The Slime Farmer - 23 A Life's Work 2 of 2

Defi hefted Jar in his hands. An idea had been niggling at the back of his head for some time now.

He placed Jar in the wooden bucket and started vigorously kneading the slime like he’d seen Dyene do to dough. The ball of dough eerily looked like a pale yellow slime at that time, he’d been surprised.

He counted in his head. Just past the hundredth count, Jar burst out with the same clear fluid as that time in Sarel’s kitchen.

“Gah!”

Most of the liquid was retained in the bucket.

Defi carried Jar to the table, then went to wash his face, squinting his eyes against the sting.

He should have made a cover for the bucket. Leather maybe, so his hands could move freely while shielding his face properly.

Even then…

The first try was a success, of a sort.

Sarel was right, the slime juice did smell like vinegar. He touched the tip of his tongue to the skin of his hand briefly. The acidic sourness was the same, but there was a certain hint of sweetness in the taste, and a heavier, fuller flavor than the vinegar he’d tasted on both Ontrea and Ascharon so far.

He poured the liquid into a ceramic jug, using a funnel and a filtering cloth. Jar had been particularly aggressive in its defense, as the slime vinegar filled over half the three-litr jug.

He could use cloth in place of a leather covering, couldn’t he?

There was some linen cloth in the store-room, which was formerly one of the three bedrooms in the house – the one that looked like it had seen the most use.

Defi had been hesitant moving into a house so recently vacated by strangers. Also, by the looks of it, Leraine had only taken essential travel items and personal items, then left all the rest. He’d been uncomfortable at the look of a lived-in house and was grateful now that there had been other people to help him move the extraneous items from all over the house to the room containing clothes-chests still half-filled.

The room also served as storage for the house-welcoming gifts he’d gotten from various people he’d met in town. He’d made sure to learn their names. It was only right to return the favor later.

The house was a little bare after Merel, Falie, Aire, and Dyene had gone through it, tossing various knickknacks at the men to take to the store-room. They told him to go over the embroidery and weavings later, to see if he wanted to display some of them.

He’d rather not.

Maybe he should have told the others to take what they wanted with them?

The wood of the walls had a natural pattern that pleased him. He would buy a few carvings or sculptures later, to accent the rooms. He’d had some woven wall hangings in his luggage that his mother had made.

His lips thinned; he shoved the thought away.

He pulled an expanse of white linen from one of the numerous storage chests in the room, returned to the kitchen.

He folded the linen cloth to a size larger than the mouth of the bucket, then tacked the cloth to the opening. He grabbed Jar again, pulled the cloth over the bucket and his arms, started kneading the slime.

The slime fluid generated this time was half the amount of the last, even after wringing the linen cloth of the moisture it caught.

At least he didn’t have a face full of stinging liquid this time.

He put Jar into a basket containing zaziphos fruit, as reward. Defi didn’t think he would be able to squeeze so much fluid out of him.

He poured the fluid into the waiting filtered funnel. The jug was nearly full. He removed the funnel and filter cloth, stoppered the jug with a wooden plug.

Sarel would know if it was edible, wouldn’t she? He’d ask later.

In the meantime…

He turned a curious gaze to the other slimes.

*

*

Sarel looked sceptical.

Defi had to decant some of the liquids into smaller containers for easier transport. Three bottles now sat on Sarel’s table, labelled with thin strips of cloth in Jar green, Lar blue, Mal blue and green. There were three tasting bowls in front of the bottles, with samples of the contents. Two of the tasting bowls contained clear fluids. The last a white-tinged liquid substance.

He couldn’t bring himself to milk Turq, so there wasn’t a fourth.

“I guarantee freshness and quality,” coaxed Defi.

“When did you manage to make vinegar? It hasn’t been three days since you moved in, and you’ve been working like a demon.”

“I’m very diligent. And Falie said most of the work is done so she doesn’t need help until fall harvest.” It had freed up his mornings.

He’d been testing how much fluid could be produced per day, whether the amount of fruit eaten would affect the amount of liquid exuded, and several methods of extraction.

He’d even placed Mal into the small wine press he’d been gifted by Falie and Hames.

He’d gotten the most juice out of that method, but he had the strange sense that Turq was looking at him reproachfully, so he abandoned the idea. Admittedly, cranking that handle and feeling Mal being slowly flattened down by the weight of the press made Defi feel like a torturer.

He needed the zaziphos more than ever, so his afternoons had been about gaining as much fruit as he could.

Still suspicious, Sarel lifted the tasting bowl. She tilted it here and there, eyeing the liquid. Incidentally, it was Mal’s sample.

“The scent’s good,” she murmured. She pressed the edge of the bowl to her lips, letting a drop slide to her tongue. She ruminated for a moment. She put down the tasting bowl. “It’s a nice light vinegar. Good acidity, fresh taste. Doesn’t have the harshness the usual un-aged home-made vinegar.”

He leaned forward. “It’s good?”

“If you can make it consistently, there is a market, yes.”

She took another bowl, lifted it to her nose. It was Lar’s. The milky juice the blue slime produced was more viscous than the other two. “You say this is vinegar?”

“Possibly lotion.” He showed her his smooth hands. The calluses had been softened slightly and the cracks in his nails repaired.

“You don’t know what it is?” Sarel put a hand to her temple, exasperated. “Which slime is this from?”

“Ah…Larimar, the blue one.” She had seen through him just like that. That was…scary.

She saw the look on his face. “I told you I worked in one of the most rigorously testing places in the empire when it comes to food and you didn’t think it would be evident how you made this, considering my knowledge of what resources you have?”

“In hindsight,” Defi said sheepishly, “I was wrong. Forgive me for the little test of your skill. I apologize.”

“You know, if you could stop talking like that,” she muttered, “you’d almost be mistaken for a farmer.”

It was the first time she’d voiced such a statement, but he’d seen the sentiment in her eyes more than once. He’d long since given his trust to Sarel, who had never asked his circumstances but had helped him anyway, so this much was comfortable.

“I thank the bronze of my skin every day,” he grinned. “But the talking will take some time. Shall we just designate that one as inedible, then?”

Sarel sent him a quelling look before she turned her attention to the small bowl in her hand. She dipped her finger into the liquid, rubbed it between the pads of her fingers, then massaged the liquid into the back of her hand. She brought the bowl to her lips and tasted it, nodded.

“If you’re planning to sell this as a skin cream, you might want to add a bit more scent. It smells faintly of zaziphos, but would likely be scentless to most. The feel is not unpleasant, which is your strongest selling point. Not greasy, lumpy, or gritty.”

He grimaced. “Are you sure it can’t be sold scentless?”

She snorted. “Didn’t have fun meeting the prominent citizens of the Lowpool during the celebrations?”

“It was mostly fine.”

There had been a time when he thought that heavy perfumes were simply a part of social life, had thought the scentless air of the rural countryside to be sadly uncivilized. His unexpected reaction to the cloud of perfumes of the elite townspeople had forcibly confirmed that he was different now.

The myriad mingling of strong scents made him subtly avoid them lest he retch in front of the entirety of the town leadership.

“The werefolk with naturally strong noses would buy it.” Sarel said thoughtfully, tilting the bowl and studying the way the fluid slowly moved. She didn’t catch the slightly conflicted look on Defi’s face, then the hint of resignation, before the emotions were subdued into the usual mask of genial disinterest.

“There are professions that would like a scentless skin lotion,” she continued. “And with the right marketing, it would sell well with men in the cities.”

“It could be sold as a healing cream for skin.”

“Hm.”

Sarel put the bowl down and took up the last.

She immediately brought it to her lips to taste, paused, put it down. She was silent, contemplative, for a long moment. “This is from?”

“Jar.”

The vinegar from Jar was thicker than that from Mal. Defi thought it tasted better than any vinegar he’d had before, but then Ascharon was a land of gourmets. He waited patiently.

Sarel sighed. “This vinegar is going to cause trouble.”

He tilted his head.

“There are only three types of vinegar on this level, and all their producers are exclusively contracted to the imperial court. In addition, none of them is as clear as spring water. How much of this can you make?”

“A guaranteed litr a day.” If he fed Jar at the regular rate. Two litr if he worked ‘like a demon’ as Sarel mentioned earlier. Now that he was regularly milking the slimes, production was only a little less than a litr and a half every day, even Lar’s milky-colored lotion.

A thought came to him. Considering Lar’s splitting circumstances, should he be feeding it sea creatures? He’d seen the piles of discarded fish-bones at the dawn market near the docks once, so it would not be a hardship to source the slime’s food. And there was blue lake shrimp, which was cheap and plentiful, mostly used for bait or ground into the fermented shrimp sauce that the Lowpool residents seem to slather on every type of viand.

It would lessen his need to work on the zaziphos trees.

Definitely something to seriously consider.

“Not a lot then,” Sarel frowned. “Unfortunate. It will only emphasize the uniqueness.”

Now, however, there were more important things. He smiled at Sarel, innocent and bright. “Shall we talk price and percentages?”

A brow was lifted in his direction.

“I thought to talk directly, to convey my sincerity at a partnership with a merchant company.” He continued, undaunted.

The second brow joined the heights of the first.

He smirked faintly. “Or should I speak to Falie more, Madam Mysterious City Purveyor of Terrible Wine? Wouldn’t she like to know that her beloved grape products are being sold as condiments instead.”

Those brows thundered down into a scowl. “I’m not even going to ask how you found out.”

By staring out your rented bedroom window forlornly at the right time, and inadvertently eavesdropping on two merchant company porters taking a snack break in the right place. Defi wasn’t ever going to tell her that, however.

He leaned back, satisfied as a cat in a bird sanctuary. “Shall we talk business?”

Sarel studied him, then an alarmingly amused grin stretched across her face. “Are you certain?”

Well, Defi thought, a little more wary but with a sense of anticipation for the clash, what is life if not lived to the full?

**

Chapter End

**