The Slime Farmer - 35 The Day Ends

“What are you two doing walking in the rain?” Reon ushered them into the oven-dominated workspace of the bakery. Renne looked around curiously.

Defi heaved a basket of zaziphos inside. “We’re in a hurry,” he said blandly. “There was a scuffle at Adan’s and we’re not involved. It never happened, in fact, and we don’t exist.”

Reon gave him a look as bland as his explanation. He grabbed the basket from Defi. “My former philosophy teacher would like you. I do not suppose that there is a name that does not exist involved?”

Defi looked surprised, pleased, at the other’s understanding. “Zoros of Agamarl.”

“Don’t underestimate the amount of elaborate dramatics involved in keeping the university ignorant of a student’s activities,” Reon said, seeing the surprise. “I paid the tuition by gambling, and that method was tame in comparison to others.”

Ascharon’s universities were something Defi equated to the Philosopher’s Court in Ontrea – a collection of masters passing on their knowledge and abilities. For those who wished to pursue scholarship more than combat, it was an option presented to those who passed the Sacred Trials.

Advanced education was offered to only the brightest minds, so Defi surmised Reon was no ordinary baker either.

Was there even an ordinary person in the Lowpool?

An exclamation of delight shook him out of his thoughts. Reon was smiling at Renne, who had some sort of pastry in her hands. A sweet scent of nuts tickled Defi’s senses.

Reon stuffed a pastry into his hand too. He could not do more than bite into it. It was hot; only just out of the oven, in time for the laborers to trickle by as their shifts finished with the sunset.

The taste of nuts ground into paste and mixed with spice and sugar, then folded into flaky bread filled him with homesickness. It was nearly similar to balavec, but not enough to quell the sudden craving. He finished it quickly.

The Ontreans who lived in this other world, did they feel this melancholy too? Those who ran away from all they ever knew, did they ever feel so ill-fitting to this world?

Defi felt something being placed into his hand. He looked down to see Renne frowning at him, pushing another pastry into his hand.

His control was truly getting slovenly.

He bit into the second pastry. The taste of sweet hot fruit spread into his mouth, chased away the taste of nuts. “Thank you. What is this fruit?”

“Apples, with sweetleaf and cinnamon.” Reon carried a basket of zaziphos past him. The werefolk girl quickly helped him empty the baskets into the barrels set aside for fruit.

“They’re excellent.”

Reon beamed, and once the delivery was done, when he could not convince them to wait out the rain, pressed small bags of pastry into their hands.

Defi recognized the waterproof emblem on the paper bags.

“Get into the cart and use the baskets to hide. We’re rounding the shopping street before going to the orphanage. Can’t associate Zoros and his sister with me, the average dock porter.”

He he’d taken the alleys between the tavern and the bakery, and had met no people. This time, they were getting on a main street.

Renne followed without question, stacking the baskets around her. Defi used the ropes to tie baskets together in a canopy above the sitting girl. He gave Turq to her temporary care.

He should choose a blue-green slime for Rocso, he thought idly.

He rounded the cart, frowning critically. The pile of haphazardly leaning baskets looked innocuous from the outside. They just looked a bit too empty, but that would be fixed shortly.

Defi nodded in satisfaction.

The bakery was in fact part of the three official shopping streets the town had. The grain shops he wanted to visit were on the next street over.

Rice, or cloudgrain as Ascharon called it, was relatively inexpensive despite being imported; only three rond for a kilogar of the least quality variety, the top quality variety in the grain shop being twelve rond per kilogar.

Of the rest of the grains, the least wheat averaged at seven rond per kilogar, millet and barley at two rond, maranthus seed at ten rond.

“I would recommend the dawn variety of cloudgrain,” said the proprietor. “For excellent compromise between fragrance, texture, and price. Only five rond per kilogar.”

The dawn variety was what Defi knew as brown rice, or golden rice, depending on how deep the color was.

“I’ll take a small sack of each.” The smallest grain-sack contained fifteen kilogar. Defi only wanted a sample of this world’s rice.

“Each of the five types, of course, young sir. Five klaud, fifty-five rond. The pullcart outside?”

“I’ll deal with the loading, thank you.” He paid and hefted two sacks into his arms.

He’d grown stronger these last few months. Sparse use of the Current on his body compared to before the Gate made his muscles become a little more evident. Ontrean warriors prided themselves on their deceptively slight bodies, sleek and lean despite being powerful. The constant use of the Current to assist most strength-related tasks enabled Ontrean youth to keep the favored physique until old age.

“Please come again.”

Defi placed the sacks into the empty baskets surrounding Renne. The pile of baskets looked more natural now. “We’re heading to the orphanage,” he murmured as he pretended to retie a rope. “Be quiet.”

His body tensed slightly as they neared the building.

The man Fretharic said he had people watching the orphanage. Defi’s eyes sharpened under the circular hat. There were few people on the streets, but none that lingered enough to catch the eye.

He entered the large yard of the orphanage.

It used to be an inn belonging to Aire’s family. But after the marquisate was destroyed, the travellers that came to the Lowpool for sport fishing declined and the inns in town went out of business. When Aire and Lergen married, it was given as Aire’s dowry. Determining that they could not have children, the couple turned it into an orphanage.

He knocked on the door to the kitchen entrance.

The housekeeper, called Gran Lari by everyone because of the prematurely grey hair, blinked at him and the seemingly laden cart in surprise. “Defi? Was there a delivery today?”

“No, Gran, but I need Renne’s brothers to come with me.” He didn’t think he’d be having guests at the house this soon. But the Garge homestead was far enough away from the town that anyone coming up the river or searching along the banks would be noticed immediately by the locals.

A realization crossed her features. “That issue? They’re still getting ready. One moment.”

She moved away.

“What issue?” They were getting ready for what? Defi tensed. Were they too late? The only reason for that would be…Fretharic il Magmont had an accomplice in the tavern.

But then, wouldn’t there have been more men sent to the orphanage? In addition, Gran Lari’s anxiety was less than if the house had been invaded. She was still recovering after finding out that on her trip to the city, the town had been attacked.

He followed Gran Lari into the house, alert.

Aire clattered down the steps, two of the older boys following her with armfuls of blankets. “Defi! You have Renne with you?”

“Yes,” he answered, bewildered. “How did you know?”

“Rocso sent word. We’re nearly ready.”

He watched as she stuffed the blankets into a large sack.

“Rocso was a friend to her father,” Gran Lari explained. “They spent part of their military service together. Rocso stayed in the imperial army longer, but Gil only went for the three years.”

The towns and villages of the empire were required to support a certain number of soldiers for three years every decade, depending on population. There were two thousand people in the Lowpool, which meant the town needed to equip and feed a hundred soldiers for the required years.

This massive cost, without the support from the marquisate, had caused the Lowpool to slowly decline, kept afloat by its large fishing fleet and its reputation for producing the mystic sable crab.

Defi’s lessons in local history had naturally started with the Lowpool.

“Done!” Aire beamed at Gran Lari, who had helped force the last of the bedding into the bulging sacks. Aire looked expectantly at Defi. “Aren’t we going?”

“We?”

Aire laughed. “We saw your house, Defi. Have you started furnishing it yet?”

Defi had not. But there were beds. “They’d only be staying a fortnight.”

Gran Lari patted him on the shoulder, looking at him in pity. “You’ve never taken care of children, have you.”

Despite having fifteen siblings, no. Defi had been raised as an only child.

“You’ll need at least this.”

Defi looked at the large pile of sacks and wooden crates in the room. “I’ll…bow to your expertise? You are always welcome at the house, of course.”

Aire sent him her patented bright smile and ushered the two young boys, who had been standing to the side looking a little stunned, toward the kitchen.

Defi shook his head, lifted a crate to his shoulder. After Gran Lari helped him settle it comfortably, he grabbed two of the sacks in his free hand and followed.

Aire was already arranging the baskets again, had moved the pullcart closer to the door to account for…sightlines from above?

Defi hadn’t even thought of that.

The open upper levels of many houses in the Lowpool, covered by a slanted roof held up by pillars, were the perfect places to spy on the streets below. At least, if a person could access the upper floors of the buildings.

The same security concern was the reason the numerous balconies of Ontrean architecture were closed with mesh or brick walls with patterned openings and the ledges of the rising stone domes were added to guard patrols.

And he, who once had cause to carefully consider such security concerns, had not thought of it.

He really was relaxing too much wasn’t he?

He moved toward the pullcart, and Aire used the baggage he held to shield the remaining possible sightlines. Soon enough, the two boys were stuffed into the cramped space with Renne. The crates and sacks added to the pile, making the one-man pullcart look comically laden.

Aire donned a similar hat and cloak ensemble as Defi and led the way to the docks.

At least the bedding weighed less than whatever was in those crates, or Defi would be huffing and puffing in exhaustion before they reached the lakeside.

Natan looked silently the absurd pile of baskets and sacks on the pullcart, after Aire flitted off to hire a second scow. He commented mildly. “It can’t take that much.”

“Half of it is cloth,” defended Defi. The pullcart belonged to the docks after all; if it was damaged, he’d have to pay for it.

Natan’s eyes flickered.

Defi didn’t tense. He turned toward the lake casually. “Followed?”

Natan hummed noncommittally. But he caught the eyes of another dockworker and made a brief sign. The dockworker laughed and slung an arm around the shoulders of a friend, gesturing wide as if boasting. They promptly swaggered off, likely to drunkenly challenge whoever was making suspicious movements in their territory.

“You do this much work, even in the rain?”

“No large waves on a lake,” Natan shrugged. “Deep, though.”

“I heard there was a training school for prospective soldiers in town. You teach there?”

Natan’s lips slanted, half grimace. “Too much trouble, and too many people.”

Defi nodded. It was better to keep a master’s class small, to focus properly on each student’s growth.

“Why not the orphanage then?” Most of the orphans who wanted a chance to get out of town joined the imperial army. It was a respected occupation, and if they became officers, their lives would be assured.

Natan considered.

“The children there ask very good questions,” Defi said with a wry smile. The questions he could not answer because of lack of experience, he was sure Natan would understand and know.

Defi knew the theories, of course. But this world’s children had not been raised to revere the Creator or trust the Current. He could not equate teachings in the other world to teachings here.

Aire joined them, slightly disgruntled. “I have a boat. Why does that old woman not trust me with her scows? Destroy a pier one time and be associated all your life with…” She waved an arm around, speechless.

Natan chuckled. “I heard that story. I wouldn’t trust you with a boat either.”

“What are you two doing anyway, we should go.” She glared at Natan.

“Waiting,” Defi answered.

“Mm,” Natan agreed.

Aire looked blankly at them. When they said nothing else, she turned toward the lake, grey and dark under rainclouds. She put a hand to her chin.

“Hmmmmn,” she said, mocking them with a faux thoughtful manner. “In the meantime, cramped and uncomfortable under a heavy load…”

A shout sounded behind them. They turned to look.

“Whatya call me?!” A dockworker cursed. “Y’think I’ll let ya get away w’that!”

“I’ll let you get to it.” Natan walked toward the confrontation.

“Defi, quickly.” Jerac was already pushing the cart toward the pier Defi normally used.

“We were followed?” Aire swanned casually after the cart.

“Just a precaution.” Defi thought it was likely it was that man’s compatriots though.

The cart’s contents were transferred quickly. Jerac didn’t even blink at having to hide three children in two scows. Defi slipped him several klauds in appreciation.

The dockworker pocketed the coins, winked at them, and sauntered away with the empty pullcart.

Soon enough, two scows were moving upriver.

Despite the complaint earlier, Aire’s movements were smooth and practiced. She probably knew the currents better than he did. The children in town grew up playing in the lake and river after all.

Defi let the Current support his tired body as he pushed the pole into the water. He kept an eye on the docks until they were lost to sight.

Nearly an hour later, with the grey of the western sky tinged a red that said the sun had already set, they docked. The rain had abated to a drizzle.

“What is this place?” Renne had been in damp clothes for over an hour, and her shivering was concerning. She was squeezing Turq in arms pulled tight against her body.

“Garge homestead.” Defi handed over sacks and baskets to Aire, who stacked them neatly on the pier. “I live here.”

“You were sick when the others came to drag him to town,” added Aire, with an amused smile.

Defi groaned feelingly at that, and said nothing.

Renne looked curious. She looked at the other two, who also looked like they wanted to ask more. Aire winked at them. Defi covertly glared at her, but she only grinned back.

The scows emptied, Defi pulled the secondary key from his belt and handed it to Aire. It would allow entry to specific people when the owner was not present.

“I need to return Sarel’s scow. Renne, give the smaller bag of bread I got at the bakery to the workers. They leave about this time, I think.”

“Did you buy food?” Aire asked as he pushed away the scow.

He pointed at the sacks of rice. “Don’t put the slimes in different baskets.”

The children wouldn’t be able to resist touching them.

Sarel was still sitting on the pier when he got to her place, her large parasol open, and a dim lamp at her side. In the river, an underwater lamp swayed with the current.

“Good catch?”

“Interesting. Some fish from the great river are getting washed down the Treachery.”

He smiled gratefully as he saw baskets of zaziphos already on the dock. He quickly carried the empty baskets to the shed and laid them out to dry.

“Ah, Adan says he wants two baskets of the sourest zaziphos with the next delivery.”

Sarel turned to look at him.

He shrugged. “He’s making a new ale. The tavern’s order might increase if he succeeds. They just came out with a new one called the Red Lady. You can smell the fruit. Also, do you mind if I bring three children here tomorrow?”

“Babysitting?”

“Got caught up in something. They need to stay out of sight of the town for a while.”

“You as well?”

“If I leave Turq when I go to town, half the people who see me won’t recognize me.”

Sarel huffed. Whether in amusement or derision, it was too dark to make certain.

Defi heaved the last basket aboard his own scow. Sarel didn’t say no, which meant she was curious enough to agree to at least a day with the children in the orchard.

“I’ll bring food tomorrow,” he said in parting. He wouldn’t bring company without the means to feed them.

Sarel stood. “Take the lamp. You haven’t come this late before.”

He secured the lamp she held out to the bow of the scow. “Thank you. I’ll bring it back.”

“Hm.”

Smiling, Defi sped once more down the river. This stretch of the Treachery, at least, he could navigate in low light. The lamp didn’t compare, but it allowed him to steer confidently.

The Garge homestead house was noisier than he was used to when he entered.

Aire looked at him, face complicated. “You really did nothing to the house at all. Everything’s still bare.”

“I’m waiting for the right sculpture to come around and become the centrepiece theme.”

“Sculpture?” Aire’s face settled on resignation. “Why a sculpture?”

“In a house with this many alcoves, it is only right to have sculptures.” He put down the baskets of zaziphos.

Aire gave him a look, aware he was answering half-heartedly.

“I had high hopes for you.” She looked at the baskets of damaged zaziphos. “Are you feeding that fruit to the slimes? You treat your pets better than yourself.”

“I do have food,” he protested. The dried seafood he had was delicious. And now he had rice, which was suitable for any meal.

“I thought to go back to town tonight, but this is really…” Aire gave a sigh that was, Defi thought, entirely unwarranted.

“You are welcome to you stay the night.” He wasn’t going to send her off down a rain-swollen river in the dark. “I insist.”

She nodded, likely knowing the dangers of the water more than he did.

“Do you mind if I use your kitchen? The children don’t have much of an appetite. I thought to make cloudgrain tea, since you bought the raincloud variety. Fitting for the season, don’t you think?”

“Tea and bread sounds better right now than what I was planning to cook.”

With Aire in charge of the kitchen for tonight, he returned to the pier, the lamp tied to his belt, to get the rest of the baskets of zaziphos.

The cloudgrain tea was made by roasting the rice, bringing out the nutty flavor of the ‘raincloud’ variety of the grain and a smoky distinct fragrance. Steeped in water, the roast grains colored the tea a golden brown.

A plain tea that Defi had never thought could be made with rice. It paired excellently with the fruit and nut stuffed buns from the bakery.

Tomorrow, he wanted to make samad.

When he went to bed that night, the bedding seemed much softer than before, pulling him faster into sleep. It was probably the fatigue of the day catching up to him.

Summoning too many slimes was something to be avoided in the future, he decided sleepily.

**

Chapter End

**

*

Notes:

samad – a drink with a base of ground rice or ground nutsedge, water, and sugar. It is milky white in color, and can be served hot or cold, though it’s best ice cold. Additions of nuts, spices, or other ingredients can be made.