

    He walked back to the house, step light and eyes bright.

    He should really start growing something as soon as possible, before winter.

    Before he had to deal with the explosion in the number of slimes the farm had.

    What would he feed them all?

 Chapter 108: Ecthys Aftermath (1 of 2)

    Chapter 108: Ecthys Aftermath (1 of 2)

    Vesia knew that her work would change with her sudden promotion.

    She didn''t think she would be working under the supervision of Head Clerk Ebmond, who was practically the vice-manager of thepany.

    It was three days of running around the city doing errands that she was too over-qualified to do, she had finally forcibly brought herself out of the wounded daze she had fallen in after herst talk with Madame Caria, who she had regarded as a mentor, nearly a second mother.

    The thought that she was shaming her newly acquired position and not properly taking care of her friend Defi, who was counting on her to take care of his ount, was ance that broke her out of her stupor.

    Her heart was still in pain from Madame Caria''s betrayal, but she set her teeth and endured the tasks that the head clerk sent her on.

    Vesia knew he was testing her.

    She had not even reached twenty-five years in age yet. Her promotion to senior clerk was premature, when most of the other senior clerks were promoted in theirte twenties or their thirties and they had been junior clerks for at least six years.

    The youngest to achieve senior clerk in Bluzand history was Head Clerk Ebmond, who was promoted at the age of twenty-two. But then he''d been with thepany since the beginning and had started working for thedy owner and Manager Tennar when he was aged fourteen.

    Vesia was not that much a fool as she portrayed. She knew her promotion came because she had been in the wrong ce at the right time.

    There were people in thepany who thought she''d gained her promotion through unsavoury means. The only reason it was not the entirepany that thought so was that she was subtly credited for having a part in taking down Ramad Degaine who was discovered to be stealing from Bluzand.

    Still, most of thepany thought she was too green for the promotion and Head Clerk Ebmond''s actions of sending her scurrying to and fro across Ecthys bore out that theory.

    Even Vesia didn''t think she was ready.

    But thedy herself had promoted her, and now she had a client depending on her.

    How could she do anything but her best?

    And now, Head Clerk Ebmond had invited her into a meeting that Vesia herself had made possible. The head clerk said to gain an audience with Telomberne Company, which Vesia had only managed after a week of concerted ambushing the Telomberne Company officers.

    Politely, of course.

    She''d finally seeded and triumphantly reported to Head Clerk Ebmond happily. Then the man smiled and said her reward was getting to see the meeting happen.

    It was an opportunity seldom handed to a newly promoted senior clerk, much less her.

    Anyone would be ted. Vesia was, in fact, over the moon to be able to witness a negotiation on her own. She was confused however, why it was allocated to her when a more experienced clerk would be able to get more out of the negotiation.

    It was only when she saw the delegates that Bluzand put together that she knew this ''reward'' was not all it seemed.

    It was, once again, a particr ce and a particr time to learn something that would get her in trouble if it got out.

    There had been much gossip on the reason Manager Tennar would not promote Head Clerk Ebmond directly to vice-manager.

    Vesia never thought it was because the owner of thepany liked to disguise herself as a Bluzand Company officer. The only one who would think that was a crazy person, right?

    In negotiations, the more powerful the delegates the more they could get out of the other party, right?

    Why hide your influence in these kinds of negotiations?

    Mydy, are you ying the hidden heir to the kingdom who was secretly fighting against evildoers to protect themon people?

    She sighed inwardly.

    Why did thepany she joined have such entric higher-ups?

    Just yesterday, she heard out that Head Clerk Vodren had resigned.

    But then she found that he didn''t leave thepany after resigning and was going around the ce staring at random employees with a stern, silent, evaluating gaze that was entirely unlike his normal screechy persona.

    Normally when people resigned, they left their ce of employment, didn''t they?

    Not haunt the headquarters and do their best to turn all the other employees into paranoid wrecks.

    There was even a rumour going around that the former Head Clerk Vodren had died of a shocked heart and was now a ghost who wafted through the halls of his former employment unable to speak until his murderer was brought to justice.

    Really, if he copsed from a shocked heart, who would be his murderer? Himself?

    It didn''t help that Manager Tennar sometimes acted like he didn''t see the former Head Clerk Vodren while they were in full view of everyone.

    Vesia despaired.

    Surely otherpanies did not have troubles like these?

    She sighed again, as many times in the past, she had heard people saying that Bluzand must not be that profitable as they refused to pay for a vice-manager who actually did the job of a proper vice-manager.

    Are all senior clerks so imperturbable because they learn shocks like these just after promotion?

    It was not that the Bluzand Company didn''t have a vice-manager, it was because said vice-manager officially liked to travel around in search of new spices.

    Unofficially, the constantly absent vice-manager was retired.

    She tried not to stare disbelievingly at the strictly-dressed ''vice-manager'' who sported a serene smile on her face as she pitched a cooperative effort to the representatives of apany named Telomberne that specialized in personal grooming products.

    Thedy was so very different from the casually intimidating woman who generally sported cool expressions and sharp smiles.

    Vesia felt the admiration in her heart for thedy owner increase, but did her vice-manager persona really have to smile like that?

    She nced at Head Clerk Ebmond, who shuffled the appropriate documents and arranged them before the ''vice-manager'' in the order that she needed them. The way they worked together was so smooth as to make no doubts that they had been doing this for a long time.

    Her nce was greeted with the head clerk''s stern look.

    Vesia immediately stepped forward and distributed several papers before the Telomberne representatives. She had been part of the research team that gathered and put together the information.

    She stepped back again and watched, heart pounding in anticipation even while she struggled to keep her face passive, as the representatives sent by Telomberne, a man and a woman, read the papers in their hands.

    The woman, Den Grugair, put down the papers after she''d read through them. There was a slight frown on her face.

    "We have heard of this mysterious extract," she stated. "I thought it nothing but the winds of rumor. You will understand, of course, that we must test it ourselves, Vice-manager Sarel? A coboration between our twopanies; it is not a small thing after all."

    Vesia tried not to stiffen in anticipation. That meant that they were thinking about it favourably, right?

    "Certainly. Our findings have much potential, I think you know." The vice-manager nced at Vesia.

    It took a moment for her limbs toe out of the stiffness engendered by her nervousness but Vesia was soon once again sliding papers toward the Telomberne representatives.

    In addition, she gave the satchel containing samples of what was onlybelled as ''DS extract'' to the clerk who was also standing behind the Telomberne representatives.

    The clerk took it expressionlessly, only a nod to acknowledge her. He ced it on the table before the representatives and took out a sample bottle.

    Looking at the clear viscous liquid in the ss bottle, Vesia had an uneasy premonition of why precisely she was invited to see this particr negotiation.

    After examining the bottle, the male representative stated pleasantly, with a faint smile. "We will look forward to seeing whether our businesses can work together."

    They stood. The woman nodded politely. "Then, we''ll be leaving first."

    The serene expression on thedy''s face did not waver, but her smile widened by an increment. "Of course."

    Vesia waited until they left the foodhall and were back in the carriage, a proper closed carriage. "Thatdidn''t seem to go well?"

    "Better than expected."

    "It was?!" After that travesty of a negotiation? There was barely negotiation as the two representatives obviously didn''t want to work with them.

    After Vesia worked so hard to set it up, this was the result? She didn''t feel aplished at all.

    The serene smile was turned on her. Vesia tried not to shudder at the expression that was incongruous to the personality of thedy owner that she met before.

    "They sent excellent representatives. You don''t do that unless you''re hopeful, or you want to make the other side believe that you are interested."

    "They left so quickly though."

    The smile curled up gently. "They got what they wanted."

    Vesia went through the negotiations again, as much to find what thedy meant as to not look at that smile. She frowned. "The samples?"

    "I think they''ll find they simply cannot do as they wish." Head Clerk Ebmond said softly.

    Vesia looked between the two people, her immediate superior and her ultimate superior. "We''re still going to coborate with them aren''t we."

    They were trying to steal Bluzand''s resources. If she was right, Defi was the supplier of the mysterious extract. What kind of ount manager would she be, if she allowed her client''s work to be stolen?

    Head Clerk Ebmond nodded at her. "This meeting, consider it a sess."

    He tapped the front wall of the carriage and the carriage slowed. Vesia caught a glimpse of the Tesorium through the curtains, as she gaped at him.

    They wanted Telomberne to steal Defi''s work?

    Thedy bestowed her smile on Vesia. "That child cannot be stolen from easily."

 Chapter 109: Ecthys Aftermath (2 of 2)

    Chapter 109: Ecthys Aftermath (2 of 2)

    Vesia coughed in embarrassment, having unknowingly blurted out such a question in shock. Was she a still a schoolgirl, to have no control over her words, she castigated herself silently.

    Undoubtedly, this senior clerk business was tougher than she thought.

    "The world of trade is inherently about exchange, about supply and demand, about profit. You must define clearly what these things mean for you, or you will be overwhelmed by the uncertainties, the instabilities characteristic to our profession."

    Head Clerk Ebmond rested his eyes on Vesia as he spoke.

    "We are merchants. Material goods are not the only supply, are not the only things precious."

    An old memory sparked at the words and she could not stop herself from reminiscence.

    ''We are merchants.''

    The same words had been said by Madame Caria to her, long ago.

    ''We trade everything for profit. Do you know, Vesia, even emotions and souls have worth in gold. You must understand yourself: what you must protect viciously, what you can show to the market, and what you can easily sell and buy. If not, you will drown in your own greed, and the greed of others. Do not allow yourself to be taken by the current, but do not be a rock that shes against the river either. Stand firm and supple as a waterweed, knowing no shock, absorbing every change in the tide.''

    Vesia felt, once again, a small sharp pain in her heart.

    Madame Caria had drowned in the currents she herself had warned Vesia against. She had chosen to take the cup of honor rather than face the verdict of the court.

    Vesia took a deep breath. It barely helped.

    "Yes, I shall remember. Thank you."

    He nodded at her after a moment of staring, then nced at thedy in farewell and disembarked.

    His voice sounded outside, muffled by wood and curtain. "Embel, go."

    Embel was one of the carriage drivers assigned to the closed carriages that the high-ranked officers of thepany used. Specifically, he was Manager Tennar''s personal carriage-driver.

    As the carriage started on its way once more, the inside was silent. Vesia already knew that thedy did not prefer conversation. As for her

    Thedy seemed to sense her conflicted heart.

    "Ramad Degaine is not going to trial," thedy said, almost idly.

    Vesia stared at her.

    "His interrogation finishedst night. The story of his death will likely make the rounds this afternoon."

    Vesia could only choke out. "I thank you for the news."

    Thedy nodded. "You need not worry."

    At those words, part of the weight pressing down on Vesia''s heart dissipated. She didn''t even know she had been that troubled by the pirate.

    Ramad Degaine had the reputation of vicious retaliation against those who went against him. For Caria who told the guard everything after she was caught, he would have dragged her into the mud with him at trial, negating the veneer of respectability that the cup of honor imparted.

    Madame Caria would have killed herself for nothing.

    Vesia did not know if she could ever forgive her mentor. But the woman''s children, at least, were innocent.

    *

    Tennar nced up as thedy strode into his office.

    He stood in politeness, paused his greeting as she turned the mask of gently smiling serenity on him.

    His lips twitched. "Mydy, whenever you smile like that I feel like cmity is about to fall. I expect they took the bait, then?"

    She nodded to him, almost absently, walked to the wine-cab and poured them both goblets of brunwine.

    Tennar leaned back on his chair, smiled as she slid the brass-embedded ss goblet to him. "Ebmond must be happy."

    "He is."

    Tennar sipped the brunwine.

    It went down his throat silkily and settled warmth in his stomach, the aged mellow fruity bitterness and the subtle sweetness with the hint of zaziphos in the aftertaste telling him thedy had poured from one of the jars she herself had distilled.

    They sat there awhile, sipping good brunwine and thinking deeply, the long years of their friendship making for a familiar andfortable silence.

    The week since the pirate Degaine had been caught was a frantic exercise of calction and information gathering. The fact that everyone had been doing the same thing covered thepany people''s movements somewhat.

    It was known that the pirate barge had Bluzand supplies in it.

    Tennar had spent considerable time fending off people''s attempts to implicate them in that Chelua-damned pirate''s violence. Thankfully, they were not alone. A few other merchantpanies, including the powerful Carmedel-based Bargaret Company, had helped sweep those rumors away decisively.

    His lips twitched.

    Bargaret''s head, Tamre zi Drac, had indeed been very conclusive in his response.

    Tennar''s heart warmed at the thought of how many particrly inconsiderate people were now very <em>very</em> regretful of their big mouths.

    That was only one problem solved, however.

    While Degaine''s people were cunning, the disappearing cargo that Vodren had discovered was not their particr style. But the fact that part of that cargo had been found in the pirate barge was undeniable.

    He thought of Amberlon, and mentally rolled his eyes.

    They were bothpanies specializing in condiments, but Amberlon leaned more toward the processing of mystic ingredients.

    The owner of Amberlon thought it fun to have a rivalry with Bluzand and created his own spice department at the time when Bluzand was still finding its feet.

    Bluzand survived those early years against an established giant because Amberlon''s lofty reputation did not allow them to venture into ''vulgar''mon spices, which thwarted most of Uller il Telmaran of Amberlon''s attempts to provoke the small but rising Bluzand Merchant Company.

    That noblepany head was overly stubborn, however. There were a number ofpetitors to Bluzand that had risen over the years that Tennar suspected had been bankrolled with Amberlon gold.

    Of course, Bluzand which was created by a former imperial master chef would alwayse out on top in a battle involving vor and vorbination.

    There had always been animosity because of that fact.

    There had always been conflict.

    But not like this.

    If this was really an Amberlon plot...hm, then Uller il Telmaran must be growing old. Bluzand had only ever been an amusement to him.

    The only reason Amberlon woulde at Bluzand directly was that someone from Amberlon took the ''rivalry'' seriously and decided to do something about it to curry favour with thepany head.

    If that happened, Uller il Telmaran would have sent Bluzand''sdy that said fool''s head on a tter before now.

    There''d been no heads in the mail recently.

    No overly-dramatic noble scions at their door either.

    Conclusion, it wasn''t Amberlon.

    The more likely exnation was that one of Bluzand''s actualpetitors with had a connection to Amberlon had decided to gamble with pirates.

    Gylen Dahall in the mixplicated things. Vice-manager Lan Dahall was a grasping harpy that hated Bluzand, but she in her superiority would not countenance working with river-bandits, much less someone like Degaine.

    Tennar nced at Sarel, who was tipping her goblet to and fro, letting the red-amber contents swirl in the clear goblet. The brunwine and the delicately wired ss goblet cast colorful shadows on the table when struck by sunlight.

    Degaine was dead, with no small effort from his friend.

    He didn''t ask why she''d reached out to contacts long unused just to make certain that the pirate would not escape the harshest punishment even though the pirate''s actions had already ted him for execution.

    He had seen Defi''s face at the wharf that night, after all. The nk expression and burning near-feral eyes had been frightening from a person who he had determined had a calmly steady personality.

    He sighed.

    Where did thedy find all the peculiar people she imed as friends?

    Decisively, he ignored the fact that she considered him one of her friends too. At most, he was the normal friend, the most normal, yes.

    A knock sounded and Vodren came in.

    Tennar examined the man''s weary appearance and stood to pour him a drink as well, then refilled his and Sarel''s goblets.

    Vodren nodded in thanks as he sank into a chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them to study the two heads of thepany. "How is Vesia doing?"

    "eptable." Sarel shifted a shoulder in a faint shrug, her face already returned to its usual neutral cast. "Needs experience."

    Tennar snorted, a smile suddenly curling his lips as he thought of how she pestered Telomberne until they caved to a meeting. "She''s persistent. She''ll learn."

    Vodren looked faintly relieved.

    Then the former head clerk''s expression grew more professional. "Darred and I have finished the investigation. Other than the usual, there were only two who we didn''t know about. Darred''s dealing with them now. As for the usual, I had to scare off one or two. They were the most obvious ones."

    Tennar nodded. There were spies in everypany. It was just prudent to keep a few that were known. "Our reputation will be in rags for a time."

    Vodren nodded, fury and sorrow shing across his face that then left shame in their wake. "I must once more apologize. I am very sorry about this."

    Sarel motioned with a hand, as if to wave the wretched expression on the man''s face away. "Atone, then. You are no use to thepany if you fall into despair."

    Mydy

    Tennar was about to say something cating to them both.

    But then Vodren smiled, weak but genuine, the first smile on his dour face since that night. "Mydy, has anyone ever told you that you''re an odd person?"

    "Of course."

    Vodren sighed. "You won''t ept my resignation?"

    "I''ve spent years training you," thedy scoffed. "You think I''ll let that effort go easily, just for this?"

    Vodren smiled again, wider now but still falling short of the snarly toothy smiles that Tennar had gotten used to in the years since Vodren had be apany officer. "Then I ce myself at your disposal. I beg you, use me as you please."

    Tennar peered suspiciously at the other man.

    Who are you to call thedy ''odd'', he griped inwardly. You''re the odd one. Odder than odd, even!

    But thedy only nodded and motioned him to continue the report.

    Tennar sighed.

    Suddenly, he wanted to find Vesia, who was also a normal person that was now in thedy''s circle, andmiserate about entric people they had to put up with. He had of course recognized her expressions that betrayed simr thoughts as he did. They were the normal people in this circle of weirdos!

    Decisively, he ignored the fact that to be able to get along well with the ''weirdos'', they weren''t that normal either.

    "We''ve managed to gain some insight from the pirate''s barge, and the ship that was waiting for it." Vodren huffed and growled. "We''d know more if the ship hadn''t been crushed and the papers sent to the depths. Bridge-maker take overly enthusiastic brainless whelps."

    There was an amused tick to the corner of Sarel''s mouth that Tennar did not understand. But then Vodren''s next words had his attention.

    "The traces point to more than onepany."

    Sarel smiled, sharp and entertained. "The kids are banding together?"

    Bluzand was not argepany. They only had three ships at sea.

    But the concept ofmon spice-mixes ready-made for consumption was pioneered by Bluzand. In that particr field, it was thergest in the empire.

    There werepetitors, but so far only the Menaro Company headed by ud Menaro and the Guis-Bimel Spice Company headed by Aldabar il Chambor came close enough to be called true rivals. Menaro and il Chambor had the gold to spend on master chefs.

    There were several dozen other businesses that dealt inmon spices. They were small but vicious.

    Tennar approved of viciousness. But it was another matter if he and his were being targeted.

    He grinned suddenly, the wide and unrestrained beaming expression uncharacteristic to his general mild manner. "Aren''t they too unruly? They should know that there are eptable forms of merchantry in this empire. Working with someone like Degaine isn''t one of them."

    In an unassuming office within the Bluzand building in beautiful red-cloaked Ecthys, three odd people started nning a campaign to gain satisfaction out of metaphorically ying the hides off those who dared make Bluzand their enemy.

    And profit, of course.

    Always profit.

    *

    Vesia stared at the pile of papers that Head Clerk Ebmond had dropped on her desk.

    "Sir, I''m in charge of what?"

    "The negotiations with Telomberne, to coborate on skincare products." The head clerk brushed some dust off his cuff casually. "I will be oversight, of course. But do make the best of it."

    "Sir, wouldn''t the negotiations go better with someonemore suited? Er, a head clerk? Or thethe vice-manager?" Her voice grew weaker as his stern stare did not waver from her face.

    "They are all busy," he said tonelessly.

    "Yes sir?"

    "This is part of your client''s ount."

    "Itis?" Vesia quickly recounted the terms of the contract in her mind. There was nothing there about Telomberne or skincare products. But there were some odd uses on ''special substances''.

    Defi, she cried in her head, what exactly are you selling to Bluzand?!

    Head Clerk Ebmond narrowed his eyes on her. "Tell me what you know."

    That''s the problem, Vesia wailed silently.

    What did she know? Nothing! She knew nothing!

    What negotiations with Telomberne? There were no negotiations! Telomberne had not contacted Bluzand after that first disastrous meeting! Which ording to the higher-ups was sessful?

    Sir, she wanted to ask, can you see the future?

    She forcibly calmed herself, before the boring stare of her superior officer drilled into her brain and actually read her thoughts. Frantically ordering her mind, she assumed the head clerk was asking about the reasons for the coboration.

    She offered hesitantly: "Sir, we have no apothecaries. And Telomberne apothecaries are known to often move independently of the apothecary''s guild. Sir."

    Skincare products meant apothecaries.

    Contracts, she reminded herself. If it''s about working with apothecaries, it''s always about contracts.

    He stared at her. She stared back cautiously.

    "Good." He said atst. "Do well."

    She was swamped with relief. "Yessir!"

    "You will be using a desk in my office for the time being. This is sensitive." He turned to leave. "I will bebusy, as well."

    When he was out of the room, Vesia slumped over her desk, ignoring the sympathetic and envious looks from the other senior clerks in the room.

    Was Bluzand always this entric and she only now noticed it?!

    **

    **

    Notes:

    Cup of honor  killed herself by drinking poison. It''s an Ascharonian tradition for those who are guilty of crimes to be able to choose the cup of honor rather than be taken to court for trial.

    To be convicted is a shame that will persist through generations, and the family reputation would have been tainted by the guilty person going to jail and taking thebel of ''convict''. It''s called a ''cup of honor'' because it spares the rest of the family by metaphorically washing away the criminal''s personal sins with blood.

 Chapter 111: Is This a Madman?

    Chapter 111: Is This a Madman?

    The fisher''s guild building was near the dockyard.

    It was one of thergest buildings in the area, the carved motifs surrounding the double doors that led into a foyer indicative of the prosperity of the fishing trade in the Lowpool.

    Technically the guild structured the handling of all the marine life that theke town traded outside the town boundaries.

    The Lowpool was ake that was deep near the river egress and became shallower at the far end, almost like mudts where Witchbeds were found. Because of the variance in geology, there was a variety of seafood that could be caught.

    All year round, there was shrimp, squid, silver-blue carp, several types of shellfish, the ironhead rockworm, and two different varieties of non-mystic crab.

    In the early spring to early summer, lobster, purpleback carp, and green tiger zander abounded. The lobster was not native to theke, but was captured by the roiling waters of the Treachery from other rivers that connected to the sea.

    In the hottest part of summer, sunstripe bass and whiskersnake was plentiful.

    In autumn, eel and salmon in great numbers were also washed down the Treachery from the great river.

    The waters of the Treachery were not kind, and the inhabitants of the Lowpool could just pick stunned or injured seafood off the riverbanks in autumn. It was a happy yearly urrence and Defi had already heard many discussions about anticipating the taste of smoked eel and salmon.

    Also, because of the abundance of easily-caught eel and salmon, the diamondcrust crab, the mountain turtle, and the finned watersnake came out of their difficult-to-find burrows to feast on the edges of the river andke. The three animals were non-mystic but were sought-after ingredients for the autumn harvest feast in the Lowpool. As were several kinds of birds and waterfowl that joined the riverbank frenzy.

    Fresh eel was not unpopr either, with grilled eel in savory sauce being a favourite in the autumn.

    Natan told him that winter rations for soldiers were often supplemented by local town delicacies, and the Lowpool had a tradition of sendingrge amounts of smoked eel to all the soldiers that were from the town.

    In the winter, theke and river froze, but the fishers of the Lowpool didn''t stop work. Several kinds of fish thrived in the icy waters, and the delicately-vored bloodfin fish only surfaced during winter.

    In addition, under the ice, or in ces where the water did not freeze, there were swarms of tiny crustaceans that the townspeople made into several different kinds of sauces.

    Defi learned this through Marte and Grenia. The krilfry sauce that was a staple of his table was made in various households throughout the winter and sold in town or traded to the merchant caravans through spring and summer.

    The mystic sable crab could only be hunted by authorized fishers, and could be caught in all months of the year. These crab hunters often found less than a hundred sable crabs a month, only rarely over two or three hundred. Sometimes, a lucky fisherman could find one entangled with his traps ors.

    These unauthorized catches could be sold to the fisher''s guild or eaten but cannot be traded outside the Lowpool.

    The fishers'' guild bought sable crab by weight, two silver crescents per kilogar. Most dockworkers would only earn that much in a month. And mature sable crab weighed from seven to fifty kilogar.

    Thergest ever captured in recent memory was a fifty-two kilogar monster that had a shell nearly two mar across and ording to oral record had ''ws the size of an eight-year old child''. It was sold to the old marquis household for five gold solstices some sixty years ago. The old marquis kept it as a pet for several years before it died.

    With such abundance from theke, it was no wonder that the dockworkers Defi knew all wanted to be hired on a fishing boat.

    Much of that abundance, and therefore the wealth of the Lowpool, was regted by the fishers'' guild under the authority of the imperialmerce ministry. That abundance and the presence of amercially-viable mystic beast was the reason a small town like the Lowpool had a stationedmerce ministry representative on the town council.

    Defi mentally lifted a toast to Mayor Sorza, who was the elected representative for the administrative branch of the imperial government, for her decades of navigating that morass without losing authority. As far as the information he had looked into went, she was firmly in control of her duties as town leader.

    All things taken into ount, after all, the fishers'' guild would be the single most powerful organization in town.

    He stepped up the stone steps to therge open doors of the guild, only to be intercepted not three steps inside.

    "Good afternoon, mestre." A young clerk nodded politely if a little tiredly, the words he said many times today smoothly falling from his lips. "Wee to the guild of fishers. May I assist your business today?"

    "Good day, I''m here to meet mestre Erel, an officer of this guild."

    The clerk blinked, even as he led the way. "Does he know you''reing?"

    "No. I have an introduction letter."

    "You''re from a caravan?" The young clerk eyed him closely for a moment.

    Normally, residents did not need introduction letters, but Defi was new in town and mostly unknown. An introduction letter was too formal for his simple need, especially as all of the people involved lived in the same town. But from his first visit he learned from the guild rumor that the man who oversaw the sales of sable crab in the guild was a formal kind of person.

    An introduction letter would be seen in a better light.

    He hoped.

    "Not from a caravan, I''m afraid." Defi shed a small smile. "Only just settled in town recently. I hear this building is the oldest in town?"

    "Oh, yes it is!" The clerk beamed as he led Defi up the stairs. "It used to be the old town hall, before the new one was built. But the guild expanded the building of course, and the dcor is obviously better now."

    "Very beautiful. You know much about the history of the ce."

    The clerk looked pleased at hisment. "I do work here."

    Defi continued. "Are all officers on the higher floor? Mestre Erel as well?"

    "Yes. The guild''s higher officers are all on the second and third levels." The clerk hesitated, nced at Defi. "About the head clerkhe''s a little moody today"

    "I see." For the clerk to warn himwas it too serious? Defi could always return another day. If the man was too emotional, he might be against visitors today. "My need is not so urgent. Will he ept a "

    His question was interrupted by a low but entirely audible roar from within the door the clerk led him to.

    "Chelua damn you to a bottomless pit!" thundered a voice, too loud to be entirely muffled by the anti-eavesdropping Emblems on the door. "Do you see my face?!"

    Another voice sounded, words indistinct but obviously cating.

    The clerk paled. He stepped backward and pulled Defi with him. "Sorry, mestre, this is not the ti"

    "Do you think this is ''eptable''?" The voice continued to roar. The door crashed open and the two outside the office froze. "Out, or by the Bridgemaker I will not be responsible for the consequences!"

    A tall figure stumbled out, posture horrified and eyes shaking. He quickly regained equilibrium when he saw Defi and the clerk watching and swept past them without another nce, trying to walk fast without seeming to be running.

    "Who''s that?" Defi voiced the question in low, quiet tones.

    "The head clerk''s sister''s husband. He works in an apothecarypany in Agamarl." the clerk whispered back. He whimpered suddenly. "The head clerk''s looking for a wife again."

    Looking for a what?

    Defi wondered if he heard correctly. He was about to rify when arge man appeared in the still open office doorway.

    The man''s eyes narrowed on them, the expression made all the more sinister by the reddish inmmation and visible pustules dotted around his bulbous features.

    "What." The word was all but spat out.

    The clerk could only stare, eyes wide.

    When Defi described the man as rge'', he was not referring to the average Ascharonian physique inparison to the rtively slender Ontrean standard. The man could charitably be called ''overly plump'' and soft flesh was bulging in many ces because the man, who Defi surmised was mestre Erel, head clerk of the fishers'' guild in charge of trade, preferred the fitted garments that were characteristic of Ascharonian northern fashion.

    It did not help that he did not have a coat on and the ties visibly could not contain the man''s abundance.

    Defi put the clues together quickly.

    Looking for a wife. Inmed face. Apothecarypany.

    He was not someone who would let go of such an opportunity, when it presented itself so adroitly.

    "If I get rid of the blisters and rash, will you sign a supply contract with me?"

    Defi''s words cut off the ring man as the other opened his mouth, to castigate them for just standing there silently and not answering most likely.

    The clerk beside Defi choked in shock and regret. His thoughts were apparent on his face: did he bring a madman into the guild?

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 112: Persuade

    Chapter 112: Persuade

    The head clerk''s re settled squarely on Defi. "Who are you?"

    "Mestre, I am named Defi." He did not equivocate, and produced the letter. "I have sought introduction from one of your guild officers. He was kind enough to oblige."

    Erel the head clerk ignored the letter in Defi''s hand. "You say you can remove the impairment for me? Are you an apothecary?"

    "I am not. I merely havee across a few salves by chance."

    "Hah, everyone knows that''s what the fraud medicine seller says in all the stories."

    "So it is." Defi thought fast. Those words were indeed the words of swindlers in the Ascharonian folktales. "Do you believe any swindler would say those words if everyone knows the stories?"

    "Your slippery words only make you more suspicious. Do you know, the man that just left is one of the best apothecaries in Agamarl? Agamarl! And he''s failed miserably. Not even an apothecary? What do you know?"

    For a man rumoured to ce importance on formality, Erel was dressed casually, in only a shirt and with trousers haphazardly stuffed into polished boots. His beard and hair were dishevelled and limp, his eyes red at the edges, and his countenance tired.

    In a man looking for a wife, these indicatorsit appeared the head clerk''s efforts were not sessful.

    The man had an unhealthyplexion and physique, but indicators ofziness and non-care for the body were absent  he did not smell and his clothes were clean. He wore unttering clothes, but they were good quality and sturdy make, slightly fraying but Defi could see through the doorway, a coat that had its sleevespetently mended.

    Erel the guild officer in charge of the sable crab trade, was not a man who was overly fashionable; his garments said he preferred practicality and expedience. The coat was the same dark sober plum color as his trousers, his boots were a shiny ck, with the shirt he wore the only light color and even that was a in white.

    The clothes were synchronized with what Defi heard and deduced about the man, a rigid rule-following person with moderate disposition and opinions as carefully ordered as a row of uniformed soldiers on parade.

    His only intemperance was an obviously excessive passion for food, and Ascharonians were more inclined to think that a virtue.

    And yet, in this fraction of an hour, Defi had heard him roar at another person and rudely turn them out, decline polite introduction, and show himself in a less than immacte state.

    Surely, every time such a man would fail at looking for a wife, this surprising break from his usual demeanor would not be the result? The clerk''s reaction implied this wasmon.

    Defi felt it was too simple.

    The man''s eyeshow could Defi not recognize desperation? He had seen such eyes reflected back to him in the shine of a silver mirror, as again and again he tried to gain his father''s recognition.

    He pushed away the memories.

    The point was, a man with the disposition of Erel would not fall to this state just because he''d failed to attract a woman. In that case

    Could it be that Erel was not ''searching for a wife'' but was already in the stage of serious courting?

    These suppositions ran through Defi''s mind in the expanse of a moment. He observed the man closer, widening his senses. There was a faint scent of flowers about the other. The hypothesis of courting was more usible than ever. "As a guild trader, you know the importance of words ced down on paper. But is paper all there is to skill?"

    He noticed the corner of the man''s lip turn down, though the re lessened in intensity.

    "You speak well, certainly. But why should I listen?"

    Defi smiled. It was a question that providence sent.

    His teachers said, even if they do not want to, as long as you make them hear your words, there is always a chance that something you say will win you a negotiation. And any negotiation will bring you close to persuasion.

    Erel of the fishers'' guild was a man who liked rules and definite lines. Defi was taking a chance in challenging him. As a merchant, even if he stuck religiously to rules, the profession itself would not allow anyone to have illusions of ck and white.

    Defi only needed the slightest crack.

    Not to mention, at the moment, the guild officer was unbnced, in turmoil for love.

    "Is there loss to be had for trying?"

    There was a flicker in the man''s eyes.

    "You have three days." He held out his hand.

    Defi kept his features neutral, even if he wanted to smile widely, as he gave the man the letter of introduction. "I will meet you tomorrow morning, mestre."

    "The guild opens its doors at dawn." Erel stated re-entered his office.

    That was a steep deadline, but Defi had an advantage.

    He still remembered the way the extracted clear balm from Larimar had helped heal the minor scratches on the skin of his hands.

    The inmmation of Erel''s face was more serious a problem than minor skin breaks, but Defi believed in the efficacy of slime extract in many things by now.

    If anyone doubted, then Turq and his cohort will refute them all decisively.

    There was fifty kilogar of savras grass still unused. If Defi added a greater concentration of savras to Zav''s feed then mixed the resulting extract with Lar''s lotion balm, he was certain the mixture would have a greater healing effect.

    Lar''s balm would make certain the savras extract was viscous enough to work as a balsam. The savras extract by itself would not stick to skin long enough to ensure that the healing properties of the grass had time to affect the inmmation.

    Defi made a mental note to send a sample of the mixture to Bluzand with his next letter to Vesia.

    Erel paused in the act of shutting the door, frowning at the letter. "Who did you get the introduction from?"

    "Mestre Toyne, of this same branch of the guild, was kind enough to write one for me."

    Erel''s eyes sparked viciously. "That newlywed?"

    The clerk that had led Defi here took a long breath and continued inching away.

    Defi forced a smile.

    Truly, the thorny path of love created many pitfalls for random passers-by.

    *

    Defi left the fisher''s guild without falling into anymore pitfalls dug inadvertently but also without the supply agreement he wanted.

    He stepped toward the dockyard. There were still people who were gathering starcherries for him, and Jerac likely had a stockpile he needed to haul to the homestead.

    Most of the starcherry was for the vinegar extracts, so it was a good thing.

    If the zaziphos still fruiting turned bitter before he could pick enough, he could pad the slime feed with starcherries.

    "Defi!"

    He looked toward the dockyard entrance, at the sound of the familiar voice.

    "Barham! I was about to go looking for you."

    The farmer who was his neighbour grinned widely, jumping off the covered wagon and patting the boar-lizard that was harnessed at the front. "Sold all the firewood early. Ready to go back?"

    With the edges of the river starting to ice over, it was dangerous for a scow to navigate the distance between the homestead and the town, so Defi had to consider other forms of transport.

    The most expedient was to use the river road.

    Unfortunately, after buying the first sable crabst month, he didn''t have the funds to acquire the cart and horse he needed.

    Barham, who was a little concerned with theck of earningsing in after the harvest, was urged by his wife to use the proceeds they had from selling part of the shell-rhino to buy a wagon and sell firewood in town to supplement their ie in order to support their son and their newly born baby.

    Boar-lizards, due to their nature, were not good winter draft animals. But regarding speed and strength, they had no equal of all Ascharonian draft animals.

    Defi took the chance to practice his glyphmaking and persuaded his neighbors to choose the boar-lizard, which had greater endurance and pull-strength than horses and mules.

    The drawback was that boar-lizards were averse to cold temperature, making them a poor choice of draft animal in cold weather.

    Barham let him use the wagon because Defi designed the Emblems that were embroidered into the caparison and leg-cloths that kept the boar-lizard from sumbing sluggishly to the cold weather.

    If Barham had gotten the Emblems made, it would have cost him at least half the price of the boar-lizard and wagon together.

    "There''s a lot of starcherries today," Jerac joined the conversation,ing out of one of the dock warehouses after hearing their voices.

    Defiughed. "I''ll make you both some starcherry sauce next week then."

    Jerac whipped around. "Really? ''Cause there''s someone I know that likes sour sauces."

    What?

    From the look on Jerac''s face, was this love again?

    Was it because it was winter?

    "Oh," Defi nodded with a teasing smile. "Someone."

    Jerac''s eyes widened. "No one like that!"

    Barham snorted at them as they bantered while loading the wagon. Obviously it was someone like that.

    Defi jumped into the bench seat as Barham climbed up.

    "You can''t tell anyone!" Jerac yelled at them as the wagon started up.

    "Who would know? I don''t even have a name for this ''someone''!" Defi shot back over the side of the wagon.

    Jerac''s reply was lost in the distance.

    The boar-lizard Barham had chosen was young and strong, its pace fast. It was not like the one Defi remembered from Stahlchausses which had discolored hide and worn down tusks.

    He shook away the memories and asked Barham. "Do you know who it is Jerac has been courting?"

    "You''re better off asking my wife," the farmerughed. "She''s the one that knows the talk in this town. She''ll likely tell you for another jar of your starcherry sauce."

    Defiughed with him. "Why not?"

 Chapter 113: The World, a Vicious Hussy

    Chapter 113: The World, a Vicious Hussy

    A boar-lizard was one of the bestnd-based draft animals in Ascharon.

    But horses had two advantages: one, the way the boar-lizard''s legs stuck out of its body meant it was difficult to lead into narrow trails. Two, the boar-lizard bred rarely, with only one offspring in two or three years, making horses and mules cheaper and more widespread in number.

    The boar-lizard''s extreme aversion to cold could be simply ovee by glyphs, so it was not as insurmountable a disadvantage as the two others.

    The boar-lizard was most efficient on roads, and could pull twice or thrice more than the strongest horses, which was why military and merchants prized it for their convoys and caravans.

    The road from the town to the Garge homestead was wide enough for two wagons to walk abreast.

    It was a curious fact, considering that much of thend near the original homestead was forest and woond. There was no reason for such a wide and well-built road.

    "There used to be many trappers in these parts," Barham exined, when Defi pointed it out inquisitively. "Some waterfowl, some rockboar. Muskrabbit mostly. Amon animal, but prized for fur and horn oil. There are still some in the imperial woods, and some farms raise the animal, but muskrabbit hasn''t been seen near the Lowpool for a hundred years now."

    Apparently, though fishing had long been a staple profession in the Lowpool for centuries, the homesteads along the river-road used to be greatly dedicated to hunting muskrabbit, turning to farming and other pursuits when muskrabbit numbers declined drastically some hundred years back.

    Along the river road, there were still several of the original homesteads remaining, though none housed the original families. The rest of the homesteads had been broken up and sold.

    The Garge homestead, before Leraine forced it on Defi who expanded it, had nearly gone the same way.

    "Horn oil?"

    Barham chuckled at the confused look on Defi''s face. "The Lowpool was famous once for two things it traded to the cities, the mystic sable crab and hair-dressing pomade."

    Defi nodded. That much, he had learned in his studies of local history.

    The Lowpool had once dealt in a fragrant pomade, much sought after for the hair of the wealthy and noble. The history books only said that ''a pomade, its recipe much coveted by apothecaries, made from the essence of the muskrabbit from the high mountains'' was once as popr as sable crab from Lowpool traders.

    Defi assumed the reigning marquis at the time had protected said recipe; it would have been a premium product from his territory. Most of the local history that included the Lowpool were histories of the old marquisate, and the lineage of the family Asmovare.

    There had been no mention of horn oil in the books.

    "The pomade was made mostly from beeswax and the oil secreted from the horns of the muskrabbit." Barham shook his head. "Wax and oil, grandfather said the rich fought over the finger-sized jars of pomade in the cities during his time. Ten silver crescents a jar, and prices rose even more as supply dwindled, can you believe it?"

    For hair pomade? It was indeed unbelievable. "If it was a sauce or spice, I''d believe it."

    Barhamughed and agreed.

    Ascharonians were very self-aware gluttons.

    But even as he spoke, Defi reconsidered his thoughts on the possible returns of Larimar''s lotion balm.

    Because the profits from the vinegar rose unexpectedly high, he''d put much of his thoughts on developing Lar''s extract to the side to expand the vinegar business.

    Vesia and Bluzand''s negotiations with Telomberne meant that he only had to provide Lar''s extract after all. Telomberne, apany specializing in products simr to the pomade Barham talked about, would juste up with seble items using the extract.

    Despite the poprity of apothecary products in the journals, Defi thought the publicity and prices were exaggerated. The apothecaries were attempting to sell their products after all; how true could the praises in the Apothecaries'' Journal be?

    Just because it was written in ck and white, didn''t mean it was usible.

    Even so, ten crescents for a finger-sized jar? It seemed Ascharonians could pay as much for personal beauty as they would for food.

    Of course, Barham could be also exaggerating.

    In any case, any further ns to make more of Lar''s extract had to wait until after winter. He had some trouble getting enough feed for the slimes he had as it was.

    Not to mention, the three slimes that were making the viscous lotion had different feed from the vinegar-producing slimes. He''d secured crab and carp remains from the fishers'' guild, but he wanted to wait until he had more credibility with the guild before bing a major contractor.

    Heughed to himself, self-deprecatingly. What credibility did a slime farmer have, after all?

    Well, he''ll just have to gain their trust slowly. And that meant not defaulting on the contract he already held, even if it was a minor one.

    Defi engaged Barham in light conversation, and refused to think about business anymore.

    Even at the speed of a trotting boar-lizard, the Garge homestead and Barham''s family''s farm was over an hour of travel away.

    It was nearly as fast as riding the currents of the fast-moving river on a scow, which was something that made Defi happy.

    But Creator, an hour of rattling over a country road, no matter how well-built, while seated on a hard wooden bench made for a sore bottom.

    "Are you sure you can''t put cushions on this thing?" Saddles were morefortable, with less chance of splinters.

    Barham nced at him in amused disdain. "City kid, this is the countryside. Why not bring your own silk pillows next t  ey!"

    The wagonwheels rushed past a gentle dip in the ground. At the speed they were going, the wagon nearly flew up and crashed down because of the wide pothole. As it was, Barham nearly bit his tongue as he was speaking.

    "Are you alright?" Defi smiled at hispanion with as much solicitousness as he could muster, then ruined it with a single following syble: "Hah."

    "I''d look into those starcherries first, were I you." Barham grumbled.

    Defi only nced back into the inside of the wagon perfunctorily.

    They hadshed therge woven baskets of fruit down securely, and only some scattered the wagon floor or had been thrown out on the road. At most, there would be some crushed fruits at the bottom of the baskets. It wouldn''t be too serious.

    "You''re just mad I''m right."

    "Who''s right? You? The one can''t even drive a wagon?"

    Defi coughed. His only experience with a boar-lizard cart, he didn''t want happening again. "If it were a horse, I''d drive better than you!"

    "It''s not a horse, now is it?" It could have been, his smirk said.

    In fact, Defi was the one who helped Barhame to a decision to leave the horse and buy the overgrown lizard. He had no rebuttal.

    Barham snorted hisughter at Defi''s speechlessness.

    Defi could only elbow him with a grumpy face. Clearly, good intentions can turn around and bite you unexpectedly.

    Despite the morose gently-weeping day, under the protective canopy of the wagon, the atmosphere between two generations of men was light and jovial.

    Misery lovedpany, which was probably why the moody day decided to remind them that the world, no matter what universe, was a vicious hussy.

    Rounding the bend that would bring them close to the homestead, without warning, they saw a body in the water.

    *

    Defi froze, nearly toppling off the wagon bench seat as Barham hauled with all his strength on the reins.

    It was rather eye-catching, a in off-white dress billowing gently around it in the dark water, almost serenely.

    Their carefree conversation cut off just like that, leaving a shocked silence.

    Barham, sitting beside him, moved first. He jumped from the wagon. By the time he neared the riverbank, Defi was on his heels.

    Together they pulled the girl out of the water.

    "She needs warmth." Defi, discreetly using the Current, could feel the life of her, could feel her lungs still breathing.

    "Still alive?" Even as he asked, Barham already straightened from his crouch to pull the caparison off the boar-lizard, ignoring the animal''s protest when the autumn chill that the decorated Emblem-embroidered nket had been keeping away suddenly attacked its body without reserve.

    Defi was grateful for the farmer''s astuteness as his thinking was still slightly numb, remembering the feel of water closing over his head, water blocking his breathing.

    He shook off the memories, focused his mind to helping Barham wrap the caparison around the girl''s body.

    It had been weeks since hest had shbacks to that day.

    After Ecthys, he had a resurgence of nightmares; those tapered off with every day that he knew Ramad Degaine was not in the same world he was.

    Knowing someone else had likely gone through a simr experience

    Defi felt helpless, as upon turning her over the cold body did not show signs of life, features still and pale despite the Current telling him she was alive. He had never learned Healing, not having the aptitude for it.

    She was a child, younger than he was. Defi could only trust to the Current telling him that, even so weak, her heart still beat and blood still pumped warmth within her veins.

    Barham stood and stepped closer to the river, searching the bank and the waters with a sharp gaze.

    "Barham?"

    "There should be a chair" Barham huffed when he didn''t find what he was looking for, returning to Defi''s side.

    "Chair? You recognize her?"

    Defi helped lift the limp body of the girl into Barham''s arms. With the backdrop of the barrel-chested mountain that was the farmer, she appeared too small.

    "Thete Old Gn''s granddaughter. Allise pointed her out once, during a gathering at his housest year. Sne is her name, or was it Siraly? Something like that."

    Defi mbered into the wagon, pushed a few of the baskets closer together to make some room. "Once? And you remembered her."

    "She was the only one in a wheeled invalid''s chair. Her legs don''t work right, couldn''t walk since birth."

    Defi paused at that exnation, and Barham looked at him impatiently.

    He lifted the girl off Barham''s hands and arranged her asfortably as he could on the dirty wagon floor.

    "We''re close to home. Allise can take care of her while we take the wagon for a physicker." Barham red at the boar-lizard that didn''t move when he flicked the reins, growled. "I don''t care if the blood is freezing in your veins, lizard, move!"

    The wagon lurched forward.

 Chapter 114: Where are you?

    Chapter 114: Where are you?

    Defi kept a hand on the girl''s shoulder, keeping her still against the rocking of the wagon while also letting the Current tell him of her health.

    With the boar-lizard caparison''s warming Emblems, heat seeped slowly back into her body.

    But it was still too cold.

    Going back for a physicker would be

    At the boar-lizard''s full speed, it would be a nearly two hour trip from thest farm to town and back. Not to mention, even the boar-lizard''s vaunted stamina would not be able to keep up a top speed for two hours.

    "If you have a rock-pick at your ce, it would be faster to get Sarel by boat."

    "Oh, she''s back?" Barham looked relieved. "Good. She''d be better than the physicker at this."

    Sarel had spent a month in Ecthys and just as Defi was getting used to her absence in the zaziphos orchards, she showed up like a ghost one day; scared him and his fruit-picking helpers silly by appearing silently from behind a tree and then disappearing nearly as quietly.

    If she hadn''t nodded at them with a curt greeting, Defi and the others might have thought her an illusion.

    The bustling city appeared to have irritated her hermit sensibilities, as she never appeared to them even once since that one time.

    Since then, in unexpectedly adorable manner, his students were always vignt when picking fruit at the orchards, never going anywhere on Sarel''s homestead alone.

    Thinking of his older friend''s recently avoidant habits, a furrow appeared between Defi''s brows.

    Would she note out for this?

    He shook his head, immediately incinerating the thought.

    Even not wanting to deal with people, Sarel wasn''t the kind of person that refused to aid someone in critical danger.

    Of that, Defi was certain.

    Under his hand, the girl started to shiver and curl into herself despite being unconscious.

    Was that a good or bad thing?

    He could only tuck the caparison tighter around her, fidgeting.

    "Barham, are we far yet?"

    The man grunted something as the wagon jolted again, then started to slow slightly.

    Defi recognized the sound of wooden wheels on stone. It was the stone bridge that had been blessed two months prior.

    They were at the Garge homestead, moments away from thest farm before the cliffs which was owned by Barham''s family.

    Barham didn''t slow his speed until the boar-lizard butted right up to the kitchen entrance.

    Once the girl was secured in Barham''s arms, Defi made for the river and the small boathouse that housed the family''s two scows. "I''ll get the boat out."

    The tail end of autumn was colder in the higher mountains, and the forming ice floes at the edges of the river necessitated that the small wooden boats used by the Lowpool''s inhabitants be stored away until spring brought more safety to the river again.

    Scows were not umon in the Lowpool, and the boathouse was just a raised tform with a shade that was high enough to avoid a swollen river.

    Defi checked that none of the scows were being repaired for leaks or other problems, then pulled down the one that looked sturdier to ready it for use. He quickly went through the inspection that the olddy who made his scow drilled into his memory.

    By the time Barham appeared, the scow was on the water, with Defi standing on the poler''s tform.

    "Let''s go." Barham stepped off the pier with the bnce learned from a lifetime of handling boats, and immediately moved to the bow.

    At Barham''s word, Defi pushed off immediately.

    "How is the girl?"

    "About to be roasted in front of the fire, if I read things correctly. Allise and the old man will take care of her, don''t worry."

    Barham braced his knees against the boat and raised the rock-pick above his head. He brought it crashing down on the thin ice sheets that covered the parts of the river closest to the banks.

    Defi concentrated on poling the boat as efficiently as he could, as Barham broke ice sheets or pushed away ice floes that appeared before them.

    The distance from thest farm to Sarel''s homestead was not that far, but when poling against both current and ice it felt like it took frustratingly long.

    It was not soon enough that they were knocking on Sarel''s door.

    "I can see the light of your fire, Sarel." Defi loudly stated to the closed door he was rapping his knuckles against. The house was not thatrge. If she was inside, she would hear it. "Someone fell into the river, and they''re all but blue. Do you have anything that can help?"

    "Madame, are you in?" Barham followed.

    They looked at each other when there was no response.

    Defi looked around the house to the orchard, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "Maybe she''s not here?"

    The drizzling rain seemed like it was a prelude to a good pour. She should be back soon if she didn''t want to be drenched.

    If she was at Marmocha''s or the orphanage, then Defi had wasted time that may be critical to someone''s life. He thumped a fist on the porch rail. "Creator, Sarel, where are you?"

    The door opened, startling Barham who was right in front of it.

    Defi whirled, to see Sarel push a full packed bag to therge man standing in front of her door. Barham took it reflexively, nearly frozen in astonishment.

    She brushed past him, moving toward the dock. "What in Chelua are you two waiting for? Blue, you say?"

    Defi shared a look with Barham, and both grinned widely.

    If it was Sarel, then the girl was as good as saved.

    *

    Haral was panicking. There was something hard in his chest, making it slightly difficult to breathe.

    "She''s not back yet? Where did she go?"

    His two youngest sisters shook their heads. "She didn''t tell us."

    He turned hopelessly to his younger brother. "Egg? Do you know anything?"

    The five year old wrinkled his nose, then spread his arms. "She took a basket. A smelly one. Also, it was a big one, this big."

    A basket? Haral wracked his brains for any reason his fourteen year old sister, who was unable to walk on her own two feet much less carry anything heavy, would take a basket anywhere. "Did aunt or uncle say anything to her?"

    The three looked at each other, shrugged.

    Haral wanted to curse.

    He sat on the small bed that his youngest sisters shared. The mattress was too thin, a part of his brain noticed; it should be changed soon.

    "Egg. Egarval," he put his hands on his brother''s small shoulders. "Do you remember anything else? Really anything else."

    His brother frowned. "She said I shouldn''t like fruits. That''s not true. I like fruits."

    Haral forced a smile. "Okay. I''ll get you some fruits tomorrow. But did you see the direction Amary went when she left?"

    The youngest two didn''t see anything, having been in their room.

    "I was with aunt." Erkrea bit her lip, nearly tearful. "Will Ama be alright?"

    "Yes," said Haral firmly, fixing a cocky grin on his face. "Of course. I''m here, after all."

    "Sister too," Sefiel said quietly.

    He nodded emphatically. "Yeah, and Adtra too. And then Siggy''sing back from university anytime now, do you remember?"

    "Okay."

    After reassuring his younger siblings, he went to look for the other inhabitants of the house.

    Adtra wouldn''t be back yet. Uncle would be at his favourite tavern at this time. Erkrea was in the room, so that meant that aunt would be in the sewing room.

    "Good eve, aunt." Haral kept the anxiety from his tone.

    "You''re back?" Aunt Darsa, who was married to his father''s cousin Gyral, nced at him before turning her eyes back to her mending. It looked like one of uncle''s good shirts. "Good. There''s a few pots in the kitchen that need scrubbing."

    "Yes aunt. I may ask, what did Amary do today?"

    His aunt sighed. "Should I know? That girl keeps to herself."

    "She''s your niece." The words nearly wouldn''t leave his throat.

    "I have no blood with her," the woman corrected. "I do not know why Gyral would consent to take her in; she is a drain on this household. Do you think we are so moneyed that we could support a do-nothing cripple?"

    Haral''s fingers tightened on the doorjamb. "Madame."

    He wouldn''t call her aunt, couldn''t.

    "Madame," he said again. This time his restraint couldn''t conceal his anger and bitterness. "The embroidery on your robes is beautiful."

    Her busy fingers stiffened. When she looked up, red-faced and furious at his insolence, the doorway was empty.

    Haral returned to the room that had been allocated to him and his siblings. "I''m going out. Wait for Adtra, yes? Tell her I took Amary out for a walk."

    He waited for their confirmation before smiling at them and speeding out the house.

    "You! Haral, what are you doing? Come back here!"

    He sneered at the woman who wore his sister''s work proudly everyday and yet called her a do-nothing cripple. He ignored her calls and looked around the neighbourhood.

    He was all but certain that she had told Amary stupid things that his stupid sister then believed.

    Chelua take this day. He was too tired to think.

    Where would she go. With a basket? The wheeled chair she used was special; it could be moved by Amary turning a crank lever. But it wasn''t that sturdy. If she was going to carry things, the work couldn''t be too strenuous.

    He turned to a man watching the faint drizzle from his porch. "Mestre, have you seen a girl in a wheeled chair pass here?"

    The answer was negative.

    He went to the next street and asked the same question. Again, no one saw her.

    "Looking for your sister?" A woman yawned from an upper level window, eyeing him sleepily. "Toward the market, I saw."

    "Thank you!" Haral ran toward the market.

    A basket, fruit.

    A basket of fruit?

    He skidded to a stop, his face suddenly white.

    Thest few weeks, people had been talking about someone looking to buy as much starcherry as possible, and someone at the docks was paying.

    Amary wouldn''t have gone to the docks. They had too many cousins there.

    That meant

    "Garge homestead."

    Haral whirled and ran in the opposite direction. The sleepy woman lifted her brow in surprise. "That''s not the way to the market, darling."

    There was no answer. Haral had already turned a corner.

    The Garge homestead was hours away from town. But Amary still should have been back by now.

    Rounding a corner street, the river road loomed before Haral.

    It was near sundown already, and the autumn chill had been made worse by the grey weather.

    Haral, heart uneasy, started jogging the river road, eyes sharp.

    Amary, sister, where are you?

    The soft drizzle that had nketed the town the whole afternoon slowly gained weight, turning into actual rain.

 Chapter 115: Filled Up

    Chapter 115: Filled Up

    Defi operated the levers that controlled the feeding mechanism over the slime pens, watched as the mixed feed was conveyed into multiple pens at the same time.

    He turned the crank of the mixing bin, readying the feed of the next batch.

    He only needed to pour it into the feeding bin and it would be dropped into the pens of the slimes that needed that particr feed mix.

    The amount of food needed to feed his collection of slimes was truly enormous this time. Defi blew out a long breath as he thought this.

    If he expanded again, he wouldn''t be able to mix and portion out the feed easily without the feeding mechanism.

    He was grateful that Karles had suggested it, or something like it  the design had changed over time as Karles understood how he wanted to raise the slimes.

    Defi hadn''t told the man he wanted to milk the slimes like other farmers would milk the average cow, but even this much already made things tremendously simpler.

    With that, the feeding was finished. He ran water over the feeding mechanism to clean it. The mixing bins were not empty, but the preservation Emblems would ensure the feed they contained wouldn''t rot.

    He jogged down the steps from the feeding and preservation tform, to take up the six containers with the evening''s extract to the warehouse storage area.

    Carefully, he poured each into the designated barrels.

    The smile curved his lips unbidden.

    Rather than five barrels per type of vinegar, he was averaging nine to ten barrels a month, sending seven to Bluzand. Two barrels a month, he was keeping for insurance and his own use.

    The extract from the Jasper-Jarvon-Jarto group, the heavy vinegar, had be more fragrant and viscous since the addition of the sable crab shell. He had added two slimes to this group, whose vinegar was slightly inferior but was quickly catching up the longer they were fed with the same things.

    The medium vinegar, a lighter version of the above, was from all new slimes. He fed them with mixture made ofmon crab shells and fruit, increasing the proportion of shells to zaziphos and adding some starcherry into the mix.

    It was a very satisfactory vinegar, with the aroma bing less delicate, the taste sourer. Vesia wrote to say she had negotiated a slight increase in retail price for it, which was good news to Defi as the profit from his percentage of sales would also rise.

    Hm.

    He''d been calling the heavy vinegar ''Jasper vinegar'' in his letters to Vesia and the light vinegar ''Mchite vinegar'' to differentiate them. The medium vinegar should have its own name too, right?

    Ga?

    No. Three of the slimes on the medium vinegar group had dappled light and dark green patterns. Agate, then?

    Agate vinegar.

    He mulled it over silently, then nodded. It sounded good, let it be that then.

    Moving on, the light vinegar from the Mchite-Malvon-Malto group hadn''t changed, either in feed or extract quality. The two slimes added to the group were doing very well.

    Thest three containers were the Larimar-Larvon-Larto group''s lotion balm, Zavanas'' savras extract, and the Moldavite-Fluorspar team''s zaziphos-and-herb extract.

    For the guild officer Erel, he had especially added more savras into the feed for Zav tonight. Tomorrow, he would mix the enhanced savras extract and some of the Larimar balm, then test the resulting mix in his apothecary''s tracetable before bringing it to the fishers'' guild.

    The barrels for the Jasper group and the medium vinegar group were topped off to fullness. He ced the wooden caps on the barrels, tapping them firmly into ce with a mallet. Taking two Emblem strips from the cupboards, he ced them on the barrel tops and touched them with a hint of Current.

    Instead of inscribing a design on the barrel wood like a preservation emblem, the glyph paper lengthened and firmed, sticking firmly to part of the barrel''s lid and body.

    He watched as the ink on the glyph paper formed itself into a leaf design.

    The Emblem was his personal creation. The preservation and protection Emblem on Bluzand barrels were good. The one he just affixed was not powerful. It only added some more protection and ensured that if the barrel was opened during transit, those at the receiving end would know.

    It was not too useful, but it was still one of his very first Emblem creations and he was a little proud of it. The twisty simple-looking design was made to fool the eyes of the beholder, rendering it difficult to copy. Despite the simplicity, most of the design flourishes on the glyph paper were feints.

    Defi would describe it as an Emblem within and Emblem within a puzzle within a pretty leaf pattern.

    The puzzle and leaf flourishes were just him having fun.

    Mostly, he made it just to see if he could hide one Emblem inside another.

    He was concerned that he, a beginner, had taken less than a month to deconstruct the preservation and protection Emblem that Bluzand ced on their barrels. So he bought his own barrels and inscribed his own Emblems based on the Bluzand version. It still looked like thepany''s Emblem design, with only slight differences on the surface.

    Vesia hadn''t sent him a letter questioning him about it, so he assumed it was fine.

    He scooped up some of the Larimar balm, then some of the already existing savras extract. He mixed them into several fist-sized condiment pots, in different proportions for each extract, then ced them on the shelf to rest. He''d test themter, before he went to sleep.

    His ordinary slime-rted farm work done and cleared away, he made for the washroom. Since it was already too cold for the hybrid Herbs, he only had to continue invigorating thend using the Current.

    The sansu trees were all fruiting, and two hundred zaziphos trees had already been nted on the western side of the homestead.

    If Defi cked off with restoring the vitality of thend, all those trees would be stunted in growth or wither without reaching maturity at worst.

    An hour or so of meditation in his usual spot under the sansu trees, protected from the pouring rain by the sunshades he had put up over the outdoor tables, and he would return to the neighboring farm where Sarel and Allise were working to save a life.

    He was useless there, with Barham strong enough to do whatever the two women wanted and the baby crying harder when Defi came close.

    Because of this, Little Dari, who once looked on him like an older brother, now narrowed his eyes when he saw him and ced himself between Defi and the baby.

    It was adorable, and also made Defi feel slightly depressed.

    The adults onlyughed at him.

    In any case, because he couldn''t do anything there, he returned to his farm to work off the tension of worry rather than being underfoot.

    He''d just mull some wine and carry a jar of it with him when he wentter.

    It was something he learned very recently: in Ascharon, when in doubt, bring meat or wine.

    He''d bring Turq to the northern farm too, he decided.Children couldn''t resist Turq.

    *

    The transport bay of Bluzand''s main headquarters was a hectic ce at all hours, with caravans loading and unloading, merchandise being exchanged and stored and readied for transport.

    There were three shifts of workers in the transport bay, ensuring it was open day and night.

    Into this pit of organized chaos, Conar, leader of one of the caravan teams, sauntered in with two of his associates.

    The floor supervisor for that shift eyed them questioningly, but didn''t stop from monitoring the influx and outflux of various barrels, crates, and packages. "Weren''t you scheduled to be on rest this week?"

    Conarughed. "We are, we are. We''re doing a short leisurely run, just three or four days. Very restful."

    The supervisor just nodded.

    Caravan teams got paid per trip, so it was not surprising that they preferred to use their free time to do lighter work rather than take all their resting time for themselves. Sometimes, they took family members with them on these ''short leisurely runs''. It was a known unofficial practice, and Bluzand turned a blind eye on them usingpany resources to vacation as long as the custom wasn''t abused.

    Then he frowned. "Are you here for provisions?"

    There was an office just for that, his face told them unequivocally, that doesn''t require you bothering me.

    "Danel, my friend, why are you so cold?" Conar patted him on the back jovially.

    Danel was not moved. Conarughed sheepishly when faced with the supervisor''s expressionless stare and leaned casually against the wall. "We just wanted to see; the vinegar delivery, has ite yet?"

    Thatwas not information Danel should be giving out. Nor did he expect that a man who had been with thepany for ten years, a trusted veteran, would not know better than to ask so openly about a merchantpany''s logistics.

    The supervisor''s shocked face brought Danel to his senses. He straightened and brought his hands up, waving them quickly. "Oh. No, no, I''m notah, I''ve been misunderstood."

    "Then speak inly." It was a cold demand.

    One of the men with him sighed and came forward. "Sorry, supervisor. You know this idiot is just like this. What leader means is that the barrels, the ones with the leaf tags? Since they''re to be recycled to the transport section anyway, we want them."

    Danel nodded quickly.

    Once again the supervisor Danel was silent. It was a curious request, but not something he couldn''t do.

    "I will check," he said atst. "Then get back to you."

    The three thanked him, and the other two pulled Conar away even as the man yelled over his shoulder. "Before Thunders, yes?"

    Danel snorted, shaking his head. He returned to ticking off his inspection of merchandise and organizing the transport bay.

    The curious incident, however, stayed at the back of his mind for the whole shift. The moment he turned over the work to the supervisor of the next shift, he wandered into the transport office and made enquiries.

    There were indeed fifteen quartel-size vinegar barrels with ''leaf tags''.

    There was nothing remarkable about them, but for the alluring scenting from the insides that hadn''t been washed yet. He knew Bluzand''s vinegars, his wife preferred them. These were not the same. He pulled out a letter from his coat lining and penned a reminder to make an advanced order for when Bluzand came out with its newest vinegar.

    He put the scrawled on letter back into his coat and studied the barrels again, as well as the leaf tags.

    Just pretty designs stuck onto the barrels. Bluzand used something simr, with the Bluzandpany sigil, to prevent tampering.

    "That must have wasted a lot of ink," he inspected the ''tags'' which seemed to have been soaked in ck ink and inscribed with green and white designs.

    "Oh no, sir, they weren''t like that initially. It''s an Emblem, I think. The paper used to be white, and the design was red-gold ink."

    Danel lifted his brows. "It became this solid ck after the barrel was opened?"

    "Yessir. You couldn''t open the barrel without tearing the design."

    "What a frivolous use of glyph paper and ink. From one of our business partners then?" He hoped whoever was wasting glyph paper and glypher''s ink on something like this wasn''t an employee of Bluzand.

    At the clerk''s nod, he studied the leaf design again.

    The eagerness in Conar and his team''s eyes surely wasn''t just because of this? "Detail these barrels to be allocated to Caravan 11 under Conar. Send one from this batch to Mestre Lassolus. Tell him I said the Emblem is strange."

    "Yessir."

    "Oh, before Thunders'' Day, if you would."

    He didn''t see what made the barrels so desirable to a veteran caravan team, but they mentioned the leaf design especially. So he sent one of the barrels to someone who might know.

    Thepany''s head glyphmaker could at least eliminate his suspicions.

    Three dayster, Lassolus the glyphmaker rushed into the Bluzand cafeteria, eyes wild and long sea-green beard flying behind him, nearly upending several of the dining tables when he spotted Danel and barged toward him.

    He lunged across a table, ignored the cup of water that he knocked over, grasped Danel''s shoulders, and stuck his face inches from the bewildered supervisor''s face.

    His long normally-neat beard plopped into Danel''s fishbone soup.

    "Where," he snarled in frustration, "did you get those Emblems?"

    Danel made a confused and pained noise. The other''s thin stick-like fingers were digging into the meat of his shoulders.

    "The barrel, man! The Emblems on the barrel!"

    Danel made a face of realization. "The leaf Emblem?"

    The grasp of the glyphmaker tightened to near unbearability and his face contorted in fury before the man reordered them into an artificial near-calm.

    "<em>Yes</em>," said Lassolus, quietly intense eyes on Danel''s now worried expression. "<em>The ''leaf Emblem''.</em>"

    His fingers tightened again, the words that dropped out of his mouth dripping in disdainful ire.

    "It was one of the barrels we send to supply partnerships, wasn''t it?" Danel tried to pry the glypher''s hands from his shoulders.

    Barrels were easy to make, but not everyone could afford Emblems. To the people who signed supply and production contracts with thepany, Bluzandmonly sent out barrels that already have Emblems on the lid, ready to activate.

    "No," Lassolus said unexpectedly. "It isn''t."

    "What''s wrong with it then?" Danel retrieved his cup and poured water from a pitcher. He pressed it into Lassolus'' hand, giving the other something else to grasp, and hoping a drink would calm his friend down.

    It didn''t.

    The other emptied the cup in long swallows, all the while ring sullenly at Danel like the supervisor was forcing him to drink.

    "If it''s not a good design, we can just get the ount manager to send a letter advising the person to stop overestimating their glyphmaking talents. This happens all the time, and we''ve dealt with it before. No need to get excited."

    "Oh, excited. Yes, I am very excited." Lassolusughed manically, murderously.

    Danel lifted his brows. "So it''s very good?"

    That sort of thing had happened before too. There were a few glyphers in Bluzand''s employ that used to be supply partners.

    "Good? Chelua, it''s useless! That''s the point!"

    Danel reached over, despite his poor sore shoulders, and patted the other''s head who suddenly looked like he was close to crying.

    "I wasted an entire day, and it was useless!" He leaned over the table, nostrils ring, and said emphatically. "It was No.2 ink. Who in their right mind would believe it?!"

    "An entire day on a useless Emblem?" Danel couldn''t conceive of his friend spending that much time on something he described as useless.

    Lassolus looked murderous again.

    "I would like to meet that person, the person with that twistedly diabolical mind, thatyered Emblems in such a manner and put." His arms waved about in speechless fury. "Children''s games, Danel! Children''s games!"

    Danel contemted for a moment. "So, not dangerous?"

    They both knew that unless they were needed for something by thepany, the chance of them meeting with the supply partners was nonexistent even if Lassolus was the best of the Bluzand glyphers.

    So unless the Emblems were harmful to thepany, it was best to leave things alone.

    Lassolus red, stood, turned on his heel and stalked away, robes fluttering.

    Danel watched as his old friend exited the room, and then gave a smallugh. "Still looks like he should be on an opera stage, the ass."

    Unknowingly, this single barrel sent over by a semi-suspicious floor supervisor would create a great flurry involving Bluzand in the middle of winter.

    Defi, who at that time was ensconced in the Lowpool, snowed in, would not learn of it until spring.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    Defi''s Emblem isn''t anything revolutionary, just ingenious and very very annoying to unravel, hahaha!

    Also, Lassy is very serious about his profession, whoa. He doesn''t like Defi putting mazes in an Emblem. What he doesn''t realize is that he''s a genius. The ''children''s game'' that Defi put in the design would have caused many people to pull their hair out.

    Lassy was also pulling his hair out and took an entire day to analyse the two Emblems on the barrel, but that was because he was overthinking things. When he realized he overestimated the ''useless'' Emblem, he blew his top. Heh.

 Chapter 116: Turning Wine and Tears

    Chapter 116: Turning Wine and Tears

    Mulling wine for the Ascharonian pte was not as simple as it sounded.

    Garun, once more, had tricked Defi into a misconception.

    It was nothing close to ''a little bit of this and that, a little bit of something from here and there, make sure the coals are glowing beautifully, swish the pot around a little bit, and you''ll have a nice hot spiced wine, simple eh?'' at all.

    Defi frowned deeply at the recipe for spiced wine in ''The Bluzand Book of Cookery''.

    Vesia had sent the book along with his subscriptions to various journals and circries, saying that it was a disgrace for a Bluzand partner not to have it.

    There were seventeen different spices, herbs, and fruits in the recipe, along with three pages of instructions and notes on how to prepare them and when to add them to the concoction.

    How was this simple?!

    The recipe was quite thorough. There were even suggestions on substitute ingredients, depending on the taste of the one preparing the wine.

    Thankfully, he only had the ingredients for the one with seventeen spices and fruits. It was the simplest mulled wine recipe in the book, with the other two having more than thirty ingredients.

    Defi had some awareness of himself, after years of meditating with the Current. He knew that if he had the thirty ingredients, then he would be following the recipe with the thirty ingredients rather than the current one.

    In simple matters, he always chose the most difficult option.

    If only in moreplex matters he wasn''t so indecisive perhaps he would still be back in Ontrea.

    He paused at that unbidden thought, then gripped the knife tighter.

    He pressed the sansu peel into the cutting board, ignoring the sh of self-me, concentrating on trying to get the slivers as thin as possible. It was thest ingredient he had to prepare, everything else having already been sliced, diced, ground, juiced, peeled, and so on.

    Even if he was more decisive in various matters, it was unlikely that the lord of Rimet would also change.

    Defi would always be Defi.

    And perhaps Defi was someone who would always have left Ontrea.

    A scary thought, but it was a thought that had been lurking in his mind for some time now.

    The knife skidded across the cutting board and Defi snatched back his hand before the de could touch his skin. He tested the de across his thumb, and determined that he should set aside a day to sharpen the kitchen knives.

    He set the knife aside, eyed the result of his cutting.

    This was enough for the ''onerge pinch of sansu peel, sliced as thin as you can get'' in the ingredient list, yes?

    How much was arge pinch? Was it using more fingers or more surface area between fingers?If he could not slice the peel thinly at all, would it affect the taste of the wine?

    The cooks of Ascharon obviously depended on intuition and personal taste.

    To Defi who only knew how to make several dishes, it was slightly frustrating.

    If it was so arbitrary, he thought, wouldn''t it be fine if he removed an ingredient or two?

    The problem was, he had never needed to cultivate an intuition for cooking, and didn''t know how to tweak a recipe to get something he liked.

    Ah, forget it. He''d already prepared the ingredients anyway.

    If the recipe was tested by Bluzand, who had Sarel advising them, it should taste good no matter who drank it, shouldn''t it?

    He set up the meless stove and four small pots of water to first boil and steep several spices and herbs.

    Those were only the first four of seven different pots to be used.

    By his estimate, it would take an hour before all the ingredients were finally together in the big cylindrical pot that had been part of the supplies he bought for winter.

    An hour.

    It was already full dark, several hours since he left the northern farm. In another hour, they likely would think he wouldn''t be returning. He sighed at the raft of bubbling pots before him.

    He was truly not jesting: this spiced wine better be delicious.

    The fragrance that started to permeate the rooms of the house as the spices and fruits were carefully added together, strained, mashed, separated and mixed with other ingredients, made him optimistic about the prospects of the wine.

    He put his focus on timing and careful decoction, moving in a trance of concentration, before they were all poured into the final pot with the wine.

    Come to think of it, wasn''t this like Ontrean alchemy?

    His lips twitched.

    Those proud alchemists back home would certainly faint with anger if he said that in this world, their alchemy would not beparable to the cookery.

    Defi took the pot off the stove, added the final ingredients, and covered the pot, letting everythinge together as it cooled a bit.

    He again inspected the cask he''d be pouring the final result in, moving his gaze carefully over the inside and outside. There was an Emblem already etched on the cask.

    It was a public design for containers that needed to be insted. He inspected the Emblem as well, looking for ws, breaks in the ink.

    Satisfactory.

    That was his final verdict for both cask and Emblem.

    He returned to the cylindrical pot, took a ceramic cup, anddled some of the mulled wine to sample. He breathed in the enchanting scent.

    Garun''s spiced wine had not smelled so delightful. Would the wine then be more delicious than that nostalgic taste?

    He lifted the cup to his lips.

    A faint thudding on the front door made him pause.

    "Is anyone home? Please help!"

    It was an unfamiliar voice.

    Defi put down the steaming cup, walked toward the former slime room that was now empty of slimes and slime extract barrels.

    Turq was lounging on a basket of zaziphos, but didn''t protest when Defi scooped it into his arms. The slime only crawled obligingly up its owner''s shoulder and extended its body to flop onto Defi''s head as he walked through the candle-lit receiving hall and to the front door.

    The security Emblems on the house were good, but Defi still opened the door cautiously.

    "Thank the Seven-Colored!" The woman outside dripped with water and mud, her face wet with more than just rain, her voice trembling.

    It was not that which had Defi opening the door wide. He recognized the limp figure of the mud-sttered and sodden youth all but hanging off her shoulders.

    His eyes widened.

    The rain was only just abating. Had they walked here from town? Why?

    "Please" she begged. "My brother, he needs help."

    Defi was already moving to take Haral''s other arm as she spoke. "What happened?"

    "He went into the river, the idiot. The big idiot," the woman thumped the barely moving Haral as Defi pulled them inside, nearly sobbing.

    "On the rug before the fire," Defi instructed, pushing down his confusion.

    The river again?

    Haral felt nearly as frozen as the girl he and Barham had dragged out of the drink.

    The woman swayed in fatigue as Defi took most of her brother''s weight,ying him down directly in front of the fireguard. But she moved to stoke the embers, in the firece.

    Defi tossed more than a few pieces of wood over the glowing coals, watched them ze high and warm before going to the kitchen.

    Hedled out two cups of hot spiced wine, and brought them back to the hall, forced one of the cups into the woman''s trembling hands after gently prying them from where they had fisted tightly in Haral''s wet coat. She was copsed beside her brother, shivering in the heat of the fire.

    "Drink it," he said. "It''ll help."

    "Thank you," she breathed, but didn''t move the cup to her lips.

    There was a nkness in her gaze, and one of her hands had once more attached itself to her brother''s sleeve, as if the youth would disappear if she didn''t have him in her grasp.

    Defi was from a nation of warriors. He had as the son of a noble leader the duty of watching over the leaving and returning of armies, had seen many scenes of reunion and parting y out to cries of joy and mourning entwined.

    On the features of Haral''s older sister was unmistakable grief.

    He attempted to reassure her. "Miss, he''s fine, just a little cold."

    Kneeling next to her, he studied Haral. The youth was barely conscious, and there was a wound on his temple that Defi hadn''t noticed before. The blood welling out was not excessive, which was a good sign.

    The woman noticed as well. "Oh no. Did I?"

    She put down her cup and dabbed the edge of her scarf to the wound, distressed.

    "Head wounds bleed greatly. That there is so little blood means it is not a serious injury." Unless he hit his head hard enough to gain a concussion, Defi amended.

    He didn''t say that though. Haral''s sister looked worried enough to cry as it was. He would try savras extractter, after the two changed out of their wet clothes. The priority at the moment was warming them up. They looked unhealthily pale, the both of them.

    Haral flinched at his sister''s ministrations, raised his head a little, eyes trying to focus before he closed them again. "Ad?"

    "Have him drink the wine." Defi urged.

    "It''s wine?" The woman eyed the cup she''d put down, her voice not so weak now. Defi was d she seemed to be getting herself together.

    "Yes. It should warm him up a little." He ced the second cup near the first.

    He remembered that Sarel had forced brunwine down his throat when they first met. The brunwine had burned like fire from his stomach, very effective.

    He had no hard alcohol, so the hot spiced wine should do.

    The woman didn''t say more and raised Haral''s head to cradle in her arm.

    "Haral." She brought her cup of hot spiced wine to the youth''s lips. "Drink this. You''ll feel better."

    "Wha? Ad?"

    "I''m here too," Defi snorted at the youth, to lighten the atmosphere. "What were you thinking, trying to swim in this weather?"

    Haral''s eyes opened wide and he struggled to get up. His sister held him down, offering the cup of mulled wine.

    He ignored it, trying to stand.

    "Ad," he protested. "Ama"

    "No." His sister interrupted, almost harsh, and pressed the cup firmly to his lips. She seemed entirely a different person from earlier. "Drink. Please."

    To Defi''s surprise, tears gathered and fell down Haral''s face and the youth suddenly stopped struggling. Even as his sister forced him to drink the wine, tears rolled down his cheeks unceasing. His sister wiped at them silently with trembling fingers.

    Defi felt ufortable, witnessing this. It seemed his words had the opposite effect.

    As discreetly and speedily as he could, he withdrew.

    He went into his room and readied a set of clothes, as he contemted the day''s events.

    Was it a coincidence?

    Too unlikely.

    Hey out the clothes, thinking. They would fit Haral''s sister well enough. Not Haral though. Even younger by a few years, Haral was nearly Defi''s height and more muscr by far.

    Defi sighed and entered the store-room to find some of Kern''s clothes.

    He piled the selection of clothes on the bed in one of the guestrooms, then reluctantly returned to the receiving hall.

    The two were standing now, heads close together and speaking. They still looked cold, but not as much as earlier.

    Neither looked like they were crying at the moment, and Defi sighed in relief.

    He stepped toward them, about to call, when he heard Haral''s words.

    "We have to go back, we have to. I found her chair, Ad! She can''t be far."

    "I know. But Haral, you can''tyou have to take care of yourself too. We must prepare"

    "No. No, I won''t, not until I see"

    With this conversation, Defi''s confusions were answered.

    His suspicions turned into certainty, and he didn''t hesitate anymore. He cleared his throat, interrupting Haral.

    They both whirled, to see him smiling gently.

    "I don''t suppose one young girl, about this high, sandy-colored hair, is who you''re looking for?"

 Chapter 117: Healing

    Chapter 117: Healing

    Defi and the youth''s sister, who he learned was called Adtra, had to talk fast so that Haral wouldn''t rush to the northern farm half-frozen and garbed in damp mud-caked clothes.

    "Why was he in the river though?" He asked the question to the more sensible older sister once Haral had been convinced to at least wash up.

    "Amary cannot use her legs. A problem since birth." Adtra epted another cup of spiced wine from him and determinedly sipped.

    Defi didn''t think she even noticed the taste.

    Her voice was almost mechanical.

    "When we moved in with Grandfather, he had a special wheeled chair made by an artificer in Agamarl, one where she could move the wheels by rotating cranks with her hands." She smiled gently, and her face was lightened by emotion to considerable beauty. "Amary is not one to feel low too long, but I had never seen her so happy as when she could move under her own power."

    "I see." Defi wanted to see such a chair himself.

    "When I got home and heard" Adtra''s lips firmed. "I think Haral saw it being washed down the river and so recklessly" She stopped again. "He nearly sumbed to the river himself."

    Anger and grief swelled in herst words.

    Defi had nosting connections to his younger siblings other than shared blood. Even then if he heard that two of them might die on the same night, he would be troubled and feel loss.

    How much more for a family who was closer together?

    "Let''s go!" Haral was still pulling on a coat.

    "Shoes." His sister stopped him with one word.

    "I don''t need them!"

    So energetic.

    Friend, were you not half-dead less than an hour ago?

    By the time they got to the door of the neighboring farm, both his unexpected guests looked like they''d sloughed off their exhaustion, their eyes bright, all but buzzing with anticipation and energy at seeing their sister.

    In contrast, Defi, who had been reassuring them nonstoppared how he felt to how a refugee looked. Only the familiar soft weight of Turq on his head prevented him from leaning his forehead against the wall and sighing at the mental fatigue he had incurred in thest half-hour.

    He''d never been good atforting others on things like this.

    The moment the door opened, he foisted the two siblings off on the nearest person.

    "Allise, this is Miss Adtra and her younger brother Haral. Your patient''s siblings. I''ll leave you to exin their sister''s prevailing good health."

    He took the cask of still-hot mulled wine off Haral''s shoulder and strode in. He paused, looked at Barham who was lurking behind his wife''s shoulder. "By the way, her name is Amary."

    Barham onlyughed. "Sagry, Saben, Amary, I was close."

    "It was not one syble close."

    Haral blinked, still faintly numb, disbelief and hope warring in him,tched onto the inane topic. "My other older sister''s name is Sigrene."

    Barham smiled at him brightly, then said to Defi. "In the same family is close."

    Allise ushered the two into the receiving hall, sighing. "Believe it or not, for him, it''s really close."

    Defi suddenly felt he should just be thankful the other remembered his name. A thought urring to him, he stopped on his way to the kitchen, curious. "What''s the baby''s name?"

    Ascharon gave their children names three days after they were born, so they could umte fortune as early as possible. It was different from Ontrea, where parents gave names once the baby survived the first year.

    "Hah, of course I remember her name. You think I should forget something so important?"

    Allise paused in her soothing words towards Haral and Adtra, lifting her head to give her husband a rather significant look.

    Barham pretended not to see it, but Defi could see the sweat shine on his brow under thenterns set up on the house beams. "It''sCoreine."

    "That''s a lovely name." Adtra dispelled the tension with sincere words.

    Allise smiled at her, returned to reiterating that the two now less worried siblings had nothing to worry about while chivvying them gently toward the room their sister was in.

    Barham blew out a long breath of relief.

    Defi peered into the kitchen. Unlike the Garge homestead, there was no separate dining room in the northern farmhouse. The kitchen was directly essible through the receiving hall.

    Within, Sarel was slowly stirring a pot on the stove with one hand while de-hulling some sort of bean with the other and flicking the seeds into the pot. Her hands glowed with orange-colored Shade.

    Defi still couldn''t understand how the sorcery of Ascharon would be used to cook. It was something that separated mystic chefs from ordinary cooks. Defi had attempted it with the Current onezy day, to no sess.

    Seated at the kitchen table, Farbar was deftly chopping herbs with a hunting knife.

    His grandson Dari was peeling small blue-colored fruit beside him, cracking the fruit skins on the table to reveal pale yellowish flesh within. Dari''s face scrunched when he saw Defi, then his eyes widened and shone when he saw Turq on Defi''s head.

    It was undeniable; slimes were irresistible.

    Defi felt smug.

    "What are you standing there for, boy? Come help with this." Farbar huffed at seeing Defi, waving at the table of strange nts and ingredients. "Did you eat yet?"

    It was generally polite for non-family to seek permission before entering another''s kitchen. With the old man''s invitation, Defi easily stepped forward.

    "I have. Is that snake-skin?" He put the wine cask on the table and looked into therge bowl that was distinctly separated from the rest of the food on the table. It was filled with faintly scaly green-tinged translucent strips.

    "Don''t touch it." Sarel nced at him.

    "I did once live with you," he assured her.

    She hummed.

    Dari left his bowl of fruit to round the table, stopped a short distance away, and peered up at Defi.

    Or rather, at Turq.

    "Isn''t it time for you to go to sleep?" Defi took the smaller knife Old Farbar offered him, and seated himself at the table.

    Dari wrinkled his nose, former shyness now rtively cured around Defi. The wariness was another thing entirely. "Not a baby."

    "Do you want to feed Turq, then? It''s a grown-up job."

    The boy looked at him suspiciously, but nodded.

    He lifted Turq off his head and plopped the slime into Dari''s arms. Turq and Dari were familiar with each other anyway. Bree still visited the northern farm when he could get his siblings to agree to bring him with them. Renne and Markar could only concentrate if Turq was with Bree when out of their sight.

    The visits had been when the weather was better though.

    Recently, Defi heldbat sses were held in therge yard of the orphanage so Dari had not seen Bree for several weeks now.

    Dari returned to his seat and started gently pushing pieces of blue peel into Turq, watching in fascination as the peel slowly dissolved inside the slime''s body.

    "Don''t feed it too much."

    Curious, Defi dropped for a brief moment into the Current. As expected, the fruit with blue peel had umon vitality, as had several other ingredients on the table.

    If Turq ate the discards from the table, would it split again?

    Defi had already found that because of the regr ''milking'' for slime extract, the production slimes were less likely to do a splitting.

    It was disappointing, but he really couldn''t afford to stop production just to get the slimes to split. Split slimes were already simr to their parents so it would be less work getting the extract quality up to par.

    Not that summoned slimes were bad.

    "Peel these." Sarel set a te of vegetable stalks of some kind before him, breaking his train of thought. "You remember how?"

    "Of course." How could he forget?

    Just one morning and he hit a hundred and one ways not to peel vegetable stalks in Sarel''s kitchen. He hadn''t thought there were even ten ways to peel something.

    He shook his head and started, tapping the knife edge slightly into the stalk, then ripping a piece of skin right off. It was very fragrant, the fresh scent spreading as he pulled the tough peel from the tender insides.

    "This is?"

    "I made some spiced wine this evening."

    Old Farbar looked interested. "Ho?"

    Sarel flicked of the leaf strip that Defi used to seal the cask, only lifting a brow as the glyph paper ckened before her eyes, her attention on the wine.

    She inhaled the scent carefully. "This is Bluzand''s?"

    "Vesia sent me a cookery book."

    "Hm." Shedled samples for all of them, milk for Dari.

    Defi sipped the steaming wine, letting the vors invade his nostrils as he drank, the gentle bite of alcohol was tingling within him. He kept his gaze on Farbar and Sarel, wanting their opinion.

    "Needs work," was Sarel''s verdict.

    Defi wasn''t offended by the lukewarm reception. It was his first time making it after all, and he had not fullyprehended the instructions. There were several words that he was certain he''d tranted incorrectly.

    "Not bad." Farbardled up another cup for himself. Defi grinned at him.

    He downed his wine.

    Tipping his head back to get to thest drops, he caught a glimpse of the two siblings with Allise.

    He leaned back on the bench to better see outside the kitchen doorway.The gloom that hovered over the brother and sister, the grief that he could notpletely dispel, was now gone.

    Defi nodded, satisfied, and turned to ask Sarel a question on one of the terms in the spiced wine recipe.

 Chapter 118: First Custom Product

    Chapter 118: First Custom Product

    It was decided to let the young Amary rest at the north farm for a day or two. Her two siblings protested greatly, wanting to take her home the same night.

    It was Sarel that stopped their protests. "There are things I cannot examine without her waking. Tomorrow or the day after, you can take her home when I''m done."

    With those words from the Lowpool''s hidden mystic chef, Adtra and Haral could only reluctantly give way.

    "I will repay this kindness," Haral burst out, earnestly. "To everyone, I promise!"

    His sister bowed, in the female manner of sping both hands close to her chest and lowering her head. "We will not forget."

    Haral quickly followed her in the Ascharonian male version of the bow, resting a fist over one''s heart and bending from the waist.

    "Come,e," Barham grasped both their arms warmly. "Are we not from the same roots? Do not be reserved."

    Defi saw something flit across both siblings'' faces, but they smiled at him openly so but didn''t think it was because of Barham. His words, then?

    He had not asked why their fourteen year old sister had seemingly thrown herself into the freezing river. He left that thorny conversation to Allise, who was looking at the two with concern.

    It seemed she saw it too.

    In the end, Haral decided to return to their home, stating that they had younger siblings who would worry. Adtra would stay at the northern farm for the night.

    Defi remembered Haral saying he had another older sister. By Defi''s count, he had at least five siblings. In all the time that he stayed in this world, this was the first he''d heard of someone with as many siblings as an Ontrean.

    How surprising.

    He had thought that Ascharonians had fewer children in a household because they were only allowed two concurrent wives where Ontreans could marry as many as they could support.

    One woman birthing six children  many women from Defi''s home would shy from the idea. Two or three offspring were considered more than enough from any Ontrean woman.

    It was impressive however, for one woman to raise that many children.

    When Defi returned to the Garge homestead, it was past midnight.

    He tested the regr savras-balm mixture, using the space that was the former slime room near the house kitchen. The barrels and feeding baskets that once littered the room were reced with shelves and cabs. Some were empty, others filled with tableware and cutlery.

    One wall was covered end to end by twin ss-fronted disy cabs. The expanse of disy space was empty.

    When Tennar found that Defi was furnishing his household, he sent the cabs as a housewarming gift with the caravan of winter supplies.

    Defi sent in return the preserved meat of the first sable crab he bought at the fisher''s guild, inwardlymenting all the while that he could not eat it himself.

    Because the cabs, thought outwardly in, had good materials and could notpletely hide the elite craftsmanship that went into them from the eyes of someone who had grown up with some of the finest art and craftswork in Ontrea. The design of palm-sized diamond-shaped ss bits cradled by thin metal rods embedded into the cab door frame was not something just anyone could do, even using Shade.

    If Tennar had bet that he wouldn''t notice, too bad.

    Sarel had only smirked at him when he asked. So Defi concluded that the Bluzand manager had recognized the taste of sable crab meat that was his return gift.

    There was nothing he had that was worth disying though, which was why the cabs were not ced in the receiving hall.

    In Ascharonian tradition, he should get some rare tes to disy or something simr. Expensive goblets or carved spoons. Small figurines if he was not into disying impractical tableware.

    Defi wondered what message it would send if he collected and disyed weapons. Ascharon had a warrior history before their emperor threw them down the path of gourmet food, hadn''t it?

    Disying weapons shouldn''t be taboo.

    Maybe.

    That warrior history in this world was centuries ago.

    He should ask Aire or Sarel about it, he decided as he contemted the emptiness behind the ss. Weapons would be more useful than tes.

    Apart from the shelves and cabs, there was only a table and chair in the room, and the single mechanical clock cab. The shelf near the table and chair was full of pots and jars  many of them containing slime extract.

    The extract samples from the first mass summoning Defi did had been smashed by the thieves that were almost-certainly not thieves during the conflict with Madame Agreine.

    Defi gained the habit of collecting the extract from all the slimes he summoned, tested extensively with the trace-table. He found that when summoned once, he could summon the same slime using a catalyst on the summon-tablet. So he kept the extracts.

    He wasn''t knowledgeable enough in raw ingredients and materials to immediately know if a particrly eye-catching extract was useful or not. But the shelf he kept the samples on was extensively fortified with Emblems, making sure that the extracts could not be contaminated or contaminate other things.

    Something shed in the periphery of his vision.

    Defi turned in his chair.

    The curved lines on the surface of the apothecary''s trace-table stopped extending and glowed in their stillness. The analysis was done. He took a fresh page of paper and wrote down the results of the analysis, frowning in concentration as he deciphered the meaning within the design.

    Trace-tables only detected various elements or substances or materials that apothecaries knew existed, but therge swath that was unknown was tested using broad generalizations, for example whether the materials were infrigidants or calefacients, whether they were toxic to the human body or non-toxic, whether they were beneficial for people of certain Shades or not, etc.

    Defi suspected that the only reason the apothecary''s guild sold such a massively useful tool as the trace-table to the public, even publishing a guide, was that the average person would not have the means or knowledge to put the analysis together in a manner that would threaten apothecary secrets.

    At the same time, people became appreciative of apothecary skills and knowledge, making their contributions to society more valuable in the people''s minds.

    Defi himself could only use the trace-table guide.

    Not the Lowpool''s reliable librarian Orain had books that could fully pierce the mystery of the trace-table.

    sted apothecaries.

    Defi glowered at the analysis.

    It said the mixture was non-toxic, but he already knew that. He identified several substances that the trace-table showed which were consistent to savras, and more which intimated that the mixture had cogen and trace amounts of oil.

    Those were probably from the silver-blue carp bones.

    When he was at the fisher''s guild, he gained the information that the guild officer Erel had Sunlight as his Shade.

    Trace-table analysis said there were no problems in that respect.

    But the trace-table was showing other things as well. Therge amount of information that he could not decipher even as the indications were right in front of him was frustrating.

    Defi did not have the training and understanding topletely bring out the potential of the trace-table.

    He leaned back in his chair.

    Should he put his glyphmaking studies on hold to learn more about apothecary skills?

    No. He discarded the thought after a moment of thinking.

    First, if he took the official route, he had to apprentice with an apothecary first, then join the guild. That was too much trouble. The apothecaries he knew werehow to describe them?

    Too entric, he decided.

    Second, the unofficial route would also be very troublesome, and would possibly get the guild pursuing him like a nest of hos for attempting to steal trade secrets.

    Ascharon, how well you protect your merchantry, he sighed.

    Another route would be to discover an apothecary''s diary, or someone''s secret research. It would be simpler to hide something like that from the apothecary''s guild, but that was like hoping for pie to fall from the sky.

    Defi could only tell Orain to keep a spare eye out for apothecary materials in the man''s unceasing search for books to improve the Lowpool library.

    He didn''t expect anything on that front. Countless people wanted apothecary knowledge for themselves. Old libraries and bookshop attics across thend would likely already have been thoroughly scoured.

    Defi packed the trace-table andbelled the jars carefully, storing the analysis papers in a chest under the table. The mixture with 60% savras looked to be the most efficacious for the job.

    Checking the new mechanical clock, only four hours remained until the sun came up.

    He would need to head to the fisher''s guild in three hours to meet with Erel.

    Eh, there were more productive things to do in an hour than sleep.

    He stretched, blew out one of themps, and took the second through the kitchen and out the house.

    All the extraction was now done in the warehouse after all.

    Feeding the slimes this early was not too far from his regr routine, in any case. It took an hour and a half to feed and milk the slimes.

    Another thirty minutes to mix the extracts in the needed proportion and pour the resulting savras balm into small pots. He moved carefully, precisely.

    This was the first product that he had personally made for another person after all.

    He put the covers on the pots and sealed them with the leaf tag.

    All done, Defi still had two hours before he needed to leave the house.

    He sat under a sansu tree and ced themp beside him, falling into the embrace of the Current.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    In Ontrea, there is actually aw rifying how much added wealth a person should have before adding another spouse. It''s called a ''marriage-toll''. It''s not a bride-price, which is given to the bride''s family or a dowry, which is the wealth the bride brings with her.Ontreans are warriors, and so are often close to death. This is the money that goes to support the children of a warrior if the head of the household dies suddenly.

    The amount changes depending on the status of the person who married into the family.

    For example, because Defi''s mother was a ve, the marriage-toll needed to marry her was less than the wealth needed to marry a noblewoman. Then again, because Defi''s mother was a ve with a recorded lineage history going back a thousand years, the marriage-toll needed to marry her was more than the amount needed for most ves andmoners.

    *

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 119: Dawn Wagon Ride

    Chapter 119: Dawn Wagon Ride

    Defi had an agreement with the north farm that he could use the wagon early in the morning, taking a mound of firewood to one of Barham''s cousins to sell in town.

    Near dawn, after the harvest was done, the adults of the north farm did not have to wake so early.

    So he was surprised that, on entering the wood-house where the farm kept the boar-lizard, wagon, and dried firewood, Old Farbar was waiting.

    "Elder? Has something happened?"

    With an invalid, a recently born baby, and a recuperating mother in the house, there was great chance of idents. Scenarios raced past Defi''s mind.

    "I''ming with you today." Farbar nodded to the bundles of tied up firewood next to the already-harnessed boar-lizard.

    "It''s different firewood?" In the light of thentern, the wood looked slightly darker than the usual.

    "Smoking wood," Farbar grinned widely. "Lavender oak, to be precise. It''s got stronger smell than most woods, very fragrant."

    "For the town autumn feast." Defi understood that it was part of the north farm''s contribution to the feast.

    In the autumn, salmon swam in droves up the Ascharon rivers to spawn in freshwater while eels swam in masses down the rivers to do the same in the salty seas.

    The Treachery was indiscriminate, swallowing all that dared enter the Overpool. Yellowbeak salmon and starcluster eel, unountably traversing the great river at the same time, were not spared.

    Just days after the field harvest, the townspeople took baskets to the river andke for the second harvest of water-life. But the amount of starcluster eel and yellowbeak salmon washed down to the Lowpool was not enough for trade, not when every other town and city on the great rivers of Ascharon were already gorging on this seasonal river fare.

    So it was tradition to keep thisrgesse for the town. The entiremunity helped to prepare and smoke fishmeat to freely roast and distribute during the feast.

    The spawning season had already been at its peak for a month and was already tapering off. The town had umted at least a warehouse of smoked fish, and would hold the festival in a week.

    Defi also had contributed his share, forgoing some of his work to do so. Thankfully the small stream diverting through his property that terminating in a pond beside the warehouse easily captured sufficient salmon and eel to fill arge basket every day. Due to the size of the salmon, sometimes two baskets.

    He didn''t have a smoking house nor had he any idea how to clean and cook salmon or eel, so he sent all that was caught to the town.

    In any case, he didn''tck for food, his underground storage well-stocked. Even if the wintersted six months, he would not starve.

    "Did you leave your fish-baskets beside the road again?"

    "I hid them in the bushes. Besides, who''de so far from town so early in the morning? There are no people on the river road but us." Defi didn''t want to carry everything to the north farm when he could simply pick them up as the wagon passed by.

    Farbar huffed as he waited for Defi to load thest bundle, securing it with rope. "Those flimsy baskets of yours are too easy to spill."

    "I did hear that starcluster eels could survive onnd for a time, and are particrly lively." Defi acknowledged easily. "Should we hurry to catch them before they tip the baskets over and slither across the road to the river?"

    "Hmph. Who cares about your eels?" Farbar climbed up to the wagon bench. "You can just scoop up another basket anyway."

    "The pond doesn''t have that many." Defi hung thenterns on the hooks that were part of the wagon frame, sat beside Farbar, and took the reins. Strong enough to hoe an entire field in a day the elder of the north farm may be, but the strength of the boar-lizard would likely strain his joints.

    "Hah. When I was young, we forded the cold rushing river itself, working hard for our autumn feast contributions. Picking salmon out of a pond, pah."

    "There was a particrly big one this morning." Defi could only say agreeably. He tapped the long stick on the boar-lizard''s leg, signalling the animal to walk.

    "You!"Farbar roared the word, clearly he saw he wasn''t being taken seriously.

    The wagon moved out of therge wood-shed.

    The person waiting outside for them coughed in surprise at Farbar''s irate exmation. Defi stopped the boar-lizard.

    Farbar immediately fixed his countenance, from demonic to kindly concerned. "Littledy, those clothes are too flimsy for the morning chill."

    Defi saw this remarkable transformation and couldn''t help but marvel at it, lips twitching. Elder, for a young woman, even you are like this?

    He could see why the elder would be concerned though. Adtra was not wearing the coat that came with the outfit he''d lent herst night. From the youngdy''s temperament, she probably gave it to her sister for the added warmth.

    The white shirt and trousers were also embroidered with warming Emblems, but not as much as the coat was. In this chill before the sun warmed thend, it was indeed not enough.

    But Adtra smiled at Old Farbar and reassured him she was fine.

    She wasn''t even shivering, though her face was slightly pale.

    These Ascharonians, have their bodiespletely adapted to the cold? Defi was very envious.

    Pah, he imitated the grumpy old man beside him for a moment, step across the Gate and let us see how you deal with the heated climate there.

    "How is the child?" Defi asked, his tone only slightly cranky.The coat he wore was not as good at warming him up as the one he lent her.

    "You''re barely older than she is."

    Defi retorted easily. "Comparing us both to your advanced age, the gap of five years is indeed very small."

    "Are you calling me ''old''?" Farbar shouted the words in outrage.

    "Not at all, not at all. Those with more than one grandchild are always younger than they look." Defi beamed brightly.

    "This is a face that has gained dignity and wisdom from time! A very fresh countenance!"

    In truth Farbar did look lively for his age, having a full head of long grey hair neatly held back by a strip of colored cloth, and his face neatly shaved.

    Defi wasn''t one to suddenly admit defeat without a good fight. The banter reminded him of the days with his sword teacher.

    "You know what they say about old wine: you can never tell whether it has mellowed or be sour vinegar."

    "You--!"

    "Me?"

    A cough stopped them both. Adtra smiled at them from beside the wagon.

    Both men looked suddenly sheepish.

    Farbar returned her smile. "Little miss, are youing with us to town?"

    "Yes, sir. Amary has not yet woken, and I will certainly returnter. I still have to do some work at the cloth shop today before they can let me off."

    Defi moved to let her sit beside him.Waiting until she got situated, he then poked the boar-lizard with the stick.

    He had watched carefully how Barham had guided the animal with reins and prod,mitting the actions to mind. From what he remembered, he could drive the wagon to town with ease.

    He rxed on the seat. "If you work in a cloth shop, are you the one who made the pig, then?"

    Adtra looked confused. "Pig?"

    "On Haral''s shirt." Defi shed a grin at her. "Also the mice on his vest."

    She covered her sudden smile with a hand. "No, that was Amary, in fact. She likes to embroider when we havewhen she has time. I haven''t seen the pig she made. Haral probably angered her again."

    "She sounds spirited." Farbar nodded approvingly.

    "Yes." Affectionate pride shed in her expression. She turned to them, eyes bright. "I must thank you again, all of you who helped her. If you had not been thereAmary would''ve fought very hard against the river, but her body has never been the best."

    It had been a very close thing, Defi agreed with her assessment. But ufortable with the gratitude, he let Farbar answer, and directed his attention to the road, urging the boar-lizard faster.

    "Little miss, what are you saying," Farbar snorted. He grabbed the edge of the seat to steady himself. "If we did nothing, would we still be people? Of this town, of Ascharon?"

    "I''ve never been this far upriver from town, do you know?" Adtra unexpectedly said, looking around, hand gripping the wagon frame. "I''ve been out of town on several asions, but have nevere here. It''s beautiful. They say you are thest farm before the river bes dangerous?"

    "There are two on the other bank that are situated further upriver than us," Farbar nodded. "But on this side of the river, just this brat''s Garge homestead and our farm."

    "There are no people. I''ve never seen a road so clean." Adtra looked suddenly lost. "They say solitude brings out the wisdom in people."

    "Hah. You believe that?"

    Defi concurred. Thinking of the entrics that were the hermits of this town, ''wisdom'' was not the first word that came to mind.

    "I think it''s true, elder, because I know people who live grandly in town who wouldn''t have the sentiments you do."

    Defi and Farbar exchanged nces. The old man chose to be direct.

    "Little miss, are you in trouble?"

    The lost look disappeared, reced by a wry smile. "Did I worry you two? I''m sorry, I was just thinking about unrted things. Nothing big, just the average trouble that will resolve itself."

    "Well, if you say so, little miss.

    From one point of view, trouble always resolved itself, Defi mused. It''s just that the way it resolved itself was

    "Oh, hey." He tugged on the reins to stop the wagon, making it jolt and shudder. He jumped out nimbly. "One moment, this won''t take long."

    He stepped toward the bushes that barely covered therge baskets of eel and salmon. Adtra helped by pulling the baskets into the wagon while he heaved them up from below.

    Lashing them to the wagon frame done, he jogged around to climb back up the wagon bench only to find that Adtra had taken his ce as the driver.

    She looked at him, expression serious. "Life is so fleeting, we have to take every opportunity."

    Defi stopped briefly in his mber up to the bench, tough. "Was my driving that lousy?"

    "Lousy?" Farbar muttered from the other end of the bench. "You overestimate your driving. ''Lousy'' would be apliment."

    "It was a little fast." Adtra put a little more diplomacy in her words.

    Defi sighed and sat down obediently. It appeared that mastering driving a boar-lizard wagon would take another day.

    The sun was lightening up the east, and it looked like the blue skies would persist until afternoon. Defi leaned back to rx and enjoy the wagon ride.

    He felt eyes on the side of his face.

    "What is it?"

    "You left your baskets on the roadside?"

    From the far side of the one who asked the question, Defi heard the old manugh.

 Chapter 120: The Guild Officers Romance

    Chapter 120: The Guild Officer''s Romance

    Being the fisher''s guild, Defi expected the ce to be bustling at dawn.

    Contrary to his thoughts, the building was fairly serene in the morning. Therge south-facing doors were open, the morning sun filtering into the entrance hall through the half-open shutters of the narrow eastern windows.

    "Oh!" A familiar voice sounded. "It''s you? You''re really here!"

    Defi smiled his greeting at the clerk from thest time. "Did you think I''d run away?"

    "Well, you did look confident." The clerk perked up. "Could it be you actually know a great apothecary?"

    "Nothing like that. Is the mestre inside then?"

    "He is." The clerk waved him in, with a pale face. "I think his mood is fouler than before. Someone came in with him, too."

    "Who is it?"

    "I didn''t recognize him. The others didn''t either."

    Defi nced at the older boy, who was walking beside him despite his worlds. "You''re stilling?"

    It should be clear. If Defi didn''t manage to rise to his boasts yesterday, the wrath of guild officer Erel may fall on the closest in the vicinity no matter how uninvolved.

    The clerk swallowed audibly. "Gotta see it through, right?"

    Defi looked at him.

    The otherughed weakly, knowing that Defi didn''t believe him. "We drew lots."

    Obviously the clerk drew the losing lot. Guests to the offices must be apanied at all times by a guild escort.

    "What''s your name?"

    "Lombrud. And you''re Defi, who Leraine gave the Garge homestead to."

    "You know her?" Defi didn''t dispute the use of the word ''gave''. Land quality aside, saying he''d gotten the ce cheaply was almost an exaggeration.

    "Uh, no. One of my cousins married one of her side, that kind of thing."

    Defi wondered how Kern and his pursuing wife were doing. "Has your cousin heard from her since?"

    "No? Not since the letters from Carmedel months ago." The clerk stopped at the same office from yesterday. "We''re here. II''ll wait here, if you or sir need anything."

    He tapped lightly on the door-panel and then took tworge steps away.

    The door opened and an older clerk stuck his head out, his face slightly anxious.

    "You are mestre Defi?" The clerk nced at Lombrud who was now trying his very best not to get noticed.

    "I am. Good morn."

    His gaze turned back to Defi, and he smiled weakly. Before he could return greetings, a voice called from behind him.

    "Is that him? Bring him in."

    Lombrud sent him an encouraging nod.

    Defi paused. Friend, are you telling me to fight while not getting off your horse?

    He decided to take it positively, and entered the office.

    The clerk immediately left him to go to the side and continue working. He looked like he thought Defi hade here to fail.

    Defi had tested the savras balm on himself. The self-inflicted scratch was now healed, only looking slightly different from the skin around it. The uninjured skin he had tried the mixture on was supple and healthy, the slight chapping from the cold gone.

    There was no reason to be nervous.

    The product worked.

    Erel stood before a north-facing window, conversing with a man seated on one of the guest chairs. He looked more put-together than thest time, but the dark circles under his eyes took away from the image of self-possession.

    He got to the point as soon as he saw Defi. "You said you could cure these sores on my face."

    Defi, following his example, took out the pot of savras balm from his satchel. "I did say so. This is made mainly from savras extract. It will keep for a month but no more."

    "A month? For savras?" The man who had not yet been introduced sniffed disbelievingly. "What a thing to say."

    "This is Brellor Anken, a friend. Brellor, this is Defi."

    "Even if sir is not an apothecary, he is well aware that there are many methods to increase the shelf-life of savras." Defi gestured to the engravings on the ceramic pot. "The preservation Emblem on the pot is poor, and can only hold the contents for a month."

    "A glyph-maker as well? Erel, you did not say how truly talented the young people in your town are."

    The man was not of the Lowpool? Defi felt some wariness.

    Everytime he met someone from out of the Lowpool with a sur, trouble followed.

    "My glyphmaking can only barely reach the second level, mestre, as the shopkeeper Jast could attest." He demurred, not showing his suddenly increased caution. "But I especially studied preservation Emblems, and am slightly more confident to ce them on disy."

    Erel looked at the inscribed design on the pot, but didn''tment.

    Technically, pure savras balm would keep as long as the other slime extracts. It was only that, just this morning, Defi suddenly remembered the surprise that Sarel and Kant expressed on seeing the clear colorless liquid that was the vinegar and savras extract.

    He''d quickly started testing on the trace-table whatever he had in the kitchen for additives that would color the savras balm, differentiate it from the products that Bluzand would be selling in the spring.

    What made the savras balm more likely to deteriorate was the butter that Defi used to thicken the mixture and spread the tinge of carrot juice through the balm.

    The mixture in the pot Defi presented to the guild officer was a dull cloudy yellow color.

    There was a slight translucence, but not so that people would suspect that it could hold a crystal rity simr to spring water. It also thickened to be the consistency of a slightly-thin porridge, if that porridge were smooth and without lumps.

    "Let''s see if your talents in vige herbology hold up." Brellor Anken sighed and moved to open his bag.

    Defi''s lips twitched. Vige herbology? Savras was a mystic nt that grew only near a blessednd. Even if it was the non-graded weakest mystic ingredient, how many countless people would like to grow it and couldn''t?

    The man took out a trace-table from his bag.

    It wasrger and more borate than the one Defi acquired. Was this the trace-table afforded to guild apothecaries?

    Deftly, the pot of balm was unsealed and a scoop of the contents smeared onto the analysis te. The trace-table immediately started radiating the familiar faint light.

    "Are you so certain this concoction of yours would work? You''ve seen ailments like mine?"

    "I have." Defi hade across several simr incidents in the learning halls.

    One, a girl had an adverse reaction to an imported fruit. Two, an instructor had eaten too much rich food for too many years without training. Three, two boys from the same n struggled too inefficiently in their studies, not knowing moderation due to familial pressure.

    Erel''s problem seemed to be simr to the second example, judging from body type alone, but then the third example should also fit the facts. Perhaps it started with the unhealthy physique and then the situation waspounded by a stressful situation.

    "I see. You are from the south, yes? They say problems like mine are moremon there."

    Defi couldn''tment. He wasn''t from the south after all. "I have seen in several Journals that alleviating such facial sores would be simple with a mystic dish. Why look for an apothecary?"

    "I have tried. You think I have not? But there are matters cannot wait."

    Defi was not someone who would introduce a stranger to a hermit, so he kept silent on that front.

    "Your face is marred but not hideous." Defi told the guild officer instead. "For such matters to depend on your face rather than your character, which I have heard to be upright and unpretentious, perhaps these matters are wanting second thoughts as to their consideration?"

    Erel sighed, a long and lonely sound. "Lofty thoughts, but in this matter, I wish to also present myself as best I could."

    "A woman, then?"

    The other blinked. "Is it very obvious?"

    Defi gave him a faint smile. Did the man not know the talk circting with great anxiousness outside the doors of his office, with the clerks tiptoeing about his moodiness?

    He felt a bit sorry for the man. Everyone was apparently waiting for him to fail his wooing again and go back to being his normal stern self.

    "I am to marry her."

    Such a final sentence. Defi saw the light of resolve in his eyes.

    Well. A man must have at least that much conviction.

    Then he continued, in a mutter that Defi was certain was not meant for him.

    "For mother''s sake, I have to."

    Defi was surprised the half-hearted deduction he made when he saw the guild officer''s carefully repaired coat yesterday was in fact so close to the truth.

    Seeing the difference in the quality of the stitches, he thought that an ailing rtive whose sickness had taken a turn for the worse, whosest wish was to see her son/brother married, was now driving said son/brother to desperate straits to find a marriage partner.

    "Would you marry, just like that?" Defi asked suddenly.

    "I beg pardon." Erel frowned at him.

    "I have only known the songs of love and have never sung them myself. But would you be satisfied, with such a reason for marriage? Would she, who is courted with such a reason?"

    Erel stared at him.

    Defi reddened, knowing he had crossed propriety and said too much.

    But then Erelughed, genuine and hearty. He teased, suddenly. "Shall I speak of my romance, that the young may know it?"

 Chapter 121: Successful Exchange

    Chapter 121: Sessful Exchange

    Defi only wanted to know how much of his idle thoughts had been right. He didn''t ask because he was ignorant in matters of love.

    "I know enough of romance as one would reasonably expect one my age to know," he retorted. "And I find myself with no wish to cultivate so permanent a shackle."

    "Are you a man or a boy?" Brellor Anken lifted his head from his work, smirking. "Yet so innocent, to think dalliance would lead to marriage. Should I rmend a few ces in the city to encourage your education?"

    "No." Defi didn''t want to engage with such a conversation. "Are you satisfied with the balm then, mestre?"

    "Surprisingly." Brellor looked curious. "You have made this yourself?"

    "So far from the city, there is need for some skill with minor medications." Defi shrugged the feat off.

    "It is usable then?" Erel took the rest of the small pot, examining the yellow balm inside.

    "There is no danger." Brellor agreed. "Go on and see if it works then."

    Erel turned to the clerk that was busy at his desk. "Meran. Fresh water and washcloths."

    The clerk stood and left immediately.

    "It''s fine to apply directly to the affected skin." Defi stated helpfully. "It may take multiple applications to fully heal."

    Erel frowned dubiously.

    He poured out some of the balm into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and without ceremony thered the mixture over his face.

    Defi looked away politely.

    Brellor snorted. "So many years we have been friends, and you still haven''t got a shred of delicacy. I really wonder about this woman of yours, that she would have such taste."

    Oh? It seemed that the guild officer''s efforts were part of a mutual courtship. The tone of the words told Defi that the two men had been friends for many years.

    "Don''t wonder. You only need to stand and smile at the ceremonies anyway."

    Defi felt likeughing. This stern guild officer, unexpectedly he''s the kind of man to have already nned the wedding while still in courtship.

    The man''s friend thought simrly. "Chelua. Have you even convinced her family yet?"

    "Why do you think I consulted you for my face?" Erel questioned with acerbic exasperation.

    "What would I know? You might have be vain atst."

    Erel twitched. Then he smiled slightly, the savras gloop on his face making the expression possibly more terrifying than the man expected it to be.

    "To think, all your proud apothecary aplishments, beaten bywhat did you call it, ''vige herbology''? Is this all that is expected of a capital guild, I wonder."

    "Beaten?" Brellor scoffed. "We have not seen the results yet."

    "No? I feel that this concoction is very soothing." He patted more of the mixture into his face calmly. "What is the name again?"

    Defi, who had been discreetly resting his eyes, content with not being part of the conversation, was suddenly the recipient of sharp gazes from the two others in the room.

    He lifted his head calmly. "It''s called savras balm, mestre."

    The clerk Meran entered with a jug of water. Lombrud, who had been waiting outside, followed him in awkwardly, with a mass of white cloth in his arms.

    Meran pulled out a section of the wall and poured water into the basin of the hidden wash stand. The water was slightly steaming.

    Erel made a sound of approval, and directly went to the wash stand.

    Defi reminded himself that Ascharonians were more open than Ontreans, and that merchants were eminently practical people who did not waste time if they couldn''t help it.

    If seen in that manner, what was impropriety? For people to live as they would, freely as they did no harm, this was the grace of the Creator.

    He still averted his eyes, having no wish to witness a man''s ablutions.

    "Brellor."

    The named man stood, walked leisurely to his friend.

    Erel turned to face him. "How does it look?"

    "Better than I thought." Brellor lifted an eyebrow, hiding his shock. "The swelling is abating, and the sores are less red than before. How surprising."

    "Are you sure?"

    "You doubt the word of me, who has conquered many a facial problem since that breakout of e at fourteen?"

    "It is a pity that the underlying problem could not so readily be solved." Erelmented.

    Defi snickered inwardly. He really had not expected the man to have so wide a streak of humor.

    "If you leave the next application on your face longer, you may see more changes." Defi stood from his chair, tamping down his amusement and uttering politely. There was business to be done. "Mestre, do you take this as me having kept my end of the bargain?"

    Erel looked at him critically.

    The sores and skin lesions on his face looked less like raging volcanoes.

    "Do you n on joining the guild? You are not in their ranks, I believe."

    "I believe I am too old to apprentice, and my education in the field has been haphazard and private." He''d basically just read whatever material Orain could scrounge up for him in the library

    "What is it you do?" wondered Brellor.

    "Mestre, I am a farmer."

    *

    Erel signed the supply contract with Defi, muttering, "All this fuss for just one sable crab every two months?"

    Defi smiled brightly at him. "Mestre, such delicious viand, surely a good deal of trouble would be worth just one? What would a thing be worth, if it were acquired too easily?"

    The guild officer''s lips ttened. "Impudent brat."

    There was no heat or malice in his words, so Defi continued smiling.

    Praising another''s food was always a great way to get on an Ascharonian''s good side. Cheering on the pursuit of theirdy-loves was a gamble but Erel seemed to look on Defi with a bit more favour after, so that may be a small sess.

    Likely, he could easily renew the contract in the future.

    "You actually did it." Lombrud looked at him in disbelief, as he escorted Defi out of the guild building. "The luck of the Harmonium must be with you."

    "Luck has ever been kind to me," Defi agreed, though his lips twisted adversely at the words.

    "Sir looked like he rxed a little as well." Lombrud looked at him, suddenly solemn. "On behalf of all the clerks in the guildhouse, I must thank you, Defi of the Lowpool."

    "I cannot ept such an honor, Lombrud of the same," Defi said just as solemnly. "I have only negotiated a reprieve. The great battle is yet toe."

    They stifled theirughter at the same time.

    "I''ll see you at the feast, then?"

    Defi nodded. It was the first major town festival since his arrival. Not attending would be a pity. He made his goodbyes to the clerk and left the guild, the signed contract in his satchel lifting his spirits.

    Hm. Farbar would''ve taken the wagon to the orphanage to keep it out of the way, if he wanted to stay in town for the morning. Because of Dari and Bree''s friendship, the orphanage and the northern farm had been growing closer.

    He turned his steps toward the orphanage.

    "Young Defi!"

    He stopped and looked back. Brellor Anken caught up to him.

    "Mestre," Defi greeted. "Was there something I forgot at the guild?"

    "Not at all. I will be frank." The man''s eyes were sharply determined. "I''d like to buy the recipe."

    Defi blinked. Oh, he should''ve expected this.

    In his research, the apothecaries had few medicative products, even fewer that were not ingested.

    The mystic chefs had cornered the medical market after all.

    Too bad, he wasn''t selling. The recipe was something he wanted to develop himself. As it was, the savras balm he''d given to Erel was notplete.

    Defi didn''t want to deplete his butter stores in such a manner.

    He shook his head. "I only made it. The recipe, it will not be sold by me."

    If the coboration between Telomberne and Bluzand went as Vesia hoped, then only the sales rights to the recipe would be sold. Creator''s rights would still be his.

    "Not yours then?" Brellor looked as if he only expected it, losing interest in Defi easily. "So who is this apothecary friend of yours?"

    Defi shrugged.

    Brellor looked irritated. Then he smiled, almost provoking. "Tell your friend; Brellor Anken of Carmedel''s apothecary guild wishes to meet him."

    "You might have to wait a long while."

    The man only smirked at him and left, leaving behind the words, "Don''t you think it worth so long a wait?"

    Defi watched him go. The man did not look like the type to give up.

    Unfortunately for Brellor Anken of the Carmedel apothecary guild, Defi had no need of another channel for the products he wanted to sell.

    Defi''s luck today swung high and low.

    He got his crab. But then met an apothecary from the capital, who was presumably used to people falling over him and his connections, who now knew that one Defi of the Lowpool, a poor farmer, a vige herbologist, had a connection to a rare medical product.

    If the apothecaries'' guild decided to pursue the creator of savras balm seriously, Defi would be vulnerable. Ymirin was still in the capital, ording to thetest circry.

    The coboration with Telomberne suddenly sounded of utmost importance.

    If Telomberne and Bluzand could bring the ''savras balm'' to the market as soon as possible, Brellor and his guild would be less interested in buying the recipe from Defi or his non-existent apothecary friend.

    If only he could just say that his ''mysterious apothecary friend'' was three slimes and a butter churn.

    He sighed.

    Even that probably wouldn''t let him off the hook.

 Chapter 122: Scyllarelis

    Chapter 122: Scyrelis

    The encounter with Brellor Anken dampened Defi''s spirits.

    It was still early, the orphanage kids would be readying for school; he decided not to inflict on them his pensive mood and turned toward the market instead.

    The dawn market was livelier by far than in the summer. The warehouses, the northern and southern marketces, and the town square, all were allocated to smoking and preserving part of the massive autumn catch for themunity.

    In a town where there were more fishers than farmers, it was a bigmotion every day.

    Each year, the town hall buys part of the autumn catch to do this, storing the preserved seafood in the warehouses. What do they do with it?

    One, to feed the people during the three-day autumn feast.

    Two, to send preserved food to all the soldiers who are from the Lowpool.

    Three, to keep as town stores for the snowy winter months. In the middle of winter, the town opens the warehouses to sell the preserved seafood at very reduced prices.

    Four, to feed people during the week-long midwinter feast, the Sunsbirth Candle Festival.

    Ascharon''s Candle Festival urs traditionally during thest three days of the old year and the first three days of the new year, more than two months after the autumn feast, and right before people start readying for the nting season.

    In this way, the festival revitalized the poption at the beginning of the year. During a harsh winter, some families might only make it through because of the Candle Festival.

    Defi knew that in many ces north of Ontrea, snow fell at the end of the year. Still, he could not imagine a winter of snow so difficult that people starved.

    It rarely snowed in Ontrea.

    In his lifetime, the only time enough snow fell to nket thendscape was when he was three years old and it was an urrence talked about even fifteen yearster.

    In thest few weeks or so, seeing the tumult and carefulness of the preparations for the autumn feast, Defi always felt he should be doing more than he already did to ready the Garge homestead. Even if the others reassured him that he''d made more than enough preparations, how could he look at the entire town so industriously and frantically working like ants or bees and not be stirred?

    Once more, he told himself to trust in the experience of those who''d already lived through many Lowpool winters.

    Still, what a wondrous humbling sight, everyone helping in one way or the other,ughing and calling to friends.

    One would almost be ashamed if they were only walking leisurely through the market.

    He put a hand out to steady a toppling tower of baskets, then lifted them himself. The small girl and her grandmother hauling the baskets protested, but Defi insisted until the grandmother could onlyugh and direct him to where they were supposed to go.

    "Oh?"

    Leaving the warehouse that needed the pile of baskets, Defi caught sight of a flower stall.

    Or rather, a particr tree in a pot that was part of the flower stall disy.

    It couldn''t be.

    He all but rushed to the stall and stared.

    Three-lobed palm-sized silver-green leaves, red and yellow flower balls, vividly red and orange fruit clusters.

    He was not mistaken.

    It was a young papyrif tree.

    Defi had only ever been to the family papyrif ntation once, but all the distinctive points of the tree were the same.

    "Young mestre, this is ourst trident shrub. Very popr in the cities for indoor decoration. My husband and I don''t often get trident shrubs, so this is likely thest one in town until next spring."

    "Tridentshrub?"

    Defi thought that the Acharonian word ''shrub'' meant a nt with woody trunk that is smaller than a tree. Papyrif trees could reach ten times the height of a man; it was not ''small'' at all!

    The motherly-looking stall-keeper''s eyes smiled. "You do not know it? Then young mestre has good eyes. The trident shrub is one of the most beautiful ornamental nts in Ascharon."

    Defi didn''t know what to say, and only looked at her speechlessly.

    Ornamental?

    The papyrif tree was one of the most productive trees in Ontrea.

    For thousands of years, the bark of the papyrif tree has been the traditional ingredient in the making of Ontrean paper. The bitter fruit could be used to make pale yellow or pale red dyes.

    Not to mention the distinctive three-lobed pattern of the leaves, which admittedly looked like that trident he saw at the cksmith shop, was one of the official symbols of the Ontrean king''s family.

    How could it be ornamental?

    The stall-keeper must have seen something in his face. Her smile retreated a bit, and she waved at a nt hidden behind therger flowerpots.

    "Perhaps the young mestre would like this snakebraid nt instead? It has travelled by caravan all the way from the east. Also very rare. It will add a distinctive ir if you ce it in a reception hall."

    Defi nced at the snakebraid and nearly flinched back. How could a nt look so realistic? He had seen nests of baby vipers that were less menacing.

    "No, no." He coughed. "This trident shrub, you say it can live indoors?"

    "Of course! It only grows to about three or four mar in height, and is easily trimmed. Most rooms can amodate it."

    Four or five mar?

    Defi brushed his fingers against the leaves, feeling the slight hairiness of the leaf underside. Even that was the same.

    It could be that it was a pygmy species of papyrif. A native analogue of Ontrea''s tree.

    Or it could be a transport that came through the Gate, like he did. Didn''t he hypothesize that the effect of Ascharonian soil on Ontrean nts would be unpredictable?

    "I''ll take it."

    The stall-keeper beamed. "Of course. Just three uds, young meslook out!"

    The sound of breaking pottery, a wash of hot liquid soup over half the nts in the stall disy.

    The stall-keeper cried out in dismay, then stomped over with a fierce face very different to what she showed the customers, prepared to berate the young man who was looking in horror at therge broken jar and the spilled fish soup that was to be for the workers.

    Before she could say anything, someone screamed. It was right beside Defi, high with a freezing terror.

    He whirled, eyes sharp, knife already in hand.

    "What in Chelua is that?!"

    "Get the child away!"

    The shock from the surrounding people spread quickly.

    Defi saw the snakebraid nt twining around the arm of a young boy, who looked fascinated despite the horror in the faces around him.

    He huffed. Snakebraid. Of course it was evil.

    Defi, with the Current already rising to answer his need, lunged.

    He was not the only one who did so. But he was the fastest, severing the persistently reaching tendrils as another man pulled the boy away.

    Blood sttered on the market cobbles, and Defi saw that the exotically patterned tendrils of the ''ornamental nt'' were in fact actual snakes.

    The hot soup from the jar must have wakened them from slumber or hibernation.

    "Scyrelis! It''s a scyrelis!"

    Defi heard them, but the name meant nothing to him. A mystic beast maybe?

    He sought to err on the side of caution, and readied forbat.

    The Current swirled with purpose, into the Fifth Circle, and Defi evaded the dozen or so snake-tendrils that shot out toward him.

    It was one beast, he realized. The snake-vines curling and springing from its center were its numerous heads.

    He dodged one of the snake-beast head''s swift lunges, twitched at seeing needle-sharp teeth in a mouth wider than should be possible.

    How was it possible that someone mistook this malevolent atrocity of a creature for a <em>nt</em>?

 Chapter 123: Another Near Death Experience

    Chapter 123: Another Near Death Experience

    The soil of the flowerpot spilled as the body of the creature dug itself out, uncurling coil by coil from the loose earth packed around it.

    The body was long and slender, its back studded with ridged armor like the illustrations of crocodiles Defi saw in one of the local books. Six wed feet clicked on the cobbles as it slithered out of the pot it had been slumbering in.

    It was one mar long from shoulder to tail tip, with the snakeheads at least another half-mar in length.

    Defi skipped back to avoid the rather vicious heads, now hissing in fury at having lost one of their number to Defi''s knife.

    "Chel, it really is a scyrelis."

    Defi nced back at the familiar voice. Cuthes, the town adjutant who headed the local guards, stared at the creature in consternation.

    Half the heads hissed at the adjutant, undting in his direction.

    "Enclose it!" Cuthes didn''t falter, only called to the gathering guards. "Don''t injure it more or it''ll breathe out its poison!"

    "Oh," Defi sheathed his knife and moved to help Cuthes carry one of the flower stand''s heavy potted nts to block the path of the creature. "It''s poisonous. Of course it is."

    "Only when agitated," Cuthes exhaled as he lifted the corner of a nter pot. "Some people keep them as pets, you know. Great rat-catchers."

    "I see, yes, of course that makes everything all right."

    Cuthes just chuckled at the sarcastic mutter. Defi looked around. In the few moments since Cuthes spoke, a haphazard barricade formed with the help of the townspeople.

    The beast, the scyrelis, knew it was being penned. Its eleven remaining heads waved and jerked around anxiously. It deliberately nudged at the edges of the barricade with its body, as if testing the enclosure.

    "What''s to be done?" In Ontrea, hunters menaced by snakes in the wild would cut down a forked branch and pin down the head to render the snake unable to use its fangs. That method wouldn''t work in this instance, where the creature had multiple heads.

    Cuthes hummed, waved a guard over. "Go and see if the apothecaries have any serpentsleep fern. Bringeh, about half a kilogar, it''s not full-grown yet."

    Someone nearby clucked her tongue. "Better make it a full kilogar, it''s wet weather in the east. The beast''s likely incubating right now."

    Oh. There was going to be more of the thing.

    "Is the poison strong?" Defi estimated that with a sharp sword and sufficient strength, it would be possible to lop off all the heads at once. They were not so thick, nor did the long snake-tendrils looked as armored as the creature''s body.

    He nced at the speaker.

    Emra, who he had not seen since the Groaning Cliff, grinned at him wildly. "Kid, you breathe in those fumes, you better be ready to bring out your head''s weight in gold or resign yourself to a good long chat with the Bridgemaker."

    Friend, saying that, why do you sound like you want to bring it home? Defimented the woman''s doubtful taste in possible pets.

    Cuthes looked exasperated. "You and Lemat better keep your hands off"

    "Adjutant!"

    "It''s moving!"

    The scyrelis had slither-scrambled up the stepped shelves that held flowers, gained enough height to fling itself onto the lower bushes off the barricade in order to escape. Twigs crackled sharply as they broke, but ultimately held the weight of the animal.

    The problem was, Defi and Cuthes being the only ones to make their part of the enclosure from the flower stall''s bushes, the angrily hissing creature was headed right at them.

    Warning shouts and gasps sounded behind Defi.

    He ignored the piercing sounds of the screamers, put some distance between himself and the other two. His knife de shed and another snake-head fell to wriggle bloodily on the ground.

    "Get back! Get back, further back by Chel!"

    He heard Cuthes roaring but his attention was on the animal now whirling sinuously toward him. He started quickly backward, unwilling to lose eyes on the enemy.

    The hisses from ten remaining heads, entwining together, now sounded more like furious shrieking.

    Idly, Defi thought the sound of the screeching of revengeful witches on Tharak Mountain in the Ontrean tales would be something simr, a promise of violence and malice thinned by the high winds and carried to the ears of fearful children on the distant ins.

    The heads reached out as one, a faint green-colored smoke around the snakes'' menacing mouths.

    Sparks of Shades in the periphery of his sight. Too far.

    Defi wished for arger de, but only had the knife.

    It would have to do.

    He bid the Current rise like a wave inside him, and readied.

    Must be fast, to cut off the fumes, to prevent its spread.

    Another shriek. Ten pairs of eyes unwaveringly fixed on his neck.

    He exhaled. Conceited beast.

    Come then, creature.

    Defi skipped back again, inhaling carefully.

    Unexpectedly, the movement ended before it was supposed to.

    His heel caught something, crunched loudly, broken by the force of his foot. Defi stumbled, fell backward over shards of shattered jar, knife skittering away.

    His eyes widened, body falling, the thing''s ws on his boots. Not dead here, surely?

    "Inizar!"

    "Defi!"

    The heads of the creature stretched, hunter''s eyes not wanting to let go of his now vulnerable neck. Fast. Too fast.

    No.

    Animistic single-minded focus of fury and revenge, gave him a chance.

    "Inizar!" A rope of water twined around the snake-beast''s body. Emra, he recognized the voice in the back of his mind.

    Greater chance.

    Defi twisted away, tucking his body in and under.

    Something ripped the feel of ws from his boots. Defi thudded on the ground, rolled to a crouch.

    A dull crash of wood, breaking tes, a meaty crunch. Livid hisses cut short.

    "Move back!"

    "Inizar!"

    Defi''s body bent forward to attack, instinct still set on life and death.

    Toote.

    Hands opened and closed at his sides, frustration, loss of prey, battle still pumping in his blood.

    He stood, inhaled and exhaled deeply, eyes half-closed to hide the sharpness.

    He let the Current subside, take away the anger and fear and exultation of another near-death.

    They were removing a traveling trunk from atop the remains of the beast. Fire Shade was red, quickly incinerating the poison from the inside.

    Less than ten pairs of eyes, dull in death, still remained from the vicious thing. The rest were crushed by the trunk or damaged by the rescuing glyph-users.

    It was over.

    "Defi?"

    "Haral." He''d seen the other of course, the sight processed and filed away like all the data from his senses. "Are you alright?"

    Haral was a little pale. He looked at Defi in disbelief. "Am <em>I</em> alright?"

    "You look very well," Defi deadpanned.

    "That''s not what I meant!"

    Defi hid his amusement by checking the contents of the satchel still firmly belted to his side. To his relief, nothing happened. "Then, is your trunk alright?"

    The traveling chest the boy had been carrying was now being scraped clean of scyrelis remains.

    Haral paled further, grimaced in horror at the bloodstains evident on the wood. "Oh no, she''s going to kill me."

    Defi almostughed. "Which one of your sisters owns it? Please tell her that it saved my life, and I am very grateful."

    The other looked relieved, then indignant. "It saved your life? How about me, huh? Am I a stone?"

    "Yes, yes." Defi looked around for his knife, then back to see the crossed arms and pouting face of hispanion. "Thank you, Haral, oh savior of my life, may you be blessed with fortune forever. I''ll treat you to a meal at the Corner Tavern. Your sisters too, if you want."

    Haral beamed.

    "Now have you seen my knife?"

    "It''s a good knife." Emra said from behind him.

    Defi tried not to twitch, turned to see her rolling the de through her fingers. "Thanks for thewater-chain?"

    "Whoo, now I''m tempted to say finders'' keepers."

    "That only applies if I abandoned the de on the field of battle." Defi protested immediately. It really was a good knife.

    She hummed, de still flicking between her fingers. "You did throw it away."

    "By ident!"

    Sheughed. "Oh, even you can get sulky if your toys are taken, huh?"

    She returned the knife to the sheath on Defi''s belt.

    "What does that mean?" He definitely wasn''t sulky. And the knife was a very useful everyday utility item, not a toy.

    Haral snorted, but only grinned when Defi nced at him.

    "Seems I came back at an interesting time. Maybe I should join the town guard this year." Emra eyed the guards incinerating the scyrelis, while others kept the gossiping and still pale onlookers away. "Pity they''re burning it. Would fetch a good price in any apothecary guild whole. Oh well. I suppose they''ll save the bones."

    "Iwasn''t someone saying it spat poison?" Haral looked over as well. "What is it, anyway?"

    "It''s moremon past the southeast border mountains, where it''s hotter and more watery. Not native to Ascharon." Emra offered easily. "Scyrelis, twelve headed snake-lizard, rank three mystic beast. Don''t actually know what it''s doing here."

    "Considering the flower-seller tried to say it was an ornamental nt"

    Emra snickered, thenughed. She stopped herself quickly, but still had a big grin on her face. "Yeah, not funny. There are stories where it''s been sold as snakebraid before."

    Defi was certain that, unlike this one, those stories had no happy endings.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    A human head weighs about 5 kg apparently.

    The word ''Inizar'', is the standard safety activation word for card-based Emblems in Ascharon.

    *

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 124: Five-Greens Antidote

    Chapter 124: Five-Greens Antidote

    Cuthes appeared at their shoulders, dazed flower-seller in tow, interrupting the conversation. "Tell me everything that happened, if you would?"

    Defi nced at the others, then realized that after the flower-seller, he was the only one here who was at the beginning of the incident. From the look of the flower-seller, she''d already been questioned. Creator, he didn''t wake up this morning expecting to be interrogated. He was just buying a nt. It wasn''t even him who killed it.

    Still, he obediently recounted the encounter.

    "You''re from the southern mountains, aren''t you? You must have some thoughts on this."

    Ahaha. That story was surely getting traction; he should study more about the southern mountains. Defi put on his most nonchnt air. "Only that the beast being in that flower pot was no ident."

    Considering how carefully the scyrelis was arranged to look like a nt, Defi could understand the adjutant''s fiercely furrowed brows.

    Such a dangerous mystic beast, how could it be an ident?

    Ascharon had strict regtions on the sale and husbandry of mystic beasts above rank two because of the peril involved. There was a recounting in the history book of a farmer who raised the rank-four mystic beast silk-maned boar and inadvertently angered the herd which then rampaged and destroyed the vige, killing and injuring many including the farmer.

    After taking in Emra and Haral''s stories, Cuthes'' face darkened.

    "We''ll have to send this case to Alberhand," Cuthes grumped as if the very idea repulsed him. "Good luck if we ever hear the results theye up with."

    Alberhand was the mercenarypany hired by the provincial government to rece the Gamber des. Defi didn''t have a clear understanding of them yet, his only sources being the town gossips and Ecthys circries.

    They did appear to do their work conscientiously but because of the lingering wariness after the incident with the des, they kept to themselves.

    Cuthes ended the questioning and patted the flower-seller on the shoulder, his face sympathetic as he told her the guards could help clean up her stall. The flower seller sighed gustily, despondent and trembling from the morning''s events.

    "At least no one was hurt," she murmured to herself. She turned to them. "I''m sorry."

    "It was no fault of yours."

    "It was. I have seen snakebraid before. I''m very sorry." She eyed the toppled flowerpots, sighed again.

    Defi lifted his arm, discreetly eyeing the slight tear in his coat-sleeve when needle-like teeth broke through even the protections. Rank three mystic beast, wasn''t it?

    "Here."

    Defi casually lowered his arm, to smile at the woman about to stuff the small papyrif tree into his hands. "You don''t have to."

    The flower-seller shook her head. "These flowers won''t sell now."

    Defi nodded. It was a small town. The talk would make people wary for weeks. "You could donate them to the festival."

    She blinked, then smiled at him, looking a little brighter. "I could."

    She stuffed a shrub into Haral''s hands, calling it sky''s reach and it only needed to be watered once a week, and a furiously flowering pot into Emra''s, calling them blood violets.

    Defi''s lips twitched at their bewildered faces as the flower-seller left to put her stall to rights.

    Emra didn''t appear to be a flower person. But good intuition by offering her something with ''blood'' in the name.

    Haral stared at the pot that contained what looked like a mass of sticks. "I''m really not a nt person."

    "You have many sisters."

    Emra hummed at those words, thoughtful. Defi assumed she was going to force her flowerpot into Haral''s hands but she simply stalked away, cradling it in the crook of an arm, almost carefully.

    Haral stared. "I guess it''s true that girls are conquered by flowers?" He pulled the life-saving trunk to rest beside another wooden travel-case.

    Defi walked away.

    "You! You''re not going to help?!"

    He would, but the arm that the twelve-headed abomination scratched with a fang started to numb even with the Current containing the venom. He ignored the indignant yell, headed for the orphanage.

    It was midmorning already. Sarel should be there.

    The leaves of the mini-papyrif tree cradled in one arm rustled gently as he walked faster than usual.

    *

    It was the day of Duels. Lergen and Aire were hosting the usual get-together.

    When Defi asked why they nned their friendly bonding dinners on a day that signified conflict, Lergenughed and told him that it was because when they first met, one or the other was rendered half-dead by the end of the day.

    Since everyone didn''t borate, Defi could only imagine in vain.

    Still, the reaction when he entered the kitchen, papyrif tree still in hand, and said, "Do you have antidote for scyrelis venom?" was unexpected.

    Hames, usually calm and collected, shot up in rm. "You are injured!"

    "A scratch only."

    "A scratch? Only a scratch!? How long has it been!" Hames pried the mini-papyrif tree out of his grip and tossed it unheeding onto the counter. Sarel, already taking out ingredients from her bag, made a sound of annoyance.

    "Not more than a quarter-hour."

    Lergen, who''d stood nearly the same time as Hames, paled and caught the other man as he swayed in shock.

    Sarel moved faster, hands flying through the contents of her bag.

    Lergen gripped Hames'' shoulder. "It''s not the same," he said firmly.

    Defi looked around. "Is it so serious? I know it''s a rank-three beast, but I can contain the venom for another quarter-hour, probably. It''s a small scratch."

    The whole room paused.

    Defi twitched. He''d said something wrong, hadn''t he.

    Sarel sighed and took out a bowl to grind a handful of nuts. The sound of the nuts falling into the iron bowl was lud in the silence. When the sound stopped, she just said, "Good. Justcontain for a small while more."

    "Let me see." Hames'' already pallidplexion was more ashen than usual.

    Defi concluded he had a history with scyrelis. He nced at Lergen as he pushed his sleeve up. Lergen appeared to have a simr history as well.

    Was their encounter at the same time?

    Defi couldn''t hide the entirety of his flinch as his arm was revealed. There were dark veins all over his forearm, tinging to red as they approached his upper arm. The flesh was slightly swollen, and the skin had started to crack.

    "Alright," Lergen sounded relieved. "It''s not so serious yet."

    Not serious? Defi half-heartedly retorted in his head, forcibly trying not to acknowledge that he was shaken. I''d like to see what ''serious'' means to you.

    He could feel the truth in the others'' words however. He breathed calm into himself, thinking, if this was caused by the idental scratch of a single fang, what horrors would a full bite cause?

    Truly, snakes were the worst.

    Ontrea was a warm nation, conducive for the thriving of cold-blooded creatures. They were so prevalent that it was not unusual for even a royal to sumb to snakebite, and very difficult to prove whether such an event was the doing of nature or man.

    He let the Current trickle a bit more into his arm.

    "Finish your business with the fishers'' guild?" Sarel asked as she worked, voice unhurried and calm.

    "Yes," Defitched onto the distraction as Hames gently prodded his arm. "It was surprisingly straightforward."

    He just needed a small gift to send to Toyne and Mery after this.

    The usually taciturn man examining his arm frowned. "Should we bleed him?"

    What.

    "Later."

    What!

    Sarel poured liquid into her grinding bowl. It had the distinctive gleam of vital water. She whisked vigorously. "Pour this over his arm. We''ll try and get it out through the pores first."

    "I''d like there to be no more bleeding, thank you," Defi cut in.

    Lergen retorted. "Then stop encountering dangerous mystic beasts."

    "Tell the people in the townhall kitchen to make hotter soup then," he fired back. "If the thing was properly boiled in its flowerpot, it wouldn''t have attacked now would it?"

    Aire huffed. "That sounds interesting, but why didn''t you go to the physicker?"

    "Most of the people in town didn''t recognize the thing. For a venom not native to these parts, the physicker wouldn''t know, yes?"

    In fact, Defi had an aversion to admitting weakness to a stranger when there was arge chance he wouldn''t be helped anyway.

    "They wouldn''t have the resources to cure scyrelis venom, anyway." Hames recovered hisposure, his voice regaining a measured quality. "What happened to the animal?"

    "It''s dead."

    Lergen nodded, took a coat. "I''ll go see what happened."

    Falie came next to her husband, helping pour the concoction Sarel made over Defi''s arm.

    The syrupy green drops, as they ran over Defi''s arm, took on a ck hue as they touched his skin, pulling out darkness from his veins before they fell into the prepared bucket.

    Defi watched, surprised and interested. There were few topical medications in Ascharon. Most people who ate mystic cooking didn''t need it.

    But most people also couldn''t afford too much mystic ingredients. That was why he felt that the savras balm would be popr with people who had lower ie.

    But there was something like this too? "Can this be made easily?"

    Sarel nced at him from where she was stirring several pots, understood what he was getting at. "The ingredients are not too rare, but the application is too obscure. There won''t be much demand; more expedient to create as needed."

    Oh, that''s the case.

    "How long until I can use my arms again?" The numbness was not passing, even as the darkness of the unnatural veins lightened.

    "You only need to eat the Five-Greens Soup this once. Your body will naturally detoxify in a week or so."

    A week?

    Defi grimaced. He couldn''t work without arms, and he was hurrying the zaziphos nting before first snow. He voiced a thought he''d been mulling over for thest month or so.

    "Does anyone know a friend who''d want to work at the homestead? Farming, in general. Someone who knows orchardkeeping?"

    Aire paused from where she was helping Sarel. "Ho, hiring people already? Young Defi, has your farm grown so well?"

    "I make vinegar. It sold well enough."

    "And I haven''t seen any," Aire sighed despondently. "Ah, is it too hideous to let your friends taste? Defi, don''t bully the city people, they''re fragile."

    "Do I look like a tyrant?" Creator, who''s fragile? A day in that ce and people already wanted his head.

    Falieughed. "With a body like yours, you want to be a tyrant?"

    Defi revealed a helpless expression. Yes,pared to the muscled giants in this world, he couldn''t stack up in terms of physique. "I have other skills, you know!"

    Falie grinned at him. "Oh?"

    "I have plenty of skills!"

    "I am relieved." Falie nodded, as if truly reassured. "I have a whole farm of grapes that need to be picked after all. Tyrant, I''m expecting you there after the festival."

    This

    Hames finally smiled at their antics. Aireughed outright.

    The Five-Greens Soup, when it was done, was delicious.

    As worry receded and the day proceeded happily, Falie pointed at the small papyrif that had been ignored. "So, what''s with the bush?"

 Chapter 125: Teaching Afternoon

    Chapter 125: Teaching Afternoon

    The afternoon of Duelsday was spent in correcting the forms of thirteen people learning to wield the battle-staff.

    "Breathe!" He reminded them, walking between their lined up ranks. "Do not hold it in, do not force it. Remember the guiding forms and breathe naturally with each movement."

    "Ha!" came the concerted shout from thirteen throats, finishing the routine.

    He stepped in front and smiled briefly. "Good. Rest a quarter-hour."

    There was a relieved sigh from multiple mouths. Vesen groaned, nted his battle-staff on the ground and leaned wearily against it.

    Defi smirked at the seventeen year old. "Regretting it?"

    "Very much."

    "Want to quit?"

    "I dream about it every night."

    Defiughed lightly, studied the younger man. "You don''t seem to be as enthused about the military as the others. I thought you only wanted to join because Boone is going. Yet you''re persevering so hard?"

    Vesen nodded, closing his eyes in tiredness. "I''ve been thinking about it for a while now. My sister''s smarter than me, do you know? After I could feel myself getting stronger, I thought: I want to send her to university. Ambitious, I know. But a military officer has a subsidy for education."

    Defi nced at Sedni, who was gulping down vital milk with her friends. The fourteen year old was very bright, yes. Her brother was the same. He wanted to say that in the long-term even a year of university would do more for his earning potential than ten years in the military, but he remembered the first time he met them.

    They were joining the military because there was no other path for them. Of all the people here, who could afford even the entrance exams much less the university tuition?

    So he only nodded. "You''re smart as well. But be clever also, and watchful. When you are at the bottom of the rung, those above you can only tolerate a certain amount of intelligence. When you gain an officer rank, then show more of your wit and ability but still have caution and be mindful of person and situation."

    Defi had not joined the ranks of Ontrean warriors, but as the son of the lord and holder of an apprentice position in the ranks of civil officials he had still been part of many military asions as a spectator. He had seen more than one person in the civil service and military rise and fall in two years of apprenticeship.

    The military in Ascharon was even more hierarchical than in Ontrea, more political in its movements. Its officers schemed like the bureaucracy. How could they win a war like this?

    He mentally shook his head.

    There were many aspects of Ascharon that were really beyond Defi''s understanding.

    Vesen sighed. "It''s not going to be easy even if we learn the sword, huh?" He perked up. "Speaking of swords, when are we learning that?"

    Defi huffed in amusement. "You''re still mastering the second form of staff training. Not for a while yet. We''ll be starting thest of the Guiding Forms this winter."

    He already had training halberds prepared. Training a halberd art would only be piling technique onto the battle-staff basics they already knew.

    He learned over the months that he couldn''t teach them Current training by substituting their Shades, and the Guiding Forms that used the Current were scrapped. He could only teach them the Forms for breath and serenity, to take advantage of speed and dexterity.

    After thest Form he could teach them was learned, they''d have enough foundation to learn the StormHawk Sword. Barely enough foundation for the basics, but enough just the same.

    They''d have to finish the style themselves, but that was fine. The StormHawk Sword was ever-evolving. An Ascharonian StormHawk sword art  he actually wanted to see what it looked like.

    He wondered if his students would be the one to create something like that.

    Maybe.

    He could hope. As a teacher of warriors, who wouldn''t want their students to be outstanding?

    Boone came over to toss bottles of vital milk at both of them.

    Defi considered the bottle. The students had gotten together to cadge a wholesale deal for the beverage out of Adan and Rocso. They were now paying nearly half the cost, with Defi paying the other half.

    If he hadn''t insisted that food and drink was part of teacher obligations, the older students would be working longer hours at their jobs to take on the entire cost. As it was, even the younger students now took on part-time work to pay their part.

    They were determined to earn every bit of his teaching. Defi could only teach them as best he can, unable to stop them. He approved of their determination, after all.

    He opened the bottle and gulped down the cool liquid.

    He really must teach them well.

    *

    Thest of the students who didn''t live at the orphanage left, chattering quietly. Defi ced the training staves back into the shed, before going around the house to the stables.

    Farbar was smoking a pipe serenely, watching clouds while seated on a strawbale. He turned and watched Defie toward him curiously. "You have good technique."

    "Thank you." Defi sat beside him on the bale and looked up at the sky, watching thete afternoon clouds cover thest bit of blue sky. It was going to rain again shortly. He wondered at the old man''s words for a while before remembering. "You were a hunter."

    "And a soldier before that. Auxiliary brigade volunteer, so I didn''t sign their stupid twenty-year contract. You''re training those kids for the army?"

    "Just some of them. The others have reasons of their own to knowbat."

    "With the draft, most of them will be enlisted sooner orter."

    "That''s out of my hands."

    Farbar sighed bitterly. "So it is. This is a good thing you''re doing."

    Barham was going to enlist then. Defi sighed, conflicted.

    As a scion of warriors, instinct and honor said he should fight alongside his students. But he was not joining the army. What business did he have training children for a path he would not walk?

    Even so, could he stop? The skills they learn will only keep them alive.

    Ever since he learned about this edict from Ascharon''s emperor, he''d been having second thoughts of this training. But at the same time, he could only train them harder.

    Farbar seemed to sense his disquiet, and tapped him on the shoulder. He stood and stretched. "We should be going. Your starcherries might rot at the docks."

    "There aren''t a lot bringing them anymore. People are busy with festival preparations."

    "Come help me with this big lump then." He nudged the sleeping boar-lizard with the toe of a boot. "Wake up, you!"

    Defi looked up at the darkening sky. "Do you know if Miss Adtra went back to thest farm already?"

    The boar-lizard huffed and rose to its feet, nudging Farbar back in irritation. Farbar elbowed it with a cluck of his tongue, before backing it toward the wagon.

    "We could stop by to ask," he answered.

    "You know where she lives?" Defi was surprised.

    "It''s a small town. Those siblingshm, they''ve had too little fortune thesest years. They live with rtives now."

    "Oh." Defi''s brow furrowed slightly. He didn''t know Haral''s parents were gone. "They all live with their grandfather?"

    He dimly remembered the old intense man at the dried seafood shop.

    Farbar shook his head. "That grouch Breth had a bridge made for him some months back."

    Eh, a bridge?

    "His grandchildren live with some cousin or other now."

    Ah.

    Defi took the bridgement to mean Haral''s grandfather had died.

    The world was indeed not kind.

    He entered the orphanage to get his satchel and the mini-papyrif tree that everyone called a trident bush, making his goodbyes before returning quickly to the stables.

    With Defi and Farbar working together, the wagon was harnessed in a trice. Farbar eyed him suspiciously as they settled on the wagon bench. "I''ll have the reins today."

    Defi sighed audibly.

    "You can''t drive a wagon?" Sarel caught them as they guided the wagon out, nimbly climbing to sit beside Farbar.

    "Yes I can."

    She got it immediately. "Never handled a boar-lizard before?"

    "It''s not about strength, is it?"

    She smiled a little. "They''re trained to react to a number of Shade tricks."

    "Ah." The sound was despondent.

    He knew it.

    His strength, despite his slenderness, was on par with the average Ascharonian. There was no way that overgrown scaly pig wouldn''t be able to fling an Ascharonian driver around at its own pace if it wanted to.

    "You can''t use Shade?" Now it was Farbar''s turn to be surprised.

    "Show," Sarel corrected. "Can''t show Shade."

    Farbar made a sound ofprehension. "I had friends with your problem before. Do you want to know some of their tricks?"

    "Sure."

    Sarel lifted her brow at him behind Farbar''s back. But Defi was really interested. Even if it didn''t work for him, he''d still like to listen.

    Ascharonian sorcery was fascinating.

    **

    **

    Notes:

    the Bridgemaker  this is one of the names of the god of Ascharon, the Seven-Colored God, the Harmonium, Tirralod.

    The expression of ''having a bridge made for you'' is from the legend of the Hundred Bridge Mountains in the north of Ascharon. There is a geologic formation of stones there that look like the protruding ribcages of numerous gigantic beings (it could actually be from numerous gigantic beings, in fact). The legend is also called the Bad of the Lucky Prince, who was lucky in everything but love.

 Chapter 126: Snatching a Gaggle of Orchard-keepers

    Chapter 126: Snatching a Gaggle of Orchard-keepers

    Farbar guided the boar-lizard leisurely through the town streets as he talked about Shade tricks for people who could not manifest their Shade visibly. They were partly exercises to strengthen fine control over the sorcery that Ascharon called Shade and partly sorcerous sleight of hand.

    Most of them were useless to a user of the Current, but there were one or two that could be modified to increase sensory awareness even if a person didn''t manage to gain the half-meditative state where the Current could be used.

    From Farbar''s spiel, Defi got the idea that people who could not manifest their Shade visibly were seen as having weak sorcery.

    He was grateful he didn''t have to wrack his brains to exin hisck of colourful sparkles. Telling the people at the tailoring shops that he didn''t want any specific color was vexing enough. It appeared that current fashion in the cities was to wear clothing in the colors of one''s Shade.

    The old man patted him on the back.

    "No wonder you''re so slender. Don''t let anyone say you''re weak just because you can''t manifest Shade. You''re a glyphmaker, and even if your summons are slimes, that Turq of yours took down a shell-rhino like it was nothing, hah! Those things wouldn''t be possible if your Shade was weak."

    Defi understood the old man''s earnest sincerity and was warmed. "Are you praising me, elder? I''m very ttered."

    "Praise? What are you talking about?" Farbar reddened slightly. "This is advice, advice from someone you should be listening to!"

    Defi relented. "Yes, I''m listening."

    "Hmph." Farbar looked at him with narrowed eyes before he let it go.

    Sarel smirked in her seat at nothing in particr. Defi sent her a suspicious look. She ignored him.

    "Oh there it is." Farbar slowed down the wagon.

    Defi wondered how much the town spent on its streets, having to amodate suchrge creatures as a boar-lizard. There had to be otherrge draft animals, as the average wagon was built wider than he was used to.

    His spections paused as he heard raised voices. He indicated a residence with a wooden gate. "That house?"

    "Yes."

    "I don''t think it''s a good time to drop by."

    By that time, the shouting had also reached Sarel''s ears. And a momentter, Farbar''s.

    "Ah." Farbar shook his head. "Another time, then. Let''s go get your fruit."

    But then the gate mmed open, and a man yelled. "Out! Out then! We''ve taken care of you enough. Ungrateful children! Are you not ashamed?"

    Haral and another woman were pushed out the gate. The woman was wearing robes, the dishevelment of travel evident on them. She was small, only up to Haral''s shoulder.

    "Ungrateful?" Haral growled out the words, moving in front of the woman, protective. "When we are not allowed to keep our pay? When my invalid sister has to work her fingers bleeding to get thread for her own clothes? Is this the care we must be grateful for? And now you want to marry my sisters off?"

    "You have lived under my roof, boy. No-one else offered to take you."

    "And who took away the roof we should have been living in?"

    "What are you saying, you mongrel?!"

    Haral took a step forward, fist rising.

    The woman beside him grabbed his shirt, stopped his advance. Obviously, another sister.

    She red at the man. "You do not have to send us out. We will be leaving of our own volition, uncle. I hope you will allow us our personal affects. Or will you take them for <em>rent</em> as well?"

    The man''s hand rose, evidently going to p her. Sarel coughed, pointedly, threatening.

    Eyes flickered to the wagon, then the people leaning out of windows and doors in the nearby houses. The man dropped his hand, sneered at everyone, turned his back, and went into the house.

    Haral clenched his fists. His sister squeezed his wristfortingly, and re-entered the open gate. Haral followed.

    Defi didn''t think the two even noticed them.

    Farbar sighed. He maneuvered the wagon nearer the gate, stopped.

    Sarel and Defi were silent.

    The woman stepped out again, a few minutester, face tight and emotionless but for burning eyes. There were rough-woven gunnysacks in her hand, and a small child cradled to her.

    Farbar smiled at them. "Little Siggy, wasn''t it? It''s been some time since you werest in town, eh? It''s good to see you again. There''s space in the wagon for your things."

    The woman blinked up at him, infuriated eyes calming down slightly. "Master Farbar? And Madame Sarel too. Iyes, good to see you also. But we are just going to the inn. It''s a short walk."

    The child in her arms sniffled.

    "Is that Gedre''s little Egg?" Farbar continued lightly. "He''s grown a bit."

    "He has."

    "No other ce to go to?" Sarel studied the other, slightly frowning.

    The woman Farbar called little Siggy forced a smile. "I am sure we''ll be housed within the week."

    Defi could hear the lie in her voice. Sarel frown deepened; she heard it as well.

    "It''s the Feast," Farbar reminded the young woman.

    "All the rented rooms should be full," Haral murmured in agreement. He''de out lugging traveling trunks, including one with a familiar stain, just in time to hear thest part of the conversation. He looked contritely at his sister. "Sorry."

    Defi realized this must be the sister called Sigrene, whose name Barham nearly remembered.

    "No," the sister refuted. "If anything, it''s mine for provoking them."

    "But university is important! How will you pay the fees?" Haral''s eyes started watering in frustration and anger.

    "Hush. I''m part of the schr''s roll. The school has been waiving my fees for a few years now, don''t worry." Her tone turned teasing. "And who are you to worry about my schooling, little brother? Have you suddenly be older than me? Eh? Eh? You actually believed that woman when she said they were paying for my education? Gullible."

    Haral pushed the hand ruffling his hair away, nearly pouting.

    Defi wanted to snigger at the sight of the small woman all but rising on tiptoe to scrub her fingers against her much taller brother''s hair. But a thought had snagged in his mind, and he was turning it over and over, contemting the idea from all angles.

    "Since you''re not going to the inn, just put everything in the wagon," Farbar coaxed. "Young man, you can''t make your sister walk all over the ce carrying all that."

    Defi jumped down to help the siblings heft travelchests and gunnysacks into the wagon, ignoring the memories stirred up depressingly from the depths of his mind by the situation.

    Their situation and his was only passingly simr, he told himself reprovingly; he was only seeing parallels that were not there. Still, he could not help but sympathize.

    Sarel helped as well, with Farbar entertaining the little boy called Egg on the wagon bench.

    "Do you know them?" Sarel''s contemtive nces at the siblings piqued Defi''s interest.

    Sarel pulled up a bag and stowed it away carefully before she answered. "I knew their parents."

    "They were good people then, if you were friends?"

    Sarel smiled suddenly at him, a rare grin shing across her face. "Am I someone inclined to make friends with ''good'' people?"

    He sent her a look. "You know what I mean."

    Despite Defi''s want to be seen as a ''respectable'' townsman, he considered the affectations of so-called respectability only in rtion to his wish not to stand out. Sarel was even more openly ignoring of convention, mostly seeking out and interacting with people of simr mindset just to avoid the tedious mannerisms that went with sociability.

    Defi once again considered that he should stop taking social cues from her. It was only that the ''respectable'' people were of a simr mindset as Leraine''s cousin Agreine and he wanted to not be reminded of that whole disappointing debacle as much as possible.

    In any case, his ''aunt'' did not seem inclined to discuss her rtionship with Haral''s parents further, so Defi dropped the subject.

    Come to think of it, Sarel gave more care than he thought to the girl Amary. He nodded, mind made up. She''d been friends with the siblings'' parents.

    The siblings'' belongings barely took up a quarter of the wagon, and they finished quickly. Farbar returned the boy whose name was Egg to Sigrene and immediately had the boar-lizard move, all of them ignoring the man and woman who hade out of the house to watch with sharp and contemptuous eyes.

    "We''ll be needing to pick up the young ones from school then?" Farbar conversed calmly with the still coldly furious young woman who Defi had given his seat on the wagon bench to.

    "Yes, thank you, Master Farbar." Sigrene''s voice was slightly stiff with evident gratefulness and the awkwardness of the situation.

    "And young Adtra?"

    "She''ll be at work," Haral admitted from where he and Defi sat. "Our cousin refused to let her go, so I went to the farm in her ce. Amary is still unconscious."

    "Didn''t you have work yourself?" Defi asked lowly.

    Haral shrugged, affecting casualness. "It was for uncle anyway."

    Probably one more thing that set off said uncle. Defi understood that fewer resources would be given to an invalid member of the family, considering a limited supply.

    But the aunt and uncle did not seem poor; their clothes were good quality and the house was in a quiet residential street near the marketce, the inhabitants wealthy enough to afford yards and gardens and none of the houses doubling as shops.

    Not to mention, it appeared the siblings were paying rent and therefore alleviated the burden of having many children in the house.

    At this point, Defi''s impression of them was of small-minded and petty people. And not just because Haral was one of the few people he interacted with regrly in the Lowpool.

    Haral popping up in many different shops and the nearly always tired look he sported was now exined.

    The boy had been exhausting himself with work.

    Another point in favour, Defi mused.

    There were two sisters in school, who were ecstatic to see their older sister again. Their excitement was subdued a little when the reason all their things were in the back of the wagon came out.

    That made seven children in all from one woman.

    Adtra was a little more difficult to pry out of her workce, as the cousin insisted on regr working hours ofboring until sunset.

    Sigrene finally told him the reason they needed Adtra.

    The cousin frowned at the news.

    Defi leaned back discreetly, putting the wagon-cover between him and the man he suddenly recognized. This cousin was the shopkeeper Fraise who banned him from the smithing shop. His presence would likely not be conducive to calm discussion.

    "That was poor of them," Fraise said. "I will let you go early today, of course, to sort out your lodgings. I will pay you the week in advance."

    "Thank you cousin."

    Haral fumed as they left. "He didn''t even offer to lodge us himself. Wasn''t he living alone in great-uncle''s house?"

    Adtra sighed tiredly. "Hush, brother. It is not their responsibility to take us in."

    "We are blood," said Sigrene coldly from the front. "A night would''ve been sufficient."

    "This way is more advantageous to me, though." Defi said casually.

    Eyes swivelled to him. Sarel and Farbar looked amused.

    Haral red. "What."

    "I have a house you see, that isn''t being used." Defi continued, ignoring the daggers in Haral and Sigrene''s eyes. "I''ve had no idea what to do with it until now."

    Haral blinked, confusion recing anger. "What?"

    Defi grinned at no one in particr. "I must ask, do any of you have experience in orchard-keeping?"

    **

    **

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 127: Farm-wagon Negotiator

    Chapter 127: Farm-wagon Negotiator

    It wasn''t so easy, to convince the siblings to move into the empty house on the homestead''s southern border. They gathered the baskets of starcherry fruits from Jerac at the docks, arguing all the while.

    Defi observed that Farbar had taken the road out of the town silently and restrained the smirk that wanted to break out on his face. The siblings hadn''t noticed yet.

    Sigreine, on the driver''s bench, was seated in a manner that faced the inside of the wagon and was studying Defi intensely as Haral protested and Adtra gave a cross-examination worthy of a lecturer.

    Because of the five year old snoozing on Sigrene''sp, alleviating his older sister''s intensity, Defi could mostly ignore how her stare was nearly suffocating him.

    "I don''t think you see how beneficial this is for me," he interrupted Haral''s protests.

    He could feel how Sigrene''s gaze sharpened on the side of his face. Adtra fell silent, curbing the question on her tongue, politely waiting.

    "I have a quarter hecte of zaziphos trees that must be nted before the harvest feast. I have to build winter covers for all of them before first frost. After the feast, there''s ten or so hecte of suirberries to be harvested at a friend''s farm. After that, some twenty or so hecte of another farm''s zaziphos trees that need to be trimmed. I hear that in the month of Icewerth it is too cold to leave the house? Yes?" He grimaced at their confirmation. "In that case the trimming will end near or on the month of First Spring."

    He leaned over to nce at Sarel, who acknowledged with a brief nod.

    "I have also vinegar to make, slimes to care for, and studies to do this winter." He ended his spiel. "A few extra hands would not go amiss. I was looking for a tenant anyway. Taking the house out of my consideration is just one thing not to think about anymore."

    Haral was still frowning. But Adtra looked thoughtful, carding her fingers through the hair of the youngest sister who was resting against herp. The youngest girl was earlier introduced as Sefiel, with the nickname of Fee.

    The second youngest sister was leaning against Haral, watching and wide-eyed at the forceful discussion. Her name was Erkrea, with the nickname Eri.

    "You want us to lease a house from you, as tenant workers?" That was Sigrene.

    Defi paused. Tenant workers on Ontrea were ves or freed ves, and generally owned by the estate. They were not paid in coin, but a portion of the harvest was theirs. Did the term mean the same in Ascharon? He hadn''t gotten to that part of the localws in his reading yet.

    "No," he said carefully. "The lease of the house won''t be in the same contract as the work."

    She looked less sharp than before. "You are the one that saved Amary?"

    He took half a moment to reorder his thoughts to the change in subject. "I only helped pull her out of the water. Much of the saving was done by Farbar''s family and Sarel."

    "He also saved Haral from death by freezing." Adtra cut in.

    Haral looked embarrassed, and protested. "I saw Amary''s chair floating in the river; how could I stay calm?"

    "How did that happen, by the way?" Sigrene appeared to be slowly calming down.

    "Ah, that" Haral clenched his fingers into fists, before forcibly rxing them. "Aunt said some things"

    "Uncle never should have married her," Sigrene muttered under her breath.

    Adtra shook her head. "They are well-matched. If not her, then someone like her. Uncle has a preference."

    Sigrene met her eyes, and something wordless passed between them.

    Defi watched discreetly, fascinated. With Renne, Markar, and Bree as well, this kind of sibling bond only put a slight but enduring regret into his heart.

    Adtra leaned back against the wagon wall, rxing. Sigrene turned her eyes to him. "Shall we talk about this lease?"

    Defi nced around. Seven people huddled in between a pile of sacks, wooden trunks, and baskets of fruit, on a swaying wagon. It was definitely one of the strangest ces he''d ever attended negotiations in.

    "Should we wait until we had something to write on?" He''d negotiated trade on horseback before, but there had been scribes taking down the words.

    "It''s a simple lease. There shouldn''t be that many uses. But if you insist." Sigrene looked at her younger sister. "Eri, could you hand me the small chest near you? The one with the brass sps and the engraved quill on the cover."

    Eri pushed herself to her knees to get the chest, having huddled herself between a basket and Haral, arms around her knees.

    Adtra gently pushed the youngest sister to a more upright position, and took the chest from the other. "I''ll do it."

    She snapped open the sps, and Defi caught a glimpse of glyphwork before the lid was opened and the eldest of the siblings moved several pieces to slot into ce.

    Before Adtra was now a portable writing desk,plete with several quills and inkpots, a sheaf of paper neatly folded into its own receptacle.

    Ingenious.

    It looked like they were going to negotiate a contract, several contracts actually, in the back of a moving farm cart drawn by a mystical beast.

    Defi couldn''t help a smile, and he sat up straighter. True, like Sigrene said, renting the house and a work agreement, those were simple contracts. But a negotiation in these circumstances was something he''d never done before; it sounded more fun than the usual formal discussions in rarified and carefully chosen premises.

    The old family stories said that an ancient Rimet ancestor once negotiated a treaty while smoking urvisweed pipes with his greatest enemy under the stars and only the Creator as their witness. A more recent story mentioned that a Rimet aunt prevented an incursion into thends by a roving tribe when she inadvertently shared a bath at a small pool in an oasis on the border of Rimetnds with said tribe''s most beloved daughter.

    The asional letters that came into his aunt''s hands even now, fine vellum brushed with deeply colored inks in dark blue and shining gold, were an open family secret.

    This was not in the calibre of those negotiations, but he felt enthusiastic just the same.

    Adtra prepared paper and ink.

    "Where are we?" They all looked at Eri, who was looking in surprise out the back of the wagon, still kneeling upright.

    Farbar snickered in the sudden silence, as the siblings saw they weren''t in town anymore. "Wondered when you all would catch on."

    Haral moved to the back of the wagon. He froze. "Master Farbar, could you stop the wagon for some moments? I havethis is near where I hid Amary''s chair."

    Defi got up and went to help. The inside of the wagon was nearly full. They might have tosh said chair to the back.

    Sigrene turned around, looked chagrined.

    "There would be no-one to let you rooms in town, even for a night." Sarel pointed out. "And your sister is already near where we''re going anyway."

    Sigrene sighed, nodded. Then said, slightly reluctant. "Thank you."

    "You are in need, for the moment. There is no shame in epting help." The hermit chef added quietly. "Your father and mother, they were good people."

    That was thest that Defi heard before he and Haral entered the woond at the side of the road.

    The river road was bracketed by riverbank and woond, with riverfront farms few and far between. The autumn''s gold and red on the trees and the rich scent of the earth made the road a delight to pass through. It had rained briefly earlier, making the scents fresh and strong.

    Defi helped Haral pull a wheeled chair from behind a thick screen of bushes.

    "Thank you," Haral said quietly. "For the offer, even if we''re only going to stay the night at your ce."

    "I really do need workers. And is your sister that difficult toe to an agreement with?"

    "She is studyingw," Haral smirked briefly. "And very protective. She feels guilty, I think, because Ad had to stop her schooling when mother died while she was encouraged to continue."

    Defi caught sight of a woven basket in the trees and reached to pull it out.

    "Ah, that" Haral tried to stop him, but Defi had already seen the remains of starcherries it contained.

    Defi was stunned, didn''t know what to feel. The reason a child nearly died was because she wanted to take advantage of the starcherry collecting venture he''d embarked on.

    "Thiswhy didn''t you tell me?"

    "It was no fault of yours." Haral studied his expression carefully. "The woman that uncle married isshe speaks softly and well, and her words are hidden and influencing at times. Amarymost people see no use in a child who can''t walk."

    Defi nodded, still numb. "Her hands are strong, yes? They have to be, to work that chair. She can at least weave."

    The greatest weaver in thest century was a cripple. Of course, she might have gotten more attention and education than the average disabled person because her family had means. Ontrea''s mind on disabled people appeared to be generally the same as Ascharon''s.

    He shook his head. "Your sister said she embroiders very well, so I doubt she''s useless."

    Haral smiled at him. "No, she isn''t."

    Defi abruptly felt as if he passed a test he hadn''t known he was taking.

 Chapter 128: A First Impression

    Chapter 128: A First Impression

    Sigrene''s wariness was exactly as Haral said. It was like convincing Consul Janasef, who had been adviser to three generations of Rimets, that he was innocent of various mischiefs when the elderly consul was constantly seeing in him shades of various troublesome older uncles and cousins.

    Was his face so ugly that it couldn''t be trusted?

    Defi understood that the siblings were feeling betrayed by those they thought they could rely on, and Adtra was a soothing presence, so the discussion had fewer snags due to temper.

    Sigrene thought of him as a city-born urbanite who was farming on a whim and may possibly be taking advantage of her siblings, and he thought she was letting her emotions make unreasonable demands. Even if he had feelings of guilt over Amary''s circumstances, he wasn''t about to simply hand over control ofnds that were his  that was how revolts againstndlords happened.

    A lease should be clear and definite,ying down the responsibilities and obligations of both parties in indelible ink.

    Their increasing animosity was alleviated by Haral, Farbar, and Adtra, weighing in on the discussion with their own suggestions. Even Eri and Sarel chimed in once in a while, though Eri was mostly questioning.

    Even then, by the end of the hour, Defi and Sigrene were both fuming, ring at each other.

    Adtra tapped the quill on the inkpot firmly, gaining their attention. "The basics are already outlined for a tenant lease of thend and house, and a work contract. We''ll talk moreter, when both of you aren''t about to w each other''s throat out."

    Sigrene was about to protest. Her sister sent her a stern look and she subsided, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself.

    Farbar took the lull to say, "We''re a few minutes from the Garge house. You''ll probably want to check on the ce you''re leasing."

    There was a hint of amusement in his tone.

    Sigrene huffed at that, ring at Defi when he sent her a look of barely-concealed smugness. He''d been telling her the southern house wasrge enough for ten people, as the old couple who sold it to him were retired merchants and had many grandchildren.

    It was a riverfront property besides, which came with water rights. Which was another thing she thought was too good to be true.

    She was going to eat her words.

    Adtra nodded. "Siggy, go with Haral to see Amary.I''ll take Eri with me to see the house."

    "Don''t call me that, I''m not a child anymore."

    Adtra sent her another stern look that said ''then act like it''.

    The corners of Defi''s lips briefly curled up in satisfied amusement. Adtra sent him a simrly firm look.

    Thankfully, Farbar came to a stop.

    Defi jumped out of the wagon. They had to ush the wheeled chair from the back before the backboard could be lowered.

    The southern house was screened by trees from the river road, but it was a closer to the river than the Garge house.

    Haral let out a whistle as they carried the siblings'' luggage to the porch of the south house. "Nice house."

    The floor area was smaller than half of the Garge house, but the south house had two storeys instead of the single-level sprawled out design that Leraine''s ancestors adopted. Like the Garge house, the foundation was stone and the rest of the house built in wood.

    Defi had done a cursory inspection after it was sold to him, and all the bedrooms of the family were on the upper floor, arrayed around a small familymon area.

    The ground floor was a square, bisected nearly in half by the receiving hall. There were also rooms for servants on the ground floor but were mostly used as storage. There was no separate dining room, but arge kitchen and pantry. The cer was small and connected to the pantry.

    There were only five bedrooms, but they were spacious and could be re-ordered to contain more than one person. It was indeedrge enough for seven people.

    Sigrene hummed, looking around the ce critically.

    Defi ignored her. He put down the sacks he was carrying and turned to Adtra. "The entry-token is at my ce. I''m sorry to trouble you and your sister to wait outside in this damp weather."

    The eldest of the siblings shook her head. "No, it''s us who have given you trouble. We have to look around the outside, in any case. The time waiting would be well-spent."

    Leaving Adtra and Erkrea at the south house, the rest of them mbered into the wagon. Haral took the reins that Farbar dly relinquished while Sigrene sat in the covered part of the wagon with the two youngest siblings.

    They trotted on only to stop a minuteter to let Defi and his baskets of starcherries off.

    "Hand me the baskets, would you?"

    Sigrene''s brow quivered, but she gave her younger sister charge of the five-year old she''d been carting around, and pushed a basket to the rear opening withoutment. Defi swung it down, thanking her with a nod. The rest were easily unloaded in the same manner.

    "Are you making starcherry jam?" The youngest girl, Fee, asked shyly as Defi and her sister dealt with the baskets.

    "No, I feed the starcherries to my slimes."

    "Oh, can I see?"

    "Another day." Defi smiled at her. She was younger than Renne and Markar. Possibly younger than ten years in age, even. "You must see your older sister, and the southern house must be checked before the sun sets."

    There were only ten baskets today,pared to the thirty to fifty when he started to collect starcherries. The wheeled chair now had enough space on the wagon bed.

    Soon enough, the wagon was on its way to the north farm.

    Defi carried the baskets to the warehouse, and took the wheelbarrow that the builders had constructed from old parts of a cart.

    He filled it half with firewood, pushed it to the door of his house, and added to its depths some barrels of food, a few litr bottles of the Vonish wine, the old kitchen utensils and pots, and a box of candles.

    He eyed the inside of the storage room.

    After months of no contact, he didn''t think Kern or Leraine were returning. He was using a free bedroom to store much of the supplies he acquired in Ecthys. He could use the space if Adtra and her siblings could clear the designated storage room out.

    Most of the furniture and decorative fittings were too big for the wheelbarrow.

    Eh, he''d get Haral to haul them away tomorrow. If he could convince them to take the things, of course.

    He packed a canvas sack with Leraine and Kern''s linens and some of the old clothing.

    He took the box with the south house''s entry-token from the chest in his bedroom and seeing that Turq had already eaten what was in his feeding basket, took the slime with him.

    He put the entry-token box inside his coat and started off, hooking the sack over his shoulder and pushing the loaded wheelbarrow before him, Turq on his head.

    The southern house was approximately two hundred mar from the Garge house, and it took only a few minutes to walk. Laden as he was, it took longer.

    Between the Garge homestead and the south house, there was a small gathering of pine trees, and beyond that, the old retired couple had nted several kinds of fruit trees. Unfortunately, Kern''s experiments with hybrid mystic herbs had mostly been on the southern side of the homestead, so those fruit trees withered worse than the sansu trees north of the homestead.

    There was a walking trail between the two houses, but it had been little used and overgrown; Defi had to be careful not to jar the contents of the wheelbarrow too badly.

    Thankfully, there was no fence between the properties.

    He found Adtra and Erkrea studying the covered well that was near the house, between the kitchen yard and the fruit orchard.

    "It has not been six months since it was used, so the water should be clean." He''d made sure the cover on the well was properly sealed as well.

    They looked up at the sound of Defi''s voice.

    Adtra smiled at him. "Thank you, we were about to go and forage for firewood to use tonight."

    Defi returned her smile briefly. "Gert and Hener didn''t leave much furniture in this house and the things Leraine left, I definitely am not going to use so feel free toe by and take the lot."

    "I don''t think"

    "You still need to gather firewood before Icewerth," interrupted Defi. "There are dryboxes in my woodshed you''re free to use for the wood you gather. I''m throwing out most of the things in the storage room anyway."

    A small lie, but Adtra still frowned. "We''ll be adding that to negotiations."

    "It''s old furniture, and some have surfaces scarred by fire. I don''t think they''re worthy of being sold."

    Adtra sighed in resignation. "We''ll see."

    She helped him unload the wheelbarrow and he used the entry-token to unlock the Emblems on the door.

    The inside of the house was slightly musty.

    Eri looked around, fascinated. "Are we really going to move here?"

    "Never lived in a farmhouse?" Defi teased gently.

    "Papa had a farm," Eri protested. "I still remember that much. It had chickens and ducks."

    Their father had property? Defi looked at Adtra, who shook her head. "Our father sold it to pay for mother''s vital dishes. She took sick after Egg''s birth."

    He nodded. "This house was built fourteen years ago, to be a vacation house. Gert and Hener moved in permanently maybe six years ago. They wanted to live closer to their grandchildren, so they sold it to me several months ago."

    "Really? Why, didn''t you already have a house?"

    The originalnd-plot was split from the Garge homestead," Defi exined. "Part of the ownership contract was that the owner of the Garge homestead had first refusal if they were ever going to sell thend again."

    He looked at Adtra, who had been opening windows. "Thend they bought was 6.2 hecte in all, more than half of it in uncultivated woond and the rest in fruit trees and vegetable gardens. There was a chicken coop too, I think, for eggs."

    Adtra looked out the window, pointed at the skeletal branches that could be clearly seen reaching pathetically up from dry soil. "Those are fruit trees?"

    Defi cleared his throat. "Apparently."

    Eri trotted to the window, only to wrinkle her nose at the sight. She looked at Defi skeptically.

    "That was not my fault," he said.

 Chapter 129: Beetle Table Woe

    Chapter 129: Beetle Table Woe

    In the end, the siblings didn''t take the furniture off Defi''s hands.

    The next day, as Sarel and Barham''s family helped set the house to be more habitable, cleaning out the cobwebs and such, Defi had to sneak some of the smaller pieces, like the end tables with the wide-eyed creepily staring fawns and the set of dining room chairs with the haughtily smilingrge-mouthed fishes into the southern house.

    When cing them in strategically unnoticeable ces didn''t get themwellnoticed, he decided to go for arger piece: the textured long table that was covered in bumps and knobs, which at closer nce was a mass of small beetles seemingly crawling out of the table to cover most of its surface.

    It used to grace the receiving hall of the Garge house.

    He shook his head. Possibly it was a way of deterring visitors?

    The legs of the table were removable and the table-top was hinged and foldable, making it fit into the wheelbarrow.

    "What are you doing?"

    He turned, walking backward while still pushing the wheelbarrow toward the house, and sent an innocent smile at Adtra who wasing out of the wood with a load of gathered firewood in her arms.

    "Hm?"

    "I did tell you that carved furniture is too valuable to be given awaywhat in Chelua is that?" She''d caught sight of the particrs of the table.

    She leaned closer, as if disbelieving her eyes, and when she confirmed that it was actually what she saw, she shuddered and quickly straightened.

    "Oh, how beautiful. Are those red bone-beetles?"

    Adtra closed her eyes in resignation when that voice came out of the open window. Defi saw the opportunity and took it.

    "Are they? I''m afraid I don''t know beetles, which is why I brought them here. Have you tried embroidering insects before?"

    Amary, who was on her way to recovery by Sarel''s word, looked at him curiously from within the ground floor storage room that had been cleaned out for her use. She was too pale, Defi concluded as the sunlight brought her features into greater rity.

    "You''re the one who suggested using moth wing patterns on Haral''s vests. The patterns are veryplicated."

    She smiled however, so Defi didn''t think she disliked the suggestion.

    "Would you like this beetle-patterned table as a present?" He offered a table-leg for her closer perusal.

    "Oh, I''d" Amary caught sight of her sister''s face and quickly changed what she was going to say, retracting the hand that reached for the table piece. "think it was too beautiful to waste on the likes of me. Look at the delicacy of the carving, the mastery of craft! So defined. Bone-beetles are excellent workers, do you know? They can render an entire horse carcass down to just the bone in just one day."

    She sighed in despondence, turned back to the book in her hands.

    Defi nced at Adtra, not knowing what to say to that. On multiple points.

    The eldest sibling had a helpless expression on her face at hearing her sister put herself down. A look that said she had heard simr words too many times before.

    "What are you saying? Since Defi has brought it over, we can set it up in your room. You can embroider a coat for him in exchange. Beetles, do you think?"

    "Really?!" Amary''s head came up again, eyes shining.

    Masterful! Defi mentally gave Adtra a congrattory gesture for effectively getting rid of the problem table and punishing Defi for bringing it over at the same time.

    Now Defi could only imagine said imminent coat eating into his flesh while he wore it.

    It was not something he could decline, now that they had epted the carcass-eating-beetle table.

    Women were vicious. He also had to wear the thing from time to time, as the young girl would likely be sad if he didn''t.

    He could only hope it took a long time to embroider the coat.

    At least he wasn''t carting the table back to his house.

    *

    It was Founders'' Day, and most shops were closed.

    The siblings didn''t have to work, though Adtra came back with an odd expression on her face when she went to town early in the afternoon after most of the cleaning was done.

    She dide back with a horse-cart of battered furniture though, so Defi reluctantly resigned himself to not getting rid of anymore of the things in his storage room after the beetle table.

    He''d been looking for an opportunity, but Adtra seemed to have doubled her vignce against him.

    He couldn''t really fault her for that. He''d be watchful too if someone gifted him a table decorated with flesh-devouring beetles.

    Then again, his lips curled up slightly in half-dark amusement, that table would mean very different things in Ontrea.

    Defi observed people''s reaction to seeing the table and hearing what the beetles were: to them, it was just a creepy table.

    In Ontreawell, there might be a few people he''d want to send a table with such ''good'' wishes to.

    If he''d known in advance what kind of beetles they were, he''d never have brought the table over. He might have tried to find a way to send it through the Gate though.

    After helping arrange the furniture, the older adults left.

    Defi saw pensive faces on Haral and Sigrene after Adtra returned from town, which turned into forced smiles when the younger ones came into sight.

    Defi turned to Erkrea. "Did you still want to see the slimes in the warehouse? Your sister asked yesterday as well. It''s feeding time, if you and the younger ones want to help."

    Eri had also noticed her older siblings'' behavior and hesitated, but then nodded. "I''ll go ask."

    She returned with Sefiel and Egarval in tow.

    "You raise slimes? I thought you had only one or two?" Sefiel grimaced, all the exaggeration of a nine-year old.

    "They grow pretty quickly," Defi answered, "so I don''t think ''raise'' is the word. I just feed them."

    A splitting was always smaller than the original, and it could either grow or not. Defi didn''t know why one did and another didn''t. But if they grew, it would only take a few days before they stopped.

    "Are they really slimy, like frogs?" Fee continued questioning him. "I wanted to see if they were."

    "No," Defiughed. "The name is only a description of what they look like. Their surface feels more like stretchy human skin than frogs."

    "Really!"

    He led them down the path, cing the five-year old Egg in the wheelbarrow. The boyughed at the jolting of his pseudo-carriage and looked around with enthusiastic curiosity as they trundled past the Garge house.

    Between his numerous ''what'' questions and Fee''s moreplicated interrogation, Defi and Eri were kept busy.

    At the warehouse, Egg was more interested in the mechanisms than the slimes that his sisters were squealing over.

    Even if Fee took a while before she could be induced to touch one of the creatures, she could not hold for long against the draw of the squishy bouncy texture.

    "This is Moldavite? I like her color!"

    "Her?"

    "Doesn''t Mite sound like a girl''s name?"

    "Not really."

    "I say it does. And I''m a girl. So there."

    Defi smiled wryly. He let them y, answering questions that were more about names, before he showed them how the feeding mechanisms worked.

    "These are the mixing vats for different kinds of feed." He showed them thebels he''d glued onto the tanks. "Each group of slimes needs different kinds of feed, so be careful not to mistake the feed."

    Eri blinked and recounted:

    "Oh, so Jasper''s group has Jarvon, Jarto, Jartre, and Jarfor. Agate''s group has Agavon, Agato, Agatre, and Agafor. Mchite''s group has Malvon, Malto, Martre, and Marfor. Larimar''s group has Larvon and Larto"

    Both girls looked at him judgmentally.

    They hadn''t noticed the naming scheme earlier as they were asking about names randomly.

    He ignored them and continued determinedly. "Jar''s group has the feed with ck shells, you must remember. Agate''s group has the crab shells, and Mal''s group is just half-starcherry and half-zaziphos. These three feeding bins are particrly important right now."

    "Do they do something?" Eri asked, as she and Fee pulled the levers at Defi''s direction. Egg stood at the side, frustrated that he couldn''t reach the levers.

    He nced at her, questioning. He lifted Egg to reach thest lever, making Fee huff. He looked at the youngest sister sternly; she sighed and gave way to her younger brother.

    "The feed, I mean?" Eri looked slightly embarrassed. "There must be a reason for the different kinds you''re feeding them, right? Ithey''re just slimes."

    He smiled, satisfied at her questioning. "There is a reason, yes. The extract from the slimes is different when they eat different things."

    "And that''sgood?"

    "It is." He put Egg down and raised his brows at her, teasing.

    She pouted, half-ring. "I''ll find out on my own then!"

    Excellent. Defi grinned at her. "Then do you want a job at this warehouse? How else would you find out, hm?"

    She blinked. "I thought you and sister didn''t want to do the work contracts?"

    "Your elders decided to leasend as well as the house, so the work contracts would not be beneficial in the long-term. I think they''re nning to go into business, so we agreed to sign a professional secrecy contract instead."

    Eri looked confused, so Defi rified. "An agreement not to meddle in or spread the secrets of each other''s trade."

    He didn''t know what business they were going into, apart from the fact that they asked about raising buildings on thend.

    Apparently, agreements for rentingnd had many uses about half-rights. Half-rights for timber, which limited the amount of timber they could cut. Half-rights for river-ess, which meant they could use the water but not build a port. Half-rights for hunting, which meant they could hunt on thend but not sell their catch.

    It was exhausting.

    At least Farbar was there to help  he''d apparently leased the north farm from Leraine''s parents first, before buying it outright when she and Kern were selling.

    Defi and Sigrene wanted to have the contract ajudged at the town hall tomorrow to see if they got anything wrong or if something was worded in ways that would not benefit both parties before everyone signed officially, but in essence they were satisfied with what was there.

    Eri looked at the pens of slimes below them, thoughtful. "So this is a business? Like father raising chickens for eggs?"

    "Exactly."

    "And that''s a secret?"

    He considered her. She was sharp. "Not precisely. What I produce is a secret I don''t want to get out, but most think I''m raising slimes to sell as pets in the city."

    "Can I have a slime as a pet?" Fee piped up from where she was preventing Egg from crawling into the small spaces of the feeding tform.

    "You can, but not today. And not if Adtra disallows it."

    "Alright!"

    "This isn''t me giving you permission."

    "Aw"

    Eri peered into Lar''s food mixture. "That''s a very big fish."

    "Fishbones, in fact. Feeding them the fish would be expensive."

    She nodded, and looked up at him expectantly. "So. How much are you going to pay me?"

    He smirked.

    *

    All in all, it was a good day, he thought as heter escorted the three children to their new abode.

    Amary stuck her head out the window as he passed by. "If you have the cloth and thread ready tomorrow, I can have the coat ready before Icewerth."

    "There''s no rush," he said quickly. "Maybe in the spring instead?"

    "That won''t do," came Adtra''s gentle voice from inside the room. "A debt must not be left to fester. If you don''t have the cloth, there are some interesting samples that cousin gave me."

    She spread a length of textile on an arm. It was a very deep butter yellow. She looked at him, evaluating. "It would go very well with yourplexion."

    Yellow was for a woman''s fertility, in Ontrea. Defi tried not to blush. He backed away from the window. "You''ll have the cloth tomorrow!"

    The two sisters watched him rush away in slight astonishment. Adtra looked at her three youngest siblings. "Was it something I said?"

    Defi reached his porch and groaned.

    It looked like he was having the coat sooner rather thanter. He felt a shiver pass through him.

    He straightened, a thoughting to him. Despite feeling slightly ridiculous, he swept the storage room for any residual beetles that might have been knocked off the delicate carvings.

    Creator, if he didn''t then he''d think too much about it otherwise and wouldn''t be able to sleep.

    **

    **

    Note:

    "not truly curious that a number of ideas are simr between differing universes. In any world, there are always annoying people and others must deal with them satisfactorily. In the world of rivers, the water-people sing ''May heaven grant you the favor of hearing the songs of the waters'' not as a blessing but as a curse, in reference to the plentiful swarms ofrge mosquitos there. In other worlds, people may gift items that say more than words could; in warrior societies the sentiments are often bloody. And in other drier climes, I have seen a man smile and say a ''benediction'' approximately meaning ''may the fleas of a thousand camels feast upon you forever'' [from the journal of the Magician of Dimensions]

 Chapter 130: Harvest Feast (1)

    Chapter 130: Harvest Feast (1)

    The buzzing of the marketce rose ever more cheerful and anticipating on the day of the harvest feast. There were songs already, the sounds of musical instruments reaching Defi''s ears. There was an odd string zither in the distance, twanging deeply as he tilted his head to listen.

    Turq, nestled in his hair, adjusted to the movement almost grumpily.

    Defi was browsing through several stalls, rounding off his store of winter supplies. He doubted there would be much of a dawn market tomorrow. The children''s eager description of the feast expected the activities tost well into the night.

    "What, you''re going back now?" Jerac heaved thest of the baskets into the cart and tied them down, looking quizzical as Defi started to unfasten the boarlizard''s reins from the post. "You''ll miss the eel breakfast! Grilled eel, Defi! Sauce-soaked salmon in bread, venleaf juice!"

    Defi pointed to the small basket of grilled eel, salmon-stuffed bread that he saw one of the aunties dunk in a red-colored sauce that dyed the outer shell of the bread prettily before wrapping, and the jars of what he now knew as ''venleaf juice''. "I have all those already."

    Three times over, in fact. The things had been stuffed into his arms nearly the moment he stepped on the dock, by various people.

    Jerac tsked skeptically. "It''s your first festival, right? You have to experience these things properly!" He grabbed the reins from Defi, retying them firmly. "Let''s go. We have to hurry or all the good things will be gone."

    Defi hesitated before hurrying after Jerac. His experiences with country feasts made him slightly reluctant. No-one knew him here, he reminded himself. Jerac looked back and urged him into a queue of cheerfully waiting people.

    Defi smiled reflexively at the greetings the others threw at him and the dockworker who pushed him into the queue.

    No-one expected anything of him here, he told himself, as heughed at the now familiar joke aimed at his ''skinny'' physique. His clothes weren''t prescribed and he was not required to lead anything. He was just another person.

    His smile brightened at the thought.

    "Defi," called another neer, teasing. "So serious so early in the morning?"

    "Jerac said I have to experience a proper festival," he turned to see the baker Reon slot himself into a nearby line of people. "And it apparently means a lot of standing around."

    "It''s your first harvest feast?"

    "I''ve gone to others before. But nothing so early."

    "Of course!" Jerac thumped his chest. "Our Lowpool feast is unique! Where else can you find eel like this in winter?"

    "Tond," said someone in the crowd. It triggered a cascade of simr replies from the nearby crowd.

    "Romtown."

    "Ervold."

    "Basically anywhere on the rivers."

    The dry responses had Jerac looking aggrieved. "But nothing like our Lowpool eel," he insisted.

    "It''s somewhat known, actually," Reon mused. "You have no idea how surprising it was to see that there were people advertising ''Lowpool-grilled'' eel in the streets of the city."

    "Bah," was the general response around them to that.

    Defi wanted to giggle. Only in this world was itmon for him to be part of a conversation where everyone in earshot would respond like it was normal, even the ones he wasn''t having a conversation with in the first ce.

    "What do they think ''Lowpool-grilled'' is, anyway?" muttered a young woman. "It''s just ordinary grilling!"

    "Marinated in pure starcherry sauce." Reon answered promptly while looking like he was anticipating the reaction.

    There was a silence around them. Disbelief.

    "You meanit''s sour?"

    "Mmh," Reon smirked. "Delicious."

    There was a burst of noise as everyone tried to argue with him. Turq dropped to Defi''s shoulder, surprised by the sudden loud sound.

    Reon winked at Defi and Jerac, slinked forward quickly, grabbed the food a confused server was holding out but no-one was paying attention to, and quickly ran away to shouts of outrage.

    "Who eats sour things in winter?!" Jerac howled after the escaping Reon. He wasn''t the only one to do so.

    Defiughed.

    He''d already noticed that the Lowpool always mixed sour food with something else  sour and sweet, sour and hot, sour and salty, but never sour alone. Even the mostmon starcherry sauce was liberally diluted with sweetgrass or other fruits and condiments.

    How interesting. Sour things were always prized when he was growing up.

    Possibly the difference in taste was the climate?

    He''d went north once, but he''d never lived through a winter, and never went north again since his mother died.

    The line quickly moved after Reon''s departure. Jerac ushered him through the gauntlet of collecting food through and to one of the tables that were set up around the public areas.

    "Jerac. Defi."

    The two turned to see Boone waving at them from a long table that was only half-full. There was a half-eaten hunk of bread before him, and an open jar of juice.

    Defi recalled that Boone was a dockworker too. It wasn''t so surprising that he knew Jerac.

    Jerac sat down. "Not with Vesen today?"

    Boone looked resigned. "We''re not tied together, you know."

    "Sure," Jerac bit into his bread. "Where is he anyway?"

    "He was nning to sleep in before apanying his sister around."

    Jerac smiled triumphantly as Boone realized he''d fallen into a trap.

    Boone red, then turned to Defi, ignoring the other dockworker. "I know you said you''re stopping lessons soon. It''s fine dropping by if we have questions?"

    At the homestead? Defi wouldn''t really rmend it. The river was dangerous now. And the only other option was walking several hours through the cold  he wasn''t forcing anyone to do that, let alone his students.

    "You''re all doing well with the movements; as long as you practice well, we can start with des in the spring. I''ll being down to the orphanage most mornings for the next week still. It''s dangerous toe to the homestead now."

    Boone smirked at him. "It''s no problem. This amount of cold is invigorating."

    Defi, who was bundled up inyers and a thick scarf, groaned good-naturedly. "As you like, then. If you freeze into an ice sculpture on the way, don''t me me. My delicate southern blood will onlyugh at you for no more than three months, I promise."

    "You''re really teaching weapon techniques?" Jerac looked between Defi and Boone, surprised. "I thought those were just rumors."

    Defi nodded, bit into his breakfast.

    Boone looked at him, baffled. "We meet at the docks all the time. How could you not know?"

    "I was busy!"

    Defi hummed in appreciation at the bite he took, focusing on his food as the other two sniped cheerfully at each other. Ascharonians really knew how to bake soft breads.

    The outer shell of the bread crunched pleasingly under his teeth and a warm puff of air wafted up from the freshly-baked warm insides. The scent cradled his head pleasantly and entwined with the taste of smoked salmon and tangy savory sauce on his tongue.

    "It''s been months. <em>Months</em>." Boone emphasized.

    "No one just came out and said it to me!"

    "Did you trip over the witchpools as a child, maybe?"

    "Hey!"

    Defi put Turq on the table and scattered chunks of the harder crust before it. The slime started to eat as well.

    "Can you believe this guy?" Jerac turned to Defi. Boone looked at him with the exact same sentiment on his face.

    "This salmon bread is excellent," was Defi''s only answer, which derailed the argument the others were having.

    "Try it with the juice," Boone advised.

    "No, you have to shred the grilled eel with the sea paste first," Jerac demonstrated with his own te. The smoky grilled eelmeat was scraped off the thin skin and mixed with the dollop of condiment paste that was on the same te. "Then break open the salmon bread and ther the mix all over. Then try it with the juice."

    He tore a piece of the even more stuffed bread off, popped it into his mouth, took a swig of the juice and grinned contentedly.

    Boone pointed at Jerac''s demonstration silently, nodding in agreement as he turned to his own food.

    Before he could try it, someone sauntered up to the table, deliberately bumped into it. The things on the table wobbled, to the protest of the people eating.

    "Sorry." The voice was young, deep, and not sorry at all.

    Defi saved the drinking jar of juice from tipping over, calmly thumbed the cork off, and drank a mouthful.

    He patted Turq reassuringly, then nced at hispanions.

    Jerac started to frown at the person who still wasn''t moving away after bumping into them, and Boone was eating slowly with seemingly casual manner.

    "So, you''re the outsider who thinks he can teach weapons better than the soldiers in the actualbat school?"

    Defi looked up, bit into his eel-adulterated salmon-stuffed bread. "Me?"

    "Of course you!" roared the man who looked a few years older than him.

    Defi could see from his face that he wasn''t going to be cated with words.

    "I''m ttered. How can I help you?"

    Inwardly, he mourned. He wanted to savor this seafood bread, alright?

    Why was this happening so early in the morning?!

    *

    *

    Hi, this is Jin Daoran. If you see this work on other websites, know that I post exclusively on the Webnovel site. If you like the story, please support this misfortunate author by voting on . Thanks!

 Chapter 131: Harvest Feast (2)

    Chapter 131: Harvest Feast (2)

    The man had the typical Ascharonian physique, tall and muscr, with a lean body just on the margin ofnky youthfulness.

    Compared to that, Defi''s body looked like it couldn''t hold up to the average gusty day. But Defi couldn''t see why the average Ascharonian would have doubts about hisbat ability  women were regrly drafted into the Ascharonian armies and from the reports of victories in the circtories the Ascharonian female soldier or officer was just as deadly even if they weren''t as broad-shouldered.

    Defi paused. Another thing that proved he was in another world  he was contemting the rtive advantage of a woman''s physique in the battlefield. He paled a bit as he imagined one of his sisters with the full understanding of a battlefield Weapon Art.

    There were female warriors in Ontrea, but most of the women who learn abat art do not pursue the style to mastery. Or if they do, they choose styles that were not meant for defense, not the arts that were meant for war.

    His musings were interrupted by Jerac, who scoffed at the other man. "Pampered hillsider fancypanders should keep to their dancing sses and stop calling it bat''. You even know what a real fight is?"

    "Civilized people don''t do your kind of brawling, dockrat."

    "Was there something I could help you with." Defi interrupted unenthusiastically when Boone looked like he''d reached the end of his patience and Jerac seemed just about to leap up and nt his fist in the other''s face. He glimpsed the badge hanging from the man''s belt that signified he was part of the town guards.

    He''d once seen someone incarcerated for bumping into a very minor official in Ontrea, and didn''t really want to spend the feast day in chains.

    The town guard showed his teeth. He loomed over their end of the table. "You''re cooperating with an inquiry into usations of maliciously undermining the authority of the town guards."

    "Horrifying," Defi said dryly. "Of course I''ll assist the town guard in rectifying this terrible miscarriage of justice, love, and truth. Truly, I am ttered you thought of me for such an important task."

    "You  ! No more talking! Nowe along and"

    "Damy?"

    The man paled a little at the sound of the voice from behind him. He straightened in a snap, like a bow after the archer had released the arrow. "Grandma?"

    Defi caught a few hidden grins from the eavesdroppers ''lucky'' enough to have grabbed a nearby table, as everyone pretended not to have been anticipating a gossip-worthy fight.

    "Is there something happening?"

    There was an elderly woman approaching them with two tes in her hands and a no-nonsense light in her eyes. Mally was trailing in her wake with a te of his own and an innocent smile on his face.

    He smiled brightly. "Your grandson is very dutiful, madame."

    The old woman nodded briskly. "Of course. It is the honor of our family to help protect the people." She turned to the tense young man who had been threatening the table. "Now, Damy, have you eaten? Tsk, you''re too thin! Come and eat this with me."

    The red on the man''s face was unmistakable. He took the tes from his grandmother''s hands and strode away without saying another word.

    "Damy! Really now, why don''t you introduce me to your friends?" She patted Mally on the shoulder absently as she passed to follow her grandson. "Thank you for finding him, young Mally."

    "Anytime, gram!" Mally chirped the words to her back. Then, without ceremony, sat next to Boone and grinned at them smugly. "You can praise me now. How grand am I?"

    Jerac snorted.

    Boone pretended he didn''t hear anything. Defi could see his shoulders rxing. That went better than he thought. Maybe the morning wouldn''t be so bad.

    He went back to his food.

    Mally looked between the three of them in incredulity. "You''re all just very ungrateful people." Then he scooped Turq off the table and hugged it, pressing his cheek against the slime. "I like Turq better than everyone!"

    *

    There were many eye-catching sights in the Lowpool during this autumn feast, apart from the ces giving away tters upon tters of delicious food. When Defi thought about the weeks of contributions that were smoked and preparedmunally, he could scarcely estimate the truly staggering amount of eel and salmon in the warehouses.

    There was a troupe of tumblers set up in a corner of the square, eliciting cries andughter from therge crowd watching. There were stalls upon stalls of trinkets both useful and not, as if the entire town''s obsolete storage rooms were turned out just for the day.

    Defi lingered near a stall that sold artificed products for a few minutes, then bought a few more warmingmps for his room. He already had barrels of fuel.

    His eye was caught by a stall that sold summoning papers but they were all for minor pets and too far out of his price range. He patted Turq reassuringly as he passed the stall by  he wanted something that flew but realistically, the slimes were to be his only summon contract for the time being.

    The music from multiple sources melded until he didn''t know where what note came from. In some parts of the street, musicians were deliberately dueling each other.

    He moved away quickly from the discordance.

    What was he doing walking around when he could''ve been back at the homestead already?

    Breakfast ended on a note of contentment, and he separated from the others so he could investigate a suspicion he had.

    It wasn''t happenstance that Mally thought to run to find the guard''s grandmother. Mally''s cunning wasn''t the type to calcte like that on his feet. But just as the town guard was threatening whips and chains, he''d seen Mally round the street, see them, then immediately turn around and disappear into the crowd.

    A strange sight, but on reflection, what if it wasn''t the first time that his students had been osted by people with simr sentiment. Enough times that they had stratagems in ce to diffuse such a situation.

    Defi felt a surge of anger.

    His students were trying to better themselves  was that worthy of insult?

    Just because he was an outsider, they thought they were superior to his students?

    Because they could pay for blooded teachers, they thought they could do what they wanted to his students?

    By what right did they dare?

    The sudden rush of Current agitated Turq. He forcibly tamped down on the Current that red to intense motion. He let the slime drop down to his arms, petting it absently.

    Thest time he was mad and let his emotions get the better of himwell, he didn''t want to see a massive fake seakrait destroy whole buildings in the Lowpool. Turq would surely lose the hero status he enjoyed in this town.

    He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

    In the epics, the master would march to the castle that held the warriors who had impugned on the honor of his students and teachings, stand in the center courtyard of the enemy, then dere in domineering manner:

    <em>''If you have the ability to move me one step from where I stand, I will consider your words. If you fail, you will know that you have no qualifications to speak to those who are my own, whom you have wronged.''</em>

    Defi wished that life were so easy.

    It would be so simple to beat down everyone who upset his kids with the righteousness of a master.

    Except he had no real qualification to call himself a teacher, much less a master.

    His walk through streets of townspeople who were less guarded than they usually were with drink already told him that rumors of his teachingbat arts had been circting recently. Enough exaggeration to offend the soldier-runbat school and the town guards that were mostly graduated from there, apparently.

    He was so deep in thought that he bumped into someone.

    "Oy," cried the other party. Then, "Defi?"

    Defi blinked. "Haral."

    The other boy grinned at him. "Looking to find another boar-lizard?"

    Defi looked around. Oh. He was in the street where livestock was sold. He shook his head. "You? You don''t want to walk three hours to town everytime, do you?"

    Haral looked longingly at a stable of horses. "No, we''re here to see a friend of father."

    "Your sisters are here?"

    Haral nodded at the building behind him, which was nailed with a sign that said ''grain'' and nothing else. "What do you think of quail?"

    Quail?

    Ascharonian quail wasrger than the Ontrean variety, but stringier and less vorful. Also, the plumage of Ontrean quail was more iridescent. Apart from that

    "It''s food."

    Haral stared at him, then sighed when there was nothing more said.

    Defi nced at the building Haral''s sisters were in. "Is there a reason you''re asking?"

    "We''re going to raise quail. For eggs, mainly." Haral looked excited. "Doesn''t it sound like fun?"

    "Sounds noisy."

    "Do you think quail are chickens?!"

    Defi was amused. But before he could retort, someone yelled, "Oy, you there! This is yours, eh?"

    A man tossed arge sack off his shoulder onto the muddy street. He was looking toward them, then smirked and sauntered into a crack between the stables.

    The sack moved.

    Defi felt a chill.

    He ran and skidded to a stop. It wasn''t a sack. He stared at Mally''s unconscious face, then knelt down calmly.

    A quick check assured him the boy was not hurt apart from the swelling on the side of his head.

    Defi nced at the alley between stables. Empty.

    Some people, he mused as his gaze turned cold, did not know where to draw the line.

 Chapter 132: Harvest Feast (3 End)

    Chapter 132: Harvest Feast (3 End)

    "Thed''s going to be fine," Lergen told them, wrapping Mally''s head in bandages dipped in some kind of poultice. "Just knocked unconscious. He''ll wake up in a few hours. There won''t even be bruises after a few days."

    Boone exhaled loudly. "And he''d be lucky if he doesn''t gain new marks before the old ones disappear. The loud brat can''t keep his mouth shut."

    The words were more callous than he''d ever heard Boone sound. But Defi could see the concern in the slight furrow of his brow, the anger in the tightness of his jaw. What made Defi troubled was the tinge of resignation in the depths of his eyes.

    Despite his unbounded determination, Boone had already epted that this was something that would happen again.

    Defi looked away, frowning.

    This sh between ''dockside'' and ''hillside'' was slightly more bothersome than he thought.

    Defi was, suddenly, distantly aware of the difference between the influence he had in Ontrea and what he could do in this connected world of Ascharon.

    It would be so easy, before, to alleviate this distress in his heart by simply speaking to an official and solving the cause in less than a day.

    He shook his head of the thoughts. That was power that had never belonged to him, and Defi had already experienced how easy it was to take away.

    He''d thought it would be simple to live in thisnd; after all, he''d rarely been treated as the son of the lord of Rimet. He''d thought the lives of the average citizens were simr to his.

    He thought justice was easier for those who weren''t touched by the games of power yed by the nobles. Thatws andwful punishment would ensure people gained fair justice.

    How nave of him, heughed at himself, to think that those who served the instruments of government justice would be as unmoving and incorrupt as the statues of the great Judges that looked over the grand space that was Ontrea''s hall of justice.

    How childish of him. He didn''t think he''d still be so sheltered.

    He should remember: people were not automatons. Even statues crumbled, in time.

    Games of power and influence were yed by everyone, from the smallest beggar child to the wisest ancient sage. If there was one thing he knew by now, it would be that if a person wanted to choose their path, they must rip the power to do so from the hands of the Fates yourself.

    The children he taught knew this better than he did, which was why they practiced with such seriousness, with such determined will. He had wondered why they did so when he, an outsider who was barely older than they were, could be a fraud.

    This desperation to make something of themselves, to leave this town to seek something that was just better than they knew; Defi understood it, so he taught them sincerely.

    He turned to the children peeking through the doorway. Orphans, all of them, Haral included, with little support. Aire and Lergen tried, but thirteen children were difficult to keep up with. The donations from thest time were enough to repair the orphanage from its near wreckage and add a few more rooms, get the children better clothes, more sses. But that wouldn''tst forever.

    They needed all the help they could get.

    The reason they haven''t yet stopped Defi from basically training their older children to be ve soldiers  as tribute soldiers weren''t paid for their three-year mandated service  was the skills he was teaching would serve them well for a lifetime even if they didn''t make the army a career.

    Well, this could be a lesson too, right?

    Defi was well-versed in retaliation that people could not say was deliberate, even if they knew it was retaliation.

    "Have you all seen the others?" He directed the question to Markar, who was the oldest of the orphanage children present.

    "Mureil took my sister and the other kids to find them," the boy answered. "They''ll be here within the hour, if they''re not busy."

    Oh?

    Defi smiled at the boy. "Good perception." He looked around at the others. "Earlier, I saw many games set up near the vige gates. Are there many that involve disys of physical prowess?"

    Boone lifted a brow at him. "Most of the popr ones do. The ones that involve challenges are even more popr."

    Defi''s smile nted into a small smirk. "Excellent. We still have most of the day left."

    And by great gods, did they use it well.

    Lergen twitched when eight hourster, at the falling of dusk, thest of Defi''s students dropped a small beribboned pouch of coin on his desk, to join the two dozen or so simr ribbon-fastened pouches that had started piling up before him an hour earlier.

    The ribbons on them were very colorful, indicating that they were prizes from the various games in the festival.

    It was a greater haul than Defi expected.

    The pouches were apanied by a growing pile of bronze and iron coins. Even those who weren''t orphanage children came to increase the pile of loose coinage.

    "What have you done?" the orphanage master groaned as Vesen emptied his pockets.

    Vesenughed lightly. "Oh, don''t worry. Just a few bets here and there. All good fun and no one''sing after us."

    Lergen glowered at him, then at the pouches of coin that were festooned with winner''s ribbons. "After you deliberately went after the town guards by defeating them in all the festival games, you think no one''sing after you?"

    "Why would theye after us for winning some small games?" Vesen blithely waved the concern away. "That would be petty."

    "Not bing of a town guard," nodded Josel, barely keeping a smile off her face.

    "You two aren''t even part of my horde of fiends!"

    There was a chorus of half-hearted protest from said horde.

    "We who are not fiends kept our winnings," Vesen shrugged, then silently avoided an elbow from Renne and footstomps from a couple of the younger ones. "This is half the take from our bets."

    "What bets?" Aire came through the doorway. "I hope you''re not teaching the kids gambling."

    The older orphanage children stiffened up in rm.

    Mally, who had woken up in the middle of the afternoon and demanded to be included in the revenging, smiled his most charming at Aire. "Oh no, rest assured, they didn''t learn gambling from us."

    He nted a teasing look at Defi, who pretended not to see it.

    "We just made them carry the coins," Mally ended.

    Aire narrowed her eyes at him, then looked around to take in her husband''s despairing air, the gleeful manner of everyone else in the room, the coin and pouches. Her expression immediately lit in realization. "Oh, good work."

    "Aire," sighed Lergen.

    Aire only smiled at all of them sharply. "I wondered why people were all but congratting me for a prosperous winter."

    Defi couldn''t help how his lips lifted at the corners as the kids eagerly asked what else she heard.

    Boone, who was seated on a footstool beside him, chuckled and leaned close. "If it was done for a virtuous cause, there would be fewer avenues for retaliation against us?"

    As if hearing the whispered words, Aire''s eyes settled on Defi.

    He quickly straightened, pped his hands together once. "The feast is probably starting. We should go see what tonight''s dinner is like."

    The rousing chorus of agreement from a hungry horde drowned out Boone''sughter as Defi quickly made his way outside.

    *

    The feast was conducted in the town square,rge tters of food dominating the long row of tables, enough to feed several thousand.

    "Defi,e,e! What are you dawdling for?"

    It was the first time he''d been pulled into the center of the crowd during a mass celebration since his mother died. A tter was shoved into his hands, and no sooner had it settled in his grasp then it was already half-filled with the bounty of the Lowpool.

    The night was loud, it was confusing, it lifted spirits to the stars twinkling in the night sky. Defi couldn''t rememberughing so much before, as the people around him celebrated.

    No sooner was hisrge tter finished, then one or the other of hispanions would drag him back to the tables for more.

    He had to sneak away after his stomach was overfilled, but then Boone and Vesen dragged him off to the dancing.

    "I''m not doing that." Defi pointed to the twirling acrobatic dance a circle of too-energetic people were engaging in, manic percussions of various instruments governing the music.

    The thought of dancing to that beat made his full gut want to protest at the secondhand dizziness.

    Booneughed. "This is the harvest feast. You have to dance!"

    But he pulled Defi away from the dizzy twirling.

    On the other side of the square, the music wasn''t as frantic. The singers were almost humming and there were fewer loud instruments and timpanies. That didn''t mean the music wasn''t just as fervent.

    Thankfully, the circle dance there depended on slower swaying and almost meditative movements  tree dances, Vesen called them.

    Cuthes joined him, lifting arms to the heavens and turning delicately, humming with the other dancers. "There has been talk."

    The former soldier adjutant sounded almost amused, so Defi gave him a small smile. "Of my teachingbat to children?"

    "Ah, you have heard."

    "Loudly," Defi agreed. "If you call seeing one of my young students attacked andid out on the street, ''hearing''. A warning, I imagine?"

    "That, was not part of the talking I heard." Cuthes wasn''t smiling now. They turned slowly, moving a step with the circle of dancers. Then the adjutant sighed. "I suppose I should be happy you didn''t challenge them yourself."

    "I am outsider." Defi shrugged. "It wouldn''t mean anythinging from me."

    Cuthes snorted. "I''ll reinforce the lesson, don''t worry. The brats won''t go after children again. They''ll hurt for that, and like it. Your friend, they''re alright?"

    Defi nodded.

    "Good," Cuthes started smiling again. "Perhaps in the spring you won''t mind a few bouts with an old friend, hm?"

    "Of course not." Defi grinned at him. "I''ll look forward to it, old man."

    Cuthesughed and spun himself away from Defi to leer at a familiar middle-aged woman in a further part of the circle. The parent of one of Haral''s friends, maybe?

    The woman stepped on Cuthes'' foot. It would''ve been seen an ident, if she hadn''t viciously twisted her heel on the next movement and caused him to yelp loudly.

    Defi snickered and looked away from the area being befouled by venomous and pained cursing.

    It was definitely a night to remember.

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