The Slime Farmer - 104 The Blessing Feast 2

Defi was able to source silver-blue carp bones and crab shells for the slimes with promises that the three elders would visit the Garge homestead when the dawn market was done.

Walking the market was nearly habit by now and, despite the fact that he had to be back at the homestead, his feet still led him lazily through the throng after he stowed the containers on the scow.

The dawn market did not have fixed sellers or stalls, unlike the weekly fair. Different things could be sold everyday, outside the zealously-guarded spots that the regular sellers staked out.

Even the paths between the masses of hawkers shifted from day to day.

There was still enough of organization that Defi roughly knew the areas where various products could be found. For instance, the seafood sellers were closer to the docks, the butchers were mostly set up on the western side of the dawn market, and fruits would be on the southern side closest to the pedestrian streets and the trade shops.

Today, he was fortunate enough to catch someone selling the reddish flanged starcherry fruits.

Defi approached, curious.

Starcherry bushes grew around Ascharon like weeds and fruited vigorously. The prevalence of starcherry fruits meant few people sold it; he’d almost given up looking.

Yet there were three large baskets before him, full to the brim.

The young girl standing behind the shabby baskets full of fruit beamed at him. “Just picked this morning, sir! Are you buying?”

“You can pick starcherries off the roadside,” he commented. “Why are you selling them?”

“Saved you the trouble of picking them though, yes?” The retort was immediate.

That was true enough. Defi stifled a smile.

“What do you use starcherries for then?” He kept his tone amiably neutral. “Can’t imagine there are many.”

She crossed her arms, looking at him like he was a fool. That she barely came up to his chest only made her scowl fairly ineffective.

“You can do lots with starcherry! Preserves and pickles, they’re great. And sauces. And you can put them in stews. Or just eat fresh-picked. You can eat them with cooking and without cooking!”

“Really? Versatile.” Defi nodded solemnly. “How much for one basket?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious, but then she frowned slightly at the basket. After a few moments, she said with all the firmness of a stone wall: “Thirty rond.”

The baskets contained a bit over ten kilogar each. It was enough that he wouldn’t have to pick his own starcherries today. What good luck. “I’ll take all three baskets then.”

She blinked at him. “Really?!”

“Yes. Is this your first time in the dawn market?” He looked around. She was not older than Renne, and most parents didn’t let their children run around the market unsupervised.

He didn’t recognize her from the orphanage, so she must have caretakers.

She was alone in a corner of the fruit-sellers area.

Well, possibly she was apprenticing. Defi remembered that mastercrafters in Ontrea would set various tests for their apprentices.

He hefted one of the baskets, then the other. He could carry both to the docks. He nodded at the last basket. “Are you helping with that, then?”

“Sure!” She put her hands on the woven hand-grips of the last basket and lifted it into her arms.

She looked like she could handle it so Defi didn’t say anything and led the way to the docks. He could lift more than ten kilogar of weight when he was twelve, but he had the advantage of training and the Current over her.

The vitality and natural healthy physique of Ascharonians, that they could maintain it with just food, was truly enviable, he sighed to himself.

He lashed the baskets to the scow, offered two bronze klauds to the girl who was huffing in exertion.

She frowned when she saw the coins and thrust them back. “Sir, that is more than twice what the fruits are worth.”

“I am taking the baskets as well,” Defi refuted mildly. “And you did not have to carry one for me. Didn’t you save me the trouble of carrying it myself?”

She glared as he threw her words back at her, her frown carving deeper lines as she looked at the baskets that were nearly falling apart. “It’s still too much.”

Defi saw that she would not budge. “Very well, I will take the carrying as done in good faith.”

He took back one of the coins and replaced it with ten rond. She likely would refuse it again if he added more than that.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m always looking for starcherries. Will you be here tomorrow?”

She abruptly looked hesitant, conflicted.

Defi did not push too overbearingly. “I am Defi, from the Garge homestead. There’s a blessing feast there today. You can tell me your decision when you see me there. Bring anyone you want.”

He stowed the ropes and steered the scow away from the dock.

“Wait!”

He turned to look at her.

Her expression was determined. “My name’s Quenal!”

He smiled, called back as the distance lengthened between the scow and the dock, “Pleased to meet you. I’ll see you later!”

Defi didn’t give her a chance to refuse now that she seemed to be amenable to cooperation, as he pushed the scow further away with the pole.

He couldn’t rely on the starcherry bushes near the homestead forever. A new supply line, especially as he was going to expand the number of production slimes, was important.

He was willing to pay coin, if needed.

To a certain extent, of course.

The gold and silver from Bluzand included advance payment for the usual amount of extract until the end of the winter months. If he sent more than the usual delivery, he would make more money. The company hadn’t started selling crystal vinegar to the public yet, but was giving private tastings to people who might spread the word that Bluzand had a new item to offer.

The limited private sales had boosted the price, but he couldn’t spend recklessly.

He mentally ran down a list of things that needed to be done and winced. Who was the one saying that once the contract with Bluzand was signed he would not have anymore worries about money? Was he a fool, he mocked himself relentlessly.

It seemed all his free time in the foreseeable future would be entirely taken by the endeavor of making the slime farm work.

This was the Day of Founding, a day of rest.

The massive feast being prepared on the Garge homestead suddenly looked incredibly appealing. Defi could lose himself in the celebrations this day, before he allowed the cares of the future to descend on his shoulders.

He poled the scow back contentedly.

*

The blessing ceremony, despite being called a feast, was simple.

The singers would chant over the buildings to be blessed and carve traditional protection sigils on the beams.

Karles told Defi that the protection sigils would be incorporated into the overall protection Emblem of the building.

It was a design unique to the Lowpool, which is why Defi’s house had easily been burgled. The basic foundation of the Lowpool protection Emblems included the blessing sigils, making the design the same in houses across the town.

To learn to burgle the townspeople, a thief only needed to unravel a single Emblem. Protection Emblems, Karles’ brother the glyphmaster stated, were more difficult to unravel than kittens in a knitting basket.

Defi took that to mean it was very difficult, as he didn’t know what a knitting basket was.

Which meant the burglars had to be professionals.

Cuthes growled that he had pretty much given up on the matter, stating that outsiders had very odd notions and possibly had simply did it as a challenge to themselves. The criminals were likely long gone and would not attempt it again.

Or so he said.

The sharp burning look in the adjutant’s eyes as he looked into the distance meant he would not let the mystery go so easily.

Defi appreciated the attempt to put him at ease however.

“You only need make a shallow cut,” the very very old man urged Defi with a smile, bringing him back to the matter at hand. “We’ll do the rest.”

As owner and host, Defi needed to make the first cut into the wood for the protection sigil that was already drawn in ink on the central beam of the warehouse.

The chanting going on below him was unexpectedly powerful however. Distracting.

Defi glanced at the passel of elders near the ladder, their voices softly chanting and yet the rhythm of their song reverberated in the wood of the building, in the bright eyes of the people outside the warehouse, in the very bones of the listeners.

He took the blade and shaved a small curling sliver off a portion of marked wood, then smeared blood across the cut.

“Good, good. You know the foundation.” The elder beamed at him, the many lines on his face deepening into ravines and giving an otherworldly shadow to his face.

Defi abruptly realized that he had pricked his finger and offered his blood to the protection of his own accord. The elder had not told him to do it yet.

He smiled back, returned the small carving knife, and slid down the ladder. The chanting grew louder that the rhythm was like the beat of his heart.

He had thought the ceremony to be easy. He lamented his loss of ignorance briefly. An old woman stopped chanting to smile and pat his shoulder as he stood under the ladder, trying to control the effect the chanting had on him.

He calmed slowly.

“You’ll get used to it.”

He had been to similar ceremonies in Ontrea before, but all those were more elaborate than this, giving due solemnity to the blood-pounding soul-ringing of ritual song and chant.

This was indeed a simple ceremony, compared to those. But in a simple building blessing, did they have to chant like that?

By the time the bridge was being chanted at, Defi had more or less gotten used to whatever sorcery the singers were placing into their voices and was able to enjoy the rise and fall of the blessing songs.

The singers had beautiful voices.

There was no need for instruments to accompany them, so there weren’t.

He noticed that there were only elders in the singing group. No wonder Reon had reminded him that he needed to greet them as they arrived.

He just hadn’t expected those venerable elders’ first words to him were: “How much ale do you have, young lad? This is the only time those young people will let me off from drinking!”

As soon as the one of the elders had affixed a metal plate on the bridge with a simple sigil that he’d been skillfully engraving for half an hour, the chanting ended slowly.

Simply, just like that.

And now the most important part of the blessing was finished.

The glyphers only needed to activate the protection Emblems and in essence the blessing was done. The chanting that would occur as the sun went down, later in the day, was largely ceremonial.

Defi sighed in relief.

The elder who was in his vicinity turned to him.

“Young Defi, you’re not going to wait to feed these old bones, eh?” The carving elder winked at him, unsubtle.

“The ale is this way,” he said flatly, hiding his amusement.

The elders nearby laughed.