DB Lazarus
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32. Revelations and Negotiations - III
🕑 Added 2024-12-19 05:00:03 +0000 UTCI should just say yes, but I was the only other Human here. “Is this still a fair deal?“ Her face darkened with annoyance, and I hurried to explain. “I know enchanting my clothes will likely help you level, but will you find someone else who will fit into my clothes?”
“And here I thought we were having a cut-throat negotiation. It is so sweet of you to be concerned, but the deal is fair. Yes, these clothes won’t fit anyone here, but that doesn’t matter. The value comes from the materials, not the finished product—the current one that is. I will just harvest the thread from them and use it to make something far more useful. It may take some time, but it will be worth it.”
My eyes flipped between her and my clothes. That would be perfect. As long as she kept quiet, no trace of this “unique” fabric would lead back to me. But could she even manage that?
Then Dorian clapped me on the shoulder and added, “Don’t you worry. They don’t call her Stoneweaver for nothing.”
She snorted. “Like manipulating stone is a testament of skill.”
A vivid recollection of that eerie green light and unnatural heat flashed in my mind. Dorian was either a fool or very connected to risk pissing off this woman.
“Yeah, yeah. But the point is that if you can weave earth, unthreading a fabric should be child’s play.”
“I always warn you about underestimating things. Don’t diminish the difficulty of this task. I only earned the requisite skill after quite a few levels, and this thread is quite fine. ”
The way she said it made my heart race. For the first time in days, the lack of the familiar weight on my left wrist was reassuring. These enchantments better be worth it because, without a doubt, I had given away something by showing her my clothes.
“So, will my white coat and scrubs also get the cleaning and mending enchantments?” I asked, trying to get the conversation off my past.
“How important is ‘hygiene’ to your class?”
“Some would consider it one of the pillars.”
“Then I can overlay them without too much disruption, though they may take the place of other enhancements that develop.”
That gave me pause. Dorian had implied early skills could be foundational. “Do the enchantments evolve too?”
Kyria Rhaptis gave me a knowing smile. “Now you are finally grasping the possible power of an essence enchantment. These items will need priming before they can take an enchantment. You will have a day to decide. Still, it would be helpful to have a sample of your blood and Mark now.“
“Okay. How do—“
Kyria Rhaptis stretched a hand backward, and a dark object zipped from a table in the back into her hand. She pointed her arm in another direction, and a cup flew through the air into her other hand.
“Show off,” muttered Dorian.
“Efficiency,” Kyria Rhaptis corrected. She raised the first item, a wooden knife. “To answer your questions, we just need to make a few cuts.”
A few cuts? How did we go from negotiations to this?
She waved me over, not noticing—or not caring—about my discomfort. I swallowed, mouth dry, unsure which was more concerning: the blatant telekinesis or the possible minor surgery without anesthetic. The blood draw—or rather, bloodletting—seemed reasonable with a healing potion on hand.
“What are you dawdling for? This will be quick. A quick slash on the wrist is all you need. I will even let you use my healing potion.”
I presented my wrist to her. She grabbed my wrist, and she lifted a dark, ebony blade. Like a metal knife, the blade tapered into a fine point, but the wooden one had numerous patterns etched along the blade and hilt. When they caught the light, they shimmered with an iridescent purple and green. My skin tingled as a familiar red coated the edge. However, the runes took on a vibrant violet.
She moved the blade across my wrist. I waited for the fiery aftermath, but the only thing that came was a line of red. Dark, venous blood oozed up from the cut, spilling onto my wrist, which she turned over to let drip into the cup.
Where was the pain? I wiggled my fingers just to be sure. It stretched the skin at my wrist, eliciting a bit of welcomed discomfort deep within. It hadn’t cut the nerves. It had just deadened the sensation. A knife with built-in anesthesia.
“Fascinating.” And strange. They had this but not the concept of surgery?
She scoffed. “Were you expecting that to hurt? We aren’t barbarians.” I just nodded. “There are limits. I can’t promise taking a bit of your Mark will be painless.”
“How long does it last?“
“No more than a few minutes. You can reapply it with diminishing returns. To maintain it, you need a [Healer], but it suffices for my purposes.”
“Is a knife like that expensive?”
“These runes are, though that is likely artificial. The method and materials needed to inlay these runes are guarded by [Healers]. I only have one because of a favor. I am not sure about the knives themselves, but Dorian would likely know better.”
“They can vary. However,” Dorian nodded to the knife on the table, “that is darkwood. It channels exceptionally well. In fact, darkwood is a complete waste for her purposes, especially since I doubt you use that knife more than once or twice a month.”
“Try once or twice a year.”
“Darkwood takes runes well, meaning they need far less focus and Energy to activate the runes. This matters the most if you are using the blade frequently or if you need to power a high-tier enchantment. The efficiency reduces fatigue with repeated use and reduces the Energy needed to power an enchantment. Neither situation applies to her. She won’t be using it enough to notice a drain from a less efficient material, and this enchantment doesn’t look complex. I bet that she could power up ten of these blades at the same time without any difficulty. So, there would be no issues replicating this blade with any grade of heartwood or even sapwood. Hence, whoever gifted you this blade did it as a sign of gratitude or a joke.”
Kyria Rhaptis snorted. “Probably both.”
I leaned in to get a better look at the knife. “Is inlaying a rune hard?” Its runes also had fractal patterns, but they were large and without significant detail.
“Like everything, it depends. With some training, the basic ones aren’t.”
I shook my head. It was bad enough that life-saving drugs cost a small fortune at home. I could understand some of it—prices often scaled with the degree of purification required, and the complexity of the biologicals was at least an order of magnitude greater than small molecules compounds. Add in drug companies needing to make a profit to fund research… But how much profit was enough?
There was a line and many of them crossed it even if you excluded the most egregious examples such as consolidating the supply of generic drugs and then charging exorbitant prices. Yet this place found a way to make those unscrupulous acts seem benign. Except, maybe they hadn’t.
I had to stop applying my biases to this world. How often did [Healers] resort to surgery? It couldn’t be much if “surgery” didn’t even translate. Was this smothering a competing profession in its infancy or just ignorance of what a knife able to cut without causing pain could do? Either way, I could use a set and the plethora of options they would provide.
“If I ever wanted a knife like this, do you think I could make one?”
Dorian nodded. “Most likely. Honing a blade is easy, and this rune isn’t too complicated. As long as the knife didn’t need special priming, it shouldn’t take much work to inlay the rune. However, runes often come down to the materials. Some ingredients for the runes are finicky to work with. I would have to ask around to get more info. Assuming they are not,” he shrugged, “you probably could make a passible copy.”
One more thing for later.
Kyria Rhaptis turned my wrist over. “I think you are done.”
As promised, she pulled out a potion from a waist pouch and popped off its top. She went to pour.
“Could I?”
She stopped, and I took a small dab.
“Is that enough?”
“I have a skill,” and given the size of the wound, even the drop on my finger would be overkill. I ran my finger along the wound, the potion mixing with the blood. The wound healed up quickly and without a mark.
“So you do. Impressive.” She handed me my scrub top. “Use this to clean up the blood. This piece will require the least conditioning, and waste not want not.”
When I moved my wrist to wipe off what remained, the sizable amount of my blood that had collected in the small bowl became apparent. At least a pint.
“Do healing potions regenerate blood as well as tissue?” At their blank looks, I added, “Does consuming a healing potion let someone donate more blood?”
“That isn’t something I have tried. I don’t make a habit of this. Most of my enchantments do not require quite this much blood,” the older woman responded.
I wasn’t lightheaded now, but I could probably test it unofficially with a bit of exercise.
She moved the bowl to another table. Then she placed her hand on the wood. A complex pattern of vivid blues and green burst to life on the surface. They faded over seconds, leaving only a small circle blazing with iridescent light.
She returned to the table, leaving the bowl uncovered. “That settles that. Now let’s get a piece of your Mark.” She motioned to a chair, an offer I promptly accepted. With the quality of her needlework, she may have hands fit for surgery, but this still was my face we were talking about.
“How do you want me to position my head?”
“Your head? You don’t have another location? Have you not hit even your first threshold?”
Dorian answered for me, “No. He is still working his way to level 5.”
“I knew that you were low when you visited, but this is unconscionable.” Abruptly, she spun to face Dorian. “They sent him to the mines at his level?”
“Yeah. He had Aether toxicity the first day. He is tolerating it better now.”
“Life debts,” she sneered. “I will make sure to bill the lower-level enchantments to the Alfa.” She turned back to me. “This does complicate things a little. I could harvest it now, but that might leave a scar and, more importantly, impede your growth. But don’t worry, we can work around it. You will just need to visit a [Healer] for a salve.” She tapped her lip with a finger. “It will likely need to be one of the Ættarsk [Healers]. Their skill with this thing far outstrips your other options.” She pulled out a small wooden chit from her belt pouch. It flared with light before fading back to its warm mahogany. She handed it to me.
The wood appeared insignificant. The small rectangular piece was smooth, showing a fine grain and otherwise indistinct save a symbol carved into the surface and a small hole on one side that presumably allowed it to be threaded for safer keeping. Of course, that belied the truth. Held between my fingers, I could detect a faint but characteristic tingle emanating from the chit.
“I assume this will act as some type of payment if I take this to either the Vísir or Es—her apprentice.”
She raised an eyebrow at the slip of my tongue but ultimately only nodded in response. “It will be too late tonight, but go there first thing and apply the salve. Return here the following evening, and we will finish up here.” Then, as if realizing just how long we had spent here, she added, “Now shoo. You have interrupted my evening’s work enough.”
Dorian snorted. “Let’s leave the master to her work.”
It earned him another glare. I chose a safer tact. “Thank you again. I will do as instructed.”
“See that you do.”
And with that, I made my exit.
