Pillar

Chapter Four

Letting out a squeak in surprise at the grab of her hips, she spun with her staff ready to strike, careful not to hit any of the various townsfolk walking around for fear of the toxic wood poisoning someone by accident. A startled gasp and hushed whispers announced her attacker, a muscled man with a tattoo marking him as part of the Lyric Clan. Done on his right bicep, it covered his entire shoulder, which was bared for all the world to see. Wrappings of gauze over leather rib and kidney guards covered his sides down to his padded leather leggings and deerskin boots. His iron bracers, each bearing the Lyric mark as well, marked him as a user of the Lyric Clan’s style of unarmed combat, a risky focus on grabs and throws, kicks and sweeps.

He was a skilled fighter, capable of giving Vivian a run for her coin when she tried to tag him with bolts of heated light in the morning when they trained together. His broad shoulders and tanned skin gave him a wide berth from the locals, despite him being one himself.

The Clan Lyric wasn’t as respected because of their standing in the war between the kingdoms. They’d refused to join the military and aid in fighting for king and country, while also resisting any forced attempts to have them join. They claimed they served a higher power and force should take that, they would honor Rudolf of the Red Marshes just as they honored Herod the Holy King.

They were a religious clan who revered the various spirits of the earth. With a sprawling complex outside of town built from solid stone dredged up from deep quarries they’d dug into beneath the thick layer of topsoil, they worked as stonemasons and built homes for the people of Vreba. Despite this, they were still treated as social pariahs for their supposed cowardly stance in the eyes of war.

This didn’t matter to Vivian, and she laughed when she recognized Ukah’s smiling.

 “You scared me half to death!” She giggled as he spun her around. Her giggles turned to a wince which she hoped went unregistered. Her fresh wound didn’t like being pushed and stretched so soon after the recent healing.

He didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been watching you for the past few minutes helping that Tyrik herbalist,” Ukah said, “pretty slick way to earn some change.”

She shrugged. “It pays to actually go on your Tentrek. A decade spent wandering Pillar learning the mystical secrets from the edges of the world. You pick up some things. See how less than ten minutes of learning paid for our drinks tonight?”

“Oh, you’re buying?” Ukah asked, crossing his burly arms. “What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, nothing really. I just scored some nice finds while combing through the woods today. If I trade and sell well enough, I might add to my growing Anam crystal collection,” Vivian said. She stepped back over to the herbalist stall and scooped up her satchel, “thank you, Kiara!”

“Anytime child,” the herbalist said, looking askance at Ukah, who was grinning at her. “You be careful now.”

“Always am!” Vivian said, grabbing Ukah’s hand, pulling him through the crowded streets towards Blinking Eye Alley, earning a groan from the warrior.

“Do we really need to visit old man Bleak?” Ukah asked, “you know he hates me!”

“First, it’s Master Bleak. He earned the title, so use it,” Vivian said, stopping at an Anam crystal vendor, the old woman selling the rocks leaning back in her chair beneath her canopy smoking from a pipe, seemingly uninterested in Vivian. “Second, I need to make the coin for tonight’s drinks, don’t I?”

“Ugh, fine. Just try not to take too long, alright? I don’t want to be in there any longer than I have to…” Ukah said.

“Deal,” Vivian said before wandering over to a smaller stand selling bits of enchanted jewelry.

 Blinking Eye Alley was a smaller part of the Market District that dealt in magical wares. Decidedly less crowded with less open vendors, Vivian led Ukah from alchemist stand to rune smith altar, speaking with the various workers as they continued plying their trade. They finally ended up at the stoop of a building splitting the Alley into the Housing District and the Scrivener’s Academy.

Walking up the steps of the three-story home that sat at the split in the alley, Vivian clapped her hands as Ukah shuddered at the blood red door sitting before them. Flanked by two angry looking stone reliefs of otherworldly monsters rested in positions of battle, their maws wide open with dancing green flames sitting within their maws.

Vivian stopped at the top of the stoop and waited for Ukah, before smiling at him with laughter in her eyes.

“Let me pull the cord!” Vivian demanded, something Ukah seemed all too pleased to do. He stepped back down a few steps and crossed his arms, looking down the alley and glowering at the curious looks he was receiving from a bearded Tyrik rune smith.

Reaching up to a fuzzy ended cord hanging from the high vaulted archway, she gripped it and pulled down hard, eliciting a shriek as a trapdoor from the stonework above split open, allowing a tumbling of bones to come falling out haphazardly. The bones quickly settled into the form of a small child, perhaps three or four, and bounced as a cord attached to the back of their ribs held them aloft via a length of thin chain. The skeletal child lifted its head, revealing twin glowing blue orbs surrounded by a network of carved symbols.

“I love seeing you!” Vivian gushed, scooping the bones into her arms and squeezing the skeleton as if it were a kitten, “will you let your Master know I have some more items to trade?”

The skeleton, squirming against her bosom, clacked and hissed. It didn’t speak Elhim, and they didn’t speak Vessel, so all they could do was hope it was agreeing as it slowly climbed the chain attached to its back up into the hidey-hole. The opened stone flaps slowly closed, with a latch clicking and the cord sliding back into place to be tugged once more.

A deep gong resonated from behind the door which split down the middle from an unseen seam, allowing them entry into the building. Vivian tugged Ukah in, who walked beside her with reluctance.

The building seemed far larger on the inside than should be possible. Two sweeping staircases flanked the walls leading to an extensive library of tomes too expensive for Vivian, with shelves lining the ground floor walls with bottles and beakers sitting at the ready. Standalone shelving stood with books and scrolls, and an open area towards the back held glass cases which glimmered with undiscovered treasures. Leaning over one case from the opposite side that Vivian and Ukah stood at was a man in simple brown robes, a trimmed beard flecked with snow spots and a shaved head bearing intricate tattoo work from the back of his skull all the way to his forehead with symbols of the Magma Czar, lord of the fire spirits.

He was dismantling a small teapot, pulling it apart with thrusts of his hands, a staff leaning behind him flashing every few seconds. The polished Spruce held a twisting Oak head that grasped a foot long unblemished Anam shard that curved in a crescent shape, deep mauve. Intricate carvings curled down the staff to the bronze heel, all depicting battles or events. Ukah was more interested in looking over the staff than watching the flighty wizard show off his mastery over the simple magic he was using to handle the glowing ceramics.

Vivian watched with glee as she studied the Astral flows. It was rare for wizards to show their spells in front of each other, as it closely guarded their secrets. If the townsfolk had two wizards they could go to for advice or work, then both would suffer financially. This usually led to clashes between rival wizards that would result in Ruk’tha, the old tongue phrase for “duel of honor”.

Skalds would sing of mighty bouts between wizards, of torn earth and shattered skies. These duels rarely ended in death, but it wasn’t unheard of. The death of a wizard led to the victor, claiming the loser’s staff to absorb its abilities. Some wizards saw it as a mark of honor to wield multiple staff’s, showing how they’d bested other wizards in battle and using it as a calling card they were not to be trifled with.

Behind Bleak, the wizard working on the teapot, there were three staves on racks built into the wall, each bearing a different Anam shard that had been painstakingly prepared by some other wizard years ago. Bleak lowered his hands, hands poised in arcane postures that contained the spell, slowly assembling the broken teapot as he looked up from the work, the light of the brilliant magic casting stark shadows up and around him in flashing bursts.

“Ah, Vivian! I see you visit me once more. Cassie told me I had visitors, and I assumed them to be customers … was I wrong in such an assumption?” Bleak asked, his voice light.

“You know what they say about assumptions, Bleak, but yes, I plan on spending some silver in your shop today,” Vivian said with a laugh, “but I have some things I plan on trying to wheedle a few silvers from you as well.”

“You can try, Vivian, you can always try…” Bleak said as he finished his spell, assembling the teapot into one seamless piece of old yellowed ceramic. “There! Ms. Costello will be pleased, I should think…”

“If you warn her not to drink from it until the Astral bleeds from it,” Vivian joked.

Bleak laughed. “Yes, I remember the first time I accidentally let a reassembled tool escape my grasp to return to a client that resulted in a nasty case of Astral poisoning.”

Astral poisoning happened when one had energy within you that wasn’t successfully flushed from their system in time. It would make a person ill, making it hard to keep food and liquids down for too long while also maintaining a high fever. It often proved lethal, and while it would be impossible for conventional doctors or the Royal Guard to pin down what had slain the victim, wizards could spot the cause of death with ease.

“Did they live through it?” Vivian asked.

Bleak smiled. “I realized what I’d done when he showed the first symptoms, so I paid him a visit and offered some thistle tea, claiming it was a magical remedy for strange and exotic diseases. We shared a cup, and while the tea gave us both a terrible stomachache, he lived. Now, what brings you in today?”

“I need some more colored inks, a few new nibs for my quill, and some polished Dragon Fish bones,” Vivian rattled off, “I have some Leeching Willow leaves I’d be willing to trade for all of it, besides any spare Anam crystals you might have come across over the past few days. I know you and Mr. Riley have been haggling over that Shard he has in his collection.”

Bleak frowned. “How he got his hands on a Shard is beyond my comprehension. I think he may have had a wizard killed, or stumbled upon an unscrupulous trader willing to part with it before being found out.”

“Oh! Speaking of killers, a few townsfolk have asked me to do minor projects for them. Wanted to run it past you just to make sure you wouldn’t come for my head. If it isn’t, I’ll send them to you.” Vivian said, walking up to the counter, lifting her satchel up.

Bleak waved his hands. “I have plenty of gold and not enough time to spend it. I imagine they asked you as they know your prices will be affordable, as opposed to mine. I swear, it’s as if they expect me to do my work for free!”

Ukah coughed into his hand, earning a sidelong glance from the wizard. “Oh-ho! I hadn’t realized I had the Son of Lyric you dirty your presence with you today… not one for my practices still, eh?” 

“I don’t like how you wield such power and mete it out so sparingly when you could help more people who are actually in need,” Ukah said for what must have been the tenth time, starting the same debate over once more. “You cater to the rich and leave the hardworking townsfolk to toil with equipment that you could mend in seconds, or make better! How can you live with yourself, knowing you willingly allow people to suffer?”

Bleak snorted, turning back to Vivian as she laid out the poisonous leaves for him to inspect. “We all have to make a living boy, and my practice requires expensive tools. You think I hoard money just to sleep on it like some young drake fresh after a rutting season? No, I tie my money up in ventures of trade bringing food to the town, along with spices and iron for the townsfolk to work with. I employ the Royal Guard to escort my caravans and sell my goods cheap, cheaper than that skinflint Riley does. All he wants is to take our harvests and bring them to the other plateaus to fatten his coffers.”

“Still, you could do so much more to help the townsfolk!” Ukah exclaimed.

Bleak held up a hand to silence Ukah. “I’ve entertained this line of argument from your you before, and I’ve refuted you and explained myself more times than I care to mention. My prices are set, and my services are simple. If I lowered my prices, I would never have time to study, to refine my art. I take work on commission as it is and turn people away often enough to make those desperate enough to unload silver from their safes. I make certain to buy all my goods from the townsfolk when possible and funnel my money into Hamlin as best I can. I do not need to defend myself from the likes of you.”

“Enough of that, tell me what you have in stock!” Vivian grinned, leaning on the counter.

Bleak smiled and held a hand up, pointing at Vivian close enough to tap her nose. “Other than several jars of teleplasm and a few dozen jewels? Nothing else that is new.”

“What’s teleplasm?” Ukah asked.

Vivian looked over at him. “Gunk inside Vessels, or lesser undead like Thralls.”

Bleak smiled. “Couldn’t put it better myself! Though my little Cassie has but a teaspoon of the substance in her bones… Royal Guard can’t fault me for her, now can they?”

Ukah snorted, shaking his head.

Bleak gave Ukah a dour look before turning, looking down at the leaves Vivian was arranging before whistling at the collection of leaves. “My goodness, you have been busy my child. Let’s talk business…”