by Arthur Stone
“And they’re going to watch me do the same thing: cast a pebble into the river. Don’t worry, Beko, I’m going to teach them not to spy on us. Time is too precious a commodity to waste it on useless endeavors.”
The visual memory of a person who had spent the past twelve years studying the world not with his feet but with his eyes, was naturally quite advanced. The spot I had picked wasn’t random. If I could trust the picture revealed to me by my fishing talent before my inexperience had wasted all of my shadow chi, this area shouldn’t have any drowned snags or large rocks. The pebbled beach sloped gently to near the middle of this branch of the river. There was virtually no fish at this spot, with only the occasional flickering of small fry.
It was exactly what I needed.
I cast the line, waited a few seconds and began dragging it along the floor, slowly and carefully, straining every so often to free the hook that kept catching on to small rocks. The rocks would turn over, and the dragging resumed.
On the second cast, Bargo and Romris couldn’t resist drawing closer for a better look. On the third cast, they were almost on top of me, photographing my every action with their eyes.
Needless to say, they paid the most attention to the tackle.
Finally, Bargo spoke.
“I’ve never seen anyone use a rock to fish.”
“It’s not an ordinary rock,” I replied mysteriously.
“I can see that. It’s got a hole in it. But it’s still a rock. And you’ve picked a bad spot to fish. There are no kote here. They tend to stick to areas with snags and boulders.”
With those words, Bargo moved back and began wandering the beach, bending down every so often. Romris followed his lead. Some ten minutes later, the latter darted toward the mountain with a big grin on his face, gripping something in his right hand. He returned quickly and started knitting a cord out of frayed stalks of wild leek.
Bargo walked over to him and the two had themselves a brief chat. After that, both men walked right past us and toward the fort, wearing enigmatic expressions.
As they passed, Romris remarked condescendingly.
“Stupid kids. You ain’t caught nothing and you ain’t gonna. But I will, and soon.”
“Best of luck to you,” I replied to the boor most sincerely.
He would need luck to catch kote, as those beasts weren’t so foolish as to pounce on rocks being dragged along the river floor.
Romris and Bargo situated themselves on a promising spot and began taking turns casting a copy of my fake line. They had decided to forgo a block, figuring that I was using it on account of my feebleness, and that they would have no problem handling the haul without it.
After their third cast, the “competition” rushed to move a bit further, drawn to a breaker amid some snags left by a decently sized fish, its red tail flashing for a brief moment above the water line. The color was typical of kote. So great was their excitement that Romris cast the line a good ten yards farther than necessary. Which got the tackle hopelessly stuck. After several powerful but futile yanks, the angler turned and tried an over-the-shoulder pull with anchored feet.
Wild leek stalks were sturdy material, but everything has its limits. The cord snapped, leaving the tackle in the snag.
The competition made their next attempt only about two hours later. Failing to find a proper stone, they somehow managed to make a hole in an ordinary flat pebble.
This tackle lasted longer. Armed with bitter experience, the fishermen steered clear of snags. Plus, they had enough sense to secure the hook to a not-quite-as-strong piece of stalk. That caused the hook to break off a few times, but replacing it with spare ones was a simple thing.
By evening, having run out of all their spare hooks, the pair scratched their heads for a minute, then headed back up the path. They didn’t come near us this time, sufficing with nasty looks that expressed everything they thought about our “innovative” technique of kote fishing.
After activating my Fishing Instinct for a few seconds, I shifted roughly thirty yards upstream, having spotted near a solitary boulder an elongated form that wasn’t quite as large as yesterday’s trophy. I set the block again, then secured a hook to a spoonbait, and cast the line.
Nine casts yielded no results. On the tenth, I considered my current reserves of shadow chi, then activated the talent just when, by my calculations, the spoonbait had to be close to the fish... Only there was not a trace of the kote anywhere. The predator—if it had been her—must have departed while we were relocating.
Beko was surprised that we were moving again, so I had to explain.
“There’s no fish here. I have this skill that allows me to determine that.”
“Then why did we move here?”
“It was here when I checked before moving. But fish don’t stay in one place. Let’s move over there, to the rocks. I see two fish in that area.”
At the new location, it took only two drags to get a bite. Only the hook didn’t set properly. The line tightened, but when I began reeling it in, it was empty.
That was encouraging, not disheartening. If one fish took the bait, another one should, too. Or, perhaps, the same one. Kote were still out feeding, and that was valuable knowledge.
I activated the talent for another half-second, instantly glimpsing a large fish no more than ten yards away. I cast the line right in that area, and before I could even begin the drag, there was a bite on the line.
Yank.
“Got a live one!” I hollered, fighting the resistance of the fish thrashing on the other end.
Hopping over to Beko, I barked the order.
“Hold the stick tight! Bring it in! Closer!”
Catching the end of the line thrown over the block, I wound the slack around it, then put my whole weight on it, forcing the fish closer to the shore. It was clearly smaller than yesterday’s, and so far my efforts were sufficient to be winning this tug-of-war.
Once at the shallows, the kote, in its desperation, put up a veritable storm. I began to grow concerned that the fish might come off the hook, so violent was the thrashing and leaping—sometimes as high as my head.
During one such leap, the predator ended up on land, where it began to thrash even more violently, entangling itself with the line.
I snatched my club, ran up to the fish and brought it down on its head. The second strike caused the fish to cease all movement.
You have caught a kote using a rare method. You have dealt significant damage to the kote. You have dealt fatal damage to the kote. The kote is dead. You have defeated the kote (2nd Degree of Enlightenment).
You receive:
Ultra-Rare Method
Greater Symbol of Chi x1
Greater Standard Talent Mark x1
Greater Standard Universal State x1
Kote Defeated!
Lesser Symbol of Chi x6
Lesser Attribute Mark, Agility x1
Lesser Attribute Mark, Stamina x1
Lesser Attribute Mark, Strength x1
Standard Attribute Mark x1
Talent Mark, Scent of Blood x1
Talent Mark, Detect Poison x1
Lesser Standard Talent Mark x2
Lesser Personal Talent Mark, Fishing Instinct x1
What was I to do with the Fishing Instinct mark? I had already raised the talent to the max. Further development would require choosing a new branch at level three, which I couldn’t do on account of my lacking attribute levels. Which meant the trophy was useless to me.
And I didn’t want to carry dead weight.
I recalled mentions that some of the Order’s gifts could be disassembled. Maybe even all of them. Doing so would result in a certain amount of chi, which could always be used or transferred to others. Perhaps my memory was wrong, but the matter should be clarified pronto.
Drawing close to me, Beko let out a sigh.
“Yesterday’s was larger.”
There was no arguing that. Compared to yesterday’s trophy, t
his one seemed like a string of snot next to a jellyfish. It couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds. And the rewards were considerably lower, too. Then again, I really shouldn’t complain. A greater symbol of chi with its twenty-five points was enough to counteract four days’ worth of energy leakage. And the lesser ones meant more shopping power. I could especially use some gloves, as the rags wrapped around my hands were doing a piss-poor job of protecting my hands.
“It won’t be enough to fill the basket,” Beko kept lamenting.
“So what?” I protested. “We’re under no obligation to supply anything today or tomorrow. Did you forget what Ash said?”
“Then what are we going to do with this one?”
“Do you even have to ask? We’ll take it to the tavern, obviously. We’ll sell the meat and the scales, and eat the spices. You said yourself that we need them.”
“That’s true!” Beko said, suddenly happy. “We’ll have a tasty meal. And we won’t even need to dress the fish. We’ll deliver it whole.”
“Agreed,” I nodded. “And I wouldn’t mind running into Romris and Bargo along the way. The expressions on their faces would be the sweetest dessert.”
Chapter 21
Advanced Fishing
No Stat Changes
The Fishing Instinct talent mark netted two lesser symbols of chi. The process also taught me how to dismantle trophies, transferring everything into energy. And though I might criticize the Order for the somewhat inconvenient user interface, I couldn’t fault the conceptual simplicity of it all.
Simple enough for small children to master early in life.
I also learned the reverse process of turning chi into talents. Unfortunately, the math in this direction was truly usurious, as the Order considered these two actions too unequal in value.
The couple of extra chi came in handy when haggling with Guppy for a new knife. I had decided to invest in a better tool, as I shuddered to imagine having to dress the fish with the old one.
My new acquisition wasn’t that much different than the old. Unfortunately, metal things were quite valuable in the fort, so I had to part with all my symbols plus a fun little trinket received from the innkeeper: a double-squared piece of hard leather boasting a relief of the three sevens on one side and an oval seal on the other. The invention was meant to represent money, intended for settlement exclusively on the fort’s territory. Any worker leaving the fort could trade these for resources at the main warehouse. People in the fort rarely accepted any other currency, opting instead to use these, which they simply called “squares,” as means of payment.
On our way down, we passed by a couple of fishermen lugging a basket up towards the fort. Their haul was a modest one, and the two glowered at us as though we were the enemy of the working class. Not much happened in these parts, so the news of us catching yet another kote yesterday had spread like wildfire. And I could only imagine how these guys must feel to have a crippled teenager and a ghoul upstaging them, actual fishermen.
My plans for today were to seriously bolster their inferiority complex, but I had other business to attend to first.
Tossing the pole with the block into the bushes, I said.
“Get ready, Beko. We’re going to do some sports.”
“Some what?” my companion blinked.
“Sports. You know, some jogging, push-ups, jumping jacks. We’re being fed well, and our muscles need some action. We’ve winners, you and I. And winners ought to be strong.”
“We’re strong enough to catch kote,” Beko countered logically.
With the hearty dinner still warming his belly, the ghoul couldn’t stand the thought of physical activity. But I remembered what mother and Camai used to drill into me almost daily, that the body must develop harmoniously. The warrior had trained for hours each and every day, whenever time allowed, and Treya hadn’t been far behind.
So, despite my eagerness to get back into the action, I was resolved to dedicate half an hour to physical training. Nothing too intense—I could always go harder at night, before bed.
And I would still need my strength for the day of fishing ahead.
* * *
Without any spies around, we didn’t need to waste time on fooling around with a rock instead of a spoonbait, so the day began brilliantly. My shadow chi had recovered fully overnight, and I used it sparingly, activating Fishing Instinct for one-two seconds at a time.
We caught our first fish on the fourth drag. It ended up being roughly the same size as yesterday, but I wasn’t distressed by that at all, having deliberately chosen the prey due to its size. I wanted something I could handle without much difficulty. It would take more time, strength and experience to take a proper shot at the living torpedoes further out in the river.
The reward from ORDER was practically the same as yesterday. And though it was monstrously generous by Rock’s standards, I accepted it as a given.
I was as empty as empty could be. And emptiness ought to be filled to the brim. I was merely being compensated for thirteen years of total disability.
And I was content to let the higher powers continue doing just that.
It wasn’t even noon and I had already caught a total of six fish in the same size range. But then our streak of fortune ended sharply. The kote moved away from shore for some reason—I was seeing them swarm the middle of the river branch, terrorizing schools of smaller fish. Too far for the spoonbait to reach given the crude design of my tackle.
Oh, if only I had a spinning rod with a thin cord and a decent reel. I would be stacking these beasts up by the dozen.
Hang on just a second... Why not make a spinning rod?! Indeed, I knew the general mechanism, and had a decent grasp of construction. I could try and craft one, or at least inquire in the fort about the possibility of making the cord out of something other than wild leek, which was too fat and wavy, twisting way too easily. And not nearly durable enough—I’d been forced to knit a new one every day.
Done with the fishing, I forced myself and Beko into another session of low-intensity physical exercises, then challenged him to a wrestling match. The rules were simple: whoever ends up on his back, loses the match. And no striking—we lacked the proper equipment to do it without risk of injury.
In the ensuing two minutes, Beko put me on my back three times. This was especially insulting given that he was shorter and well below my weight class, and couldn’t have been that far ahead of me in terms of his attribute levels. Clearly, amulet-boosted attributes weren’t anywhere near as effective as “the real thing.” But the ghoul also pulled off a few nifty moves that suggested he wasn’t a stranger to the sport.
“Where did you learn all that?” I couldn’t resist asking him.
“This guy taught me a few things when I lived at the outpost,” Beko said. “My hand-to-hand combat is at six as a result, and yours probably isn’t even unlocked.”
“Sixth tier?!” I gasped.
“Of course not. Sixth level.”
“I see... And how did you unlock the talent? Where did you get the personal talent mark?”
“I earned it practicing with that man. When you do something long enough, you get a mark eventually. But it takes time and effort.”
Oh really? Intrigued by the news, I wrestled Beko a few more times with no result, but the third time proved the truth of his words.
You have earned a Personal Talent Mark, Hand-to-Hand Combat x1
There wasn’t much I could do with this now, but it should prove handy in the future. The talent was universally useful, especially for someone like me, as without it I would forever remain the weakest of the weak. Commoners were fond of fisticuffs, and I had no choice but to live among them. Even Beko was out of my league, and before my arrival he was the resident loser.
Wrestling was a highly intensive activity, and before long we were both gassed. We found respite from the sun in the shade of a giant boulder. The weather was hot for a spring day, and the pebbled beach lacked any large
vegetation. We snacked on leftover porridge we had kept from breakfast. The food was hardly delicious, but we hadn’t had any money left for anything better. In theory, we could get back and bank today’s haul, but I was going to do that later tonight. There was no point in flashing our wealth in the fort any more than absolutely necessary. Having left us indigent this morning, Guppy might find it suspicious that we were rolling in dough again after a day’s work. And I wanted to avoid any extra scrutiny.
The kote returned to the shore closer to dusk, and I managed to catch three more before calling it a day. Then, leaving Beko to guard the haul, I headed up to the fort.
There, I picked up two more empty baskets from Megaera and borrowed a couple of ceramic saucers, promising to return them forthwith. Then I roamed around the settlement for a bit until I found the Carps. The boys were sitting on their butts in the carpenter’s shop, debarking thin long twigs of a plant I didn’t recognize. It looked sort of like the shoots of a willow, only larger.