Chapter 11
AN UNEXPECTED TEST
Finn had realised a while ago that he’d never be able to care for all of Gypsy’s needs. Before the Ravagers struck, twenty staff members had kept her functioning fully. Now they were dead, and it was just him. He was now the captain, pilot, chief medical officer and the complete complement of the ship’s crew. Finn shrugged sadly, missing the team. He’d made some good friends during their five years of active service. All that could be done now was spare a thought for them each day and honour their memory. Without them, he had to do his best to keep things running. It would be impossible to do it all, though. There was just too much.
“I’ll look in the cultivation areas later,” Finn suggested. “I could grab the ripest fruits and vegetables and offer them to Aggy. If I explain the problem to her, maybe she would offer some names of people we could hire.”
“Whatever, get searching,” Gypsy sniggered.
Finn gave the book problem a minute’s thought and then set to work. First, he cleared the long central table of all the books, scrolls and tomes abandoned there. Then came the process of neatly arranging the literary chaos into organised stacks. Some ancient texts that had appeared were likely unique. There were also up-to-date titles and everything in between. All had the potential to be extremely useful in their new lives. Finn would read the title of each text, and Gypsy would squirrel it away for future reference. She’d add the information to their library’s catalogue eventually. During his search, Finn found quite a few titles of immediate interest, which were then neatly placed on the table for his later attention.
A few hours later, after Finn had tidied all the loose texts, he started going through the new sections of shelving that had been added. The pile of interesting reading material had steadily grown into three stacks, and Finn was now building his fourth.
The two goddesses had been extremely generous with their boons, but they had created a lot of work. Finn wasn’t being ungrateful, though, far from it. He was quietly thrilled to have so much new information to plough through. It was the lack of that one text that was putting an increasingly dark mood on the task. The elusive book on avatar creation had yet to reveal itself.
Over six hours later, Finn realised, with a deep sigh, that his task was almost complete and the book they wanted still hadn’t appeared. He had just started to catalogue the last bookcase, beginning by the wall, when he spotted something odd. One of the wall’s wooden panels was just slightly out of line. Its right edge stuck out just the tiniest amount, but it was enough to draw Finn’s attention. Frowning, he approached the panel and gently pushed the right edge to see if it would snap back into line. Instead, it clicked and swung outwards. Once fully open, a round room about ten feet in diameter was revealed. In it were three lecterns arranged in a triangle. Each stand held a hefty tome that looked dusty and ancient. The walls glimmered with the silver glow of spatial mana that told Finn the room didn’t occupy real space.
“Oh! Hello! Who put you here?” Finn muttered to the spatial pocket inside the door. He examined the ring of stabilisation runes etched into the floor and assessed how much mana kept the spatial room open.
“Can you see this?” Finn thought to Gypsy.
“I can, dear, yes.”
“I’d wager this is Liss’ work,” Finn said. “I’d also bet that one of these old books is the one we’ve been searching for.”
“No bet. Even so, get me the titles.”
Finn could see the spatial mana holding the pocket open, but something concerned him. The energy in the room was decreasing very slowly. Not enough for immediate concern, but within a month, the runes wouldn’t have enough mana to keep the pocket open.
“I think this room was put here by Liss as a test for us. If we hadn’t found this within the set time, we’d have lost the books forever,” Finn thought.
“A test? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Finn replied. “Maybe it’s part of proving we’re good enough for her master plan. Like the monastery’s trials, she insists I take part in. All I know for certain is that if we don’t remove the books within the next few weeks, they’ll be wiped out of existence.”
“Best bring them out of there then. The lecterns, too, if you’re able to lift them. They look pretty solid.”
“Yes, good plan. Better to do it now, I reckon,” Finn thought as he entered the spatial room and went to the nearest book.
As he lifted the hefty tome off the reading stand, Finn noticed the rate at which the energy was dropping increased. Understanding what was about to happen, Finn threw the book out the door and then rushed to grab another. Sure enough, as soon as he lifted the second tome, the energy began to drop even faster. Enough power for weeks had quickly dropped to days, and now—”
Finn dashed to the other lectern and unceremoniously plonked the last tome on top of the one he was carrying. He emptied his own spatial mana into the rapidly destabilising pocket. It was barely enough to give him the few additional seconds needed to dive through the closing rift. Finn felt the edges of the collapsing portal touch his legs as he tumbled back into the real space of the library. Fae and ancient texts ended up lying in a confused heap on the floor as the spatial pocket snapped out of existence with a loud pop.
“That was exciting,” Finn thought.
“Exciting? When I see Liss next, I’ll give her a right bloody earful. Exciting isn’t the word you wanted,” Gypsy ranted, her anger at the goddess evident. “Finn, you could have died in there. If you hadn’t thought to flood the pocket with your own energy, you’d be dead right now. I don’t want you dead. I’d be sad without you.” Her emotions rose to the surface. Gypsy usually concealed her real feelings behind a mask of efficiency, but now they boiled over. Finn could feel her acute fear of being abandoned and alone in this alien world. It was easy to empathise with her.
“I’m fairly certain we weren’t supposed to take more than one of the books,” Finn said. “I think the spatial pocket was rigged so that once one was lifted from its stand, it would give a little time to escape before the pocket collapsed. I got greedy and nearly paid for it.”
“Hurumph!” Gypsy grumbled. “I still blame the goddess. If she’d written a note or mentioned that we could take just one, you wouldn’t have taken the others.”
Finn grinned to himself. “Nah! We both know I’d have still tried to take them all. Three ancient books in a spatial pocket, all begging to be taken. I’d never have been able to choose just one to take. If this was a test of restraint, I think I just failed.” That concern vanished when he saw a small note slip out of the book on top of the pile. It landed on the floor beside him. The message read, ‘Well done. L.’”
Gypsy snorted loudly. “Looks like you passed her first challenge, champion.”
Finn studied the books more closely after arranging them more respectfully. Each was just under two feet square, with wood stiffened, heavy-leather bindings and glowing gold embossed lettering. Double metal clasps held each book closed. He allowed himself a tentative look at the three titles and grinned widely with relief. “And the prizes on offer tonight are books called ‘Spangler’s Codex on Enchanting’, ‘Treatise of Nym’, and, drum roll please—”
“Get on with it, you arse.”
“Golems, familiars and avatars! Yay! We have a winner!” Finn mentally shouted with elation. Gypsy’s happiness and relief swept over him like a tsunami. “That was the book the note slipped out of, too. I’m glad I got greedy. Otherwise, we’d have lost our book forever. The Treatise of Nym one, too. Wasn’t Nym the Goddess of War back in our old world?”
“She was, yes. The title’s a little vague, though,” Gypsy replied.
Finn gathered the ancient texts with a large amount of overdue respect. He carefully carried the heavy books to the central table and laid them out next to each other.
“I think I’ll teleport these out of sight when we have guests. The titles are written in the runic script of the ancient fae, so I guess they’re texts from our old world. I’d wager no one in this world, except us, could even read them. I think these books should only be for our eyes.”
“A solid plan. I agree,” Gypsy replied, the relief of finding the book she’d set her heart on still evident among her thoughts. “Now we have the text, we can take our time reading through it. There are so many other things to organise, as well. Firstly, we’ll need the money recast if we want to hire people. It’s early. Take a little time doing a harvest, then go do your family stuff.”
Finn wondered if Gypsy was feeling misplaced guilt after his brush with death. She was right, though. There was a lot to do.
*****-*****
Aggy had told Finn to wander back and forth from the house as he pleased, so he didn’t knock as he pushed his way through the kitchen door, laden with four big crates stacked to the brim with Gypsy’s finest produce. Fat, juicy tomatoes peeped over the top, sitting next to sizeable bunches of bananas and grapes. It had been a bountiful harvest, and there was so much more that he hadn’t had time to gather.
“A very good morning to you all,” Finn said, his voice muffled behind the precarious stack of crates. Sounds of greeting reached him, but he couldn’t see who from.
“Good mor—” Aggy stopped when she saw what Finn was struggling to carry. “Suzette, quickly, love. Give him a hand with whatever he has there.”
Suzette grunted and leapt to her feet, her mouth full of breakfast. It took her seconds to take two of the crates and lay them gently against the wall.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Hey, Finn,” Suzette cooed as she passed, keen to return to her food.
Finn blushed, “Uh! Good morning, Suzette.” Then, he placed his crates next to the others and made his way to the top of the table.
“Hey, Da. What’s new?” He said to Hamish as he slumped into his allotted chair.
Hamish grinned at Finn. “Hey yourself, lad. You filling the kitchen wi food is the latest thing to ‘appen round yer.”
“Before I forget,” Aggy said as she slid a stacked plate of bacon, eggs, fried potato and dwarven biscuits in front of Finn. “Neeve came round earlier asking that you pop by our shop later to get measured for your new clothes. I told her I planned to bring you to meet everyone, so she’d like you to stop by and see her in her workshop.”
“New clothes?” Finn asked as he stuffed a whole rasher into his mouth. Hamish slapped his hand, but his wink and ever-present grin spoilt the weak attempt at discipline.
“Yes, dear. Clothes. You’re our son and Neeve’s newly sainted nephew. At least you’d think you were already sainted to hear her talk about you,” Aggy said with a smile. “We make the most fashionable clothes this city has to offer, and you’ll be wearing them. You’ll be our walking advertisement. We both think you’ll look fantastic in some of the summer fashions we’re trying to promote. It’s a bonus that you’ll soon be the centre of attention around here.”
Finn paused to swallow his latest mouthful. “Okay, but I reserve the right to refuse anything too outrageous. I’ve spent most of my life in uniform.”
“Deal!” Aggy said with a satisfied grin. “By the way. When were you planning to explain all this produce you dumped in my kitchen?”
“It’s not mine, Ma,” Finn said innocently. “It’s yours. I just delivered it for you.”
“And where did you get the coin to buy that lot?” Aggy asked sceptically. “There has to be at least twenty silvers’ worth there, not to mention the value of those crates.”
“I didn’t buy them. I’ve just harvested them. I’ll have the crates back when you’re done with them, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay, I give in,” Aggy said, shaking her head. “Is this a Gypsy thing?”
Finn had noticed that his Ma had taken to explaining any odd occurrence as ‘a Gypsy thing’. “It is a Gypsy thing, yes. She has two massive cultivation areas on board and a couple of small ones for herbs and fungi. We used to be able to sustain fifty-five crew members and twenty support staff during missions. We had to store meat in the cold rooms, but we grew everything else we could.”
Hamish’s intrigued demeanour saddened. “And now ye’re all alone in there.”
Finn nodded, his mouth full once again. “With lots of produce to spare, yes. By the way, I wanted to ask a favour, with that in mind.”
“Name it. I told ye, lad, if ye need anything, just ask,” Hamish replied quickly.
“We need at least three farmers or gardeners. I plan to pay them for their work, but to do that, I need a lot of coins recast into currency valid here,” Finn said, launching into his idea. “I know you already offered, but it still seems a lot to ask of you.”
“I dinnae see a problem wi’ any o that, lad,” Hamish said. “Me cousins, the Moffats know their way around a farm, and Aggy’s niece Darcy can make sure my lot do the job. That one really knows her onions.”
“Darcy needs the coin, too,” Aggy said. “She only works piecemeal, and her useless boyfriend has left her again. She’s got rent due next week. I’ll get her round tonight so you can ask her.”
Finn was amazed at how quickly his parents reeled in suitable candidates from the extended family and gave him details about them. It was such a strange concept for someone with such an isolated past.
“How much coin ye got, lad?” Hamish asked.
Since the age of five, the Fae military had paid him a healthy wage that reflected his rank at the time, but he’d never been allowed to go anywhere to spend money. Gods! The only reason he knew he received a salary was the increasingly large stacks of untouched gold coins piled up in his military-issue possessions chest. With each of his many rank progressions came a significant salary increase, but his needs never changed. They fed him, clothed him and provided his essentials. What did he need with money?
“I’m not entirely sure, Da. Lots,” Finn replied sheepishly. It sounded to Finn like Hamish doubted whether his son could have as much coin as he’d insinuated. Finn concentrated and reached out to one of the coin chests he’d stashed after scouring the entire ship. A large chest appeared in front of the produce crates, making the busy dining area suddenly feel cramped.
Finn stood and opened the chest’s lid. This one was packed with gold coins.
“Not in my kitchen!” Aggy scolded as she turned back from the stove. “Oh my! Is that all yours, Finn.”
Finn realised Aggy must be so shocked that she’d forgotten to call him dear. “I earned twenty years of salary in the military and never spent a single coin. I’ve never been shopping to spend any of it, so I just saved it,” Finn explained. “Then, when I killed the pirates that had enslaved me, I looted the coin they left behind and added all that to my savings. The slavers that captured me had already killed and looted Gypsy’s crew, so I guess that’s in there too. There is another chest like that one and another full of gold ingots that I found in the leader’s room. There are also two chests full of silver and copper. I’ve separated out the bronze coins. Maybe you could reuse the metal for something. Anyway, it’s yours if you want it.”
Hamish growled and spat. “Kin’ bastard slaver filth. Snakes and buggerers, the lot of em.”
Finn jumped. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that reaction from Hamish.
“Hamish Smith!” Aggy shouted, slamming a knife down on the counter. “Will you please refrain from such cussin in my kitchen.”
Hamish wilted and looked at his wife beseechingly. “Aggy, love. They made our lad a slave,” he grumbled. “They deserve worse than a little cussin, girl.”
“I agree with Hamish,” Suzette said with angry venom, her cat ears twitching angrily. “Bastards, the lot of ‘em. They took my Ma last year. I miss her so much, and so does our Da. They all deserve to die a slow and painful death.”
Aggy sagged a little and gave a small nod. “You’re both right, of course. No mistake about that. Our son got them back, though, and that makes me even more proud of him.”
“Aye! And that’s the truth of it. Well done, lad.”
Finn just sat there, not knowing what to say. How could he ever have doubted whether trusting these two was a good thing to do?
Hamish cleared his throat and stood; at the same time, he stole the last piece of bacon from Finn’s plate. “Time to get some work done, lad. I’ll be teaching you to make spearheads today. They’re much fiddlier,” he said before stuffing Finn’s bacon into his mouth. “Boss’ privilege.” He grinned.
Aggy gave Finn a weak smile. “You’ve had such a hard life already, love. I hope we can make it better from here on. Now, put all that money back where it came from. Knowing Mish, he’ll get his boys on converting it later once he’s got you started.”
Once Finn had transported the chest back into its hiding place, he made to leave.
Aggy touched his arm, so he paused. “I’ll come and fetch you later and take you to see our shop,” she said. “We can get you measured up while you’re there. You badly need some decent clothes, so we’ll get busy when we know your sizes. Oh, and don’t forget Darcy will likely come for dinner to chat about the gardening work with you. We can all go and see these ‘cultivation’ thingies afterwards. That should make Mish’s day.”
“If either of you needs coin, you can have as much of mine as you want,” Finn said. “I’ve never needed it, and if you did—”
Aggy held her hand up in a stop gesture. “Now, you just stop right there,” she said sternly. “It’s lovely of you to offer. Really, it is, but we’re okay financially. Not rich by any means, but okay. It saddens me that you’ve never been shopping, though. I know Abbot made plans to change that soon enough. However, your money is yours. If you want to help, do some of your magic for Mish. Business is not what it was since a rival smith in Market Haven set up shop. I’ll say no more about that, though, and neither should you. He’s too proud to admit he’s struggling.”
Finn thought about that for a moment. Unconsciously, he flipped his left hand over and looked at the palm. The runic tattoos he’d created there for his spatial storage reminded him of the years of enchanting and inscription lectures he’d sat through. Gypsy’s existence was almost entirely based on the fae expertise in making mana-empowered rune formations do just about anything. Just the runic constructs used to create and maintain Gypsy’s core needed a four-inch-thick manual to contain them. So why not use all those years of training to do something special to help Hamish? Maybe the ‘Spangler’s Codex of Enchanting’ might even have a few exciting things that could help, too.
“Ma, I’m sure I can think of a few ways to help the forge. Please, if you truly consider me as family, you should let me help where I can. I want to. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to aid you or the rest of the family. You’ve already done so much for me just by taking me in. That means more to me than you realise. I’m grateful.”
Aggy leaned in and kissed his cheek. She gave him a tearful nod and then turned away while wiping her eyes on her apron.
Finn slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the forge.
*****-*****
Finn stood at his anvil, looking down at his latest creation. Earlier, Hamish had declared to the five other smiths that Finn would be a regular there. That done, he’d gone on to assign him his own workstation, complete with two anvils, a workbench and more tools than he knew the names for. After Hamish left him to it, Finn began to try his best to emulate the perfect example of a spearhead that Hamish had made earlier as a template for him to copy. Thus far, each head Finn had made had been a little less rough and a fraction closer to the master smith’s work.
Occasionally, one of the other workers would glance his way and shake their head. Some even muttered under their breath that the boy had no right to be among the real smiths in the hall. Their resentment of him didn’t bother him much, but he had hoped to find a friend with whom he could compare notes. Unfortunately, Hamish was not around to silence their mutterings. Instead, he was off doing Finn a huge favour with a few other colleagues.
The place where they made all Shanty’s coinage was set into the mountainside and lined with granite, making the building as secure as the city could build it. In there, his adoptive father was converting thousands of fae coins for him. Finn would end up with shiny new Shanty coinage based on Allis’s international currency standard. New coins for a new life, Finn thought as he sharpened his latest attempt at a spearhead.
Eventually, Finn’s persistence paid off, and he managed to make three spearheads in a row that looked remarkably similar to Hamish’s template. He wondered if he could save a little time by enchanting the heads with a sharpness rune. It would be simple enough to etch the rune and empower it, thus saving him a walk over to the grinders to laboriously sharpen the things. They’d stay sharp, too. Finn glanced at the wall where all his tools were hanging neatly. Nothing was delicate enough to use as a scriber for his rune carving, so with a sigh, he reached out with his mana.
His enchanter’s tool chest had been presented to him when he’d graduated as a master rune smith. Finn had promptly stuffed it full of all the tools he’d ‘borrowed’ from the military workshops over his years of studying. It was a gorgeous wooden chest made from mana-enthused dark willow and contained many handy, fold-out shelves that were enchanted to slowly unfurl when the lid opened. It was one of the only things Finn owned that he was proud of. The other was another enchanted chest that contained all his medical equipment.
Finn heard a few gasps and many more swear words as his large enchanter’s tool chest appeared on the floor beside his workbench. Opening the lid, Finn watched with satisfaction as the various tool shelves and trays unfurled. Two racks fanned out from the sides of the chest, revealing holders for the taller tools, and it was from there that Finn grabbed his favourite diamond-tipped metal inscriber.
Taking the second spearhead from those lined up on the bench. Finn sat on the shorter of his two anvils, which was just the right height to make a nice, if not hard, stool. Once settled, Finn started work, etching a sawblade-shaped rune onto each edge of the head. It was painstaking work and took nearly five minutes to complete just two runes to his satisfaction. He then checked his work carefully. Once that was done, he placed his finger on one of the runes he’d carved and started to feed metal-aspected mana into it. The rune didn’t care what aspect you used; it just needed mana. At least, that’s what he’d been taught. However, Finn knew better. Metal affinity mana would work best in this instance. Bright white light shone from the rune as soon as it had consumed sufficient mana, and there was a loud ping as the spear’s edge became razor-sharp. A dull red glow remained on the blade, betraying its enchanted state. Finn repeated the process successfully with the other side of the spearhead and then carefully placed it back on the workbench. He decided to leave the first head he’d created but went along the line and enchanted the other five.
Left with nothing else to enchant, Finn decided to continue his smithing practice, so after stowing his scriber and closing the chest, he returned to the forge. He didn’t see the amazed looks he was getting from the other workers, and neither did he hear the difference in their comments now.