I mused to myself that even the mighty magics of the gods couldn't cure his severe obesity. There really is no substitute for human effort and discipline.
Once his shaking ceased, Zariyah quickly dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a damp cloth, her concern unmistakable. As the man regained consciousness, she offered him a small cup of a deep red liquid, which I initially mistook for wine. He declined it, gathering himself with a deep breath.
"No more alchemics, my dear," he declared, his voice quivering with newfound emotion. "No more, I think."
His attendant silently returned to her position beside him. Gelgor thumped his chest expectantly, but no cough followed.
"By the Gods, I've never felt so invigorated," he exclaimed with unbridled joy. "Everything seems so vibrant and alive. I feel as though I could run for miles without fatigue. What did you do?" he exclaimed, more a statement of wonder than a real question.
“We both know what happened here and now,” I said as solemnly as I could, trying to draw an air of mysticism around me.
Gelgor looked troubled, his irreverent and incorrigible expression gave way to something rather new, humility. There was a heavy, pregnant pause filled with the weight of the moment and I could almost see the cogs in his mind whirl away as he began to do a mental account. For now came the matter of reciprocation and the question of the worth of a godly miracle.
Finally he drew himself up, like a walrus about to bark a challenge. “I am saved. By the grace of the gods I am saved. This is no mummer’s trick, but a deep magic only found in the great temples, and then only reserved for the highborn,” he stated simply, his voice coarse with emotion. “I was not worthy, and I can not give you an offering of even near like value to what I have just been blessed with. For if the words of scripture are true, then I have witnessed the healing light of Her mercy,” he continued, jowls quivering with religious rapture.
I hid a flash of irritation. hoping that I masked it well. You fool, of course you can not, but at the very least you can hand over a bit of gold that you must have saved up over the years. Moreover, this was worrying, was the man trying weasel out on paying me? Had I been too clever for my own good?
"The servants of the gods do not demand payment," I decided to add, keeping my voice even and doing my best not to grit my teeth. "But they cherish gratitude and offerings within one’s own means.”
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“My honey rose, be a dear and get the…Herald… the” he commanded the girl, finishing his sentence with a meaningful look and a nod of his head toward one of the corners of the interior. She simply nodded once, my eyes following her form as she rose and went off to fulfill his wish.
He turned to me. “By Her light, forgive me, for my offering is but a trivial thing,” he said with no small amount of reverence as Zariyah returned with a small case. Glancing hesitantly at me, she opened and presented the contents to me.
I had been expecting a small number of gold coins, but inside, of all things, was a small stack of paper. Upon the surface of the paper was the image of the sun rising behind the petals of an otherworldly bloom, printed in painstaking detail. The tendrils of the alien plant unfurled across the edges of the paper, their running lines framing the captured vision art. At the top corner of each piece were concentric circles, a watermark if I was not mistaken. Intriguing, I thought to myself. These were most certainly the promissory notes of the famed Al-Lazar, for what other use was a watermark than to prevent counterfeiting? Still, I did myself credit by performing my due diligence.
Lazarian Silver Promissory Note [Paper]
Durability 13/13
Still focused on Gelgor, my magic nonetheless returned to me the information I sought for the measly cost of one Mana. Intent and clear focus, I was slowly learning, was one of the cornerstones of performing the mystical arts correctly, at least for the NPCs of the world. This was a small mental trick I had taught myself, to focus with my mind’s eye on whom I wanted my spell to target. Or perhaps this was simply the result of upgrading the spell? It didn’t matter in the slightest, it just meant I just had to picture something in my mind that I had recently seen.
Recently, of course, being the operative word. The spell failed when cast on something that I had seen only an hour away but was no longer in my line of sight. Perhaps, it was because the clarity of a mental image, as with all things, faded with time? I would need to engage in further experimentation.
More to the point, the sum before me represented a considerable sum of, at my estimation, ten gold pieces. Almost three years of dangerous caravan work.
Gelgor cast his eyes downward, a fleeting discomfort crossing his countenance. "I understand that it may seem crass to offer mere worldly scraps of paper, to place a value on the grace of the Goddess," he began anew, his gaze shifting to Zariyah. "But perhaps, since you have managed to fulfill one of my most cherished desires, then I may in turn fulfill one of yours," he insisted, glancing once more in the direction of his attendant.
The mask of the oily merchant returned, any semblance of the humility I had witnessed evaporating like spit on a hot stone in the desert. It was almost refreshing to see human nature in its purest form.