Chapter 15: Pipes, Pestle, and Vermiculite

“We never should have crossed that damned field.”

Good morning, good morning.

My joints ached, paying penance for yesterday’s stress. A good, hot shower awaited me. A large tub would be ideal, but the apartment didn’t rate one. I made my way to our small bathroom, relieving an itch absentminded. I scratched my ass, OK? Tess was long gone, as usual, so I turned my fingers loose to have at it. Aahh, pure bliss. I heeled the door closed behind me, and reached for the hem of my nightshirt. An actual, honest to Ebenezer nightshirt. I loved it! The freedom, comfort, and warmth were amazing. Why these had ever fallen out of fashion on Earth was a mystery (don’t let me catch you standing over the heating vent!). I hung the garment on one of the two hooks attached to the door; His and Hers. Platonic.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I reached for the shower lever. It only needed the one, with cold-to-lukewarm the single option before the genius that was me came along. It was hard not to see the mirror over the sink, with only enough room to turn in place. ‘I look too thin’. That was a thought I had never had before. I could see ribs, for acorn’s sake! I was trying out a new curse. An extrapolation from the Son of God to the Mother of Trees’ seedling (blasphemer!). I hope I don’t find out about this world’s version of hell, firsthand. On the good side, gluttony could not be frowned upon with the amount of fuel [mana] users needed to thrive. I was going to need to pad our grocery bills. Tess looked like she could use a few more calories, too. The problem was one of coin. Coppers and silvers had a way of solving most of a person’s troubles. Or golds, for someone like Master Alric. His ‘padding’ was nothing short of magnificent. Money solutions were ubiquitous. Nothing new, or unique, there. Here, there, and everywhere, throughout the cosmos.

I checked the temperature of the water before stepping in. A little tepid. It was getting time to replace the scroll of [heat]. If I put a little more work in, I could start using the scrolls I made. Tess and I were always careful when activating the scroll in the pipes. If it was fully engaged all at once, not only would it go poof, but we could look forward to a painful scalding. These scrolls were meant for warming large rooms, in lieu of a fireplace. No chopping of wood needed. As such, the temperature had to be variable for the different seasons, as well as long-lasting. The more [mana] put in by the user, the more [heat] it put out. Simple. But you had to be judicious, or the scroll could discharge all in one go. Dried out plants, beware. Dead leaves were ripe for ignition. Same for unwary bathers. Not the combusting part.

I let the water cascade over me, the residual heat soaking into my joints and loosening them. I stared at the shower head and mentally traced where I imagined the pipes behind the walls would be. If I could find the best stretch of piping and open access to it, then I could use it for my contraption. The way it was now, I placed the scrolls just above the nozzle, unscrewing it from a short section of plumbing that protruded out of the ceiling. Elven showers resembled what Earthers called a rain shower. It was an awkward reach, stretching your arms overhead and leveraging the connections. It probably wreaked havoc with the seals, too. I wanted a quick change feature for my idea, not to provide fodder for a lawsuit. Yes, there are elven lawyers. What happens when you give the little blue pill to a lawyer? They grow taller. Ba-dump-bump.

I had a few designs in my head: a removable section of pipe; removable/replaceable links; something with a trap door; an over-the-pipe clamp; a water softener setup. Using a straight-up filter would not work, since the scrolls weren’t permeable after the final process to seal in the magic. They were waterproof, which was where my idea had taken root. They had to be impervious to water. A soggy magic scroll dissolving and disintegrating mid-combat during an underwater adventure did not bode well for repeat customers. No self-respecting merchant could afford that. Wow, everything did come back to money.

I put visions of diving into a pool filled to the rim with gold coins aside and wrapped things up before I depleted the charge too much. Thinking about the replacement costs got me fired up to make my own. I shelved my design schematics—works in progress, so no judgment—and dashed to my room. I had already hung my wet towel from another hook to dry, so I ran the naked mile. About six paces, in total. I dressed in my nice robes, combed fingers through an ever-flourishing beard, skipped breakfast (what about rib-tickling thinness, huh?!), and headed for the scroll shop.

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“Today, Book, we are starting you on [heat] scrolls.”

‘Yes’, I thought in glee. I avoided fist-pumping the air, but it was a close thing. I finished chewing the last bite of my sticky roll (gotcha!) before I could reply. He had found me polishing off my breakfast as I sat at my worktable. I was using some scrap paper and a vial of old [ink; poor] to doodle some designs for the prototype. The ink was from my very first attempt. Master Alric kept it around as a ‘motivator’—his word—for me. I wanted to be offended, but couldn’t be. It did help.

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“Thank you, Master Alric.” Judging from the look he gave, I might have been a touch too enthusiastic.

“The ink you need is a small variation on what you already know how to make. All inks used by [Scrivener]s start with the same base, as I have taught you. For the [torchlight], I had you add liquid paraffin during the mixing phase, along with the charcoal dust. It gives a long-lasting, clean burn. Perfect for lighting up a chamber. For a sustained [heat] without flames, replace the paraffin with vermiculite.”

“Master?”

“Vermiculite. It is a mineral reagent. Yellow-green crystals that are ground down into grains. It comes to us much too large, so you will need to use a mortar and pestle and grind it as fine as possible. The smaller the particle, the better it will integrate with the ink.”

My poor forearms were in for a workout, today. Why should only the elbows and knees feel the burn? Ooh, unintentional joke! Go me, I’m on fire. (Eye roll)

“And remember, Book, quality. Focus on the quality of the ink you need. Not want, Book, but need. Your mindset can make all the difference. Wanting lets you off the hook for common quality. There is no real consequence if you do not succeed. On the other hand, a person needs food, and they only want dessert. Understand?”

“Yes, Master. I do.” Was that a jab? Did I have any caramel goo clinging to my beard? Talk about a turnabout. I don’t think he will ever forgive me for catching him disheveled that morning. Appearances mattered, dontcha know.

“The recipe is in the folio I gave you. Get to it, then,” Master Alric dismissed me.

As I began to walk away, “Oh, and Book.” He liked to do that, catch me after the fact. “When you are working the pestle, maybe you can take a hint from it.” With that, he swirled in a flash of silken robes and marched off.

“Take a hint?” I asked the empty room. “What does that mean?”

I moved the mortar from its place in the ring on my table and put it front and center. I tapped the glass pestle against its chipped marble, thinking.

Tap, tap…

Tap.

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I let my mind wander, something I had a lot of practice with. My hand used the pestle to grind, with the other one holding the mortar in place. Mortar and pestle, mortar and pestle; fun words, but a chore to use. I had once asked Master Alric why most things had to be done by hand, with no automation. [Enchanter]s could automate things, as evidenced by the close-to-Earth norm kitchens and appliances. We had a few in our apartment, mixers and toasters (sideways!), and more. There were differences, sure, but magic could replicate a lot of science. Congruent evolutions. Same principles, with divergent energies. He had told me that the base of magic required an individual dedication at every step. We are back to intent. Automation had no soul, so to speak (soul to speak, he-he). Similar thoughts had been evident on Earth with the advent of assembly lines. Craft beer and soda over the mass produced; hand-crafted furniture over machine-made. The robes I had recently bought were a prime example. Automation was a fine end result, but the process of getting there was paramount to using magic.

So, I ground the crystal to a super-fine dust.

My Master had all but told me that the key to quality was at my—literal—fingertips. The finer the particles were, the better they would mix in the ink. Not just mix, but blend. I had been thinking of filters to refine the [mana], removing all but the finest particles. If I did the same with the [mana] as I had with the vermiculite, breaking it down fine and only letting the best through, then the quality should go up. At that point, it would blend smoother with my intent. Light bulb!

How did this fit with my artificial reservoir organ and genetically altered DNA? My best guess was an amalgamation of tech and magic, however that worked. The Orcs had figured it out with the [Mark .07], so all I needed was to find the proper sub-routine. I was sure it was there. All it would take to find it was, yep, intent.

There was the master key I needed.

I concentrated, merging my thoughts with the .07 to a new degree. It knew what I wanted from it, so I let it lead me. Different filters shaded my vision one after the other, all of the spectrums known to Man and Orc. It settled on bright white, with only the vaguest outlines to differentiate objects. I focused on the timepiece shelved over my worktable, the rhythmic, twisting grind of my hands on autopilot (not automation, OH NO!).

Quiet you, I’m trying to focus here.

The outline of the clock took on a yellowish hue, with a very mild pulse of intensity with every tick.

I looked to the vial of [ink; poor] that I’d set to the side. Its outline was a dull green. It was close to the color my [mana] exhibited in the testing crystal, but the wavelength was off.

Then I compared the chunked vermiculite to the fine powder I’d kept working at with intent (thank you very much) while another part of my mind looked for solutions. The bigger bits gave off a different shade of green than mine, softer, while the fine dust had a sparkle to it.

I got it.

First, the white filter let me see [mana]. Amazing! wasn’t accurate enough. I had long hours of playing with it ahead of me. I might have to cut into my [mini-map] playtime.

Second, using the filter would let me see if my refinement efforts worked in real-time. Orc-tech cheat codes to the rescue.

I knew I now had the means to experiment, so I got to it.