“I can’t work any faster, this is not an easy task,” Cimir replied. “A simple healing charm takes hours to pour into a crystal. Twelve a week is the best I can do.”
“Right, exactly!” Elias said, holding his hands up in excitement. “That is the absolute best you can do. But here’s the thing, thanks to Samuel’s tireless footwork, we have almost triple that in orders. Right now, we’re fielding orders from a construction team, two cleaning companies and a bar that specializes in making drinks ‘extra special.’ We are taking in too much work.”
“They’ll have to wait,” Cimir said.
“And while they are waiting, they aren’t paying,” Elias replied. “Worse yet, it makes Samuel’s efforts useless. If we’re at capacity in orders right now, it doesn’t matter how many customers Samuel acquires, we’ll always make the same amount of money.”
“I see,” Cimir said. “So, you want me to train an apprentice.”
Elias nodded. He was surprised that Cimir caught on so quickly. “Is that possible? If you can teach others to do what you’re doing, then we could increase our operation tenfold.”
Cimir shrugged. “It is possible. But I don’t think it would be wise.”
“Why not?”
“My magic is powerful. The Ancient Ways are stronger than any other form of magic. Giving such a gift to others would be reckless. Irresponsible.”
“I’m curious about that claim,” Elias asked. “If they are stronger, then why are they long forgotten by just about every magician and wizard?”
Cimir laughed. “Good question. Magic of this sort can only be transferred between master and pupil. You must receive it to use it. Few masters care to share their power. I was a recipient thanks to my masters at Ssskraa.”
“Can you revoke it?” Elias asked. “Should you be displeased with the apprentice?”
Cimir paused in reflection on that. He nodded after a moment. “Yes, actually. There are ways, not really to revoke it but to…how can I explain this.” He paused again. “Okay!” he said, sitting up straight. Elias could see the excitement in his eyes as he began to explain magic theory. “So, ancient magic isn’t transferred as much as it is borrowed. The master gives a portion of his power to the apprentice. The apprentice learns to wield it, for a few years, practicing, casting, creating, but the power isn’t his. Eventually, however, his body grows used to the magic. The magic reforms the body, allowing for it to produce the magic on its own.”
“So, the magic is internal?”
“Exactly! So unlike written magic, which uses complex incantations to control the world, as most mages and magicians use, Ancient Magic comes from the inside. Eventually, the apprentice adapts, and they no longer need their master’s magic. They produce it on their own, for the rest of their life, just the way you or I produce blood.”
Elias nodded at the explanation. It made sense. This was why the crystal wasn’t able to block Cimir’s magic. It was internal, not external. “So, why not just endow a few apprentices with your own magic, put them to work and then take your magic away before they can adapt?”
Cimir’s face darkened at that. “Revoking magic is literally ripping a lifeforce away from a bonded individual. Magic, when infused with the body, attaches to the soul. Taking the magic out would be like tearing out a man’s spine while his skin is still intact.”
“Oh, it would be lethal?”
“Worse. The body left behind would be a husk. Little more than a zombie, who takes simple orders, obeys as commanded but has no self left. And the sorcerer? They would gain a longer life, having absorbed the essences of another living being. Such an act is what made ancient magic so despised amongst the college educated wizards.”
Elias grimaced at those words. Such an unnatural act was not welcome in this operation. “Forget I mentioned this idea then. I would not wish that upon anyone.”
“But I think I could modify the ritual. Change the way the magic bonds with the host, through crystals,” Cimir muttered. “Make it easier to remove the magic without soul-bonding. Perhaps alter the arcus flow…”
The man began to mumble about terms and ideas that Elias had no familiarity with. He was almost delirious with excitement. It would seem that any discussion of magic made the strange sorcerer come to life.
“Cimir,” Elias said, “please, let’s drop this. I don’t want to see anyone hurt because of our desire to expand our production.”
“No, you’re right!” Cimir said as he leapt to his feet. “I can create some kind of method, a way to control how the magic is used. My magical reserves are rather large, but I don’t have enough time. If I can get those reserves into the hands of other crafters, we can create twice as fast.”
Elias grimaced. “Is this possible without causing harm to anyone else?”
Cimir nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m not a madman. I wouldn’t use such methods if they were to harm the caster. No…but it can be done. I can do it. Trust me.”
“Okay, I will,” Elias said. “But if anyone gets hurt in this experiment, I’m putting a stop to it immediately. Understood?”
Cimir smiled at him, amused at the words. “You’re just a partner in this, remember? You have as much as authority here as Samuel does. You manage the books, let me worry about the magic. Got it?”
Elias nodded. There was little he could say to dissuade the man now. Cimir was like a god, powerful, with access to the one resource the entire city was clamoring for. Without much of a bond or friendship with the man, the entire business was essentially held hostage by the whims of Cimir. Perhaps Samuel would be able to talk some sense into the man…
The tavern was fairly quiet, but then again, the evening was drawing to a close. The nobility, it would seem, did not care to stay out late in the Mermaid District. Samuel mused on the reasons why, fear of the dark, perhaps? Maybe they simply did not care to be so far from home once the sun had settled and the ruffians began to wander the streets. Regardless of the reason why, the Friendly Fern was slowly dwindling in population with each passing hour.
Samuel took another swig of his beer. He had been drinking for… it was hard to remember how long, really. It had been hours, most likely. The sun had at least been up when Sali poured his first glass. Now, drunk and introspective, he downed more booze, in the hopes of pushing the feelings of guilt as far down as possible. It wasn’t quite working.
“You alright?” Sali asked again. She was leaning against the bar counter, watching Samuel with a wry expression. After she had been returned to the Fern, she had simply went about putting the business back in order and ensuring there was better security. She never asked Samuel about the kidnappers. Not a single inquiry was made, about anything Samuel had been up to. She had merely greeted him and offered to pour him a beer.
“I’ve been better,” Samuel replied, as he gulped down the rest of the Glimmerian Ale. It wasn’t the best stuff, but it was strong, and that’s all that counted.
“You keep saying that,” Sali said. She frowned at him. “I hate seeing you so distraught. I get that you want to keep things quiet, for whatever reasons, but honey, I can see its eating you up inside.”
“I’ve… I’ve made some terrible decisions,” Samuel said, trying to choke back the tears. “Stupid decisions. And for no other reason than to make a few gold coins.”
“I wouldn’t say you’ve made a few,” Sali said as she looked up at one of the chandeliers hanging above them. “That certainly didn’t cost a few.”
“Yeah,” Samuel mumbled. He slid forward and placed his hands on his face, leaning against the bar. “I never imagined my life taking a turn like this. Sure, I’ve been in tough spots before, but Sali, I gave orders. Orders to ensure men were killed, swiftly and without mercy.”
“That Tadmin fellow?” Sali asked.
“Yeah, him. And the rest of his band. The watch wasn’t there for a random raid,” Samuel replied. “They were there because we told them to be.”
Sali nodded at that. “You
did what you had to do.”
“Yeah, that’s what my comrades say. That’s what we all say, isn’t it?” Samuel mumbled. “But it’s just a lie, isn’t it? A lie we hold on to so tightly.” He reached to grab his tankard, but Sali intercepted, pulling the booze away from him.
“Did I ever tell you what I did before I came to this wonderful city?” Sali asked. She put the tankard out of reach and poured him a glass of water instead.
“No, no you didn’t,” Samuel replied.
“I was a whore,” Sali said. She winced a little at the words. “In Meric, or what you would refer to as the Gnomelands, there is a very tight class distinction. Gnomes aren’t like humans. We have societal roles assigned to us at birth and we’re expected to keep to those roles. Workers, politicians, mages, all of us were expected to fulfil a specific job based on our lineage. I was born out of wedlock. My lineage was shit. So, I survived doing what I had to do to get by. Meric isn’t a pleasant place when you don’t have a family. I could eat as a thief, but I could make money as a prostitute. So, I did. Then I saved enough to take a trip to the Toplands and come to Glimmer.”
“I had no idea,” Samuel said. He looked up at her with sympathetic eyes. While her expression was grim, she didn’t seem in agony of the recollection. Rather, her expression was one of mournfulness.
“Well, I don’t bring it up because I’ve moved past it. I became a business owner, started the Fern back in the Golden District and did well here. I did what I needed to do in order to survive. I did horrible things, things that occasionally haunt me, simply because it would get me to this beautiful city. A city where no one gave a damn about your lineage. A city where if you had the right kind of coins in your pocket, you could do whatever you like,” Sali said, her eyes growing wide with excitement.
“So, do you regret your choices, then?”
Sali shrugged. “I don’t have the luxury to regret them. The choices I’ve made in the past will stay there forever. Fortunately, no matter how unpleasant they were, they have shaped my future considerably well. It’s easy enough to sit here and think about all the terrible things you have done, but I’d say to keep thinking about the future.”
“The future? What’s the future got for me?” Samuel moaned as he slid his head back down on the table. He didn’t want another pep talk.
“It has whatever you want,” Sali whispered. She gently patted him on the head. “You just need to figure that out.”
“Figure out what I want?”
“Yeah,” Sali said with a slight chuckle. “You’ve been like a dog, chasing after bones of all shapes and sizes in this city, for as long as I’ve known you. A quick scam here, a clever scheme there. You’re always chasing after bones. But how long until you realize that you could have a steak to chew on, instead of just some old femur?”
“I don’t get the metaphor,” Samuel mumbled. “I’m pretty drunk.”
“You have the means to get what you want, but all the things in life you’ve been chasing after are stupid and small,” Sali chided.
“Tell me about it,” Samuel said as he leaned up. “Food, money, house. I’ve got it all now.”
“Exactly,” Sali replied. She smiled at him. “Now, you can really figure out what you want in this world and go after it with both hands. Whatever enterprise you’re running, it’s opened the doors for you. The future is ripe for the picking, and it’s because of those supposedly terrible decisions you’ve made.”
“Doesn’t feel like I have much of a future to look forward to, not if it’s this crazy,” Samuel muttered.
“Get up,” Sali said. “Get your drunk ass up and follow me.” She walked from around the bar and to the door. “Lock up, Finese,” she said.
Samuel complied and hobbled off of his stool, staggering over to Sali. She grabbed him forcefully by the hand and dragged him out the building. The sun had just about finished setting and the street workers were busy lighting the many torches in the Mermaid District.
“Are we going to the singing mermaid? Because she is pissed about what happened last time,” Samuel mumbled.
“No, over here,” Sali said. She led him to a large empty patch of land, it was mostly rubble between two large buildings. “What do you see there?”
Samuel looked at the wreckage for a moment. It was slightly moving up and down, but he realized it was his own head rocking back and forth. “Just a pile of trash.”
“Really? Because I see a battleground here,” Sali replied. “The Glimmer Society for the Disenfranchised has been fighting like hell to get legal permission to build an orphanage here.”
“Aren’t all the orphanages in the Golden District?” Samuel asked. “Why build it here.”
“Yeah, why not stuff a ton of parentless kids into a district with the highest crime rate?” Sali asked.
Samuel nodded at that. “I get it.” He had been in an orphanage, once. After about 24 hours of terrible conditions, savage beatings from an old crone and barely any food to eat, he realized he could eat just as little on the street but could do whatever he wanted.
“But the Glimmer Magistrate doesn’t want to allow for the Society to build an orphanage. Some councilmen members live here and are worried that a bunch of poor kids will reduce property values,” Sali said. “Now, you can sit around in my bar all night, getting drunk and bitching about how bad you feel about getting rich, or you can at least do something that makes whatever decisions you made bearable.”
Samuel nodded. “I have a contact who could help.”
“Then do good,” Sali said. “It doesn’t counteract the bad, but it… it helps you get over the guilt. Learn from what you did and then do good. That’s the only way I can sleep at night.”
Meditation was important for a sorcerer. Without the ability to clear one’s mind and attune their souls to the magic roaring within, there was little difference between a stage magician and a true-blooded sorcerer. The object of Cimir’s meditation on this fine morning was to determine who his first apprentice would be.
Research into controlling an apprentice’s power had been swift. Cimir found a bevy of old methods that were used by clever craftsmen long ago, to ensure that their apprentices didn’t steal their trade secrets. Sure, Elias had been concerned about Cimir’s methods, but Cimir didn’t particularly care about what Elias had to say. The man’s true use was in garnering more wealth and keeping Samuel from getting himself killed. He had no right to dictate any ideas or terms to Cimir.
An image began to form in Cimir’s mind. His eyes, tightly shut, moved to focus in on the image. There was a woman, faceless but engulfed in a burning, bright light. The brightness was as if the sun were shining upon all parts of her body, she was gleaming with an intensity that Cimir could barely withhold. He could sense her intentions. This woman was searching for him. Magic potential burned within her soul. The sun itself had touched her, it would seem, and that scorching had left her with tremendous strength.
Cimir opened his eyes, the image of the woman leaving a brief afterimage in his vision as he blinked. She was the one. He knew it. The experience with magic that this stranger carried would make her capable of enduring the rather painful and potentially lethal transfer of energy. The reason that sorcerers of the old ways were rare usually stemmed from the dangers of the ritual necessary to give another being magical abilities. Only certain people had souls that were strong enough for it. Exposure to magic of any sorts would often leave behind residue in a soul, giving them a bit of tolerance. Some beings were naturally hearty, whereas other potential candidates simply practiced external magic enough to be capable of withstanding internal. Cimir remembered once meeting a man who had been struck with magical lightning so many times that he qualified, despite never having once cast a spell in his life.
Cimir stood to his feet and walked up to his library. The ever-expanding collection of spell books made his eyes water a little. A feeling of pride came across him as he reached out to grab the first edition of Griselia
’s Eyes of Finding. This rare book would have exactly the spell that he needed to find her. Sure, she was searching for him, but how would this woman know where he was? No doubt, the magical ties of fate were beginning to push her in his direction, but Cimir did not even know if he was a conscious idea in her mind yet.
He gently placed the book on the table and began to thumb through the brilliantly illustrated book. Griselia had been a powerful witch who used her dark magic to consume the lives of many a fair maiden, so that she could have immortality. Her dark compendiums were often destroyed by anyone with good enough sense to know that her magic was truly evil. Fortunately, before she lost her mind and went into dark magic, Griselia had been quite the seer. This book wasn’t easy to find as all of her works were universally condemned after she stole some Queen’s soul. Or something. Cimir couldn’t remember the lore. All he knew was the book had been very expensive.
Finally, he found the spell he needed. It would take a few hours to learn, and then a few more to distill into crystal form. Cimir had discovered that with the dampening crystal hovering above them at all times, his own internal magic required a tremendous amount of strain to use outside of a crystal. Distilling his spells into containers was an easier experience.
Theft, Murder, and Crystals Page 14