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Chapter 94
🕑 Added 2020-07-05 05:14:21 +0000 UTCWith a careful eye, Bazzalth watched the uptick in his readings as the kaersha came into contact with the small piece of his own flesh. Having already tested the substance multiple times with crawlers, this was the only thing left he could do to broaden his dataset. Testing on small pieces of his flesh, however, was as far as he would go no matter what. He would never test it on a person and not even Tavreth’s threats would be able to dissuade him from that.
Luckily, she seemed to understand... for the moment at least. There was no telling how long that would last; the drive of her hoard seemed to push her further and further every time he saw her. There was no way the Tavreth of the past would have ever considered tolerating a kaersha existence.
“Nnnnnnn!”
This method had its advantages to his previous method, at least. Bazzalth had been caught off guard the first time he’d exposed a crawler to his concentrated kaersha liquid. He hadn’t expected the sudden, almost blinding spike of soulforce from the subject, the magnitude of the spike large enough to suddenly turn the crawler into something close to a threat. In the end, however, He’d won by default when the crawler had suddenly perished in a rather disgusting display of black, rotted flesh.
Since then, he’d taken to anesthetizing the subject before administering the substance. Even without his instrument, he had been able to watch with his soulsight as the crawler’s soulforce increased exponentially. However, the new soulforce would slowly lose stability until it eventually lost all cohesion and the crawler burst apart.
“Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”
Now, however, with both better materials and a better setting for observation, Bazzalth could glean far more data than what his senses had already revealed to him. Though the incoming measurements were a collective boon to his hoard, the metric that stood out against the rest was none other than durbidian harmonic frequency. He could observe in real-time how the soulforce generated by the lifeforce conversion process would manifest with the proper frequency, only to be slowly corrupted by the kaersha as the black liquid dragged the harmonic closer and closer to its own. The constantly generating new soulforce would counterbalance the shift, keeping the overall frequency barely within tolerable bounds, but nothing could stop the harmonic collapse as soon as the replenishment ran out. It was almost as if-
“NnnnnnnNNNNNnnNNNnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNN!”
“Pari-child! Enough whining!” Bazzalth growled, reluctantly pulling his attention away from the dials and readouts to turn and face the source of the annoying noise. There, to his frustration and dismay, he found his priceless data half-naked, her bottoms on the floor and her top in the process of being removed right then and there. “Pari-child! For last time, put clothing back on!”
“NNNNNNNNNNNNN!” the child whined, stomping her tiny feet as she threw yet another tantrum. “Pari hates clothing!”
Bazzalth couldn’t help but sigh. This again. Pari had been such a nice, cooperative source of Knowledge until now, cheerfully helping him in his studies and providing endless amounts of data. But now, she had become something far more exhausting.
“Bazzalth worked hard to create clothing for Pari-child. Pari-child must wear clothing.”
“No! Clothing itchy and scratchy! Clothing bad!”
Given that any single one of the claws on the ends of his fingers were larger than Pari’s entire body, creating clothing for her had been an incredibly frustrating experience. Yet it had also been a very edifying one that contributed to his hoard. As a person, he had little use for fabrics and even less experience with them. Even his collection sack was made of the hide of animals instead of fabric. Given this, he’d been forced to make use of the bits and pieces left over from his experiments with dead crawlers, patching together a crude set of clothing fashioned after the standard configuration he’d witnessed many times. The process left him wishing he’d bothered to strip all the crawlers he’d submerged within the Ichor these last few years instead of simply letting the liquid eat away at the fabrics.
The end result was... mediocre at best. The proportions were a bit off, with one side of the bottom being slightly larger than the other and the arm coverings being different lengths, but clothing was clothing. It still fit her form better than any of the remnants he still had in his possession, all of which had been worn by adult crawlers, so he considered it a success.
“Pari-child must be good child for Bazzalth now,” he tried reasoning with her. “Pari-child must become used to clothing for when Pari-child soon leaves Bazzalth’s lair. Pari must be convincing crawler.”
“Why crawlers wear clothing, anyway?! Clothing stupid!”
“Crawlers wear clothing for warmth and as mating plumage,” Bazzalth informed her. “Now put back on all clothing, now! Bazzalth will not tell Pari-child again!”
“NNNNnnnnn...”
Bazzalth watched as Pari slowly donned the fabric coverings once more, pouting the entire time. On an academic level, he understood her discomfort. She had never worn clothing before—safe and warm in his lair, she had never needed to—and her soft hide reacted to the oppressive touch of the fabrics in a way that his tough hide did not. But that didn’t change the fact that she had no choice but to become accustomed to the feeling if she were to survive in the world of crawlers until it was safe for her to return to him. He just needed to find some way to get her to keep her clothing on long enough for that to happen.
Suddenly, the answer came to him. All he had to do was adjust his plans a little.
“Pari-child, listen closely,” he instructed the tiny being as she finished re-donning her outfit. “If Pari-child wears clothing for three full days, Bazzalth will share piece of his hoard with Pari-child.”
Pari gasped in delight, which he could discern from her tail and ears. When she’d been upset just a moment ago, her tail had been whipping back and forth and her ears were flattened against her head. Now, her tail stood largely straight with a small hook at the end, while her ears stood tall and perky. Bazzalth continued to thank fortune that Pari had such features. He found reading the emotional state of a crawler based on their tiny, flat faces alone to be an exercise in frustration and failure.
“R-really? Bazzalth-grandfather will?” Pari asked in disbelief.
“Only if Pari-child is good child who wears her clothing,” Bazzalth told her. He had already planned on teaching her some of the alchemy knowledge he’d learned over his many years, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Pari will!” the small child claimed.
“Does Pari-child promise?”
“...promise?”
“Promise is oath. Person must always keep promise no matter what, or person is not true person. Pari-child promise to wear clothing for three full days?”
“Pari promise!”
“Good. Now return to training.”
That problem solved, Bazzalth turned back to his equipment and loaded in another piece of his flesh and blood, releasing a long, hissing sigh. There was so much more he had to do, so much more he had to study, but time was running out.
* * *
“Bazzalth-grandfather, Pari is bored! Pari wants to make candles!” the small child complained as she used her stone pestle to slowly grind the ingredients within the metal bowl in her lap. The hemispheric container, about as wide as the child’s chest with high vertical sides, was just one part of the new equipment set he’d created for her use.
“Pari-child must learn. Formulas important. Now, Pari-child must add in the moisture.”
“Moisture?”
“Pari-child’s saliva.”
“Pwah!”
“More.”
“PWAH! PWAH! PWAH!”
“Excellent. Now mix again.”
“NnnnnnnnNNNnnnn! Pari hates! So boring!” Bazzalth couldn’t help but notice just how proficient she had become at whining since his sister’s last visit a year ago. He ignored her.
When he’d first started amassing his hoard, one of Bazzalth’s first areas of study had been the local plants and their properties. At first, he’d been astounded at the incredible utility of the various concoctions he’d experimented with, not expecting that combining seemingly mild and inert materials could create substances that burned for hours, released clouds of smoke, or other notable effects. It wasn’t until later that he’d discovered that there was more to it. These organic materials wouldn’t react under just any circumstances. Mixing the inert compounds with water or oil just resulted in wet or oily inert compounds.
The secret had turned out to be him. Without a ready source of water within reach, he had taken to using his saliva as a way to moisten the mixes, and a person’s saliva acted as an incredible catalyst that facilitated and enhanced chemical reactions. The most interesting detail, however, was that the mixtures usually remained stable until exposed to flame. Bazzalth theorized that this had to be related to how a person’s saliva came into contact with their flame regularly. It likely had something to do with how clean peoples’ mouths were, given their diet of raw flesh.
The question was, would Pari’s saliva work in the same way? He believed so. The abundant lifeforce found in his saliva—nowhere close to the levels found in his blood but still high enough to be remarked upon—had something to do with it. That meant that Pari’s spit would work as well. At least, that was the hope.
This first formula was a prime example. With little more than the crushed stems of several local plants and some dollops of drool, Bazzalth could create a pulpy slurry that would burn steadily with a small flame for half a day, even in a steady wind. Such a recipe would be highly useful to her, be it for campfires or lighting her way in the dark.
“Well done,” he told her once he was happy with the level of mixture. “Put bowl on floor and light with stick.”
Taking a long branch easily twice as long as Pari was tall, he puffed out a small gout of the weakest flame he could manage onto its end. Then, after backing the child away from the bowl, he placed the burning stick into her hands. As the one to do the work, she deserved to be the one to light the result.
He’d given her a long stick just to be safe. If the formula worked, given the altered source of the one key ingredient, it would probably burn as calmly as it did for him. But Pari was always full of surprises. He couldn’t silence the fear that it would instead burst out with flames higher than the height of an adult crawler.
The moment Pari touched the burning end of the branch to the bowl’s contents, Bazzalth’s fear was proven inaccurate. Bazzalth had feared a flame several times Pari’s height, not flames so powerful that they licked the cavern ceiling above his head.
Luckily, Bazzalth’s lightning-fast reactions—just another feature of a person’s superior physique—allowed him to interpose his hand between Pari and the inferno. He’d been able to push her away before anything too bad could happen to her. Now, drenched in sweat but largely alright, the child leaned her face around Bazzalth’s claw-tipped fingers, staring in awe at the white-hot flames as shot skyward. Powerful heat blazed through the cavern for more than twenty breaths, raising the temperature of the air inside considerably. Then, the conflagration died as quickly as it began, leaving nothing behind but the melted remains of its metal container.
Perhaps he should have seen this coming, but more than anything, he felt relieved. If she had proven incapable of creating the reaction on her own, he would have had to supply her with a vial of his saliva. That would put a cap on her ability to make use of what he was teaching her, and what he was teaching her was too useful to her daily survival for her to use sparingly.
“Waaaahhh!!!” Pari gasped, her eyes wide and shining with wonder. “Bazzalth-grandfather can make super flame from just plants?!”
“Yes,” Bazzalth lied. He’d been walking a fine line with this from the beginning. The idea had been to teach Pari these formulas, but in a way that would have her think that her saliva was just a normal part of the process. If she knew that her or Bazzalth’s saliva was crucial to everything, then she might let that fact slip sometime later. That would bring up questions as to why their spit was different than that of a crawler. And that would bring up more questions... He knew from testing a century ago that saliva from normal crawlers had no such properties. No, it was better to keep her in the dark.
The small child began jumping up and down excitedly. “Bazzalth-grandfather is so cool! Teach Pari! Teach Pari! Pari wants to learn!”
Bazzalth considered his options, trying his best to mentally adjust his plans to take into account the child’s immense alchemical potential. If he could figure out a way for her to turn this potential into something that could be used regularly in the future, then that would more than make up for her deficient soulforce. But how? Storing the mixtures would be hard. And how would she be able to keep them away from open flame, except for when she needed to light them? It wasn’t like she would be able to light a bowl and throw it at her enemies.
Bazzalth’s gaze fell upon the candlemaking equipment sitting off to the side of the cave and an idea came to him. A perfect idea, one that would solve almost all of his problems at once. And, for once, the child wouldn’t even be able to whine about how boring it was.
* * *
“Pari-child, come,” Bazzalth called for the third time, his irritation reaching a boiling point. The youngling had been acting much more rebellious recently, but this sort of disregard for his authority was a new low. Thanks to his dueling concerns of studying the kaersha and working on preparations for Pari’s upcoming departure, he’d found his ability to keep an eye on the child lacking. This seemed to be the inevitable result.
“Pari-child! Enough!” he roared, approaching the recently added alchemy cove located in the rear of the cavern. Hollowed out to provide a place for Pari to experiment—Bazzalth couldn’t help but notice the way she copied him; perhaps he could glean some Knowledge concerning the learning and development process of crawler children?—the alcove was large enough to fit a hundred Pari’s, though the entrance was barely wide enough for his arm to fit through.
Peering inside, he spotted Pari lying on the ground near her candlemaking equipment.
She wasn’t moving.
Bazzalth’s heart seized up in panic. His data! His irreplaceable data!
Reaching inside, he scooped up his bespoke data source and inspected her for malfunctions. Fortunately, she still breathed, her chest rising and falling slowly in the familiar rhythm of slumber. However, the child would normally have awoken from his call. How strange.
A foul odor drifted into his nostrils, causing him to back away from the alcove while holding back a cough. What was this? He shook his head to clear the sudden hint of wooziness.
Placing Pari on the inspection platform in the center of the cave, he went back to work, waiting for the child to awaken. It wasn’t until the sun had already set that she finally sat up with a loud, high-pitched yawn.
“Nya?” she asked nobody in particular as she looked around. “Why Pari here?”
“Bazzalth found Pari unconscious. What happened to Pari-child?”
“Pari was making candles and Pari smelled new scent from special roots Bazzalth-grandfather found and Pari thought that roots would work with red sap seed and yellow string flower juice and purple bunchberry and Pari made candle and Pari burned candle and candle went ‘whoosh!’ with smoke and Pari felt sleepy and Pari fell asleep.”
Teaching Pari how to make alchemical candles had turned out to be the best decision he’d had in a long time. She loved it, as it combined her two favorite things: candlemaking and dangerous chemical reactions. The child was almost preternaturally gifted in the craft, able to create new, never-before-seen combinations that not even Bazzalth would have thought of, all thanks to her nose.
Bazzalth had long known that Pari’s sense of smell outshone even a person’s, but he had not realized just how powerful and specific it could be. With a single sniff, she was able to isolate specific trace chemicals within an ingredient. After building up enough experience, she could now predict with an uncanny level of accuracy the result of combining substances she had never seen before simply by the trace scents she found within them. Not for the first time, he found himself in awe of the child’s abnormal capabilities—at least, as in awe as a mighty person such as himself could be.
But now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
“Pari-child slept through new practice. Pari-child must practice now instead,” he informed her.
“Nya?”
“For Pari-child to live near crawler, Pari-child must learn to act like crawler. To speak like crawler. To think like crawler.”
“But Pari doesn’t want to act like crawler!” she protested. “Pari wants to act like Bazzalth-grandfather!”
“Pari-child, enough! Listen to Bazzalth and behave!”
“Nnnnn!” The small child squirmed, her tail whipping back and forth again, but she eventually acquiesced.
“Good, practice now with Bazzalth,” he instructed her. Sadly, he had run out of crawler corpses to use as puppets, so instead, he had taken some dyes and painted a rendition of one on the back of his hand, with two of his claw-tipped fingers for the legs.
“Greetings, Pari-child!” he said, making his voice as high pitched and crawler-like as he could.
Pari just stared in bewilderment at him.
“Pari-child, talk with Bazzalth-crawler.”
“Talk with hand?” she asked. “But hand not crawler. Hand is Bazzalth-grandfather.”
Bazzalth let out a long sigh. This was going to be a long night. “Is game. Pretend that hand is crawler and talk with crawler.”
“Okay, Pari will try...”
“Good. Greetings, Pari-child!”
“Greetings, Bazzalth-crawler!”
“Where did Pari-child come from?”
“Pari came from cave in mountains where Bazzalth-grandfather lives!”
“Pari-child, wrong!” Bazzalth cut in with his normal voice. “Pari-child must never tell of Bazzalth’s home.”
“Nya? But why?”
“Is rules. Very important.”
“Nnnnn!” Pari pouted.
“What does Pari-child like to do?” ‘Bazzalth-crawler’ inquired.
“Pari likes to make candles! Bazzalth-grandfather taught Pari how to make candles!”
“Wrong!” Bazzalth cut in again. “Pari child must never tell others Bazzalth’s name.”
“Nya? Pari not understand.”
“Is important that crawlers not hear any person’s name.”
“Then what Pari call Bazzalth-grandfather?”
Bazzalth thought about it for a moment. “Pari-child may call Bazzalth just ‘grandfather’ instead.”
“Grandfather? But saying just ‘grandfather’ feels weird and bad and stupid.”
“Yes, crawler speak is weird and bad and stupid,” Bazzalth agreed. “Now how would Pari-child say answer this time?”
“Grandfather taught Pari how to make candles...” Pari replied, making a scrunched up face as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. “Pari feels gross.”
“Feeling will pass with practice,” he assured her, though he didn’t have any actual proof that was the case.
“Pari-child, where did Pari-child live again?” asked ‘Bazzalth-crawler’ once more.
“Pari lived in- uh- Pari...”
Bazzalth wanted to help as he watched the child’s little brain puzzle over how to answer his question, but he knew it was important that she figure out what to say on her own. He wouldn’t be around to help her in the future, after all.
“...Pari lived with grandfather!” she finally declared, a proud smile on her face.
“Oh? Tell Bazzalth-crawler about grandfather.”
“Grandfather is super great! Grandfather takes care of Pari and plays with Pari and feeds Pari and is best! Grandfather has big giant body and huge wings and breathes fire and is super neat and-”
“Stop!” Bazzalth sighed once more. “Pari-child must not tell others that Bazzalth is person. Pari must pretend that Bazzalth is crawler too.”
“But why? Pari not want to!”
“Is rules.”
“Rules stupid! Pari hates rules! Pari wants to tell crawlers all about Bazzalth-grandfather! Pari wants to tell how great Bazzalth-grandfather is!”
“Pari-child, listen well. Is most important that Pari not tell of Bazzalth or any other person in any way. If crawlers find out about Bazzalth, crawlers will come in great numbers and attack Bazzalth.”
“Bazzalth-grandfather will just kill all crawlers because Bazzalth-grandfather is super strong!”
Another sigh escaped his lips. Oh, if only that were the case. The real truth was that if he and every other person combined forces and attacked the crawlers, they would eventually lose. They would be able to inflict great devastation in the process, yes, but the end result would be the death of every last person alive. This was the ultimate reason the Accord existed: the one thing everybody agreed on was that they could not let people vanish from the world.
“Pari-child is wrong. Every person has limit. Even Tavreth-sister has limit. Crawlers too many.”
“No! Bazzalth-grandfather would never lose!” Pari shouted, jumping to her feet in anger, tears in her eyes. “Bazzalth-grandfather is lying! Bazzalth-grandfather is meanie!”
Sobbing loudly, the child turned and ran away as fast as she could, her long hair trailing along the ground behind her as she sprinted away from him and into the alchemy alcove in the back. Before Bazzalth could even process what was happening, he heard a series of coughs and the soft thump of Pari’s body hitting the stone floor.
Peering in again, Bazzalth found Pari lying on the ground, fast asleep once more. The floor of the alcove sank as one went in deeper, until it leveled out at about two Pari-heights lower than the floor of the main cavern. It seemed that her sleeping gas was heavier than air and still lingered inside the smaller room. He would have to figure out a way to better ventilate it.
That, however, was a task for later. He had more immediate tasks on hand. Grabbing the tiny child from the alcove for the second time today, Bazzalth deposited her on the bedding in the back of the cave, leaving her to sleep off the drug.
In the meantime, he went to his main experiment table and began to craft. The process of creating using his flesh and bones as the base material was something he’d mastered long ago. Given enough time, he could grow most any framework he desired using bits he kept in a nutrient tank in the far corner of his lair.
One thing this “game” with Pari had shown him was that he did not possess the perspective, attitude, and—loath as he was to admit it—Knowledge to effectively teach the child how to blend in with the crawlers. So, with that in mind, Bazzalth began to create a cage. It was time to bring in some “outside assistance”.
* * *
“-spiritsthiscan’tberealthisisalljustadreamyesadream-”
“Bazzalth-grandfather, why is crawler in cage?” Pari inquired, glancing between Bazzalth and the cowering red-haired male crawler within the bone enclosure. She frowned. “Crawler smell like poop and pee.”
“-I’mjustdreamingandI’llwakeupanymomentnowifIjust-”
“Crawler is teacher for Pari-child,” he informed her. He’d picked up this crawler after slaying the rest of the crawler’s small exploring group. This one had seemed like the best choice because, of all the crawlers there, this one had talked the most. He needed a crawler that could talk well, and judging by the endless stream of babbling coming from the cage, this one fit the requirements quite well.
“But Tavreth-meanie said that Bazzalth-grandfather will get in trouble if Bazzalth-grandfather keeps living crawler,” she protested, seeming to forget that he’d crossed that line already.
“Worry not,” he assured her, “crawler will be gone before Tavreth-sister returns.”
“Crawler!” he growled, causing the caged being to flinch. “Listen well! Crawler will teach Pari-child to be crawler!”
“Crawler...?” the pathetic creature replied, his wide eyes staring up at Bazzalth and seemingly searching for something.
Oh, right. Crawlers were creatures of greed. He probably wanted something as a reward for teaching Pari. Luckily, he knew just the thing.
“Heed Bazzalth’s words, crawler! If crawler teaches Pari-child to Bazzalth’s satisfaction and does not hurt Pari-child, Bazzalth will allow crawler to leave Bazzalth’s lair alive. This is Bazzalth’s promise to crawler. Crawler understands?”
“Wha? Teach?”
“CRAWLER UNDERSTANDS?”
“Y-y-yes!” the insignificant thing stammered. “I u-understand!”
“Crawler will begin now.”
With that said, Bazzalth turned away to partake in some kaersha research on which he had reluctantly fallen behind. Still, just in case, he kept his hearing focused on Pari and her new instructor.
“Greetings, crawler!” Pari chirped. “Pari’s name is Pari! Does crawler have name?”
“Ah...? What in the name of the spirits are you?”
“Nya? Pari is Pari.”
“Is that thing keeping you prisoner, too?
“Bazzalth-grandfather is not ‘thing’! Bazzalth-grandfather is Bazzalth-grandfather!” Pari huffed in outrage. “Bazzalth-grandfather is super great and wonderful!”
“R-right, of course...” the crawler replied. “I’m, uh, Pyr.”
“Pyr stinky.”
“Yeah, would it be possible to have some water to wash myself? Please, Pari!”
“No! Not until Pyr-crawler says sorry for calling Bazzalth-grandfather ‘thing’!” the child declared.
“Please! I kind of shat myself... several times.”
“Nnnnno!”
After listening to Pari properly establish dominance, Bazzalth turned his full focus to his research and let the rest of the banter fade into the background. She had the situation under control.
* * *
“No, no, no! For the last time, you can’t say ‘crawler’! It’s ‘person’! And stop putting other things after names!”
“Hehehehee,” Pari giggled in return, “Pyr-teacher is funny!”
Waiting for the end product of his kaersha refinement process, Bazzalth idly eavesdropped on the conversation going on across the cave, holding back a chuckle when he heard the crawler say “people”. He found the way they used the same basic concept of an individual as a person would amusing, in part because of the staggering difference in the meaning imparted within the concept. A person’s use of ‘person’ carried with it the full, enormous weight of the peoples’ profound and majestic existence, the meaning behind the word imparting the recipient with an understanding of each person’s undeniable, overwhelming significance. Meanwhile, the crawler version hit like a piece of dust blown by a slight breeze. One couldn’t help but feel that even crawlers considered other crawlers as puny, insignificant beings unworthy of one’s notice. Yet at the same time, the very idea that they conceptualized themselves in the same way as a person was almost an insult to people. To be compared as such would surely have driven other people, especially Tavreth, into an endless fury.
“Locked in a cage and forced to ‘teach’ a mad beast child,” the crawler lamented. “This is a new low...”
“Pyr-teacher!”
“What now?”
“Why crawlers not have pointy ears like Pari?”
“What? Do you not know what a beastkin is?”
“Nya? What beastkin?”
“It’s what you are. They’re rare here in Kutrad, but there’s more of them as you go south, or so I’ve heard. I’ve been told that lots of them live in a giant forest to the south, but I can’t say for sure. Never been out of Kutrad, myself.”
“Why Pari beastkin?”
“What is this, philosophy time with a five-year-old?” he muttered wearily to himself.
“Eight!”
“Huh?”
“Pari is eight!”
“Little small for an eight-year-old.”
“Pari always small,” the child huffed. “Bazzalth-grandfather says Pari grow very slow.”
“Sure, whatever. I don’t care anymore.”
“How old is Pyr-teacher?”
“Thirty-two. That’s why you should stop arguing and listen to me for once. I’m an adult.”
“Pfft! Thirty-two is tiny number! Bazzalth-grandfather is much older than Pyr-teacher!”
“Spirits above, what did I do to deserve this?”
* * *
“Pteh! Yuck! Pari not understand! Why craw-”
“Focus!”
“Why... people... care about stupid tiny metal pieces? Pieces not tasty at all!”
“Listen, kiddo, money runs the world. People will do almost anything to get it. Why do you think I was up here exploring in the first place?”
“Because mountains pretty?”
“No, you dolt! It was because the King would pay us lots and lots of money to find more locations for mines. Of course, if I had known what would happen, I would have just stayed home.”
“Why King want mines?”
“Because he can make lots of money with them, why else?”
“Pfft! King stupid! People stupid! Pyr-teacher stupid! Money stupid!”
Bazzalth laughed to himself at the realization that crawlers had their own sort of hoard. It figured that crawlers would all hoard the exact same thing. They couldn’t do anything right. If two people were ever to hoard the same thing, the situation could only end in the death of one of the two people. There would be no way around it; the jealously and envy would drive them to each other’s throats. How many crawlers had died because they all hoarded the same small pieces of metal? What simpletons!
“Money is not stupid! Money is how you pay for stuff!” the crawler refuted.
“Pay?” Pari repeated.
“Yes! If you want something that somebody is selling, you have to pay for it. That’s how it works.”
“Foolish crawler!” Bazzalth laughed again, his booming voice making the crawler flinch slightly. “Simply take what is desired, as people do! Strong people take from weak people, because strong people are strong and weak people are weak! Strength is what matters!”
“But Bazzalth-grandfather, Tavreth-meanie takes from Bazzalth-grandfather every time Tavreth-meanie visits,” Pari reminded him. “Is Bazzalth-grandfather weak?”
“Hmph! Of course not! Bazzalth is very strong!” Bazzalth snorted derisively, turning back to his experiment to hide the sudden wave of shame that washed over him. For him to lose perspective and stumble so...
One day he would become strong enough to not be known as the weakest person... right? Once he had matured into a full-grown adult, surely. Then others wouldn’t be able to push him around so easily, and he might even be able to impose his will upon another person! He only needed to wait another six or seven thousand years. The time couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
“N-No! Pari likes hair!”
“You stand out enough as it is. There’s no way anybody would ever have hair this long. I don’t even understand how you have hair this long!”
“B-but-”
“It’s gotta go!”
“NNNnnnnnNNNNNNNNNN!”
“Whine all you want. It won’t change the facts,” Pyr stated matter-of-factly. “Go get a knife and cut your hair.”
Pari sulkily stomped across the lair and returned with a small bone knife, a piece from her candlemaking equipment. Her ears plastered to her skull and her tail waving back and forth endlessly, she grabbed her long, flowing hair and pulled it towards her. The knife in one hand and her hair bunched up in her other arm, she began to saw at it about two-and-a-half Pari-lengths down.
“Not like that,” Pyr-crawler tut-tutted. “You have to cut it much higher up.”
“But-”
Pyr-crawler simply crossed his arms across his chest and gave Pari a disapproving look, causing Pari to wilt a little. She moved the knife to the two Pari-lengths point, but he just shook his head. One-and-a-half Pari-lengths brought another shake. So did one Pari-length. The child’s hand shook slightly as it move up to the hair hanging beside her knees.
“Higher,” Pyr-crawler insisted.
Pari’s lips trembled as tears formed in her eyes. She sniffled loudly.
“Higher!”
“NNNNNNNNN Bazzalth-grandfatherrrrrrrrr!”
“Alrightalrightalright! Cut it at your knees!” the crawler cried out immediately, bringing a swift and sudden end to Pari’s oncoming fit. “I don’t understand why you are so upset anyway. It will just grow back eventually if you let it.”
“Nya?” Pari replied with a tilt of her head. “Hair grows?”
* * *
Bazzalth glared down at the crawler in the cage below him, trying to decide what to do.
“Time for teaching is over,” he told the puny, quivering thing. “Pari-child still speaks like Pari-child and not crawler.”
“I-I did my best!” the crawler protested. “I managed to fix most of it, at least! I even got it so she only adds stuff after names for people closest to her instead of everybody! It’s not my fault that it’s like she can’t progress past that point!”
“Excuses.”
“No really! It’s like something inside her is holding her back! There’s nothing I can do about it! I’m just a person!”
Bazzalth considered the crawler’s panicked arguments for a moment, weighing their merit. Picking up Pari—who, days later, still wouldn’t stop complaining about her hair, which now merely fell to her knees—he brought her closer and peered at her soul with his soulsight. Yes, the slight warping remained.
Bazzalth had been rather concerned, way back on the day of Pari’s reawakening. He still remembered the way her weak, immature soul had deformed under the assault of his words. After a bit, her soul had seemed to adjust to his pressure and the deformations that occurred with each of Bazzalth’s words had ceased. But the warping never receded.
Since that day, Bazzalth had kept an eye on the shape of the child’s soul and observed her for anything wrong. The soul was, after all, a vital component of each and every sapient being. It was part of what made them who they were. But up until now, he found himself unable to detect anything wrong with the child herself.
But the crawler’s protestations brought a new thought to his mind. What if he was the problem? Had he accidentally reprogrammed her that day, rewriting and hardwiring the way she thought and spoke to match his own? It would explain why he had never noticed anything worrisome, and it would explain her trouble with speaking like a crawler. It would explain a lot, actually.
“Hmmmm... Bazzalth has concluded that crawler completed task to Bazzalth’s satisfaction. Crawler will leave Bazzalth’s lair alive.”
Picking up the entire cage, he carried it through the tunnel and set it down outside with the door facing away from the cave.
“You’re really not going to kill me?” the stunned crawler blurted out.
“Promises must be honored,” he replied, opening the cage door. “Crawler fulfilled condition, so Bazzalth keeps promise. Go.”
The crawler didn’t need to be told twice, taking off in a dead sprint toward the south. Bazzalth noted how he moved faster than his biology should be capable of, meaning the crawler was one of the body-enhancement types.
“Bye-bye, Pyr-teacher!” Pari called after him as he leaped over a large boulder and disappeared from sight.
Carrying the cage back inside, Bazzalth began to count. As Bazzalth had told both the crawler and Pari, keeping one’s promises was a vital part of being a person. That was why he’d promised to let the crawler leave the lair, but never said a thing about what would happen after that. In a few hundred breaths, he would leave the lair once more, this time to go hunting. The Accord said that the crawler could not be allowed to live, and the Accord was the most important promise of all.
* * *
“Bazzalth-grandfather bad! Bazzalth-grandfather broke promise to Pyr-teacher!” sobbed an inconsolable Pari. “Bring Pyr-teacher back!”
Bazzalth didn’t know what to do. Out of consideration for the child’s feelings, he’d tried to hide the crawler’s body when returning with the freshly-neck-snapped corpse, but Pari’s nose was just too powerful. She’d smelled him immediately and had been throwing a tantrum since. With hindsight, he obviously should have just incinerated the corpse into unrecognizable ashes on the spot, but at the time, the thought of wasting such quality research material had been too much to bear.
The nuances of Bazzalth’s promise were lost on Pari. She had understood his oath differently, and she refused to change her mind on it now even when he explained it to her. That fact that everything about the crawler had been done for her survival seemed lost on her. Eventually, he found his patience running low.
“Pari-child, enough!” he roared. “Bazzalth did what Bazzalth had to do!”
“B-b-but Pari liked Pyr-teacher...” she sniffed.
Bazzalth sighed. Perhaps there was one thing he could try to make her stop. “Listen well, Pari-child. Bazzalth can bring crawler back.”
She gasped. “R-really?”
“Yes, but crawler will only come back if crawler wants to come back. Understand? If crawler does not come back, then crawler did not want to return and it is not Bazzalth’s fault.”
“...o-okay...” At least the child had calmed down a bit.
Pari following along beside him, Bazzalth walked over to one vat in the corner of the cave. This vat contained what remained of his last batch of Ichor of Life. He’d put his research into that aside after Pari’s resurrection and hadn’t expected to return to it in any capacity for another few years at least.
“Bazzalth-grandfather put Pyr-teacher in slime water?” Pari asked.
“Yes,” he merely said as he removed the lid.
“Wait!” the child cried out. “Let Pari take off clothes! Clothes feel icky when wet.”
Bazzalth paused to let Pari remove the crawler’s clothing. Once the dead body was fully naked, he dropped it into the Ichor.
Just like all the bodies he’d observed before, the corpse began to spasm wildly. Bazzalth watched the crawler’s soul with a dispassionate eye, waiting for the spreading blue’s growth to die off and return to a lifeless gray. But it didn’t.
“It cannot be!” he muttered in shock as he watched the blue continue its conquest of the crawler’s soul.
“Pyr-teacher’s hair grows!” Pari noted with excitement. “Pyr-teacher’s hair long like Pari’s was!”
Bazzalth couldn’t believe it. The one time he wanted failure, he’d succeeded.
* * *
One day later, Bazzalth watched as used Ichor gushed from the gagging man’s lungs.
“Pyr-teacher!” Pari squealed as she rushed towards the sputtering and coughing figure, unable to wait until the crawler—no, Bazzalth’s new data source—could properly breathe.
“Ah?” The man seemed surprised as Pari wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Who are you?”
“Pari is Pari?” the child replied, evidently confused. “Pyr-teacher not remember?”
“I...” He looked up at Bazzalth and leaned back in shock. “What are you?! Where... where am I? Who am I?”
“Pyr-teacher not remember!” Pari mourned.
“What are those?” he asked, spotting the pile of clothes he’d worn before his revival. “Are those for me?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Pyr-adult, listen well,” Bazzalth instructed. “Pyr-adult has returned to life through Bazzalth’s doing. Pyr-adult will repay debt by caring for Pari-child until time comes when both can return to Bazzalth.”
“Ummmm... I sorry, Mister giant whatever-you-are, I’m very confused,” Pyr admitted.
“Pari will teach!” the girl declared, jumping up and down with glee. “Pari will be Pari-teacher for Pyr-teacher!”
“Thanks, I guess,” he replied as he finished donning everything from his shirt to his boots. He ran his hand through his long hair that fell in a large pile on the ground behind him. “Say, uh, Pari, could you get me something to cut this hair?”
“Okay!”
A few moments later, the child returned with the same small bone knife she’d used to cut her own hair many days ago.
“Thanks!” Pyr said, taking the small blade, bunching up his hair behind his head with one hand and slicing it away with the other. “You made this nice and easy for me.”
In a flash, Pyr grabbed Pari, pulled the child in front of him, and held the knife to her neck.
“N-nya?!”
“Don’t move!” he shouted as he began slowly dragging Pari towards the lair entrance. “Try anything and she’s dead!”
“Pyr-crawler dares to threaten Bazzalth?!” Bazzalth roared.
“Don’t think I don’t know how much you care about this freak’s safety!” he replied, his tone dangerous. “I’m taking her with me! Move a single muscle and I’ll bleed her dry!”
“Pari doesn’t understand! Why Pyr-teacher grab Pari! Let Pari go!”
“Shut up, you dimwit! I know some people in the slave trade that would love to get their hands on you! I’m going to sell you for loads of cash, and then we’ll come back with an army and kill your ‘grandpa’ over there and take everything!” He laughed. “Do you have any idea how much a king would pay to be able to come back to life?”
“S-slave?!” Pari stuttered, going stiff. It was as if the word triggered something inside of her as she began to thrash around like a wild animal. “Pari not slave! No!”
“Hold still, you little runt!” Pyr snarled. He tried to keep the blade just a hair’s width from her neck, but, thanks to the child’s squirming, accidentally pricking the skin and drawing blood.
A bright cloud of iridescent motes of light sprang forth, throwing Pyr for a loop.
“What?!” he cried, blinking as the light rendered him semi-blind.
Bazzalth felt conflicted. Part of him thought that now was the time to strike, but the other part still saw the glowing blade by the child’s neck. If he acted, that might still put Pari’s life at risk. And so he hesitated.
Pari, on the other hand, did not. With her captor confused and discombobulated, she pulled out a small candle from her pocket and lit it. A thick plume of smoke jetted forth, engulfing them both. Bazzalth heard them both cough and wheeze, followed by two soft thumps as their bodies hit the floor, fast asleep.
Grabbing the still-spewing candle, Bazzalth threw it into an empty vat and closed the lid. Then, after blowing away the gas from around the unconscious pair, he gently picked up Pari and placed her on the observation table just as he had twice before. Then, he grabbed Pyr and snapped his neck for the second time.
* * *
Pari let out a sigh as she dangled her tiny legs off the observation table. It had been half a day since she’d woken from her drug-induced slumber, and Bazzalth had yet to see her ears perk up even once.
“Why Pari-child upset?” he finally asked.
The child let out a whimper. “Pyr-teacher was nice to Pari, but then Pyr-teacher became meanie and hurt Pari! Pari not understand!”
“Bazzalth told Pari-child: crawlers cannot be trusted, not even crawlers Pari-child likes,” he grunted. “Crawlers are greedy and sneaky, so Accord was made to keep crawlers from learning of Bazzalth and other people. Does Pari-child now understand? Does Pari-child still want to tell crawlers about Bazzalth?”
Pari shook her head. “...no, Pari will not tell.”
“Good child.”
He gently patted her head with a finger, but his action did not seem to entirely mollify her.
“Bazzalth-grandfather... is Pari also greedy and sneaky and untrustworthy?”
“Bazzalth told Pari-child before, Pari-child is not crawler. Pari-child is Bazzalth’s data.”
“But... if Pari leaves, then Pari is not Bazzalth-grandfather’s data anymore. Then what is Pari? Pari does not want to be greedy, sneaky crawler. What should Pari do?”
Bazzalth thought for a moment about the best way to answer such a large question from such a small being but found little that leaped to the forefront of his mind. So, eventually, he told her what he would have told another person.
“Pari must become strong and find Pari’s hoard. Then, Pari will not need be sneaky or greedy.”
“Okay! Pari will!” she chirped before sprinting down from the table and into her alchemy alcove.
With the child suitably distracted, Bazzalth turned to the twice-dead body of the crawler named Pyr. Though his death had robbed Bazzalth of a source of data, his corpse could still be used for an experiment that Bazzalth had been contemplating ever since Pari’s resurrection.
Taking the body, he made his way back to the vat filled with the Ichor of Life and, his mind buzzing with curiosity, deposited the body within. How would an already-resurrected being fare within the Ichor?
Immediately, the Ichor did what it always did, eating away at the rough, handmade clothes that Pyr had created for himself. However, Bazzalth was quick to notice that the body did not spasm as it usually would, nor were there any changes to Pyr’s grey soul.
A moment passed. Then two. After more than twenty breaths of inactivity, Bazzalth accepted what he saw. There was no reaction here, the body and Ichor both inert. He would leave the crawler in the vat and come back to it over time, just to be sure, but for now, the conclusion seemed obvious: the Ichor only worked on a crawler once.
Comments
Sassy
Only works once? Oh no
Erdos
Thanks
