The Slime Farmer - 24 The First Afternoon of Rain

“Why are you having me read these things?” demanded Erlaen, clearly irritated. “They’re nothing more than fiction.”

Defi held up his own copy of the same book Erlaen was reading out loud. ‘???? ???????????????????????????????????????? ???????? ???????????????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????????? ????????????-???????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????’ were the words emblazoned on the cover. “They’re labelled as journals. And someone thought the accounts credible enough to make multiple copies.”

“This is the last of the translated books,” she said, after a moment of exasperation. “If you want to read more old books, you’ll have to learn Abrechal yourself.”

Unfortunately, Defi’s understanding of written Ascharon had grown more quickly than his understanding of Abrechal. His fluency written Ascharon had grown even faster after he instructed Erlaen to signal the changes in paragraphs and had started following along on another copy. Even without Erlaen reading aloud, it was getting easier for his brain to recognize groups of letters and translate them to an idea.

As for Abrechal, since he only knew the letters and not the language itself, it was slow going.

“It’s fine. I can understand most of the words now anyway.” He smiled at her. “You don’t need to read to me anymore.”

Her smug smile fell. “Are you saying you learned to read in two months?”

“I know it was a bit slow, there are only forty-nine letters after all,” he said. “But I’ve been busy since we changed these meetings to morning.”

Sarel had wanted him to fill two quartels of extract per slime as samples to send to the Bluzand Merchant Company. Then there was healing the land of his new homestead one bit at a time. He could not make more of the sansu trees bloom if he did not heal the land first. It was slow going; the power saturation of Ascharon land was greater than in Ontrea.

“That’s not…” She stopped what she was going to say and huffed. “No, that’s fine. Good timing, in fact. Mother’s called me back to Ecthys. I won’t be able to meet.”

“I see. Shall I wish you good luck?”

“As long as you wish it to me and not my mother.”

“Oh.” There was only one reason a daughter would not support her mother’s endeavors. “I wish you meet someone worthy of your respect.”

Erlaen laughed suddenly, annoyance and confusion dissipating. She reached across the table, a lightning-quick move, and tapped Defi on the head. He put a hand up to keep Turq from falling. “My marriage is already assured, idiot. For five years now. Mother just wants to move the ceremonies to a closer date. But there’s no rush for my fiancée and I.”

“Then, congratulations. I’ll be sure to send a gift for the wedding.”

“That won’t be for at least a year.” She picked up the books strewn around the table, stood to leave. “You and Turq, don’t go provoking any more smugglers.”

“I make no promises.”

“If you die before the wedding, I won’t forgive you.” She smiled uncharacteristically wide, as she left.

Defi was taken aback at the smile. She smiled rarely after all. He could not help his lips curling up in gladness for someone who had become something of a friend, despite her odd opinions. Her fiancée must be someone she liked.

He meandered over to the librarian, Orain. “Is there a way to order books in town? I haven’t seen a bookstore.”

“The library can order books for you. What were you looking for?”

“A copy of ‘???????????????????????? ???????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????’ in both Abrechal and Ascharonian, something on learning the Abrechal language, and a general history of the empire.”

“If you’re fine with a slightly older history book, I can sell you those directly.”

“Truly?”

“A lot of learning books became useless when the language of scholars was changed. They’re just getting dusty on the shelves.”

“The older history is fine.” He hadn’t thought he would have this luck today. Even with the work he’d been doing, there were long hours of the day where he had no other things to do. It was becoming slightly uncomfortable, to idle away hours doing nothing but think.

Even after experiencing sweet freedom away from the responsibility of being son of the lord of Rimet, it seemed he was not an idle sort of person.

Learning more about Ascharon sounded like a good start.

Orain returned with a load of books in his arms. “Two versions of the imperial history, in both Abrechal and modern Ascharonian. ‘???????????????????????? ???????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????’, again in two languages. Three books on the Abrechal language. And two books I recommend on glyphmaking – something every household should own, hm? Seventeen klauds and thirty-six ronds.”

Defi hid his surprise. “I was under the impression that books on glyphmaking were rare.”

“I have collected several versions. These are bookshop copies, and would not impact my collection.”

“But seventeen klauds for these, would not be fair price.”

“You have been of great aid to my young cousin. She has been happier of late, to have a friend who only sees her.”

“That is not something to be rewarded.” He would not be paid for her friendship or her happiness.

The man peered at him, nodded. He looked up at the ceiling of the library, thinking. “Then, I will trouble you for a request. It will not be too strenuous.”

“I’ll have to hear it first.”

Orain lowered his gaze from the ceiling, decided. “A seakrait skeleton.”

Defi almost refused, but remembered Sarel had told him to bury the second one Turq had spewed out. He had buried it in the shadow of rocks behind her house. “I’ll have to see if it’s still there. Even then, it will not be of the same quality as the one in the fishers guild hall.”

“That’s fine. Bone can be polished. And the recipient only needs it one time.”

There was a faint glee in his voice at the last statement; mixed in with the deep tones of the man’s voice it sounded vaguely ominous. Defi wanted to ask what he was going to do with it, but at that disturbing tone, he quickly curbed his curiosity.

As long as animals had not run away with too many of the larger bones, Defi could deliver the skeleton.

“You were asking about paper the last time,” rumbled Orain.

“Yes, I’d like to buy some. With ink and a set of glyphmaking pens.” He had seen the quills that most Ascharonian people used; for someone accustomed to writing with a brush, they were ungainly and awkward. Though some of the quill feathers curled magnificently, he still wouldn’t buy them for writing.

He found that glyphmakers used pens with nibs made of wool, making the writing more bold than the script of a quill. But they were easier to use for Defi.

He paid the asked price for the books, with an added forty klauds for a ream of paper, the pens, and a kilogar box of ink powder that came with a mixing bowl and a small empty bottle.

With the reward from the town for helping repel the smugglers, he had enough to spend on more than just living expenses.

Eleven books was a lot to carry at once, especially as several were almost as thick as the Holy Readings.

He nipped out the library to the leather goods store to buy an oilskin travelsack. He got one that was more than large enough for the books and writing materials, sturdy enough to repel a raging river.

He also bought a lamp and a box of five-hour glowstones. The glowstones were dull when mined, but when touched to the correct emblem etched on the lamp, they would expend light for a variable amount of time.

He’d barely shouldered the travelsack when Sarel fell into step with him. She waved a land deed at him grumpily, the wooden protective cover with a very familiar crack. “You left this at Merel’s house.”

Defi paused. “I forgot about it.”

More he hoped Lergen would take care of it and he’d never see it again.

“Why do people give me things for you? You don’t live with me anymore,” she griped.

“Possibly you exude the air of an overbearing aunt—ow.”

She moved the deed away from his temple. “You don’t have your residency papers yet, do you?”

Residency papers? Was that anything like a town register? “No. Are they needed?”

“You’ll need an account with the Tesorium if you continue to sell your wares, and for that you need papers.”

“You said the analysis of the vinegar and lotion samples I sent could take weeks and it would be at least a month before the company approves its sale. What is the Tesorium?”

“Don’t worry about the samples. The Tesorium’s the money-handling arm of the commerce ministry. You might say it’s the second imperial treasury, no matter how divorced they say it is from the first. It handles large money transactions, loans, debts, and speculations. More importantly, it’s generally a safe place to store large sums of money.”

“Generally.”

“I never trained in trade, Defi. Why do you think I created a merchant company?”

Indeed. Why would a hermit create a merchant company? He peered at her. He didn’t think it was to keep her money safer, even if that was a consideration.

Defi felt it had something to do with having been, as she said, ‘driven away like a stray dog’ from her position in the imperial palace staff.

“You’ve found a path to enlightenment in the filthy pit that is the material world?”

“I’ve no idea what that means.” She pulled him into the town hall and told the first person she saw that, “He needs residency papers.”

The clerk was familiar. She blinked at him. Then at Sarel.

She turned to Defi and smiled a politely knowing smile. Defi wondered if she recognized him or the slime on his head. “Of course. You have proof of–”

Sarel lifted the land deed with a lazy motion.

Well, how convenient? Defi frowned at her. She ignored him.

The clerk nodded, rummaged under the counter and brought out a few pages of paper. “These only ask for basic information. Please answer as best you can.”

Defi ignored what knowing she thought she knew, silently took the offered papers with a nod. He grimaced at the quill, put the travelsack down, rummaged inside for a pen.

He ran his eyes down the page. Name, father’s name, mother’s name, age, current residence, place of birth, etc.

Basic information? His life depended on keeping most of this basic information secret, thank you very much.

People already knew him as Defi, however. Putting nicknames on the rest of it should be fine. He dipped the pen into the waiting inkwell, letting the dark liquid seep into the woolen tip. His mother once told him that her parents called her Emi.

He paused at the line asking for his father’s name. The lord of Rimet had certainly broken ties between them. But there was some pride in Defi, that did not want to be known here as a bastard. He wrote. The most common diminutive of his father’s name was…Mieska.

He stifled a snicker. He could not imagine anyone who could ever have called his father that, even as a child. Grandmother, possibly? What Defi remembered of the regal, proper woman who died a short time after he entered his father’s house contradicted the thought.

The most problematic piece of data was the line asking for a place of birth however. The rest of the data needed was straightforward. Defi had even calculated his birth date using the Ascharon calendar out of curiosity. He left the space for place of birth blank.

Done, he wrapped a piece of paper around the still wet tip of the pen and stowed it carefully back in the travelsack.

The clerk got a messenger to send the answered pages to other offices and a quarter-hour later, a stamped, signed, and beribboned piece of paper saying that Defi was an official resident of Sottolac Town was in hand.

“Are we going to the Tesorium next?”

“You’ll have to wait until the samples sent are bought. And the commerce ministry representative here won’t be able to give you the certifications. I’ll take you to Ecthys when it’s done.” She slapped the land deed into his hand. “Don’t lose it. It’s proof of your identity.”

She sauntered away, shadow long at her side, dark against the light of the setting sun.

The rain started to fall in soft sheets of mist, almost fog, obscuring view of people on the streets.

Defi put the land deed into his travelsack and made his way to the docks.

**

Chapter End

**

*

Notes:

1 gold solstice = 20 silver crescents = 400 bronze klauds = 40,000 black-iron ronds

Abrechal – the old scholarly language, before the emperor ordered that the empire use modern Ascharonian for everything.

Quartel – a barrel size containing 25 litr

Sansu – a flowering fruit tree that bears finger-sized yellow fruit. Also called sansu plum.

Bookshop copy – cheap copies commissioned by most Ascharon bookstores to sell to the masses. There are better quality premium copies which have better paper, decorated covers, and better binding. A client can also order custom-made copies of books from a bookshop with a good printing workshop.

The Holy Readings – a collection of writings on the underlying philosophies of the Ontrean church, often used as a textbook in the learning halls. Nearly a handspan thick.

Emblem – an arrangement of glyphs meant to focus energy into a function. [A seal, a rune array, a Pattern]