Hm, I actually am interested in his wares after all. Certain gear and clothing is indicated to be mud-treated. Teuila asks excitedly if she can get some of the prettier things that are mud treated. I almost feel ashamed that she thinks she has to ask me. She has earned millions and millions in currency between her hunts and adventures, easily as much as I have, if not more. Even if she can’t figure out how to access her inventory, any wealth we have access to is at least half hers, at the bare minimum. I wonder if the paper rands would be worth anything on Rayileklia. I was somewhat surprised that those were the currency of Eimsas when we infiltrated the human town. It’s unlikely they’d be of value here though, better to stick to coins and gemstones, or the few thin strips and bars of gold I’ve summoned. The gold is like slightly rounded rectangular prisms, each about as long as my thumb.
Since we’re already making waves in Autumn Brook, I don’t feel like using up our local currency, so I fish out a handful of gems and gold, whispering to Teuila to go nuts. Her eyes sparkle with excitement like I haven’t seen since, well, she started hunting with Linti, honestly. One of the first things she sets aside for purchase is a massive leather backpack. For anyone else her size, I’d be fearful they’d topple over under its weight when filled. I’ve no such worries about Teuila. Before she even reached the pinnacle of her strength, she was able to lift a multi-ton, feathered-bear partially off of me with one arm, while using the other arm to drag me out from beneath Luna, that bear. Like I’ve thought before, Teuila is ridiculously strong. The results of her nearly endless exercise and training and adventuring.
Teuila tries on a form-fitting, curve-accentuating leather trench coat that’s done up in a cut that’s tighter around the waist, and I barely resist whistling in appreciation. Apparently Berinon crafts with style in mind. Wow. Te picks out some fantastic stompers. That is, leather boots. She also finds flattering breeches, a jerkin with a matching corset, a leather gorget that fits the same aesthetic, a linen blouse with poofy sleeves, and an angular poncho with a hood that somehow ties it all together. My memories of fakeworld say she would look amazing at a renaissance festival. She actually looks sort of like, well, nah, it couldn’t be, Taylynn was a human. I mean, honestly, in my eyes, Teuila looks amazing, all the time. That brilliant copper sheen, those vibrant emerald eyes, her sleek musculature, even her tail, which is barely existent in this form. Oh, I should probably find some covering for myself as well, instead of ogling Teuila.
Hm, this robe thing could be cute, but would it look cute on me, or just make me look like a, what are those space-faring creatures that scavenge and steal robots on a desert planet? I think their name is something like coffees, or espressos, maybe javas. Yeah, I’d look like one of those, nothing visible but my eyes. More pop culture from fakeworld, Earth. I’m starting to worry about these mysterious memories of mine. Even more so now that Luni isn’t here, when her last words about my ruminations were ominous. Neither of the two of us are ready. Neither me nor Teuila.
Ah well, better focus on the present I guess. I could see me kind of getting a kick out of shopping. If Teuila and I were stranded on Earth, we could probably hang out fairly inconspicuously in a mall, if we wore caps and jackets and such. I’m really glad that, of all the planets we could have ended up on after dying, we didn’t end up on Earth at least. Fakeworld seems like a bit of a nightmare. All those humans, all those problems facing them. I hope that, if my memories are from any particular era, that that era has passed, and humanity on Earth is better off than it was. Wait, no, it’s fake, I don’t have to think about anything like that, time can’t pass on a world that doesn’t exist. Right?
Hm, I kind of wish Luni was here to help me pick out clothes. I really dig her adorable sense of style. Teuila’s current style is somehow fitting for her. A proud warrior who’s also a bit, well, sexy is probably the term that humans would use. Okay, probably a lot more than just a bit sexy, she’s totally drop-dead gorgeous. Or maybe we’d say she’s stylish. We? Ugh. Remind yourself you’re not a human Reggie. Anyway, her chocolate and cherry dress was stylish, cute in a way, but also sort of sophisticated, classy. Regardless, Te’s style isn’t quite what I’m about. I think I prefer cute over sexy for myself. Ah, apparently we’re ditching most of my haphazardly created leaf-leather stuff, for new leather pouches and sacks and packs that adorn her giant new backpack. That does make sense if we want to appear more local.
The shopkeep, Berinon, apparently came around the counter to watch us up close. He coughs for attention, “As cute as it is to watch the two of you play dressup, you’re piling up quite a sum of my wares. I’d appreciate if you would—“
Teuila marches up to him, flashes her brightest smile, grabs his hand, opens his palm, and drops a handful of gems, and the tiny gold bars, into it. Oy vey. Really subtle Teuila. Heh, Teuila and subtle don’t go in the same sentence. Berinon holds the gems up to the light to inspect their luster and facets I suppose. I think you can tell the difference between glass, and gemstones, by the crystal makeup, and like refraction. Maybe. I’m not a gemologist. I’m a cryptozoologist, remember?
Berinon scoffs for a moment, but inspects each of the gems in turn, then appraises us. He looks back to the fortune in his hands, and mutters, “Carry on, valued customers. Berinon Tanner is at your service.”
I bite my lips to hide my laughter, but Teuila has no such compunction. She bursts into laughter and rubs a tear from one of her eyes. Berinon blushes with chagrin as he heads back to the other side of the counter. Are we fated to play the wealthy brats whenever we end up in a human town? At least it’s funny this time, and not life-threatening. Plus, we can help the local economy get back on its feet, after the Colossi extortion. As long as we’re spendy, and spending on things we need, it won’t seem like meaningless charity.
Still, flashing wealth around in any human settlement is tantamount to asking for trouble. I wonder if that prospect excites Teuila, or if she doesn’t realize. It’s probably the former, honestly. She’d have a field day roughing up hoodlums who might try to mug us. The real challenge would be in holding back enough to not grievously injure or kill them.
I approach Berinon, “Pardon me, Berinon is it? I um, I know I’m probably not the size of your usual clientèle, but would you happen to have something more in my shape and size that doesn’t, um, well, make me look like a thieving little munchkin gremlin thing?”
Berinon begins to scoff, but thinks better of it, stating, “You’re actually in luck. The ones who.” He trails off for a moment. His eyes lose focus as sadness mists them. His voice wavers, “The ones who requested the works in a box I’ll bring out, they, they’ll no longer be needing it.”
Oh, that’s heartbreaking. It sounds like the child of a friend died. I mean, if it’s things in my cherubic, short size, for a human, that would mean a child. From the sadness creeping into his voice, I’m jumping to conclusions, but I doubt I’m far off. Berinon brushes aside a pelt that I didn’t realized hid a doorway. I suppose that’s probably the point of it. He bends down around the corner to the back of the shop, then drags a small wooden crate out as he stands once more.
As he’s setting out the crate for me to look through, I hazard to ask, “How much do I owe you?”
Berinon puffs air like a sailor missing a pipe hanging from the left side of his mouth, “Pft, you’re with that young wahine, aren’t you?”
I blush as I scratch the back of my head, nodding. Berinon continues, “My wares are not cheap mind you. We don’t do much hunting in Aasimovia, so I’d mostly only have sheepskin to work with if I didn’t offer decent prices for hides from the traders. She managed to put in my hands enough to restock my entire shop and then some. I don’t do it for the profit, I do it for the chance to work, and yet.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
And yet, there’s the wealth of several weeks or months worth of sales, and purchases of new supplies to craft new works. There’s Teuila not asking for any sort of change or recompense or exchange rate, continuing to obliviously skip around the shop, eyeballing anything she had missed in her first go-around. Te buffs some mud off of her leather cuffs, her forearm guards, and holds them up against various wares Berinon has made, comparing the colors or patterning I suspect. Or something like that anyway. Berinon’s gaze leaves me momentarily to check on Teuila, and he suddenly emits a noise I can’t describe.
Berinon fumbles to form words momentarily, “You err, gurble, gumbo, giver, you, come here, please. Show me what you wear about your wrists!”
Teuila shrugs and obliges, trotting over, happy to display the bracers she’s so proud of. Berinon looks to be fighting to restrain himself from grabbing her arms or ripping them from her wrists. Either would probably end with him pinned to the floor.
Berinon mumbles, “By the First, these are Heart, but ancient Heart. Yet they’re in perfect condition. How in blazes. Just how rich are the two of you to be wandering around wearing ancient artifacts? I would offer back everything you just gave me in trade for those, but I wager you wouldn’t be interested in parting with them for such a sum.”
Teuila looks like she had been handed a plate of petunias when she wanted a plate of peas, “You’d win that wager. My scoffclunk gave them to me after we slew a major beasty together. That, that evil Octorochi, eight headed serpent jerk, big ol’ stupid hydra-face. You shoulda seen Rej, grr, I was so mad at my dinkleberry when they jumped off the cliff, and then I, well, you can’t prove it, no one will believe you, but I was crying when me and the dragbutt were racing down to catch ‘em. They almost died because they shapeshifted instead of drinking the magic potion, like a big doink. It doesn’t matter though, we won! Err, none of this happened on this planet anyway, so it not mattering doesn’t even matter either I guess.”
Throughout Teuila’s entire excited over-sharing, I’m giving her the cutthroat gesture with my eyes wide in a panic. I facepalm as Berinon tries to parse what he’s just been told. Without our psychic link, Teuila has no outlet for her emotions, and now apparently no filter either. She never shared that with anyone other than me before. Now she’s clasping both hands over her mouth, as she glances between the two of us, wide-eyed. I sigh as I make sure the door to the shop is closed. I begin focusing for the eight minutes it’s going to take me, and clenching my eyes tight through the pain that races around behind my eyes as I begin to reach out to Can’Z’aas to engage one of my powers.
Teuila rushes into a corner, while Berinon looks confused. He peers back and forth between the two of us. I stand near Teuila, one hand on her shoulder as she huddles down in embarrassment. I squeeze her shoulder lightly, trying to reassure her. Berinon does the gracious thing and shutters the blinds on his shop, flips a sign, and bolts the door. He returns to his stool on the other side of the counter, trying to understand what Teuila said, while also waiting out her embarrassment. We’ve paid him enough to rent the shop for a few hours, so he’s in no great need of making more sales today.
Berinon converses, “Telling tales calls into question your honesty and your wealth’s validity. I thought it perhaps rude to ask, but I take it you’re neither Hidden Heart, nor Imperium born? Still, the rest of the tale is a bit far-fetched, and now I have to wonder about the validity of this wealth, or your ownership of those artifacts. Should I be contacting constables? I’ll give you a bit to recover before I make any decisions.”
Exactly as I feared. Thankfully, I’m over halfway to proving one of the far-fetched things about Teuila’s tale. I double over in pain as the sensation of stabbing moves from behind my eyes, lancing all the way down into my guts, which twist and cramp. The knuckles I’d split the skin on in Noirdivinhoz begin to bleed light as my mana sickness runs rampant, slicing the cuts back open from the inside.
Berinon mutters, “By the First. What in all that’s holy.”
I’m glad I’m still wearing the magically form-fitting Valkyrie under-armor padded clothing. I crumple to my knees, gasping in pain as I arrive in my much taller, slightly burly-armed femme form. Berinon drops the gold he was inspecting, and stands to bring an oil lamp closer to the two of us. I’m still focusing on the upcoming pair of spells, well, quintuplet I suppose. In, double out, in again, out again.
Te mumbles, “Oh, hey, that’s the form Lin really likes. It’s only been like three days, but I miss her.” She then clasps her mouth shut again with both hands. I gently draw her hands away from her mouth, to hold them.
I turn to Berinon, bleeding light and life from several spots on my body. I state, “I’m really hoping this is all the proof you’ll need that Teuila is the rightful owner of these, artifacts as you call them. We’re not from around here, not by a long shot. Give me another fifteen minutes or so, and I’ll have more proof.” Then addressing Teuila, I ask, “Te, can I dupe them for him?”
Teuila nods absentmindedly. My guts rumble and a coppery taste hits the back of my throat with a sudden sickening splash. Warm liquid floods my mouth from my esophagus, and I barely contain it. The tiniest bit escapes and I’m left wiping the escaping dribble on my sleeve. Blood, of course. My energy or mana use is as dangerous internally to me as it is externally to others. Berinon is probably already convinced, with me bleeding light all over the place within the darkened shop, since the shutters are closed, blocking out the luma tulipa outside. Still, he waits patiently as I perform more non-Rayileklian magic.
As I claim Teuila’s bracers, it’s more difficult than usual, and not just Rayileklian difficult. I realize they’re soulbound to her, but parts of our souls are bound to each other, so eventually they relent. So much of my inventory adopted the soulbound, or soulbound once equipped tag near the end of my life. It prevented me from leaving anything behind on Can’Z’aas. I’d wanted to empty my inventory, thinking that I was dying, to never return. I was hoping some explorer someday would find the belongings and have a use for them.
I continue visualizing returning the bracers to Teuila immediately after an umbral duplicate forms from my space magic skill, and summoning those duplicates back to my inventory immediately as they form. That’s so that they don’t poof before their duplication timer expires. I’m able to accomplish essentially a triple spell simultaneously with only eight minutes of concentration, by planning out every second of utilizing my powers as if they were occurring in advance of when they actually transpire. It does however leave me gasping for breath. It also doesn’t prove much, because to a casual observer, it might have looked like I hid the bracers for a split second at best.
Berinon pulls his stool closer, watching us from in front of his door. We’re in no real danger, I just don’t want any trouble, so I figure it’s best to have at least one person truly know how different we are, instead of having a town constabulary think that we’re tomb robbers or thieves. I kind of wish it were Keeley that I was proving this to, instead of Berinon, but Teuila spoke when she did, raising suspicions. It’s not her fault though, it’s no one’s fault. We’re a weird couple, in a weird situation, that seem exceedingly rich for a pair of young punks. We’re apparently also wandering around with what passes as ancient artifacts from some nearby civilization.
Eventually, another eight minutes pass, and the umbral duplicates exit from my inventory, hopefully having been made permanent. They won’t house the same magics as the originals, I never got around to learning an enchantment skill, or anything like that. I’d need to adventure a lot more, find a lot more magic items I’m willing to part with, and disenchant them constantly. At least that’s how I surmise I’d gain the skill to begin with. Then I probably still couldn’t duplicate the powers of really strong items right away. All of this is moot if we never get back to Can’Z’aas though.
I wearily hold the pair of bracers out for Berinon’s inspection, my heart tromping around in my chest like a raging bull with the exertion of using magic. As far as I know, none of my companions have really tried to utilize their Can’Z’aasian magic powers since Mat failed to use his. I don’t know whether they haven’t figured out the trick, or if they’re scared of the pain they see me go through when I use it, or they just don’t feel the need, or what. I’m pretty sure the massive amount of pain is exclusive to me, due to my mana corruption issue or whatever it’s called now that even my minimal skill energy or magic energy expenditures produce effects too large to scale down any lower, and tear their way through my body.
As I pass the bracers over for Berinon’s inspection, the blood loss, or racing heart and low blood pressure, or maybe all three catch up with me. It feels as if I’m falling towards the floor in slow motion as two concerned faces gaze at me, one diving quickly to intercept my fall.