Riya stared at Sunday with passion he had hoped would be reserved for other activities. However, his previous suggestion had made her lose composure like never before.
“You want to sell me an awakening art? Do you understand what you’re offering? Nobles use them to build personal armies!”
They were back in the basement room, sitting close to each other and sipping yet another liquor that could kill an adult human. This one tasted like tangerines and rubber.
“I think I do. However, there are some issues…” Sunday began. Now that I think about it, it’s not like they couldn’t have stolen it from my room. I haven’t seen Kallus around in a while, but he struck me as the sneaky type. I guess that could have massive repercussions, considering how tight magi are and how much the Arcanum cares about arts. And what fool other than me would leave a precious art under their mattress in a tavern?
Riya raised an eyebrow and waited for him to speak. Sunday took his time and gazed at his cup, swirling the alcohol inside of it. He found himself growing serious. All of the people currently in his life were unknown factors, no matter how much he told them. Each deal, each word that revealed something, and each connection he built was a risk.
“I don’t know what an awakening art is worth, which means you can play me for a fool. I hope you won’t since I’m not known for my forgiving heart and while you’re very good at pissing me off I’m liking what’s happening between us. However, trust is currently something I’m showing because I’m in a hurry and not because it was earned. It’s not a thing I give easily, no matter what. I’ll sell you the art, and trust you with not screwing me over. Furthermore, I’m debating offering it to the Arcanum as well.”
It was a move that allowed him to both keep Riya in check and remind her that he had other avenues to explore too. No matter what the Arcanum stood for or how it operated, it did so openly and proudly – at least to an extent. Riya was the other side of the world – a shadowy broker of information and who knows what else. Her readiness to buy the art only proved that there were unexplored depths to this whole situation.
She nodded and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I’m surprised you haven’t already. I certainly won’t be able to offer anything comparable to what the Arcanum has, but I also know they are not exactly famous for their generosity. As for trusting me… I have a talent for judging people, as strange as that might sound to someone like you. I wouldn’t want to slight you. From the moment we met, I’ve done all I can to make your stay here easier, with the hope that eventually we would be able to benefit from this fateful meeting and build something beneficial.”
I’ve benefited alright.
Riya continued. “Awakening arts vary a lot in quality. I have a few but they’re of the lowest grade, pinpointing about a few dozen essence points at most. One of those goes for a few hundred gold at the very least. A low-grade art is for those desperate to become magi. The Arcanum offers many employment opportunities for even the weakest magi, but they are stingy with the arts. I’m not the only one who has gathered a few arts here and there. Change is coming, and being ready is more important than ever.”
Sunday ignored her prophetic words and put all of his effort into trying not to react at the mention of the gold. He imagined his heart speeding up and beating like when he was alive and sitting at the poker table. It was a good thing he was dead, or he was sure his rushing blood would spoil the mood and cut through the silence like a raging river. The thought of a mountain of gold just for him excited him more than he had expected… The art from Jishu easily covered more than a hundred essence points, and the Yew Tree’s Blessing had allowed him to open up many more for himself.
Riya fell silent and watched him, probably waiting for him to disclose details of the art he desired to sell, but that could wait.
“Do you know what a spell would go for on the black market?” Sunday asked instead, trying to distract himself from the thought of sleeping on a pile of gold coins. He didn’t know her spending limits, but judging by the fact that actual barkeeping was just a front he didn’t doubt she had deeper pockets. There was also the question of what allowed the Wayward Rat to function this way. It was certainly not the wight nor Riya herself. Which meant, just like in the Arcanum, there were layers to the madness. The question was whether to peel them or not, and what sort of knife it would take.
The girl shook her head, “That I can’t answer. Spells are a very difficult thing to put a price on. I know spell-hunters who might give an estimate for the more common and often used spells, but considering the large variety and that each magi has different affinities and capabilities… All I can say is that there will be a selection and it's up to you to bargain for what you need. The Arcanum doesn’t necessarily monopolize the spells, although I hear they are holding on to some rare ones. It is impossible to know what each one does without finding someone suitable for it.”
Sunday nodded. He understood that much. Finding a rare and powerful spell didn’t mean anyone would want it if it didn’t fulfill a desired function in their repertoire. Established magi were more likely to supplement the spells they had chosen to work on bonding, rather than seek powerful and rare spells. His worked well for now, and he had considered using Phantasmal Fall as insurance that his moths hit if he ever had to use them from a distance. He wanted to improve at close quarters too, as that was the easiest way to deliver the face-melting insects, but after meeting the laughing horror he wasn’t sure how his slaps would fare in the long run. Then again... It felt good to slap things, and it was bound to only get better and weirder.
“The art I’m offering is meant for the undead and can pinpoint more than a hundred essence points in the body,” he said after the short pause. It felt good talking with Riya now. She didn’t mind if he fell silent to think, and he didn’t mind if she did it. There was a lot to consider at each step.
Riya’s eyes widened. “That’s… we want it! I certainly want it!” she said, then bit her lip. “I might need some time to figure out what something like that’s worth and come up with the funds.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“I’m going to the black market in a few days, so I’d love it if you could give me anything as soon as possible. One of my spells seems to be nearing the end of its lifespan, and I need a replacement.” I might see what the Arcanum has to offer first though. I wonder if they’ll allow me to peruse what they have before contributing my art... Perhaps I can trade the one from the Arcanum on the market if I don’t find what I’m looking for.
“The black market? You’ve already gotten someone to bring you there?”
“Yep. She’s really pretty,” Sunday grinned.
Riya looked at him for a few seconds then laughed and stood up.
******
Vyn and Safie were looking around as if afraid someone would scold them for being there. Vyn had changed his clothes since the last time Sunday saw him and was now wearing an old shirt sporting a few holes and worn leather pants. His boots were scrubbed clean but there were still remnants of ghoul’s blood stains visible to the trained eye.
Safie on the other hand looked the same as ever. She was looking around as if ready to jump at the first opportunity that presented itself. Each time Sunday saw her it was easier to see the ambition burning in the young girl. He was unsure whether it was him that was noticing things or the girl’s own nature taking over now that she had a purpose – even if the so-called purpose was following his direction with the promise of eventual windfall.
Sunday joined them at the table setting a bottle of the better wine in front of them and two cups. It was good they had come. He was hesitant to leave the city with the state of the Smash Ball and the growing danger of the Divine. There was no way to ignore the ghouls he had seen either, although the hallucinations had mercifully left him alone.
“You got anything for me?” he directly asked.
Safie almost jumped in her seat as she took out three carefully wrapped glass bottles and set them on the table. One of the passing waitresses frowned at them but as she noticed Sunday her gaze softened. Another perk of my irresistible charms.
Sunday uncorked one of them. The smell was sour and vinegary, but not too bad. It was, after all, supposed to turn into medicine, not the next premium wine that cost an arm and a leg. He took a sip. It was like sour water to him, but that was expected since it was meant for humans.
“Not bad,” he said after a moment.
“It’s disgusting,” Vyn countered. “I haven’t tasted much worse in my life and I’ve tasted a lot of things, trust me. There was this whorehouse a few years back – they made their own wine from what was leftover in bottles and—.”
“It’s not that bad…” Safie interrupted mercifully. She didn’t sound convinced, but it was as if her pride had been hurt by Vyn’s words.
“It’s like a flower drowned in vinegar and acid. And why is it salty?” Vyn continued.
Sunday corked the bottle back and took all three, setting them next to his chair.
“Although the taste could use improvement, it’s not why people will be buying it. If this works to preserve the… healing properties I’ll add to it, then we’re good to go. There’s the question of distribution. Do you think the Manor can handle that?”
Vyn hesitated and so did Safie. Eventually, it was the girl who spoke first.
“We’re not very knowledgeable about the local scene despite appearances. Most of us have issues in the city and people we’d rather not cross paths with…” she said. The topic seemed to make her uncomfortable. “I can do it, but I don’t know about the rest!” she quickly added as she saw the thoughtful look on Sunday’s face.
“Don’t worry. You think of making more wine once I confirm it’s good.” Riya might help with that too, and the trip to the market with Elora could open some eventual doors. However, I need someone lower on the totem pole. Someone who could use some help. “I think I have an idea who might help. Vyn, I’ll need you to come with me, because I probably won’t find them alone. Also, here, this is for you. Thanks for having my back”
Sunday threw a pouch of coins in front of him, “Get some clothes and do whatever else you want with the rest.”
Another pouch landed heavily in front of Safie and the girl’s eyes widened. Sunday could see the glint in them, and the tremble of the corners of her mouth. It was more money than the girl or anyone in the Manor had seen after the two gold he had given them to start things up, and proof he honored his word. Who said loyalty was not bought? “And this is for a job well done so far. Try to fix the place up, and get yourselves some clothes and boots for Koberic so he can stop whining. Something for everyone helping too.”
Safie nodded and quickly hid the pouch in her bosom. Vyn was more casual about it, but Sunday could sense the relief radiating from the man. Having money was a comfort one didn’t understand until he needed them, without having them.
“How are the poppy users doing?” Sunday asked. He had almost forgotten about them, but it was important, especially if the product they were planning to release was going to screw some of the vampire addicts.
“Better! It only took a few days of the diluted alcohol and they don’t have cravings anymore!” Safie said with a wide smile.
Vyn nodded with a smile. “Yep. I checked on them. Great work, boss.”
Boss, huh?
Sunday stood up and grabbed the bottles. “Well then, go buy yourself something nice, while I do some experiments.”
******
Sunday closed the door of his room and didn’t waste any time. Forcing the moths to squeeze down the throats of the bottles was not a difficult thing, but first, he tied a strip of white cloth on one bottle. He was planning to test both and see if the alcohol had a preference for life or death. He was very well aware that what could save one life could end another, so being careful was paramount.
After all was done, there was one more thing to check.
“Names,” he whispered.
The golden page unfurled before him.
Names and Titles
Sunday – a name given to you by a thieving caretaker. It’s unoriginal and dim, but it’s all you have. Perhaps your deeds will make it shine one day. No one knows of it for now.
Savage Healer – The story grows. From the wetlands beneath the Spine of Thorad to the villages resting in the valleys below, they share words of your deeds. A violent healer who saved the day. His palms heavy like a King’s decree – a punishment for the wicked, a salvation for the deserving, a change of heart for the repentant. Drink what he offers, and know health.
The words had changed and it was not a small change. Some of the words confused him. Who had repented? And where was the boost of strength? Perhaps it had been overshadowed by his advancement to the second step, which made him feel much better than before and so he hadn’t noticed. That explained things.
The words on the page changed. His gaze roamed until he found what he was looking for.
A Fable’s Strength (Fame) – Words float in the wind like autumn leaves and take root in people’s minds. From mouth to mouth they spread like an everchanging disease, and even lies turn into truths as belief shapes them. Stories or rumors of your deeds can grant you a small portion of power, as long as there’s someone to believe them.
*Savage Healer - Your strength has grown, and so has the potency of any healing you administer personally. Sometimes a slap can bring wellness to its victims.
The talent made things clearer. He still didn’t like the random ‘wellness’ attached to his slaps, but apart from healing a tooth, it hadn’t done much else… right?