Fluid - 7

Ipy’s hut is tidy, despite the bare brick walls and hard-packed dirt floor. Unshuttered windows allow the breeze flowing in the west gate to swirl around the table and five mismatched chairs before exiting to the east. He has a few rough wood shelves secured straight to the bricks between the interior framework, holding some carved plates and bowls. Unlike the roughness of the building’s construction, his precisely created wards barely whisper when we cross the threshold.

As Ipy moves to set a pot boiling on a free-standing brazier near the east window, I set out a few things. Prompted by his clothing, I keep it simple; though it draws down on my current supplies, it also lets me avoid the creation-glow. From Inventory, dishes of cooked prawns, mixed legumes, and dwarven flatbread laced with dried fruit and nuts are steaming away on white porcelain plates. I’m setting down some plates to eat off when Phile giggles, but I restrain my curiosity.

Ipy surveyed the plates before turning back to me. “There was no Mana, nor was an item activated.”

With a wink, I pull out a chair from the table. “I’m full of mysteries. Please, check the food for poison if you’d like—I won’t take offence.”

Blessings are liquid sounds in the celestial tongue charged with divine power, so very different to spells. Though limited, they’re closer to True Song than spells but using Mana instead of life force. The words spill from Ipy’s lips and dissolve before I can understand them, the same as every Blessing. My only consolation is, though I can’t keep hold of the words themselves, the music is up for grabs. Celestials don’t need to eat, so I’ve never heard this Blessing invoked before. Mother’s power, called upon to detect poisons, comes away clean and Ipy nods his satisfaction.

“I’ve seen something new today. Thank you for sharing this food; it smells delicious.”

Picking the sturdiest chair, Ipy sits across from me, and Phile completes a triangle at the table. Ipy pours herbal tea once the water’s hot enough, the mint tickling my nose.

Partway through the meal, Phile taps her plate’s edge and gives me a grin. “So you’re not noble?”

“Is that what started you giggling? Would you like a plate set?”

Phile blinks at my offer and motions at the plate she’s been using. “How much does something like this cost?”

“I don’t know. I made these plates, so all they cost me is time and energy,” I reply and catch only confusion from Phile. “You’re fixated on the idea I’m a noble.”

“I can see where Phile’s confusion comes from, given your attire and casual use of plates that appear like they’d cost a platinum each,” states Ipy.

“Yes, lesson learnt. I should have put the food into stasis on ordinary plates,” I admit. “But what is normal for me isn’t for others, and this trip has already made that clear.”

“You cooked a normal breakfast,” comments Phile, though I notice she intended it as reassurance for Ipy.

“You can cook?” gasps Ipy, playing it up for all he’s worth. Turning to Phile, he assumes a straight face. “Sorry, she can’t be noble; it's commonly known they cannot cook, clean, or even boil water.”

His amusement runs deep, his way of pushing concerns aside.

Fixing him with a mock glare, I put my nose in the air. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have been a Bard, Ipy? I’m sure Moke would have gladly trained you.”

His hand freezes short of his cup, and it’s clear I’ve gotten his attention. “How do you know Moke?”

“Know of, though I want to hear his Ode to the Dawn—I hear it’s got a heap of new verses,” I quip and tap my cheek. “The flecks of gold in your eyes give your relationship to High Priestess Eivor away—the golden Ki shared with her left a mark beyond reversing her age. Is she still running the temple in Memphis?”

Ipy, momentarily at a loss, focuses on my question. “That’s correct. How do you know her?”

With confusion and concern warring in him, I answer quickly, “Through tales, but I want to meet her. Maybe I should travel that way and give her some gifts once I'm done. Would you introduce us?”

“Why the interest in my mother?” Ipy asks casually, though there is an undercurrent of caution.

The threat he sees my insights as is concerning; despite that, the chance to meet her has me gushing. “I owe your mother my life. Anything I can do for her, let me know. I feel she’s an important lady, even if she doesn’t seek attention. Without her, many things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. If they’d gone differently, I’d likely still be dead.”

I don’t know what aspect of my outburst reassures him, but his hand comes back up from under the table. There isn’t a weapon under the table or in his hand. Was he going to flip it at me? Curiosity has me peeking, and it seems I need to watch my mouth. The artificer gadget he returned to his belt might have sent me through the wall.

"You were dead?" asks Phile.

"My mother wouldn't have a living daughter if Eivor's faith in Amdirlain hadn't given her a Mantle. It set off a cascade of events that meant my mother got freed, and I got a second chance at life," I gush happily. “Sorry if I startled you. Should you be out by yourself if interest in your mother is such a threat?”

“You’re awfully light on details, but I’ll take your goodwill at face value. My mother has had a few attempts on her life, but no one’s yet sought me out before because of her position.”

“Are those attempts on her why you live so simply?” I ask, gesturing about us. “It’s obvious you’re not an inexperienced adventurer, and the enchanted brass knuckles are worth a bit. I take it they’re attuned to you?”

Ipy coughs sheepishly. “I’m putting my coin towards building a full temple here one day.”

“I could help with that.”

“Really? Are you going to do this again?” huffs Phile.

“It’s not like the wall,” I protest. “I’m not doing it for Ipy. While his shrine is nice, it might appeal to people more if it’s bigger and the Priest’s house doesn’t look so.. modest?”

When Ipy asks about the wall, Phile shares Imhotep’s cover story, leaving me to nod ruefully at my lost funds.

“Really?” drawls Ipy, eying me curiously, clearly not buying it.

“Oh, absolutely; if you ask me what day of the week, I have no clue.”

This is true. I arrived on their world three days ago, and no one’s mentioned the current day yet. Fluttering my eyelashes earns a sceptical look, and I quickly resume eating. That seems to kick off his instincts as a host, and he promptly tops up our tea.

Finishing before he does, I repeat my explanation about the lost key and try not to wonder how many more times I’ll have to give that story. “Will you help me find it? We’re looking to recruit a few new adventurers and help them progress before we look for it. The Guild Master wanted to assign me to a team, but they’d be working for him rather than with me. I can cast portals so we can be back here every night for you to tend to anyone in need.”

“Why is this key important enough to risk your or a teammate’s life?”

“With it, I’m sure I can release those sworn to a dreadful oath that has them trapped. Those trapped can’t go outside the boundary of their homes without being transformed into monsters.”

“How many people are we talking about?” asks Phile, looking at me in surprise.

Millions might seem ridiculous, so I tone it down. “Thousands.”

Ipy and Phile both choke in surprise, and I fight the urge to rub my face. Maybe I should have said dozens? Sure, multiplied by a lot, but still dozens.

“Thousands?” breathes Phile.

“A grand-sounding quest, right? Like a Bard’s poem that can’t possibly be true,” I say glibly and then harden my tone to catch their attention. “But it is true—they’re trapped, and what they’re enduring is horrible, so I want to get them out.”

Ipy’s gaze remains on me. “I’d like to see them.”

Not wanting to consider how he’d react to the Abyss if the Gate missed a grotto, I resort to the truth. “Sorry, I can’t help with that at present. I didn’t open the way to their location. While I might manage it, I don’t know what would happen if I mess up. Protections are in place to keep them safe, among other things.”

“How can I know you’re not seeking help to free something that should remain trapped?” enquires Ipy.

“That’s someone, not something. Those trapped are all elves, not monsters. Restoring those who have transformed isn’t possible; only death can free them. If you need to know if I'm trustworthy, I don't know—commune with Lerina. I’ll provide the materials you need for that Blessing, and you don’t have to give them back regardless of the result. I’ll leave you be if she says not to help.”

The way Ipy’s eyes bug out, and he gasps. “Just-, commune?”

Before he can object further, I offer an alternative. “Fine, summon a Lantern Archon to play messenger to someone higher in the chain of command. I’m willing to put it to your highest authority.”

“You have a different attitude towards dealing with celestials, let alone a Goddess, than anyone I know,” remarks Ipy.

“My normal isn’t yours, but I wouldn’t suggest it if this wasn’t important,” I retort. “You follow a Goddess of choice. Tossing it over to her seems a bit like taking the easy road. If Eivor weren’t your mother, I would only have told you I need to retrieve a key.”

Surprise mingles with cynicism as he considers my words. “I’ve seen the crumbs of truth that my father spins into a grand tale.”

“This isn’t a seed but an oak tree all its own,” I reply and give Phile an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m only sharing more information because of his mother.”

Phile gives me an incredulous look, lifts her once injured hand and wiggles her restored finger at me. “You didn’t ask me to leave once you were ready to share, and your token gets you a lot of goodwill. Though you told me and anyone close enough to overhear.”

Holding back a laugh, I just blurt out my answer. “Wards.”

“You pointed out to Imhotep he needs to use more words,” grumbles Phile.

Sighing, I give her a full explanation. “The wards within the hut detect various things and stop someone speaking normally being heard outside, even with the glassless windows. Those detections are how he knew it wasn’t a Spell or item used when I retrieved the plates.”

“Wizard?” asks Ipy.

It’s not how I knew, but I nod happily.

“How did you provide those plates?” asks Ipy. “You seem to know a bunch of my secrets.”

Poking out my tongue, I reply in a grumble. “It’s called inventory. I can store things in a private dimensional pocket. It doesn’t need Mana, and I’ve only heard of one location that blocks its use.”

“I’ve never heard of it. Is it a Power or Spell?” asks Ipy.

Aunt Am says it’s listed as a special ability on her profile, so neither?

“It is very rare. I know of only three other people that have it, and it took me years to get it to work. My parents weren’t happy with the risk I took to learn it,” I offer and wince at the memory of my father kneeling in the pool of blood where he’d found me.

The music sounded relatively simple until I applied it to myself, and then its energy cascaded onwards; despite falling silent, my life started to drain into a hole. All the other songs I’d previously learnt had worn me out; that one almost killed me.

“What sort of risk?” ask Ipy.

“Immediately after I got it to work, I started throwing up blood. My body wasn’t happy with the acquisition effort required. I was smart enough to get it but too dumb to appreciate the risk beforehand. I try to take fewer risks now.”

Phile blanches, and her gaze flicks to the plate before her. “Does it hurt you to use it?”

“No pain from it in years, and it can store much more now,” I reassure her. “It was like lifting a weight that I shouldn’t have tried to budge. I got under it, tipped it off the ledge, and it almost squashed me. I received some healing, but it still took a while to recover.”

“I’d like to discuss that more later,” notes Ipy.

“Later, as in a lot later, maybe,” I say with a grin. “Do you know any of the locals training at the guild?”

He tilts his head at the sudden subject change. “I help with lessons there a few days a week.”

His admission has Phile immediately tossing questions out, and I should have listened more to Rasha’s discussion on teams that hunted in the rifts of his home world. Out of my depth, all I can do is listen carefully.

Balancing a team wasn’t something we’d needed to do in the canyons. With all the celestials possessing a variety of classes, along with their powers, it wasn’t so much what the team was missing but all the overlap we had. Most of Phile’s questions are about the trainees’ personalities and discipline rather than actual skills. After an hour of discussing candidates, my lack of questions earns a curious look from Ipy.

“I’m more used to military squad arrangements than adventuring teams,” I admit. “I’ll pester Phile with questions later, but we met Nikias this morning, and he mentioned his Class vision included Fighter. Do you think he’d be able to gain Ranger the way you believe Novice Myrto might?”

“Very doubtful. Myrto wants to serve and advance Hestia’s cause in any way she can, whereas Nikias is merely intent on escaping his family’s business. Any divine caster Class needs a strength of faith in a patron Deity to earn the vision,” explains Ipy. “I could see him getting offered Scout with a bit more work, but not Ranger.”

When he returns to waiting, I summarise what is important to me. “Most village trainees only have a single Class offered to them for adventuring. Nikias has the potential for two, discounting his warrior option. Myrto, you believe, can get four: Priest, Ranger, Scout, and Fighter.”

Ipy stops me with a headshake. “You need to look beyond the classes. Nikias and Myrto are bound to butt heads. While I appreciate wanting to help the village youth, it might be best to look towards some of the young adventurers surviving on minor jobs.”

“I know the inn has a bunch crowded into its rooms,” I say, cringing at the place’s unpleasant feel.

“There are also a few lodging in houses about the village,” adds Ipy. “Though most of those alone likely only possess a single adventuring Class, few come to the evening lessons looking to improve.”

“Why only one Class?”

“One for adventuring,” corrects Phile. “It comes down to aptitude and not enough hours in the day.”

“I had a bunch of classes offered.”

“Did you get up at dawn to help your family with chores and keep going until dinner, tending fields or mending nets? It doesn’t give much time to train,” says Phile dryly. “It’s why two of my classes are Quickness focused. Working on the loom helped my manual dexterity and coordination so I could pick up Thief and Scout. The village’s militia training helped open up the Fighter Class.”

My expectations versus reality for a villager still doesn’t explain the other point. “Okay, but why are Nikias and Myrto likely to clash?”

“Human teenagers,” offers Ipy before he stops uncomfortably.

Phile gives a tight-lipped smirk, but her gaze shows regret. “Emotions run hot in teenagers. It’s an old story: a boy likes a girl, the girl likes the boy, neither wants nor knows how to admit it. That the case, or did I misunderstand you?”

Ipy initially nods, but continues before we can ask for details. “It’s not helped by Nikias’ friends teasing him about his awkwardness around her.”

“Boys,” huffs Phile.

“What do they need to get more classes?” I ask, wanting to move the conversation ahead.

“You offered to teach guild members affinities,” Phile says, and I hurriedly interject.

“Only if I like them, and Ipy should be able to do the same. Which brings up the question: why was Imhotep excited about my offer with Ipy here?”

I cut off when Ipy blinks slowly in confusion. “I can’t help them gain an Affinity.”

“But you’re one of Lerina’s priests. Can’t you all share affinities with others?” I ask.

“I don’t have Harmony yet,” explains Ipy. “All the priests Amdirlain taught directly gained that power and can pass them along. But it takes hard work and a lot of practice to gain the Power to share them if she didn’t teach you.”

“How much time do you expect your method to take?” Phile asks me.

Smacking them with a True Song that encapsulates an Affinity might not be very different, but oh well.

“Not long—it’s an elven technique very different to the Harmony taught by Amdirlain.”

“I know an elven Wizard who Amdirlain taught affinities. He never mentioned an elven technique,” says Ipy, studying me intently.

“It’s another rare ability,” I offer, and I want to take back the words when Ipy’s interest spikes.

“How many more of those do you have?” asks Phile, and I’m glad it’s a question raised by her curiosity rather than greed.

“A few.”

Ipy collects the cleared plates and sets them before me. A quick cantrip had left them clean, the scraps diverted to a bucket by the brazier. “Well, I’d like to know more when you care to share.”

“If it’s a matter of training to open classes. We can recruit those who seem like they’d mesh and do minor jobs while we train them,” I suggest.

“That would slow down how quickly you can tackle the peninsula,” warns Phile. “You’ve already offered me a retainer if we’re only scrapping for funds while we start a team. Will you fund their training, or will they be giving up the coins they earn?”

The suggestion of taking their coin has me wrinkling my nose, and I blink rapidly as plans race through my mind. “I’ll fund it and pay for your time, Ipy. Unless you’d like me to provide service in exchange.”

My words have Ipy coughing on a sip of tea, and I go red to my ear tips when I catch what my wording implied. “A new temple, I meant.”

Phile’s bubbling laughter infectiously sets me off and has Ipy bashfully joining in a few breaths later.

“Men and their dirty minds,” chuckles Phile when her laughter eases. “Though I’ve seen more than a few village girls offering a travelling Wizard service for training.”

“Gail was batting her eyelids at me when she said that,” grumbles Ipy defensively, deliberately not looking my way. “Yes, I’ve had too many such offers, so she got me off balance.”

“I can’t take her anywhere, it seems,” replies Phile, focused on Ipy.

“I’m right here,” I protest, enjoying how their attempt to tease me has them bonding.

“It’s okay, we’re talking about you, not to you, right now.” teases Phile before she gives another laugh and pats my hand. “You’re so innocent. It’s cute after you had me all flustered earlier. I could see the tips of your ears go red.”

Huffing, I resist the urge to poke out my tongue. “I could rebuild your hut, extend the temple, or both. Heck, I’d do that and pay you a retainer. I owe your mother, after all.”

The reminder about his mother stirs his curiosity.

Ipy closes his mouth before the first word forms and motions me to wait. “I plan to extend the shrine across where this hut sits. The only village masons are Yianni and his apprentice; they’ve got other work taking up their time.”

“Who constructed the guildhall?” I ask Phile, not seeing how two people could build it manually. “It’s all that stupid shiny stone—the larger blocks would have needed more masons.”

Phile holds back laughter at my words but sets about explaining. “It was a guild Wizard. They brought in the stone and extra builders to help. They all left when they completed the job. I was old enough to make some coppers hauling water buckets around the site. That was years back. It replaced the former Argonaut building on that spot since the Argonauts had specially dedicated it to Apollo.”

“In formerly Egyptian towns, they’d tear you apart for trying to demolish any of the remaining dedicated buildings.”

“The Egyptian gods didn’t start the war,” notes Phile.

Before that can go further, I hold up a hand. “Sorry, I got us sidetracked and will do so again. Will Yianni be upset if I handle the construction?”

“You’d have to ask him. The last time I had a drink with him, he told me the village elder has him busy altering the northern aqueducts and irrigation ditches,” remarks Ipy. “How big a team do you want?”

“Big enough that people have others to watch their back but not draw too much attention navigating the swamps,” I answer.

“Aim for six to eight before we get too deep, but if we are recruiting trainees, we should only take on two initially,” suggests Phile. “I would have liked to take on some jobs together, settle the teamwork and then take on others, except Gail’s almost pure caster.”

Ipy’s questioning look is enough of a prompt. “Wizard, plus Spell Singer variations, the names are fancy elven things; it’s the capabilities that matter, right?”

“Glinnel, Aranya, Solar Emissary, and Wizard,” offers Phile, worried about my reluctance.

Ipy deliberately swallows his latest sips and then carefully sets his cup aside. Assumptions race across his face at his recognition of the names.

Groaning, I scrub my face. “Don’t tell me you know High Elven as well?”

“Given Amdirlain’s background, father learnt it, and we practised as a family,” admits Ipy. “Though I was more curious about Solar Emissary, especially given that Solar is the name of a Celestial species. That makes it feel like Phile and I might get involved in something better known up front.”

“Please, there are many other things besides celestials that relate to the sun,” I point out. “The Class is a conceptual thing, light representing goodness, and I wanted to learn ways to bring it into people’s lives. It mixes Diplomat and Spy, along with reinforcing my magic. Sometimes people won’t give you straight answers about problems, so you must find the truth to help properly.”

“Another rare thing?” asks Phile

Biting my tongue, I avoid admitting that it’s legendary and sigh. “Yeah, my family is weird.”

“Hence why you have a Class named Royalty,” probes Ipy, and Phile’s gaze locks on me.

“Not in line for a throne,” I state truthfully because the throne, if there was one, is already mine. “You don’t need to worry about royal guards because none are interested in me.”

Ipy holds out a hand. “Do you have materials suitable for a Commune Blessing? We’ll see if Lady Lerina speaks well of your plan.”

The engraved white jade disc that covers his palm earns me a confused look. “It’s a precious stone. It will support the divine connection.”

More liquid words flow from his lips, and the disc glows with an inner light as the Mana streams through it. I catch the moment mother’s focus touches his mind and feel her attention filling the room. I keep my focus back, nervous about what she might tell him if I listen.

When Ipy eventually releases the connection, the glow fades from the disc, and he passes it back to me.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Safest with you from the sounds of your Inventory,” Ipy says, his expression peaceful despite the strain of divine contact. “Lady Lerina confirmed your plans aren’t ill-intentioned and are worth pursuing. It's up to me how much help I choose to provide you. She’s given me the name of an Archon—though they’ll only be tending the shrine—to help anyone that needs aid while I’m adventuring with you.”

With the polished surface now buzzing with the Domain’s energy, I’m reluctant to accept the disc back. “Oh?”

“Let me take care of the summoning first, and then I might have a rest,” sighs Ipy.

The conduit he opens erupts in a burst of light. Even as it closes, the Lantern Archon who arrived is already spinning around the room. The gash in her filigree makes it clear who my mother assigned.

“Gailneth! You’re here!” squeals Runa, gleefully spiralling about me before she darts over to stop before Ipy. “Hi Ipy, I haven’t seen you since Eyrarháls changed hands. Is Eivor doing well? Has Moke composed any more ribald poems? More verses about Fen getting Odinn’s head? Is Julia breaking hearts yet? She was so adorable, but she’d be in her twenties now. Or is it thirties? Did you get married?”

If Ipy hadn’t made it clear Runa was to mind the shrine, I’d be concerned about what a Lantern Archon with two Tier 7 classes would do to my achievement chances. Likely, I should feel sorry for any monsters approaching the town.

Giggling, I reach out and tap Runa’s shell. “You need to stop to let Ipy answer goof, and what name do we use for you?”

“Tove,” buzzes Runa happily and spins about me again. “This is going to be fun. Will I get to listen to you sing?”