Rain Harlow
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Chapter 18: I'm Not One of Your French Girls!
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 05:12:56 +0000 UTC“What?” Bast looked utterly puzzled and innocent. “Well, I might trace those lines over a little on th-”
“Don’t you ‘trace those lines’ me! Th- th- what the fuck?” Sammy just gestured with a hand at the painting, flabbergasted. “I didn’t tell you- you could fucking paint me like- like one of your French girls!”
Clearly incapable of understanding a Titanic reference, Bast looked from her to the painting with wide, puzzled eyes. “So you don’t like it?” He sounded disappointed.
“Don’t you ‘so you don’t like it’ me!” Sammy said in a strangled voice. “Bast. I’m practically naked. Why would you think that’s okay?!”
Still completely, maddeningly baffled. “I’ve painted many women with similar or less, none have ever anything but loved it!”
Sammy pressed her hands to the side of her head, fingers on her temples. “Bast. They agreed to it, you didn’t even ask me!”
“I’ve done it as a surprise before!”
Sammy growled in frustration. “That’s not the right answer!”
He blinked; paused. Looked from her to the painting. “So… you truly don’t like it.”
“Bast…” Sammy trailed off.
“Very well. I’ll destroy this trash garbage shit. Here!” He unsheathed a dagger from his belt and raised it to apparently stab the painting.
“BAST! STOP!”
He stopped himself, dropping the blade slightly and lowering his head, but not looking at her. “I’m… sorry I offended you, Your Majesty… allow me to make it right. Please.”
Sighing, Sammy flopped backward in her throne. Damn him. Making me feel bad about this. “Look, I don’t want- can you… if I give you the buff again, can you just… widen the ribbons a little — a lot — more?”
Bast turned his head to gaze at her, hope like light in his eyes. “Truly?”
Sighing, she said, “Yes, truly.”
“You otherwise like it? Is that the truth?”
Taking another deep breath, she eyed the painting, then nodded. “It’s fantastically done. Except for, you know, what might be a hint of nip-”
“No-no-no, that’s merely a shadow. Your Majesty.” He cleared his throat as he sheathed the dagger. “I’ll take care of it nonetheless.”
“And just, at least bikini level? Er… underwear? I don’t want the- the lines-”
“I completely understand you, Your Majesty. It shall be covered.”
“And keep this away from prying eyes regardless. I don’t want it as a centerpiece.”
“Of course. It shall be hidden! Like the beauty herself. For now, at least. I’d hoped Her Majesty could eventually have this in her palace.” He had a sudden roguish grin. A heartstopper. “Perhaps our bedroom.”
“Wha- Our?!”
“Well, a man does dream, after all.”
“Yes, he does. Very presumptuously. After just getting a break.”
“I tease, Your Majesty! It is only a dream and a wild fancy. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.” He put his hand over his heart, apparently earnest.
Sammy sniffed and rolled her eyes, not dignifying it with a response. That lasted only a moment before she responded, “I’m sure you’ve wiled your way into many a woman’s heart with that talk, haven’t you? And don’t” — she pointed a warning finger at him — “answer that. It’s rhetorical.”
He nodded sagely, though she felt he was holding back an impudent grin in addition to wit.
Sammy found she was looking at the painting once more. As her nerves settled and she looked at it judiciously, it actually was quite pretty. Flattering. But too skimpy. Definitely.
“Well, whatever,” Sammy said finally, waving her hand. “Let’s forget about the painting. Cover it back up. I have something else to talk about.”
Bast complied immediately, tossing the curtain back over it. “Something else…?”
“Aye. Did I just say aye? No one even- Yes. Runebooks. Do you have runebooks? I’m considering completing Wizard level 1 if I can somehow conspire it.”
“I do, but not a full set,” he answered with a sigh. “Who ever has a full set? The Dominion hordes Dogda and Falma in particular. Religiously. They’re bloated in expense, and I suspect the Hall keeps a vast supply unused in a vault.”
“Dogda and Falma? Those are the runes?”
“Ah, well, a simplification of the first of six in each runebook. It’s what the books have come to be called, so much so that only the oldest surviving would not have the word on their cover.”
“I don’t need a full set. Only four.”
“Oh. Splendid! I have seven, so you’re in luck. You can borrow one at a time or take all four, it’s- hmm. Actually, how would that work, exactly?”
“I meant to ask the System… Sys, can I read books? Copy them or something? Runebooks?”
You may use your existing recorder to transfer if the pages are flipped through on the other side of the portal while recording. This is a magical effect that must link to a construct investiture. You may create a magical book construct for 1 FE each, or a collection of 100 normal books for 1 FE.
“Sweet!” Sammy exclaimed. “I guess I’ll start with one magical. Make it so. Bast: fetch.”
1 FE deducted.
A glowing book materialized in the air next to her, floating.
Lord Bast raised an eyebrow, but bowed, saying, “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” He walked out of sight, returning a minute later with a surprisingly thin book.
Sammy set up the recorder and had Bast open up the runebook as she controlled the copy. As soon as they seemed to ‘link’ the copy morphed into the appearance of the real one. The transfer was in a flash of light with a helpful chime resounding when it copied. Bast continued turning pages and triggering flash-chimes and after thirty pages it was complete, at which point the copy flashed a final time and closed.
New Quest unlocked: “Wizard Apprentice: Runebook 1” — Complete the runebook.
● Rewards: +1 Wizard exp.
Sammy smiled. “Yay! How long does this take, exactly? What do I do?”
“It depends completely on the person. There are six runes to memorize, know, study, and meditate on. Those with experience in such things seem to find it easier.”
“Are you kidding me? I was a college student. Not that I found it easy exactly… but as long as it isn’t math I should be gravy.”
“Beautiful and brilliant? My heart has found an all-new flutter.”
Sammy just gave him a deadpan look.
Bast held his hands up in surrender, though with his typical smirk, like he was just absolutely enjoying himself so much. “Those with a passion for knowledge find it the easiest of all. Even an illiterate peasant could learn the runes if they were determined enough.”
“I guess we’ll s-”
There was the sound of a polite knock on a door. Bast looked up, then back at her, widening his eyes in warning.
Sammy immediately pushed out of full portal interface, hiding herself.
“Who is it?” Bast called.
The door opened simultaneously with, “Greizer,” in a crisp yet ancient voice, not elaborating any time soon, as if that were enough for pause.
Sammy found herself swallowing involuntarily, and she almost fled immediately. Shit. Intelligence on them, though — and the fucking painting-
Bast moved off toward the voice and sputtered, “What- apologies, Savant, but I’m not really-”
“Don’t trouble yourself in worry,” the ancient uttered. “I’m merely here for a chat.” The word was ironic somehow, like only a fool truly chatted. “I hear your wizardly talents have grown.”
Bast made a sound as if scoffing at himself. Only his back was visible. “Ah, well, it’s really not that-”
“It’s enough that we are extending another invitation to you,” Greizer offered, making it clear it was not a request, “to enroll at University in the capital. Talent must not go to waste.”
The yellow-robed Savant walked around close to the table, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down on the scattered contents dispassionately, yet somehow still disapproving. “Not in the bogs, not in the hinterlands, not in the desert. And not here. Those who can rise above, will.”
Bast moved in such a way as to keep Greizer from moving to the side of the table where the covered easel was accessible. “Hmm, well, I am very thankful to the sages and the Hall for such consideration, but-”
“The only buts are the posteriors in the seats of learning truth. As yours shall be parked, third son of Baelum Falshaen. Your mother isn’t going to get you out of this one.”
Greizer moved slowly, but implacably, right where Bast was, forcing him to move out of the way to accommodate the venerated man. He paused while looking right down at the curtain-covered painting. This time he did have a note of plain distaste in his features for whatever he imagined underneath.
“You have an inclination for knowledge,” the Savant continued, “and a keen curiosity that will serve you well when suitably focused and free of… meaningless, carnal distractions. We can teach you how to overcome the limitations of the body and achieve the full awakening of the mind. I’ve seen that the potential is within you. The potential for true Wisdom.”
Bast had nothing to say to this. His face had turned white like he’d been pronounced terminally ill.
Poor Bast… I have to-
Greizer’s head suddenly spun right at the mirror, as if he’d caught something in his peripheral vision. The movement was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing suddenly having its hackles rise. His eyes over the little glasses seemed to shine with power.
Immediately — learning her lesson from before — Sammy pushed the portal away like it was diseased, casting it totally out of her perception. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat upright, eyes wide looking around, not sure what to expect.
Fuck! Please just let that be a close call! I’m such a fucking idiot — I should never have risked it! What did I do differently from the dinner? The depth?
Wringing her hands, she waited, doing nothing and keeping away any input from the mirror deliberately. The lack of knowledge and the impulse to look was maddening, but she resisted it. She just couldn't risk it, not any further.
Just when she thought she’d dodged a bullet, the loud, ancient voice reverberated eerily, “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”
Struck with fear and shock, Sammy slid down in her throne seat, and her mind didn’t immediately locate just where it was coming from, so her eyes flashed around her as if expecting him to just be there.
“Come. Reveal yourself in the mirror. I entreat you.”
The mirror — the mirror! She had to remind herself in order to focus on it, and she realized it was all coming from that one source. He was not there in her realm. Somehow, he’d just massively amplified his voice or vibrated the mirror. Possibly even did something with his mind.
“I mean you no harm, spirit. Reveal yourself. Speak. Perhaps we can help one another.”
Suddenly, a worried, almost sickened, fairly weak prayer from Bast strained and pushed through: “What is he doing? He’s touching the mirror! What should I do? Tell me!”
Sammy felt all the potential violence in that request — the itchy hand by a dagger — and she at once admired and was terrified that he would think about something so stupid to protect her. But she would not let him likely throw his life away.
“Do nothing and shut up!” she sent to Bast quickly.
“Spirit, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Choose now. Reveal yourself or I’ll do it for you.”
Sammy chewed her lip, shook her head, wrung her hands some more. Then she chose.
She muted the mirror entirely, closing it off to not let so much as a flicker or whisper through, like squeezing a fist of voided nothingness over it. She blotted and blocked him out of affecting her realm, her sanctuary, even to communicate.
I call your bluff, you old motherfucker.
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