Wisher Beware - Chapter 12

As always Domina was intense.

But in this case, her intensity has saved my sanity. Instead of gorging on the information, as Virnan did, she beelined to the issue she was interested in, casting aside anything not relevant. She even set aside the numbers that caused my outburst, correctly reasoning that immediate knowledge of them won’t be a problem. I think I’ve shed a tear when she said that too.

But just like Virnan, she possessed a keen mind. The premise of a double-entry accounting was simple to the extreme: every transaction was entered twice. As a gain in one field and a loss in another. You paid a bill? The billing account got the gain while your cash account got the loss. Simple.

Aikerim Adal saw past that simplicity. She saw the system of business. The foundation to organize the financial flow of her house. And beyond. She had accountant slaves to do the menial work, but as the head of the House of Trade, it was her duty, no her obligation to know how things worked. And her knowledge showed.

Although it might be better to call this manor the House of Textile?

I had no idea how her current accounting worked, but judging how giddy she’d become – it was bad.

She even started writing down notes herself, listening to me speak. After grumbling at me for my illiteracy and forcing me to be silent about her actions under the threat of bodily harm. I could see the reasoning behind it. A Domina writing down the words of a slave herself was a major faux pas. The fact that she had done it was just another proof of her dedication.

Or the fact that she still wanted to keep my knowledge strictly confidential. We were alone in her office all this time, and she had no desire to call for scribes, no matter how frustrated she had become.

Eventually, our detour into accounting had run its course and we returned to the other challenges.

“The loom you have mentioned before.” She mused. “What do you need to make a working prototype?”

I scratched my chin thinking. “A carpenter, smart enough to turn drawings into forms. While I am confident that I can describe the mechanism, I lack knowledge of wood carving. He should also be loyal. The wooden mechanism is the most important part, but also simple and easy to reproduce.”

I folded a finger as she nodded along. “A blacksmith. That one just needs to be good at small stuff. The loom would need a lot of small simple pieces, smaller the better, but these would be worthless without the frame.” I folded the second finger and stopped, considering. “That’s pretty much it. Lumber of course to make it and cordage but that would be up to the carpenter.”

“Sounds reasonable. Sulla will inform you when these will be organized. How large would it be?”

“The prototype? Reasonably small mostly to speed up the build. Afterwards? When the carpenter knows the intricacies of the design – it can grow pretty wide. It would have a flying shuttle so that the width of a fabric produced would just depend on how far it can be slid safely. An arm span easily.” I finished, stretching my arms across. “Oh, and it would need an operator of course. Properly trained to avoid injuries, but at least one per machine.”

“If it is really as you say…” She murmured but then shook herself away. “No matter right now. Sounds promising at least. What about soap and glass?”

“Well as it is, the current method is working for the soap, just need a lot of ash, and consequently wood to burn. Glassworts would need to be harvested in large quantities as the amount necessary for similar production would be immense. Might be better to keep that under wraps as well. Could I suggest a personal plot of land close to the sea? Marshes would be ideal and most likely be cheap to buy.”

“I agree.” She nodded. “And you are correct, the land would be hard to acquire quietly. But a marshland? Easily. What about glassmaking? Can it run on wood that would provide the ash?”

“Well, that depends.” I minced, making her squint her eyes at me.

“Explain.” Came quickly as a result.

“Well if you wish to make glassware, the wood itself won’t be hot enough. Charcoal, possibly, could reach the heat required but would need a constant stream of air from the bellows. If you want sheet glass, then you would need coke.”

“Sheet glass? Coke?” Her hand reached the table only to grasp at the air, making her frown. A glowing rune burst into the air as she traced it, making my eyes widen. Only for the bowl of grapes to slid toward her.

“Fascinating…” I murmured quietly.

“A simple spell,” She said around the grape inside her mouth. “My question?”

“Ah, apologies. The sheet glass is exactly how it sounds, a flat sheet of glass. Mostly used as a construction material for windows and mirrors. And coke is to coal what charcoal is to wood. Simply speaking. But, without it, it is extremely tricky to achieve that heat. I wonder if magic could, but that would be expensive.”

“Something tells me it is a bit more than that if you decided to mention something so hard to achieve.” She mused.

“Well, it’s just that. The beauty of it that it is extremely flat. The molten glass is poured on top of molten soft metal like lead and cooled off creating a flat and clear sheet. Like a stretched membrane. If the glass is clear enough it would look like nothing is there.”

“Mmm. Yes, I can see the appeal, sounds excessive for now. Although.” Another rune sprung up in front of her fingers, finishing it a ball of fire formed inside her palm. “How hot does a fire need to be?” She smirked.

I looked entranced at the casual display of magic. My senses screaming at the impossibility of it. “Enough to turn iron into liquid,” I murmured, distracted.

She frowned, the fire vanished as her hand relaxed. “Perhaps not. Heat like that would be a domain of a battle mage at least and one dedicated to fire. That and the Gods of Magic, of course.”

I sighed. “A pity.” My sudden plan for starting a magical furnace dying as soon as it was born.

“Nevertheless, I am pleased with our discussion, as well as the projects I intend to see successful.” Once again there was a demand within her praise, business as usual. “You will be given a reward for your current success with soap, spend it to your heart’s content. You will be awarded more as you continue to impress me.”

“You are very generous.” I bowed. The commission was a welcome aspect, that allowed me to explore few things, instead of trying to impress her first to get the funding.

She watched me quietly for few seconds, then sighed. “Your ideas about finances is another matter. Including your discussions about interest, that managed to fascinate even Virnan Shah himself. You are now assigned to a teaching cadre of the compound, and expected to act appropriately.”

Domina continued as I gawked at her revelation. “I will not suffer an illiterate educator, no matter how groundbreaking your ideas might be. A child teacher will show you the basics, and I expect you to learn them post-haste. You have surprised me with your intelligence all this time, make sure that would continue.”

“A thousand thanks, my Domina. This is truly a marvellous gift.” I bowed. I didn’t care who would teach me, the ability to read and write in a society like this was worth a lot. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was impossible for murks to learn certain things at all, no matter how much money they would offer. A zero-sum society couldn’t have the rich and wealthy if a bigger class of people wasn’t marginalized.

A smug smile on her face confirmed my inner thoughts. She knew that I knew, and she was pleased with my response.

“Aikerim. You are to call me by my name when we are alone. Or in the presence of my uncle, if you manage to actually call him senile in my presence first. Be grateful for my benevolence, but if you dare to say it in front of others I will punish your insolence.”

I bowed slightly accepting it. That wasn’t really a surprise. Nor was it a permission for more. A drop in formality would allow me to concentrate on the topic at hand and explain it to her without worrying about any slight offences. Perhaps a jab at her uncle as well, or even a preventative measure. Who knows how he would react if I would bicker at him only to turn around and bend over in the presence of his niece.

“You will be given a personal lodging. Sulla will see to that. You will attend to me with your knowledge and will educate my children personally as well. My sons are currently away, learning the trade of their fathers, but my daughter is here.” She smirked, remembering something. “Make sure you spend time together. You will teach other members of my family at a later time when I deem the knowledge worthy to be shared.”

“Your daughter…” I murmured.

“Teach her well, and I will make sure that you are present during her magic lessons.”

My knee hit the sand, hands clasped in promise. “Your daughter will be taught to topple Virnan Shah himself!” I proclaimed as she laughed at my antics. Her voice sounding like bells.

“Off you go, now,” She said while laughing. “And tell someone outside to summon Sulla, I have things to discuss, and plans to implement.”

Yeva

She hummed quietly to herself as she worked.

Erf taught her a few of his melodies or, more like, he hummed them during work. But today she didn’t feel like singing these.

Things were happening around her faster and faster. And all she could do was observe. Blindly.

Her life was ordinary at first. Like most murks she was born into slavery, working on the fields. Until a spell of a passing wermage robbed her from her sight. She had no idea what they were doing, maybe fighting a Thing of the Forest, or maybe merely playing around like a lot of wer did. All she could remember was a bright flash, heat on her face and then total darkness.

The only reason she even knew it was a wermage magik was because her previous Domina brought her out and demanded compensation for ruining her property. She got it of course. Domina, not her. And then turned around and sold her off. For pittance.

She remembered the travel to the city. Even now she still thought that she heard Erf during her travels, but she was almost sure her mind was playing tricks on her. The boy she heard at the caravan was much more snappy and childish. Angry. Like most of the younger kids she had met. But somehow their voices were so similar. Maybe a relative? Or maybe he said that he was brought in from a farm eight days away and she just placed him in her memory? As if he was watching over her even then.

She smiled at the implication.

She loved his attention. It was so unobtrusive. It took her quite a long time to stop flinching when someone just started speaking loudly to her, simply assuming that she was aware they were there. Erf was the only one to notice and apologize. And then changed his habits around her, just for her.

He was the only one to announce his presence, even now when she could tell others apart by their smell and sound. The only one to constantly point out what was happening around her as he spoke, or as they moved. Her walk was surer with him around. When his hand was on her shoulder she would step forward without fear, trusting him to warn her.

Irje was great as well. She treated her better than anything she had experienced before. But her treatment wasn’t close to his. Irje did this out of pity, she could hear the change in her tone when they spoke to each other. Erf treated her as an equal. He treated her with respect.

The respect she never imagined to be directed at her ever in her life.

It felt nice. Amazing really. Just like his hand on her that made her steps stronger, his conduct around her made her mind surer. She was always reminded of the tales of her childhood. Of the magikal creatures deep within the Forest. Most were deadly and evil, some tricky and deceitful. A precious few – kind and watchful. Deep inside, away from prying ears, she thought of him as one.

But the tales had the tendency to end. And she was beginning to dread that hers was too.

She could smell Irje all over Erf. While they never talked about it openly, the warmth in their words left little to the imagination. Most of the slaves assumed Irje was simply using him. She had a similar sinking feeling for herself early on. Until she heard them bicker. Until she noticed Irje changing, mellowing out herself. Starting to copy Erf’s manners. Even improve on how she treated her. No longer awkward and clumsy, but assured, calm, with a hint of the same respect he had.

Yeva wasn’t the only one he was watching.

She was happy for them of course. They were her friends and if they were happy then so was she. She was just a bit… lonelier.

“Yeva.” A calm voice called her from afar. Speak of the magick…

She felt him approach her. Or she could say she felt the absence of him approach her. Just how unusual he was with his actions so was his body. He made almost no sound as he walked, He had no particular smell that she could call his, at least that she could smell easily. In his non-existence he became obvious…

Perhaps she should steal his shirt when he finally moves on. That would keep the memory fresh. Maybe after work, before the scents of soap and Irje would bury his.

He gently sat beside her, while she was lost in her dreams. She could easily guess how tired or distracted he was simply by how hard it was to sense him. Erf was definitely full of energy, but maybe a bit distracted. Perhaps he got some happy news. Her hand wrapped around his, feeling his warmth and the softness of his skin.

Originally Erf would touch her by the elbow, explaining that he made sure she knew he was around. One of his habits, simple but effective. She was grateful back then. Now, as she grew bolder in his presence, she wanted more. Her first attempts were probably awkward but he never mentioned nor did he minded it. It has become a routine now.

She nuzzled closer and sniffed, hiding it under a sigh. A rich but familiar smell. Irje.

Curses.

“So I just talked to Domina. The soap production will finally begin, and more.” He started.

Her breathing halted. A loud buzzing in her ears. Her heart pounding like an anvil. No. It was too soon. She had plans. What about her? What about his shirt?

“Irje will be in charge of it.” He went on as if deaf to her mind screaming for him to shut up. A dark feeling inside her heart. Hating Irje for all the gifts he gave her. Hating herself for dragging her feet. Hating him for this conversation.

“I, uh, look I assumed you would be okay with this, but made a suggestion.” He was finally growing awkward.

“What.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I asked Domina to transfer you to the soap production.” He said and hurriedly continued, as her head swam around. “Not as a manual of course! You would assist Irje in batch formation and you will check the quality of the soap, make sure it is up to standards.”

Ah. What?

“What?” She was unable to say anything else. Her hand gripping his tightly, as her body struggled with outright relief. She still had time!

“Remember our discussion about soap? Pretty much that. Irje really wanted a position there, so I assumed you would as well. I felt like it was better than to remain here. I am sorry for not asking you beforehand, but I wasn’t sure when I would’ve had the chance to ask such boon again from Domina-”

He was babbling, but that was okay. She could handle babbling Erf. Hundred times better than an absent one.

“Erf.” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling slightly as he twitched from her voice.

“What?”

She squeezed him harder. “Thank you.” Basking in his palpable relief from her words. She was watched for. Recognized.

She mattered to him.

“That’s great! Listen I would love to stay and talk, but I still need to go find Irje and tell her the news as well.” She felt a shameful warmth for being first to know. “And then a few others.”

She smiled at him. “That’s fine, but you owe me a full tale afterwards.”

“Absolutely.” Another of his words, but she could guess the meaning. She let his arm go, somehow no longer missing its warmth as usual.

“Oh, Erf.” She called after him. A thought came to her mind.

“Yes?”

She needed to know now before the fear took it away again. “On the caravan. When I was being sent to the city. Were you there? Did you watch over me?”

“Eh? Sorry. Was I too loud? I was sure you were asleep.” Came a sheepish answer.

“No. Don’t worry about it. And Erf.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?”

She said nothing as she heard him scratch his head in confusion, shuffle for a bit then leave. She felt the salt on her lips, a tear on her smile. The old tales were true. There were fairies in the Forest.

And one was watching over her.