Fluid - 4

The wards I’d set around the room are undisturbed when I wake from reverie and take in the night's calm—the busy music of the day is now but a gentle lulling noise from the slumbering residents. Stretching Resonance brushes it against the orchestras of both pleasant and nightmarish dreams. Sharing a few delicate notes with the latter has most quickly shifted into calmer themes.

Dreaming minds aren’t all I find, the alert tones of the village guards were fighting off the temptation of sleep. Various nocturnal animals also prowl around the houses and fields but nothing monstrous, merely animals: mice, rats, cats, owls, and more besides, all seeking a meal.

I stretch my perception of the village’s song outwards until it brushes against the busy inn. There, I catch strained and unpleasant tones with various adventuring teams crowded in too few rooms. The innkeeper's profitable situation has left a curdling undercurrent of discontent both among those paying for lodgings and his staff.

Within the sturdy orchestra of the two-story structure are ill-constructed songs of makeshift beds and too many sleeping in places too confined for their music to flourish. ‌Its current state pushes it down my list of places to visit.

The guests’ melodies feel pressed in and drowned out, each too busy with their own concerns to pay attention to another's problems. Though there are some still dreaming of better days to come, most are simply intent on surviving. Those whose music is bright and attractive seem to all be adventurers, and I can meet them at the guild’s hall. Sadder to me are the serving girls sleeping within the confines of the inn’s low attic rather than those willing to spend coins to rent such cramped rooms.

Hearing it makes me glad Zosime had insisted I stay with her. Just hearing that place's accumulating song would have made the walk a waste. Though I might need to do something about the lingering energies, the haze of unhappiness isn’t urgent for now.

The village’s palisade, however, is a different matter. Beneath its base is a deep trench reinforced with stone work into which they’ve set and bound entire tree trunks, trimmed to a point. Concealed within the wall’s song are notes weakened with rot, sapping away at the strength of the logs and cords, though at least the stone remains sturdy.

The contrast between the stone and the wood starts the song from my lips. A section at a time, the wooden spikes have all become petrified when night draws towards its end. Exposed grains and bark should all appear the same unless I messed up, and I cheated slightly with the rope and leather bindings. I was unsure if they’d support the weight after the change to stone, so each binding now has steel sung throughout them.

The bright pre-dawn music brings me to my feet and has me dancing downstairs. Those stirring in nearby houses prompt me to draw in Resonance’s net to avoid intruding on their morning routines and ablutions.

Each step of my descent grows lighter, with Protean washing the True Song’s tithe of exhaustion from my flesh. With Zosime’s cupboard almost bare, I sort out supplies for breakfast and soon have flatbread baking, and porridge cooking, over the firepit. Papa loves porridge, and even though Elleth calls it congealed slop, I find its texture fun. Brown sugar, honey, and warm milk on top; I hope I didn’t confuse the cow with the rush of expressed milk and energy.

Fatigue radiates off Phile when the baking bread calls her from her room as the sun barely tops the horizon. Zosime beats her to the courtyard, and a glance towards the single cupboard that serves as her pantry provides me with the source of her confusion.

“The bread is nearly done; you’ve got the choice of spiced or sweetened porridge and some figs. Do you eat figs for breakfast? I used my supplies,” I say, and that changes but doesn’t remove the confusion. “I have the Spatial Affinity, so I don’t need to carry things with me, hence the lack of bags.”

The tingle of jealousy from Phile isn’t enough to merit concern, but her song speaks of dreams unfilled and soured. “I’ve never gained an Affinity.”

Giving her a wave and a grin that I’m not sure she takes in. “I can help you with that, though it's only worthwhile if you have a Class option open.”

Phile unleahes a jaw-cracking yawn, only partly under control, before she responds. “I’m progressing Thief, Scout, and Fighter.”

I'm left waiting for her to finish her list, and when she reaches for more food, I resort to asking. “Why are you levelling three?”

“I know taking the third seems wasteful.” starts Phile.

Waving both hands gets her to stop, but she just fixes me with a look of confusion. “No, why aren’t you levelling four so you can work towards a tier 7 Prestige Class?”

Phile scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What now? Those are just tall tales and rumours that no one has proven. I only took Fighter to ensure I could stand my ground against monsters.”

“That’s so wrong!”  My squeal might have been overdoing things, but she stops and blinks. Only then do I realise I have to be careful with the proof I use, but the words have already slipped loose, so I try to cover my mistake. “I’ve met people that have tier 7s.”

“What? Where?” asks Phile, starting upright at my statement.

With my mouth having tossed away discretion, the best I can do is stick with mostly the truth. “At my mother’s house, among other places. You might consider them rumours, but the tier 7 prestige classes are real, just difficult to gain. It takes accomplishments, not just levels.”

“Then what sort of accomplishment does a tier 7 require?”

“That’s harder to determine,” I admit, and Phile regains hints of yesterday’s suspicion. “The stronger you are, the more it seems to take. What is a suitable achievement for your first tier 7 might not be enough for your third. But doing something significant enough might allow you to gain three when you’ve gained enough levels. They require momentous deeds, so lazy elves spending a millennium doing forest patrols don’t qualify.”

That heads off a spike of suspicion and draws laughter from them. “So it's not just something for elves with time to spare?”

“I know of a few humans who have them. I’ve even met a few who are happy to talk about it, and I know at least one is a guild member, so I’m not sure why you think they’re tall tales and rumours.”

“Nobles travel in different circles, Phile,” offers Zosime. She looks better rested than Phile, though they went to bed around the same time.

“Until recently, tier 4 and 5 were uncertain even among the elves. There were theories they were simply powerful Prestige classes that had taken earning particular skills, not levels to gain them. Most people are too impatient, especially when it takes so much risk to gain.”

I swallow back the rest of that statement, but Phile's gaze locks on mine. Her excitement, though, is for the knowledge I can share and gives me an understanding of why she went adventuring. It certainly didn’t start to escape from her relationship, but to see places for herself.

“What else can you tell me?”

Her voice's energy brings out the worst in me, and I toss her a slow smile. “You enjoy having answers, don’t you?”

“You brought it up in the first place, so yes!” exclaims Phile, and her protest has her mother holding in laughter.

“Answers are hard to give with so much still being learnt. But the vision people get about classes, those at tier 6 and 7 have a weight of presence about them,” I offer quickly. “I’ll see what options I can learn about for your three classes. Someone might know of a suitable tier 6 if you don’t want a fourth Class..”

“Alright, I’ll have to think about it then. I still don’t have the spare coin to pay Amdirlain’s cadre to gain an Affinity or magic lessons,” Phile says, and I held back on immediately offering help when I sense she hasn't finished. “What experience do you have working in a team?”

It's an opportunity for a misleading truth that is too good to pass up, plus I don’t want Phile thinking of me as a spoiled noble. “I’m used to working in a team of five when I was on patrols.”

“So your mother put you in charge?”

I just ‌stop my porridge from landing on the floor and, fumbling it, slop some across my hand. By the time I’ve got things back under control, Phile’s practically bouncing out of her skin with impatience. “Goodness, no; I was the most junior member. Ras was in charge, and while he’s a big goofball when not in dangerous places, ‌he insisted I pull my weight. How many were in your team?”

The question kills the sparks inside her, and I open my mouth to retract it, but she’s already answering. “Seven others, which was big for an adventuring group. Maybe it's why they didn’t wait for me to recover.”

The doubt in her reflex protection of them is clear, and it’s not a healthy position to allow. “Nah, I’d bet they did that to you because they’re trash. You don’t leave a teammate behind. Did you wait for them to heal in the past?”

“Yes, but-”

“That means they’re purely hypocritical shit sniffers. You risked your life with them and got caught in a trap,” I state, cutting her off before she can argue. “To leave you behind says they’re trash. You took an injury instead of them, and they didn’t stay to look after you. That makes me so mad I’ve half a mind to track them down. Maybe I could make them glow in the dark; they’d be targets for kilometres.”

“How did you know it was a trap that injured me or that I’d spotted it?” demands Phile, instinctively pushing back to regain her balance.

“I learnt lots from the way I tended your injuries. Your scars told me the trap mechanism shoved you out of a stable, crouched position. Are you going to tell me you weren’t working to disarm the trap?”

Phile stops with lips parted and glowers when I smile in reply. Her mother’s frown isn’t for either of us; instead, a distant expression shows her anger burns for those that abandoned her daughter.

“Want to lie to me? You have to ask yourself one question: do I feel lucky? Well, do you, punk?” I ask, and without thinking, my vocal cords shift to manage the tone from Sarah’s memories.

Her confusion ringing so clearly has me laughing again, and I fix her with a playful smile when she starts to get angry. “I’m teasing you. It's words from a play my Aunt S shared with me. I’m sorry for laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you, but at the confusion I caused, so really more laughing at myself.”

Disbelief washes through Phile and makes her music so fuzzy the notes tickle. “You’re unbelievable. Are you always like this in the mornings?”

Nodding happily doesn’t seem enough from her expression, but my words quickly get away from me. “Yeah, pretty much. There is something about the dawn’s zest that makes me buzz inside. Mother dealt with me in the mornings so Elleth didn’t have to; it’s safer for everyone’s sanity. I had loads of fun last night, so I’m excited about the day ahead. When do people normally get to the guildhall?”

“It's morning and you take excited to a whole new level,” grumbles Phile. “Can you pretend to be hiding from enemies or something that puts you in a quiet state?”

“Your body’s tired because I dragged you east. Since you were so far away, the sun won’t even have risen where you were yet,” I explain and take in the blank expression on their faces. “My Aunt S calls it jet lag, but I don’t know what that black stone has to do with it.”

“Hush,” Phile murmurs.

“You haven’t answered the question about the guildhall?”

She gives me a flat look before stuffing her mouth full of warm bread and mumbling something deliberately unintelligible around her food.

“Rude girl,” Zosime chides but continues delicately eating her porridge.

Phile’s lips twist into a misshaped smile as she slowly and carefully chews her food.

“Do you want me to cook you breakfast tomorrow or not?” I mock threaten.

Phile gives me an amused glance but still takes her time dealing with the mouthful of food. “We didn’t ask you to cook this morning. Though I’ll admit your cooking is decent, so thank you. They’ll have posted new jobs on the boards before dawn, but you’re looking to learn and recruit, so there is no point getting down and dealing with the crush. Not today, at least.”

“Why?”

“There are four types of adventurers who arrive early: those in established teams that focus on jobs they can do in a day, the ones looking for individual non-repeating work, the kids seeking to earn coins by grabbing up village errands.”

I’m still waiting for her to finish when Phile bites off another large mouthful of bread, and I consider adding hot spices on the fly.

“That was only three types.”

My observation earns a nod, and it seems I’m going to have to get used to Phile taking her time over food. Mine’s already gone by the time she speaks up.

“The fourth is the worst: those dumb enough to be in a reckless hurry; usually new teams that are too arrogant after being mentored. So they think jobs like dealing with pests is beneath them, even if they don’t have the combat experience for bigger threats,” explains Phile, her voice carefully neutral, despite the sour emotions biting at her. “I prefer not to meet those types—seen too many get others hurt.”

At the pained theme, I still Resonance rather than continue to cheat. “So, who isn’t checking the boards at dawn?”

“The smart ones that have already picked out a job the evening before—anything on the board too long gets an increased bounty—or those that know what the repeating jobs are, so they don’t even bother going to the hall in the morning. They’ll show up and drop off whatever materials or hunt evidence they need,” states Phile when her mouth is empty.

“Wait, kids join the guild? Isn’t the fee expensive?”

My question catches Phile before she gets more bread and sits back slightly.

“The boards have a section for non-members. It's jobs that pay a copper or two, or trade in food, so the guild doesn’t take a cut. But it gives the local kids the opportunity to get money for their families or the coin to join the guild when they’re old enough to get a Class,” Phile says, ladling herself out some porridge and a smear of honey, but they’d both avoided the sugar.

“The guild lets them accumulate the coin on a tab to pay the fee, so they don’t have to worry about it being stolen. If the kid changes their mind, they can get it paid out to them.”

Tapping my spoon against my bowl in time with Phile’s music has Zosime claiming them both from me.

We finally get on our way after Phile has had her second bowl, finished more flatbread, and changed into her armour. We’ve barely left the front porch when a young man I’d seen at the gathering last night comes jogging towards us. His warm brown gaze moves over us appreciatively but doesn’t linger in an unsavoury fashion.

His lean build is like many locals, but I can see he carries muscle beneath his grey home-spun shirt even though he’s a head shorter than me. What is different is that his chestnut hair is only a finger joint long instead of hitting his shoulders like most locals, male and female.

He’d kept his distance among the crowd last night, but I remember his father pointing him, two older brothers, and a half-dozen sisters out.

“Morning, Nikias. How are you today?”

At my greeting, his jaw drops slightly, and though he hesitates bashfully, he doesn’t turn aside.

“Good morning Lady Gail. Phile, papa asked if you and Lady Gail would come and look. The village wall became stone overnight. He’s never heard of anything that would cause logs to petrify this way.”

I hadn’t considered the excitement the changes might cause and almost remained silent about my involvement. Only my mother’s recent comment about choices having consequences has me offering a reassuring smile.

“Let your papa know it's fine. The wall had rot starting in a few places, so I transformed it into stone. It’s tougher than granite now, so let me know if any adjustments are required.”

“You’re a Wizard?” asks Nikias with wide-eyed curiosity, giving me an excited smile when I nod. The expression brings out his dimples, and he’s suddenly far too cute.

Phile looks between us and waves the lad back towards his home. “Go on, Nikias, you heard Gail. Ask your papa to pass the word along, please.”

“Are you planning to stay in the village now, Phile?” asks Nikias quickly.

“I’ll be adventuring from here for at least a while. Why do you ask? Your brother better not have put you up to asking questions again,” warns Phile.

Her flat tone almost sets Nikias to flight, and even I can feel the pressure from her stony gaze. Swallowing, he keeps his cool but his smile fades considerably.

“He asked last night and I told him I wouldn’t, especially since he’s started walking out with Zenais. I was hoping-”

The admission adds frost to Phile’s hard gaze, and she prompts him. “Hoping what?”

Breaking eye contact with Phile, he fixes his attention on me instead.

“Would you have space in your team for someone learning the ropes? I could work as the rearguard or even a pack carrier.”

Drag me into your trouble, no thanks, and I’m thankful for the discussion I had with Phile yesterday. “Phile is handling the recruiting.”

“Aren’t you still a little young to be adventuring?” asks Phile, her tone suddenly almost friendly.

“I’m sixteen now, and I’ve had a Class vision,” objects Nikias. Hearing his age makes me realise I’m not much older than him, even if the cuteness of his smile makes him seem younger.

“What’d you get offered? Warrior?”

“Please, no. I’ve been tending the guild's lessons and village drills. I got presented Fighter and Skirmisher. I’ve held off taking them in case I can earn something better while I find a team to join.”

“What else?”

“Brewer, Woodworker, and Farmer,” grumbles Nikias. “But I don’t want to be stuck brewing Tsikoudia with Petrov, or for him when he takes over from papa. I want to have a real chance of leaving, as you did. Would you want to work for my brother?”

The no that was forming on her lips freezes, and Phile snorts in surprise. “I don’t know who's about, so no promises. Pack carrier might be the only position I end up offering you, in which case we’ll work out a fee per day.”

“Did you swear to Lady Gail’s service? I’d happily do that if you’ll give me a chance,” offers Nikias, the stream of words catching me by surprise.

“Please call me Gail, and that won’t help if Phile says no.”

A blush turns his olive skin tone almost dusky, and he coughs at my offer. “I’m not sure that would be proper, even if you are guesting with Zosime.”

Nikias spirits away before I can say anything further, and Phile murmurs. “You changed the wall and didn’t consider letting people know in advance?”

“I found the issue last night and fixed it. Do humans get excited about things changing that way?”

“Yes,” admits Phile and motions for me to get moving. “I’ll admit it is nice of you to improve the village defences. However, to avoid worrying others, I’d suggest you at least talk through your ideas for helping the village with me, and we can figure out who to tell people beforehand. Was the fence in immediate danger of falling apart?”

“The core of some of the logs were rotting, but they might have looked fine on the outside for three or four years.”

I’m still not listening to her music when she opens her mouth, but I can practically see the thoughts running around behind her eyes. Various options get thrown away when she relaxes with an expressive sigh.

“I think I should charge you a minder’s fee. Did your mother get a nanny because you were impossible to keep in check by herself?”

Her teasing adds an enticing lilt to her voice, but without listening to her song, I’m not sure if I should play along or not. Is it a social crutch like Uncle Torm says True Sight can be? Though I’m tempted to wake Resonance again, I focus on her and the unguarded way she’s looking at me.

“Papa arranged Elleth to be my nanny, but not for the reason you suggested. I hadn’t even been born when she joined our household. I was a little bored last night, so I’ll admit I didn’t think things through in that regard. At home, teams run surveys when things change, and no one fusses.”

“Are things often changing in your mother’s lands?”

A memory of watching oak trees sprout and grow a dozen metres tall in minutes springs to mind, and I can’t help but smile at the recollection of their ecstatic song. “Something is always changing.”

“Keep this in mind then; you're not on your mother’s lands,” cautions Phile. “Don’t go expecting the same things here.”

“I’ll do my best, but how did you find other lands when first adventuring?”

“Confusing. Lots of things being done differently than I expected,” admits Phil. “Talk to me. You want me as a mentor, consider it part of that mentoring.”

“Deal!” I offer her a handshake, and she grasps my wrist, so that’s another thing different. “I wasn’t sure if you’d accept or not.”

Phile starts towards the main road, and I follow along. She waits until I’m beside her before speaking again. “Then why did you say I was handling the recruiting?”

“If you weren’t recruiting for me, would you have looked to set up your team?” I ask, not wanting to admit I had put her on the spot.

“Maybe,” allows Phile.

I half expect her to ask questions a dozen or more times during the walk, but she doesn’t say a thing. With my curiosity killing me, I listen through Resonance, but all her concerns seem focused on having been away so long. The last thing I want to do is interrupt her considerations of what to do about Petrov. Complex chords and twisting themes ring through her, and I quickly stop listening.

When we reach the guildhall, the road in front of it is busy with horses and foot traffic alike. Stepping out of the way of a group of children sprinting from the building, I take in the fifty-odd adventurers already dispersing. They’re clad in various types of armour, from leathers that have seen better days through to shiny metal cuirasses and rune embroidered robes. Though some spare us glances, we get inside without further delay.

I’m caught flat-footed by the Guild Master striding towards the front door. His attention is focused past us, making it clear the timing was just a coincidence.

“Good morning, Guild Master.”

“Gail, I’ve received a message from the militia captain asking me to examine the gate and wall. You’re one of the few wizards at your level around here. Would you know anything about that?” asks Imhotep perfunctorily, clearly not expecting me to know anything.

“It was rotting where people couldn’t see, so I fixed the logs so they wouldn’t rot again,” I reply and give him an innocent smile. “Anything more you need explained, Guild Master?”

The way he absently rakes his fingers through his goatee reinforces my impression that the gesture is a habit, and he presses his lips into a thin line before he replies. “I ‌have some questions.”

“Shall we take a walk to the captain, so you don’t have to repeat them?”

“I think I’d prefer to ensure the information given to the captain and elders doesn’t alarm them. Let’s discuss this in my office,” declares Imhotep dryly and turns to consider Phile. “Are you with her?”

“Yes, Guild Master Imhotep,” replies Phile, unbothered by his tone. “My name’s Phile. Gail recruited me to mentor her and a team we’ll be forming.”

Before he can ask, she holds out her guild token, the silver crest glowing in the middle.

I hit him with a smile and deliberately beat him to the punch. “Right, let's go to your office.”

Imhotep raises a hand, bidding me to wait and keeps his focus on Phile. “Might I ask how long you’ve known Gail?”

“We met yesterday afternoon; she’s now guesting at my mother’s house,” states Phile, and I notice her gaze catch on Petrus standing behind the counter.

Knowing her mother’s irritation with the rumour monger is likely shared by Phile, I quickly speak up. “Did you want to speak with Petrus while I answer the Guild Master’s questions?”

“Not while he’s working,” replies Phile. The heat in her voice sparks enough to ignite kindling and gets Imhotep’s attention.

Catching Imhotep’s questioning expression, I give him a concerned smile. “He was spreading rumours about Phile’s mother. Told me she’d caused trouble for female adventurers requesting clothing, but she was very polite with me.”

“So far, you’ve been a source of trouble for me; let's go upstairs,” grumbles Imhotep and leads the way. I wake Resonance in time to catch the sound of a Message Spell departing and learn that he’s not in the slightest bit grumpy. Faker!

I hadn’t expected Phile to come with me into potential trouble, but she walks beside me equally unimpressed by the polished steps, low railing, and Guild Master's ire.