Thouco Tower was a mixed-use arcology close to the center of Dendril City.
If the Ishel Corporation Lounge was a tower-sized department store, then Thouco was closer to a gated community. It had its own upmarket apartment complexes, prestige offices for dozens of different corporations, and stores that were more like the high-end electronics showrooms of old Earth than the busy and vibrant markets of the Ishel Corp tower.
Miles thought the idea was probably for sapients to live in the apartments, work in the corp offices, and shop at the boutiques, all without leaving the tower.
The business listing fixed to the wall of the embarkation lounge was an education in itself. Floors 15-18, the Covenant Corporation. Floors 25-28, the Outlaster’s Corporation. Floors 28-33, the Wing Corporation. Miles felt like he should have been memorizing names and scanning the business directory for future reference.
If he were alone, he might have.
Task escorted him through the embarkation lounge to a bank of elevators, which they rode to one of the upper levels.
They were alone in the elevator, but the journey only lasted a couple of seconds before the doors flicked open to reveal a wide, brightly lit corridor.
According to the floorplan by the elevator, the corridor was H-shaped, with stores and restaurants lining the walkways.
There were other sapients around, visiting the facilities. Miles saw Gilthaens dressed in shimmering or austere fabrics, moving with their long bodies close to the ground to stay under the low ceilings. There were several Orbellius moving around on a mixture of levitation units and spider-like walking frames, with skin colors that ranged from white to sunset-red. There was a Draulean, the same species as Miles’ last client, dressed in a gown of translucent weblike silk, their skin strobing black-white as they moved around inside a store.
Miles and Task were almost the only humanoids there, and Miles was definitely the worst dressed. He felt like he was intruding into a place only people with money were meant to be.
The feeling only intensified when their path took them alongside a clothing store. An automated system built into the glass wall took stock of Miles and projected the image of a proposed outfit. A pair of tapered black pants and a ruffled beige tunic that came down to the knees, all wrapped up under a billowing maroon cloak that was lined with interior pockets. The price was twenty-four hundred seln.
Task caught sight of the outfit and spoke quietly.
“I buy my clothes on the Exchange. It's cheaper."
Miles nodded. Maybe he should look on the Exchange, now that he had money.
They rounded the corner together and arrived at a store Miles instantly recognized as the Morning Star Corporation Lounge. Even if the place hadn’t had the same starburst glyph above the door that was engraved on his index, one of the designs projected on the glass wall was an image of the device he carried in his pocket.
It wasn’t the only one projected. Miles saw Task’s ring index, one in the form of a bracelet, one that was a sphere, a circlet. There were other devices that might not have been indexes at all.
Miles and Task passed through the open entrance together.
Inside, the back wall was dominated by a counter, with glass-walled booths set up behind it like the counter at a bank. The booths were open-fronted, so they didn’t seem like they could be for security. Most of them were empty, but one had something in it that Miles had trouble visually parsing at first.
Task pointed him towards the counter. “There, they will help you.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Miles said. Then, quietly, “Here I go.”
He stepped up to the counter, staring into the booth at the figure inside.
Miles hadn’t seen many other humanoids in the tower, and the clerk behind the desk followed that pattern. In any other context, Miles might have failed to recognize them as a sapient at all.
The overwhelming impression Miles got as he approached was of a fleshy vase, tongue-pink, with frills like lace running vertically up and down the trunk of their body. The top of their body opened out like a flower, with feathery tendrils reaching up into the air, drifting as if caught in an ocean current.
Their whole body was distinctly wet, glistening under the white strip lights, and as Miles got close he picked up the clashing smells of pickles and cream.
From up close, he noticed that the air drifting out of the booth was dense with a cold humidity, which immediately made him wonder whether the clear enclosures were there to provide a more comfortable environment for whatever sapient was staffing them.
“Hi,” he said.
He’d planned to say more, but he was having trouble getting his bearings with the interaction.
“Greetings, you! Our valued customer,” the sapient said. “How may this one help you?”
They seemed to be speaking through a vent on their side. The flapping orifice was making a quiet whispering sound that Miles wouldn’t even have realized was speech without his Eyes of the Emigre.
“Hi,” Miles said again. “I’m trying to change seln for delta?”
“In delight, we can accommodate your desire. Beneath the stars, we operate a brokerage. One mage to another, for you! The purchaser of delta.”
Finally.
“Okay,” he said, thinking. He needed to work out how much delta he wanted to buy.
He knew he wanted at least 125 delta to buy the Purify spell, plus another 100 to buy an improvement to his Authority, but the more delta he had on his account, the more of the Harmonizer catalog he’d get to see.
His reward from the Gilthaens had been 250 delta, which meant he’d need more than that to see more of his options.
“How much would it cost for five hundred delta?” he asked.
The clerk reached down with a feathery frond to brush against an apparently featureless white panel, then straightened back up.
“Within our system, available! 500 delta for 1480 standard exchange notes.”
Fifteen hundred seln? Ouch.
Miles had about three and a half thousand seln left after his morning shopping, but he had been enjoying the feeling of not being destitute.
“Is that the normal exchange rate?”
“No! It is ever-changing. Beneath the stars, this is the best rate for the hour.”
Miles took ten seconds to think about it, then nodded. “Okay. Yes. Can I get that please?”
“Present your index and your communicator, you!”
Miles handed over his index tablet and his comm. The sapient tapped both with a device that looked like an electric toothbrush without the bristles, then slid them back to him.
Miles grabbed his comm first, checking his seln account, then his overall financials.
> Financial Status [§]
> §2069 (-§1480 Purchases Morning Star Corporation)
> §3549 (-§488 Purchases Ishel Corporation Lounge)
> §4,037
> Financial Status [§,δ]
> §2069 (§3549 - §1480)
> δ500 (δ0 + δ500)
He’d done it. He’d finally managed to change money. It was probably the kind of transaction that every other sapient in the city took for granted, but for Miles, it was a milestone.
“That’s great. Thanks,” Miles said.
“In oneness, enjoy your brightened horizons. You! The mage of tools.”
“You too,” Miles replied on instinct, before stepping away quickly.
Task was standing at the edge of the store, looking at a row of indexes placed out along a white glass bench. Miles joined him.
“You did it?” Task asked.
“Yeah. I got five hundred delta. I should be able to afford a few upgrades with this.”
Task turned to look at him, jaws parted. “Five hundred?”
He sounded surprised, and Miles started wondering if that was unusually high.
“Yeah. We had a lucky find on our dive the other day. I just spent some of the seln from that.”
“I didn’t know it was possible to make so much at our level of skill.”
Miles remembered that Task had said he was only an apprentice, and Miles had told him that he didn’t think he even ranked that highly himself.
Was it unusual for them to make so much money on their first dive, on the first level of the dungeon? The threats there definitely hadn’t gone easy on them. They’d had to overpower the same suit of armor that had sold for so much. If Torg hadn’t kept the autopistol the Orbellius ghoul had attacked them with, they might have made even more.
“I don’t know how lucky we were, but I know that it’s possible.”
Task was staring absently at the display of devices on the bench, and Miles turned to look at them.
The products didn't seem to be stuck down or secured, so he reached down and picked up one that looked like a bulky earring.
An interface immediately sprung up over his vision.
At first, it was distorted, like looking at a graph that had been put through a shredder and reassembled badly, but the mental image flashed a few times, getting successively clearer, before presenting him with an interface that hovered in his visual field, somehow without obscuring his vision of the room.
Name: Miles Asher | Traditions: Harmonizer | Index Value: δ#1,2#0##
Strength: 0
Durability: 1
Speed: 0
Reactions: 0
Will: 0
Authority: 2
Authority (b): 0.19
Spells
Close Wound (Adept)
A weft of harmonizing energy brings together the free edges of a tear, sealing the join in materials which are co-bondable, such as cellular membranes, metal compounds, woven fabrics, and homogenous molecular surfaces.
Temporary Enhancement (Adept)
A temporary matrix of harmonizing energy alters one of a being’s fundamental properties by an amount in accordance with the weaver’s authority.
Hasten Renewal (Grasping)
A weft of harmonizing energy spreads from the weaver to their target, greatly speeding the being’s natural recovery by an amount multiplicative with the weaver’s authority.
Strike the Disharmonious (Adept)
With a weft of harmonizing energy, the weaver rips the authority from a disharmonious target, degrading its existence and claiming the confiscated authority for themself. While held ready, discordant presences will ring loudly in the weaver’s awareness.
Core Effects
Eyes of the Emigre
Embeds a matrix of harmonizing energy within the being’s mind which will reveal to them the meaning of any plain text or spoken language.
Eyes of the Altruist
Embeds a matrix of harmonizing energy within the being’s mind which reveal to them the health and ailments of a witnessed being.
He swept his attention across the mental interface and watched as it responded, priming itself to cast spells or switch effects at a mental command. The layout was slightly different, but it was surprisingly similar to how it was represented on the tablet.
Is this how hands-free index use is meant to work?
After receiving praise from Master Curious on his natural spellcasting, Miles felt a little above the training-wheels nature of the mental interface, but he couldn't deny that a tiny device he could always have on hand would be more convenient than the bulky tablet he had to carry with him now.
He looked around for a price, but when he saw it, instantly replaced the index on the bench.
Three thousand delta. Yikes.
Just accidentally damaging that in store would probably be enough to ruin him financially.
Miles looked at Task's ring with a new appreciation. There must have been a story behind how he got it, if the apprentice was both impressed by a fourteen-hundred seln payday while carrying around a three thousand delta piece of equipment.
Miles looked up from Task's hands to his face.
Task hadn't been examining the indexes, like Miles had thought. He was pouting with his lower lip, so that his lower fangs sat outside his mouth, pressing on his top lip. It looked like a thoughtful expression to Miles.
“If I can open doors and throw violence, does that have a role with teams going in to artifact?” he asked.
Miles thought for a few seconds, urgently trying to remember what he’d heard about the traditional team positions for dungeon dives.
“Yeah,” Miles replied. “That sounds like a combination of scout and fusilier. Someone who can help bypass doors, and attack at range.”
"Would you be willing to take me?" Task asked. "Apologies. If there's a place for me on your team, do you want me?"
"I don't know," Miles hedged.
They'd done okay without a fusilier last time, hadn't they? Though, they'd had Fran then, the random jack they'd run into.
Miles tried to imagine how the fight down there might have gone without Fran pitching in. They might not have known how to deal with the ghoul's energy shield, but that was down to experience that Task wouldn't be bringing. Fran had also been the one to finish off the armored ghoul, but that had been in close quarters. She'd pulled more weight as a lancer than a fusilier.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
As a mage, was it possible Task would have been able to affect the ghoul through the energy shield?
It wasn't a decision he could just make by himself anyway.
"I'll have to check with my team," Miles said.
"I see," Task said, looking down at the bench. "Apologies."
"I mean, I'm sure you'd be up to it. You're Oron's apprentice, right? I think we'd be lucky to have you. I just can't make those decisions on my own." Miles didn't feel like his attempt to cheer the apprentice up was working. "Hey, do you want to get some lunch?"
Task's hair twitched minutely, and he turned his eyes up to Miles.
"Yes. I'd like that."
"Okay. Great."
Miles tried to keep the new panic off his face.
Where am I meant to find lunch?
***
Miles had strong reservations about eating at an alien diner. He'd never eaten anything in spiral space other than the mass-produced calorie packs, and the prospect of unknown allergens alarmed him.
At least just walking into the place should be safe.
The two of them passed through the door of the restaurant and made their way to the seats.
It was an up-market-looking place, with lots of muted colors and crystal glass fixtures, though for all Miles knew that was standard construction on Ialis.
There was less diversity in seating inside than Miles was used to from spiral establishments, just benches at varying heights and tables that ranged from inches off the floor to waist high.
Task picked a booth that was about the right size for them and they ambled towards it, Miles sliding in on one side and Task the other.
Task was still bare-chested as he sat at the table. Miles guessed that spiral restaurants were a little beyond no shirt, no service. The fact that Miles wasn't being thrown out for his ragged diving clothes suggested an enlightened attitude to dress code.
There was a stack of five or six transparent plastic squares on the table and Task pulled one of them in front of himself. He tapped it and an interface appeared on the sheet.
A menu, Miles realized.
Miles took a sheet of his own and spent a minute looking down the list.
“I don’t know if any of this is safe for me to eat,” he said, peering at items on the list.
Rinsel Porridge. Special Meat Assortment. Roast Yabarge. Squirrit Skewers.
Isn’t squirrit a Hurc rat?
“This is a C-type restaurant," Task said. "It should be okay for us. Check the labels.”
Miles hummed in response.
He trusted that a bag of biochemistry C food paste would be safe for him, but when it came to meals cooked in restaurants, he didn’t have the same level of faith. He was pretty sure deadly nightshade would be classed as a type-C biochemistry plant, but he still wouldn’t want to eat it.
“The biochem category is fine for calorie packs, but there are human foods on my homeworld that not even every human can eat,” Miles said. “How do I know if I can trust rinsel or yabarge?”
There were humans on Earth who had bad reactions to bread. Even on his home planet, where everything shared a common evolutionary history and a lot of their DNA, there were still a huge number of things that weren’t safe to eat.
Calorie packs were basic, bland, and designed to be inoffensively digestible, but real food made from real alien plants and animals had to have a multitude of incidental chemicals, any one of which could be deadly to him. For all Miles knew he could be ordering the equivalent of a fly amanita salad.
“If it was dangerous, there would probably be a warning.” Task said.
Task held his finger down on the menu item that read splendid sandwich and a page of additional information appeared. One line with the heading Danger had a list of small icons representing different species. One of the graphics was clearly a tiny generic portrait of a Hurc.
“See, this has something bad for me,” Task said.
“Are you saying that someone profiled Hurc biology to get a list of things you can’t eat, and broadcast it to every restaurant in the spiral?”
“Yes. It’s the law," Task said, like it was obvious. "Every sapient who leaves their home has to be considered.”
From Task's tone, he seemed to be thinking that Miles was being dumb, or over-cautious.
With the kind of sensor technology Miles had seen in the spiral, and with automated systems, he guessed that it could be possible.
“I don’t know,” Miles said, still worried. “Earth only bowered an iteration ago. They might not have updated the databases for us yet.”
He started tapping through items on the menu, looking for any sign humans had been given consideration. Eventually, he found a menu item called lentsk-soulorn pie that had a little human icon in the Danger section, along with a warning that the meal was a ‘category T’ threat to human health.
There were no further details on exactly which ingredients made it bad for him, privately, he suspected the lentsk, but he guessed that as long as they were all properly tested then he didn’t need to know.
“So if something doesn’t have a species warning, it’s safe for that species?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. Unless you’re very sensitive.”
“How many people do they profile to work out what we can eat, do you think?”
How common was lactose intolerance on Earth? How common was a shellfish allergy? Had they really caught everything?
“I don’t know,” Task said. He was already tapping out an order on the menu. “Enough, I think.”
Miles caught a glimpse of the other mage’s order. Rockberry thick liquid.
He struggled with his own menu for a minute, then ordered a Baked Yurrelo and a glass of water.
When he focused on the word yurrelo his Eyes of the Emigre gave him the vague impression of a starchy purple root. He was pretty sure it was a plant, and since there were hardly any species listed in the danger section, it had to be pretty inoffensive.
His whole order came to 12 seln, so even if it killed him, at least it was cheap.
The menu responded to their orders by giving them each an ETA, six minutes for Task’s, ten for Miles’, and they stacked the transparent sheets back on the pile.
With the food order placed, they were left awkwardly looking at each other.
Miles stared at Task’s face for a few seconds before saying, “Would it be rude to go on my index?”
Task clasped his hands together. “No. I understand.”
Miles spent a few seconds assessing Task’s expression, judging whether he really meant it, then pulled the index from his cargo pants pocket.
He had the list of possible spell upgrades up in four taps.
Spells — Alterations
+Dance of Harmony [δ150]
A weft of harmonizing energy takes up residence in the weaver, spreading out into their surroundings. Visible beings of the weaver’s choice will gain the aspect of harmony while the spell is maintained, increasing their precision and reactions by an amount proportional to the weaver’s authority.
+Strings of Discord [δ125]
A weft of harmonizing energy reaches out to touch discordant presences nearby, revealing their presence and authority to the weaver.
+Purify [δ125]
A temporary weave of harmonizing energy takes up residence in the target, degrading objects and substances inimical to the target’s existence over time.
+Convict the Disharmonious [δ415]
The weaver's connection to universal harmony allows them to prosecute a target with an accusation of discord. If the weaver succeeds in a contest of reason, Will, and Authority, the target is diminished and is revealed as disharmonious.
+Song of Harmony [δ400]
A temporary matrix of harmonizing energy fills a space, allowing those within to experience the peace of a harmonious world. Chaotic emotions are soothed and Harmonizer spells are empowered within the space.
+Enhance Tool [δ380]
A lasting matrix of harmonizing energy affixes to an object, enhancing one of its fundamental properties by an amount in accordance with the weaver's authority and the item's harmony.
>Close Wound → Seal Wounds [δ275]
A weft of harmonizing energy brings together the free edges of a target's wounds, sealing closed a specific tear, or working to seal all tears.
Core Effect — Alterations
+Stance of Authority [δ150]
The weaver's existence is more deeply tied to the ancient tradition of the harmonizers, giving them an instinctive understanding of harmony and discord. Their authority will grow in line with their dignity and the harmony of their existence.
+Ears of the Diplomat [δ250]
Words spoken in falsehood will ring the gong of truth. A persistent weave of harmonizing energy will alert the weaver to spoken deceptions, piercing guile to an extent related to the weaver's authority.
+Eyes of the Imperious [δ410]
Embeds a matrix of harmonizing energy within the being's mind, helping them to identify the disharmony of their surroundings with greater distinction.
Miles devoured the list of potential purchases.
As well as the potential upgrades he’d passed on last time, his higher amount of delta had revealed five new options, four spells and one core effect.
Convict the Disharmonious and Eyes of the Imperious were both a little obtuse. After rereading the descriptions a few times, he got the impression that both would alter the kinds of targets that he found disharmonious or discordant.
Convict the Disharmonious promised to let him ‘convict’ a neutral target of disharmony, presumably making it a valid target for Strike the Disharmonious. Eyes of the Imperious sounded like it might have a similar effect, but he couldn’t quite tease its meaning apart. What did ‘greater distinction’ mean in that context?
Both seemed a little tangential for what he was trying to do with the tradition, so he easily ruled them out.
Song of Harmony was another spell intended to affect his own magic, but this one seemed more straightforward. It would boost the effectiveness of his other spells, though he didn’t know whether that meant they’d be more efficient in how they drew on his Authority, or if they’d just be more powerful, or more powerful and more tiring. It seemed like an interesting backup choice, but there were too many unknowns for him to jump at it.
Enhance Tool was so interesting he almost bought it straight away. It seemed like it offered a way to let him cast Temporary Enhancement on equipment, and in a way that would last more than just a few minutes. The applications were obvious. He could enhance the durability of Torg’s breastplate and his own robe, at least. What would happen if he enhanced an object’s Strength or Speed, or its Authority? The potential for experimentation was almost as attractive as the uses he could think of straight away.
Only the fact that another option overshadowed it gave him pause.
Seal Wounds. This one looked like the next stage of Close Wound. A spell that could treat all of a person’s cuts and punctures simultaneously. It was the answer to internal injuries, which Miles currently had no way to deal with, and it seemed like something that a mage healer really needed to have.
Dance of Harmony and Song of Harmony both seemed better suited to the surveiler role — the person who would stand in the overwatch position and support their team with performance-enhancing effects. Convict the Disharmonious and Strike the Disharmonious were probably better as spells for a fusilier than a healer. And Strings of Discord would mainly benefit a scout.
He had five hundred delta, and the only responsible choices were Purify and Seal Wounds.
He purchased them before he could change his mind, along with an additional upgrade to his Authority.
He felt what seemed like the magical core of the index spin up, touching the center of his own body with its needles of electrical energy, and then it faded away.
When Miles checked his index again, his choices were all listed as new parts of his repertoire.
With Purify, Hasten Renewal, and Seal Wounds he was actually starting to feel like a real healer. That trio of spells seemed to cover any injury he might come across on a dive. They could potentially carry him for his entire healing career. That meant his next choice could be something just for him.
Maybe that should wait until my next payday.
The two thousand seln he had left felt like a lot to him, but without knowing how lucky he’d really been during their last dive, he didn’t know how long it would need to last.
Task had been watching Miles politely during the entire process, his tuft of hair a little on end and in disarray, his bottom fangs pushed up over the outside of his upper lip.
Miles put his index away and began engaging Task in awkward, stumbling conversation.
After a few minutes of small talk, Miles had learned Task’s basic history, that he’d been born on the Hurc home planet of Guriy, Iteration 26,858, where he was at first sponsored by his father, then disowned by him. He’d been brought to Ialis by a family friend, but she’d been summoned for military service and had been forced to leave. Task had been a talented index mage, like Miles, and had found a place in the Dendril City Enclave, where his basic needs and training were taken care of in exchange for some basic service.
Miles had shared some of his own history, but he’d couched it in descriptions that didn’t get to the heart of the truth. His family had been criminals, as he explained it, and he’d fled the settlement they owned so that he wouldn’t be forced into the family business.
It didn’t quite touch the complexities of what Earth had become following the chaos of the bower break. Could there really be criminals, when most of the world was still in a state of anarchy? Was it fair to describe his family as criminals or bandits, when most surviving settlements were ruled by the people who’d been fastest to employ violence and intimidation to seize power?
He didn’t need to put those questions on Task, not when they’d only just met.
Eventually, their meals came. Task’s was a pudding-like substance served in what could have passed for a banana-split dish back on old Earth. Miles’ choice came in a bowl, a thick-skinned vegetable, split open like a baked potato, with a few bowls of toppings alongside it.
He was hesitant to try it at first, but at Task’s encouragement, he started digging into it with the supplied spoon.
“If I start bleeding from the eyes or frothing at the mouth, get me a doctor and a lawyer, okay?”
“Okay,” Task said, seriously.
He pushed a spoonful of the yurrelo into his mouth and chewed cautiously. It tasted sweet, which at least reassured him that it might be made of carbohydrates.
“Is it okay?” Task asked.
“I think so. It’s like marshmallow mashed potato?”
Task was already drinking from his dish.
Weird.
***
They walked together back up to the embarkation lounge. Task had fulfilled his promise and shown Miles how to purchase the delta for his upgrades, but Miles felt like something else had happened, too. He’d made a connection. Maybe he’d even snagged a thread that would lead to a new teammate.
“Thank you for eating with me,” Task said, hands clasped.
“Thanks for showing me how to order at a restaurant,” Miles replied, a little embarrassed.
Before Task could say anything else, Miles’ comm buzzed in his pocket. He withdrew it to find a message from Trin.
> Trin > Miles
> It's been long. Shady nice guy has killed you. I calling security.
Miles rapidly tapped out a reply.
> Miles > Trin
> Wait. No, don't. It's fine. I got some delta and we had lunch.
> Trin > Miles
> Stop using Miles comm shady guy. Where he is? Let him talk.
Miles stopped before the embarkation level’s exit.
"Sorry, I just need to sort this out with my roommate."
"I live alone," Task said.
Miles ignored the non-sequitur and went back to his comm.
> Miles > Trin
> It's me, Miles.
> Trin > Miles
> Tell me something only Miles knows
> Miles > Trin
> You have a black fur patch on your left foot.
> Trin > Miles
> Why you looking at my foot!
Satisfied he wasn't about to waste police time, or whatever the Ialis equivalent was, Miles dropped his comm back in its pocket.
He let Task call a platform for him, which arrived first. Within minutes, he was floating back to his apartment tower.
He kept thinking about his new spells. With Hasten Renewal, Seal Wounds, and Purify he felt like he had the full set. All he needed now was another client.