I’d sensed that he was awake so that’s not a surprise but I’d thought he’d already be lying on the bed, at least trying to sleep. Not so. Instead, he’s frowning over a bowl full of blackish liquid, two vaguely familiar plants beside him along with another couple of bowls.
He’s been doing a lot of work on potions, almost more time spent on that than absorbing Cores. Still, he has made some progress towards Tier two – when I briefly check my Bound tab, I see that he’s up to sixty-four percent, seven percent more than he was when Bastet evolved.
“How are you doing?” I ask softly when River shifts and sighs, the sense of intense concentration leaving him.
I am…frustrated, River replies. I know that this combination works – I have seen the Herbalist do it many times before. But every time I make it, I end in failure.
Moving over, I kneel beside him, enjoying the touch of warmth from the still-glowing hearth fire. The nights are beginning to get rather nippy – winter approaching, I guess.
“Not that I know, well, anything about herbalism, but can you tell me what you’re doing? And what you saw the herbalist do. Maybe I can help you pick out the difference?” I speak quietly, not wanting to disrupt the sleeping raptorcats or keep Sirocco or Fenrir from their own rest but having a feeling that River won’t be able to go to bed until he’s made some progress.
The lizard-man shifts and he points to one of the plants lying next to him. It has angular, almost spiky leaves, a thin stem, and surprisingly tuberous roots.
This is aslebellum. It is a plant which grows near the river. Its leaves are poisonous, but its roots are the reverse – even just chewing on them helps one’s wounds heal a little faster.
River points to the next plant. I think I recognise it – I’ve probably used Inspect Plant on it before as I have with most of the plants River uses. I might not have used my Skill on every plant, though, as I haven’t been with him for every resource collection trip he’s done recently.
Plus, apparently there’s a limited amount of time between the plant being collected and when Inspect Plant stops working. Why this is, I haven’t quite discovered, but I suspect it’s to do with Energy – that seems to be the answer to everything these days.
This plant is more like grass, its long and flexible leaves all emerging from a single stem. Its roots, in comparison to the previous, are thin and stringy.
This one is called harash. Its roots can be eaten, but do not offer much benefit; the leaves are what I am using here. However, the healing properties are difficult to get at as the leaves themselves are very fibrous. To that end, I have to use this.
He gestures at a black liquid in one of my smaller earthenware bowls.
“What’s that?” I ask, curious. I sniff at it and recoil, its acidic tang hitting my nose harshly.
The venom of a grunt-click-flash-of-orange. Not a creature I’m familiar with, then. The accompanying image of something that looks almost identical to a scorpion but with two tails doesn’t spark any memories either. It doesn’t look very big, but from how strong its venom smells, I’m glad I haven’t encountered it.
“So, what, that eats into the fibre of the harash?” I ask, not seeing any other reason for using the venom.
Yes, exactly. But therein lies my problem. The resulting potion has the healing nature required, but it also retains the acidic quality of the venom. It shouldn’t do that. I feel his frustration emanating across the Bond. I understand it – I’ve encountered plenty of moments like that myself.
“How does the herbalist overcome that, then?” I ask.
I don’t know! River exclaims. I have been trying to mimic exactly what she does, but I keep encountering the same problems.
“Can you demonstrate for me?” I ask. Perhaps I will be able to spot something, or ask the right question to make River realise whatever he’s doing wrong. “Explain what you’re doing as you do it.”
Very well, River says with his equivalent of a sigh. First, I mince the aslebellum roots into as small pieces as possible. As he says it, he takes a root and does exactly that, his wooden knife doing a surprisingly decent job at the task.
Once the pieces are all as small as possible – resembling grains of rice more than the root they started as – River takes the next plant.
I then also slice the harash into as thin slivers as possible. So saying, he wraps the leaves of the harash into a tube and slices from the bottom, like I might do with a leek. Once he has a small pile of leaf slivers, he collects them and places them in a bowl, one of the smaller pylobus carapaces. I wonder if it having been part of an animal might make any difference to the product.
“What kind of containers does the herbalist use?” I ask. River does his equivalent of a shrug.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Whatever we can find, really. We still have some containers remaining from before the Earth-Shaper died, but not many. Otherwise, we use carapaces or shells or hollowed-out roots, or bowls the Wood-shaper creates.
“Does it make a difference?”
Some materials must be in a shell as they may eat through wooden bowls. This venom is an example of that. It’s why I have used your earthenware and the carapaces.
So, that’s a probable ‘no’ for the container being the problem.
River continues working, pouring a little of the venom on top of the pile of harash slices and swirling the bowl about.
I have poured the (scorpion lizard) venom onto the harash leaves and am agitating them to encourage the fibres in the leaves to break down. He then places the bowl onto the ground and holds his hands above it for a long moment. Then, dropping his hands, he reaches for the pile of minced aslebellum. I now take the-
“Wait, what were you doing when you held your hands above the bowl?” I interrupt. River looks considering for a moment and then shrugs.
It is something the Herbalist always does with this mixture. I don’t know why.
I nod slowly even as he continues his explanation about dropping the aslebellum into the mixture and combining them by swirling the basin. I think I might have an inkling about what’s going wrong but I save my thoughts for now.
And so you see, River finishes, although the two plants have been correctly dissolved by the acid of the venom, the concoction remains acidic. The lizard-man clicks his teeth together in frustration. I just don’t understand it. I’ve used exactly the same amount of each ingredient that the Herbalist would use. I’ve prepared it in exactly the same way. Unless I am forgetting something.
“I have an idea,” I start slowly, “though I may easily be wrong.” River grunts loudly.
Any guidance would be appreciated, master. I smile humorlessly.
“Unless it sends you in the wrong direction. Just…take my suggestion with a pinch of salt, OK?” River just waits, a sense of impatience coming over the link even as he regards me silently. “So, I remember you’ve mentioned before that the herbalist is capable of using shards of the Cores to infuse potions. Right?”
Yes, though I don’t see why that would be relevant here – this is not one of the combinations which requires such treatment.
“It’s less about relevance and more about evidence. I’m thinking out loud here.” River tips his chin up briefly before eyeing me again. “So, all the other Path-walkers appear to be able to use mana. Is that right?”
It is.
“You held your hand over the concoction for no real reason, only because you’d seen the herbalist do it.” River sends affirmation over the Bond. “What if the herbalist does this because she’s using mana on the potion to get rid of the acidity?”
The lizard-man looks taken aback, the thought clearly not having occurred to him. It wouldn’t have occurred to me either, except for the fact that I’ve been contemplating the mana in everything around for the last few weeks.
But if that’s the case, then I won’t be able to make this concoction, he tells me, crestfallen. I shrug.
“Maybe, maybe not. First of all, you do have mana. Perhaps you could learn to use it.” The Bond communicates River’s doubt.
That’s what the Path-walkers do, not the Unevolved, he pointed out. I shrug again.
“Maybe that’s how it’s always been, but does that mean it has to be the case? I don’t know, but don’t ignore that it might be possible. If you try and it doesn’t work, then it’s not the end of the world. For all we know, it will increase the chance that you will become a Path-walker instead of a Warrior upon your Evolution. Then you’ll be able to do it however your herbalist does.”
I can try, my Bound replies, doubt still filling his mental voice. But that doesn’t help much right now.
“If that’s the issue in the first place,” I remind him. “But I do actually have two suggestions about things to maybe try which don't require mana.” River perks up in interest.
Please tell me, master!
“OK, first of all, perhaps use less of the venom.” River looks at me in confusion.
But if I don’t use the venom, the concoction definitely won’t work.
“I didn’t say don’t use any of it, I suggested using less. Where I come from, we understand that acid can be neutralised, but only if it’s used in the right quantities. Perhaps if you use less acid, more of it will be used in the process and won’t remain to cause an issue with the final potion.” I shrug. “Like I said, it works where I come from; that doesn’t mean it will work here – the rules do seem to be quite different in some cases. If you do it that way, you’ll probably have to swirl it longer, maybe significantly longer as it will take the acid more time to break down all the fibres in the harash. And you’ll have to test through trial and error about how much venom to use.”
I see, River says slowly. You mentioned two suggestions?
“Yeah. The second is a bit more…based on guesswork,” I say, hesitating. “So, you said that the purpose of the acid was to eat away at the fibres which the leaves of the harash are composed of, right? What about boiling them instead?” The idea had occurred to me when he’d first mentioned why he was using the acid.
I’d automatically thought how awkward it was to use acid when boiling was exactly how humans had dealt with tough plants for thousands of years. Then I’d remembered that the lizard-folk haven’t yet discovered fire and it started to make a little more sense to me. My guess is that the acid is used despite its downsides because there aren’t any other better options. And when magic can deal with the residual acidity, it turns from a possible solution to a realistic one. But without that magic….
Of course, I don’t know if boiling the plants would destroy whatever makes them beneficial for healing; River will need to test that for himself.
Will you show me how to do this…boiling?
“Of course,” I smile. “But tomorrow, OK? Let’s sleep now.” River raises his chin for a long moment, a mixture of emotions running around him. I identify the strongest, the ones he’s essentially projecting down the Bond – excitement, nerves, curiosity, hope.
As you wish.