Amdirlain’s PoV - Veht? - La?ki

  While Amdirlain kept a mental ear on the family’s sleeping minds, she moved to the outer wall of the cursed temple complex and sat with her back against a fallen pillar. Though the ruined temples had once sheltered the worshippers of Slavic deities, the site reflected the town’s original Roman influence in its architecture.

  The sites radiated from a boulevard of columned buildings, with Dazhbog’s temple alongside Svarozhits’s, the god of Fire. However, the most prominent temples were those once dedicated to Perun, the deceased god of lightning, and Veles, the former Slavic God of the underworld. The curse had slagged their once finely embossed bronze doors, and the metal still sat puddled on the stonework after a thousand years. Even roaches and ants had stayed out of the surrounding buildings.

  If I do anything overnight, Marcin might get suspicious, since I had asked about a job related to the temples. I’ll need to create plausible deniability.

  A mental nudge from the Outlands prompted her to anchor detection song elements in place, and she fed the results into a memory crystal that she stored away. When her primary form withdrew it in the Outlands, Amdirlain caught a spike of amusement, and understanding bloomed. A crystal spike came back the same way, and Amdirlain planted it beneath the core of the curse.

  I’m still in the bad habit of tending to things alone, even though there are four of ‘me’ now.

  A giggle came from atop a ruined wall, and Amdirlain looked up at a calico-coloured Catfolk, in a duplicate of Am’s silvery stage costume. “What are you doing out here, Mother? You could examine this from their apartment.”

  Only after seeing her did the Aspect’s energy become apparent to her other senses.

  “Given I’m in a limited Avatar and dealing with a curse left by a Mantle holder, I wanted to give it more of my attention. That’s easier with proximity,” Amdirlain replied. “Did you have fun giving that family affinities, Muse? Or was it for me?”

  In a blur, Muse dropped from the wall and shrank to the size of a six-year-old cub as she climbed onto Amdirlain’s lap. “Ear rubs and maybe I’ll answer. See if you can inspire me.”

  Though she felt like groaning, Amdirlain massaged the base of Muse’s ears, drawing squeaky mews of happiness.

  Eventually, Muse tilted her head back against Amdirlain’s chest to look up at her. “I didn’t give you, or them, anything.”

  “I felt your influence.”

  Muse’s tail slithered up between them, and the end of it poked Amdirlain’s cheek. “Think of insights like a game of hot and cold that builds off preparation. You prepared them properly and gave them the framework of a meditative state, and I just nudged them with an insight to see links. Do all your insights bear fruit?”

  “No.”

  “There you go. If they hadn’t been receptive and trying, they would have remained blind.”

  “Very well, then, Miss I-didn’t-give-them anything. Why did you feel the need to drop in?”

  Her form changed again and turned into an Orc child clad in worn rawhide leggings and a ragged top. “Maybe I’m hoping I can convince you to continue your unsubtle inspirations. Some places need firmer pushes than others.”

  “What happened to neutrality?”

  “That’s not in my nature. Nor is it for those who enjoy putting their boot on someone’s neck. They frown upon any artistic expression that strays from the message they want an artist to convey. Things have become unpleasant on many worlds since you removed your power and stopped correcting imbalances. I hoped you’d continue to nudge things back while you’re working on refining your natures.”

  Though tempted to probe for answers, Amdirlain waited quietly.

  Muse became an emaciated Human child in dirty rags, skin colour lost beneath caked dirt, and her hair grey with dust. “I’m hoping you’ll lessen the places where survival is the only priority. When people get too focused only on what puts food in their stomachs, then inspiration and joy die.”

  “Muse, I don’t like being manipulated. You’d be better off saying your piece straight up.”

  The Human child disappeared, replaced by a normal tortoiseshell kitten curled up in Amdirlain’s lap; her tail tip twitched as an ethereal voice echoed around them.

  “Inspiring people is in my nature. You spoke sternly to inspire me to give you a straight answer, but the problem is that there are no straight answers to many of the realm’s problems.”

  “That, I’m aware of,” Amdirlain said. “I’m trying to provide people with more opportunities.”

  “Veht? and other worlds were stages to trap the Greek gods and destroy them if they hadn’t changed. They are pressure cookers designed to bring down unworthy deities. However, on other worlds, pantheons have copied your trials and made efforts to eliminate regions with monsters in the last millennium. Why not make them more widespread?”

  “What? How?” Amdirlain groaned.

  “Livia didn’t tell you because she’s all protective and only knows about one instance, while Sarah and the others don’t know it’s occurred,” Muse continued. “Xaos has trade relations with a certain monastery; people from many faiths there learnt about the trial you set up for the students. Did you think the instructors you arranged wouldn’t share the source of the materials? Especially after you set up a honeymoon spot for those dragons.”

  “They needed to pay the dragons for magical instruction, and I didn’t want them coming into conflict with others in the Outlands.”

  “Yep, and those dragons were such gossips when they returned home. While the gods of their home worlds didn’t set up the trials in the same way, they’re fairly effective.”

  Amdirlain groaned again. “The problem with the trials is that they can isolate other members of society from any understanding of danger and can channel power into the hands of the few.”

  “Then make them uncontrollable by pantheons or politicians. How about a dungeon Plane instead of demi-planes, the way the Outlands lets mortals find each other?”

  “That’s too large-scale and would increase the risk to the connected worlds, from environmental conditions alone,” Amdirlain replied. “That’s even if we kept the regional surges we’ve contained within the trial.”

  “But I planted a seed,” Muse laughed. “I can feel it germinating in all your forms.”

  Amdirlain groaned. “Dungeon seeds.”

  I can see so much going wrong with this, and the balance has worked for aeons. It's not something related to the unnecessary damnation of souls, so it needs a lot of thought. Why does she want me to consider the current balance?

  “You could ask the Shen to help manage them. In a way, your trials help beings progress their Dao.”

  “I’ll consider it, but my solution might be how I stop faiths monopolising them.”

  Muse laughed louder before she vanished in an explosion of sparkles.

  Though unsure if she’d really left, or if Muse had concealed herself again, Amdirlain focused her full attention back on the buildings. In the hours of the night that remained, she continued preparations to eliminate the curse.

  Dawn was still nearly an hour away when she sensed the family’s sleep state change, and Amdirlain slipped back towards the apartments. Vendors had already opened on the ground floors of surrounding buildings, and the rich scents had Amdirlain’s nose twitching.

  They must get spices cheaply from the Taur?.

  Amdirlain drifted among the locals, who watched on in surprise at one of the usually withdrawn elves moving about their streets. With copper coins on offer, the vendors happily sold her pots of cooked food, bread, cold meats, pickled vegetables, and baskets of fruit. Though overdoing it, she got enough to feed a dozen people before she headed upstairs. Dobromir was the first to awaken. Still partly dozing, he dressed and armoured for his guard duty on autopilot. He emerged to find the kitchen table set with the food Amdirlain had purchased.

  “Good morning, Dobromir,” Amdirlain offered.

  Dobromir blinked the sleep from his eyes as he regarded the table. “Good morning indeed, Jay. You mentioned you might get some food, but such a repast is too much.”

  “It’s a teacher’s responsibility to take care of her students. Though it’s a large amount of food, it costs me less than I’d spend on an inn meal, and what people don’t eat now, I’ll store away.”

  “Students,” Dobromir murmured. “Last night wasn’t a dream?”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Amdirlain slid a jug and plate across the table. “If you want to be full-time students, let me know. By elven customs as your teacher, I’d have to provide food, clothing, housing, and a stipend.”

  Desire and pride clashed harshly before Dobromir shook his head. “Though tempting, I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you at my age, as I’m unsure how many years I’ve left. As for the exercises last night, I was trying to set a good example so the boys would pay attention.”

  Amdirlain smiled reassuringly. “I thought as much, but you still focused on my instructions.”

  “Children can tell when you’re not taking things seriously,” Dobromir responded. “Yet magic at my age?”

  “Even if you only learn some basic spells, they might save your life, or someone else’s. There are things you can practise while on guard duty to make the dull hours more interesting.”

  Dobromir chuckled. “I’m not sure anything can make some duties more interesting. What are you suggesting?”

  “Your Class Vision last night provided you with a Wizard Class?” Amdirlain questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Since you gained Wizard, you’ll have Mana Sense now. Try to see energies on travellers, or those in the town’s wards, or try to touch the energy in your Mana Pool.”

  “You mentioned we’d gain one, but is that the warm spot under my sternum this morning?”

  Amdirlain smiled. “I didn’t want to set a preconception of where or how it needed to feel. It would have filled naturally while resting. Most people sense it there as a warmth, though for some it’s lower. Picture it like water, or a ball of wool that you can squeeze, but draw nothing from it today. We’ll go over some exercises tonight.”

  “That sounds like a warning that the edge is sharp, don’t play with it. Are the children in danger from it?”

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  “No, until they gain a Class, they don’t have enough Mana for it to be dangerous in an unfocused state. Even if they push the Mana from themselves, the most it might cause is a flash of light or sudden warmth. A word of caution: you’ll need those reserves for exercises tonight.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief and ripped a hunk from a dark loaf, slathering it with fresh butter and preserves. “I’ll admit I had my doubts when you wanted to board with us. I’m glad I didn’t stick my foot in my mouth.”

  “Reservations because I’m an Elf?”

  He shook his head sharply. “It’s more because you’re an adventurer. I’ve had no trouble with elven traders. I have dealt with the aftermath of adventurers’ often enough.” Dobromir took a bite of the bread and grunted in approval. “Novak’s bakery was a good choice; his bread always tastes better.”

  “I’m glad my presence and food selection are acceptable. How often do adventurers cause trouble?”

  “Let me think—people with too much coin, who are frequently aggressive and used to killing their opponents. Surely nothing could go wrong there,” Dobromir snorted. “The guild used to be firmer in punishing them, but with the recent years of trouble in the west and along the coast, they’ve needed people. Now they give them punishment jobs instead of letting the lords toss them in prison or execute them.”

  Does the guild have complete authority over adventurers?

  “The Hobgoblin armies are larger this year, but I thought the trouble with the Sahuagin was in the past?”

  “That goes to show how isolated the Taur? forest is from the coast. The Sahuagin attacks are causing issues with coastal trade again, and the guild always hears things before trade issues show up. Fewer goods are arriving from the east than in previous years.” The children started stirring in their alcoves, and Dobromir glanced their way before turning his attention to the food. “I’ll need to head off soon.”

  When the others emerged, he finished in fast bites and washed it down with heavily watered wine. Grabbing a water urn, he slipped away to the washroom ahead of Mieszko, who tried to cut him off. Their comfortable and familiar interactions filled Amdirlain with warm amusement.

  After the others finished breakfast and their morning ablutions, the table was cleared. With them clustered around the table, Amdirlain walked all of them through exercises to get a better feel for their Mana pools. She mingled in arcane theories explaining the purpose of the exercise and the foundation they were laying.

  “The better we get at touching Mana, the faster we can cast spells?” Mieszko questioned. “I thought spells needed lots of big words.”

  “The bards have wizards saying lots of things in battle,” Radomir explained.

  “Never talk during a fight, unless you’re trying to distract someone from behind a barrier. Spells don’t require words or gestures, and if you use them, they can become habit-forming. Spells are a mental pattern that you fill with Mana.” Amdirlain created an illusion of a formation that was barely more complex than a figure-eight loop knot.

  Neda leant forward excitedly. “What does that do?”

  Amdirlain fed the actual Spell a drip of Mana, and the sound of a cracking branch echoed in the apartment. “An auditory illusion can be an excellent distraction or lure. It’s the first Spell from Sensory Deception. The Spell can’t manage sentences or prolonged noises, but the sound produced is up to the caster.”

  Mieszko’s gaze gleamed. “Have you ever pranked someone with it?”

  “Not as yet,” Amdirlain winked.

  The children laughed, and Vida restrained a sigh, but they all listened with interest as Amdirlain explained the elements within the flow. She continued the instruction for a couple of hours, but as Radomir and Mieszko both grew restless, Amdirlain wrapped up the lessons.

  She slipped through the crowded streets, dodging jostling labourers and the creaking handcarts overloaded with goods. Once she turned onto the southernmost bridge within the town’s perimeter, the traffic noticeably thinned.

  By the time Amdirlain arrived at the looming guild building, most of the adventurers had already departed, leaving a relatively depleted job board in their wake. Zivena was at the reception counter again, with a pale-skinned woman next to her. The other woman’s angular features and slightly pointed ears showed a recent elven connection in her bloodline. She was chatting amiably with Zivena until Amdirlain walked in the door, and then her liveliness ended as if someone had flipped a switch. The Half-Elf had met an ancient Elf once, and Amdirlain’s gaze brought that encounter to mind.

  Amdirlain listened as the rush of thoughts rushed through the Half-Elf’s mind and plucked her name and pieces of her history from the threads.

  What tales does your father share with you on his visits, Veylanna?

  Zivena greeted Amdirlain with a smile and a wave. “How is everything going?”

  “Morning, Zivena,” Amdirlain replied. “Things are well. I’ll be teaching the children in the evenings, so hopefully they’ll let me stay awhile.”

  An amused smile lit Zivena’s face. “You’re teaching their children on top of paying for a roof over your head? That’s surprisingly generous. Though what are you teaching them?”

  Time to change the subject.

  “It's not a guild matter. I enjoy teaching, so we’ll both be gaining,” Amdirlain replied. “Out of curiosity. Why are the buildings on the west side of town in a Roman style?”

  “A group of Roman merchants sponsored La?ki’s creation centuries ago, and still control most of the land on the western side of town even to this day.”

  “They like things done a particular way?”

  “Correct,” Zivena nodded sharply. “Can I help you with any job advice?”

  “Guild Master Marcin said I’d need to deal with some unwanted jobs. Do you have a list of those?”

  Zivena’s mouth tightened in a bitter line. “I believe he still has to find you a supervisor for those because of your low rank. Those really are unpleasant jobs, Jay.”

  “I’m not worried.” Amdirlain tilted her head towards the jobs board. “I’ll see what’s left.”

  Fixed to the wall, the job board began at knee height and extended two metres, featuring seven columns: Copper, Bronze, Iron, Silver, Gold, Platinum, and Mithril. It reminded her of a church hymn board, with lacquered wooden plates that slid into place along each row.

  Before she peeked beyond the ward, her card showed her the jobs categorised as copper- or bronze-ranked. Noxious jobs from people complaining about pests in sewer tunnels, and low-paying jobs for gathering herbs, were most of what remained on the board. The first four columns were the widest, with the number of listings in each consistent, while the last two had barely a handful of jobs. Some plates were obviously for repeat jobs with everything but the fee and note line engraved into the wood; others had the details entirely written in grease pen.

  A job that had languished at the bottom of the bronze column caught her attention. Amdirlain slid it free and made a show of considering the details of a slime infestation in the western sewers.

  “Are you sure you want to handle that one? It’s referring to the sewers, and they aren’t pleasant.” Zivena called out before Amdirlain turned back.

  “I won’t enter them. Seeking spells can take them out easily enough,” Amdirlain shrugged.

  Zivena wrinkled her nose. “You need to provide large fragments of cores for proof. The completion requirement is at least twenty slimes.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  The receptionist beside Zivena frowned. “Where is the rest of your team? Copper ranks aren’t supposed to do bronze jobs solo.”

  Veylanna is trying to be professional, but doesn’t know what to say.

  Zivena lifted her spare hand to interrupt even as she recorded the job in her ledger. “Guild Master Marcin already cleared Jay to handle jobs up to iron solo. She’ll need a supervisor for jobs above that to review her work for promotion. Jay has enough levels to be silver-ranked easily, except for her lack of seniority and job tally.”

  “Silver?” Veylanna questioned skeptically. “At her age?”

  Fortunately, Zivena latched onto the obvious assumption. “According to the details gathered at her registration.”

  “Those plates really are an interesting use of runes.” Amdirlain returned to the counter, offering Veylanna a passing smile.

  “Veylanna, would you let Guild Master Marcin know Jay is here?” Zivena set aside the other paperwork she was handling to accept the wooden board from Amdirlain. “Is it an elven thing to tell each other’s age?”

  “Some people see clues that aren’t there and miss others that are.”

  After a glance at the number on the back of the board, Zivena fetched a sheet of paper from a folder. “Minimal completion is twenty, but there is a bonus offered for intact cores in lots of five, also if you slay over fifty. It’s noted that the lord offered a bonus for the eradication of the slime’s source.”

  “I hope the guild knows that isn’t possible.”

  “We’re aware of the proposed theories.” Zivena recorded the details in her ledger against Amdirlain’s name.

  “To prove them, create even a small stone chamber above the course of a ley line. Then pour in water or an energised fluid related to the intended slime’s nature. Seal it up and leave it for at least two seasons. If you open it after that point, you’ll find there are slimes inside. That’s if they’re not the right type to dissolve the stone earlier,” Amdirlain said.

  “Really?”

  “If there is a Mana surge in the ley line, then it will happen faster.” Amdirlain nodded firmly.

  “I’ll leave that to academics. Let me get a sewer plan while we wait.”

  With no one else in the foyer, Zivena ducked out to fetch a map of the western sewer network. The parchment crackled as she laid it out on the counter and pointed out the areas where slimes had been sighted. She was wrapping up when Marcin walked in with a muscle-bound Orc in chainmail over rawhide clothing; he stood head and shoulders above the solid Guild Master. The Orc adventurer had dark green skin and pronounced eyeteeth that pressed against his outer lips.

  “Guild Master Marcin, how are you today?”

  “I’m well, Jay. This is Gurn. He’ll supervise those tasks you need to handle outside your current rank.”

  Veylanna slipped in behind them, nervously eyeing Gurn as she stepped back towards her counter.

  Gurn’s yellow gaze locked on Amdirlain, a glimmer of dry amusement that contrasted with his thuggish features. “You really want to mop up the shit jobs?”

  “That’s not the proper way to approach them,” Marcin grumbled.

  Amdirlain smiled. “While I’m sure there are many missions that fit that classification on the board, to those advertising, they’re important.”

  “Nah, if they were important, they’d figure out a way to handle it themselves. They’ve got the coin to throw at the problems, and it’s simpler to employ someone to deal with the rubbish they don’t want to touch.”

  “Gurn, there are problems you can’t handle,” Marcin interjected. “Though some of these jobs are more unpleasant than they are tough challenges, not everyone lives the same life.”

  His arms folded tight across his chest, Gurn glared at Marcin. “Some weak-spirited parasites don’t live at all. Why do I get assigned to supervise this runt?”

  “The rest of your team is training or dealing with family matters. If you coordinate with Jay, I’m sure she’s capable of clearing out the list early.”

  “List?”

  “I was thinking about your situation last night. I thought we might both benefit from a change to your probation.” Marcin drew a thick stack of job papers from a storage ring and set them on the counter. “You can take on either two or three noxious jobs each month while you train people. Or clean out fifty of these and provide a half day of training a month for the year.”

  “You originally said I’d need to provide a few days of unpaid training a month.”

  “Yes, we’ll cut that down in appreciation for dealing with these promptly.”

  “Is there anything of particular interest among these jobs?”

  “You’ll need to do some travelling. These are all jobs removed from various halls’ boards because either no one could complete them or wanted to for the proposed fee.”

  A quick scan of the pile showed nothing too difficult, even at her assumed level, so Amdirlain took the entire stack and passed it to Zivena. “I’ll take these. Can I get a copy of the paperwork so I can figure out the order later? Or should I do that now?”

  “You only need to do fifty,” Marcin protested. “There are almost three hundred jobs in that pile, and you’ve not looked at any of them.”

  “I get paid the fee for all of them, correct?” Amdirlain asked innocently.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you poisoned this stack with jobs I wouldn’t be able to complete?” Amdirlain teased lightly.

  Marcin’s eyebrows raised. “No, but some involve monsters and tribes in the goblinoid territories. I wanted to see what you wouldn’t take on.”

  “That might go to show I’m insane then,” Amdirlain grinned. “As long as Gurn doesn’t mind flying, I’ll be fine getting to any of them.”

  “Flight spells are fine with me,” Gurn rumbled.

  “Are you from the Blood Cavern tribe or somewhere else?” Amdirlain asked, looking at Gurn.

  “That’s my home’s old name, Elf. It hasn’t been called that in at least five hundred years. Have you been listening to your granddad’s tales?” Gurn scoffed.

  “Gnarls were a menace to all, and tales live on. Interestingly, the orcs gained a safe home without fighting, yet you look down on others paying you to do work for them.”

  Gurn threw his head back and roared with laughter. The torrent of sound slapped the walls of the foyer and caused Zivena and Veylanna to clasp their ears.

  Eventually, he stopped laughing and wiped tears from his eyes. “You’re a sharp one, Elf.”

  “Jay,” Marcin murmured.

  “Like that’s actually her name,” Gurn rumbled. “I’m at the Drunken Blade. Come find me when you’re ready to leave for the first job.”

  “Don’t run away too fast. I’ll clear the sewers, and then we’ll head off this morning.” Amdirlain took the job from the top of the stack Zivena hadn’t touched and presented it to her. “I’ll handle that one as well today.”

  “A Hobgoblin tribe,” Zivena added the job to the ledger with quick movements. “I’ll get the map of that region.”

  Gurn peeked over her shoulder. “Don’t bother; I know the region, and I’ve got a better map. Dirt poor hamlet offering coppers to deal with raiders, no wonder the job got ignored.”

  With that, he vaulted the counter and landed with silent, catlike grace.

  “Do you need me to do anything more formality-wise, Zivena?” Amdirlain asked.

  “I’ll get these jobs written up and organise them by regions,” Zivena replied.

  Amdirlain waved and headed for the front door, with Gurn in tow.