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Chapter 27

Girdle, Take Two

The rigors of travel are just that much larger on a small vessel. There was one squall, which pushed us into a cove with just enough depth for the anchor to catch.

Other than that, Kismet read.

I tried to link to the Ocean, with less success than when I started splitting waves, which is harder magic. Although I was tempted to abandon it and let it wither into obscurity, I had just gotten to where it was starting to be useful.

Stupid freaking taint.

.....

Madonna flirted with the crew, making certain it was always within line of sight or hearing of one of us.

Narces danced at night, and fished off the bow during the day. He was about as skilled at that as I was at magic.

And Gamilla guarded her horde of ground sugar in the hold, which we had ground for a week or so while Kismet was still healing.

I got the husks and the bugs, which gave me my first boost since we’d gotten to the colonies. I had a trio of sugar-nutrition related evolutions going, not that I ever expected to need them. Sugar was a luxury, which meant I might encounter it in high society, but certainly not every day.

Oh, yes, trio. Open Third Eye had completed, opening exactly zero Psionic archetype classes. Telepath hovered at a tempting 97/100, but I had no clue what I was doing to earn that XP. It did give me the option of unlocking a Reticule in my System for a mere 100 development points, which had all kinds of diagnostic and appraisal bonuses.

I had all of four. Hadn’t I just had two a few weeks ago? What had I done to earn those? One, when I checked, was for completing first level of my Seaborne/Seablood cultivation method, which was just the Ocean equivalent of the terrain wisdom series.

Don’t ask me why that took so long to appear; I thought I should have been born with that opened.

But my System worked by its own rules, which seemed to have little to do with common sense.

I sighed, and tried again to call the mana of Oceans into my eyes.

“Rhishi, you need to take a break from whatever you’re doing. Go lie down or something.”

“As tiring as it is...”

She reached out to touch my face, showed me my own red blood. “No, I mean you’re bleeding from your EYES. Go lie down.”

At least it wasn’t black; but I couldn’t focus enough to cast even the most rudimentary of wards.

I wiped my face clean, and slept until after dusk.

[Lucid Dreaming successful.]

At least I could do that much. I hovered outside my body, and tried to locate what portions of it were tainted. I had expected my right hand, but although there were traces of the corruption there, it was a cold trail.

Okay, follow the trail. When I tracked my blood to where it was filtered by my liver and kidneys, it leapt at me, attempting to infect my dream self. It is an odd experience to focus internally, and see the effects externally.

But now, I knew.

#

So it was with hope that I gazed at a distant moon, he whom shone light upon me but refused to share mana. I hadn’t been attuned to the stars and their constellations before, so it didn’t surprise me when they remained distant, twinkling, unattainable.

Likewise, the night was not Night; it was just dark and cold and mysterious.

I was actually glad, at that time, that Black Snake hadn’t survived to be tainted through her spirit pact with me. In a moment of selfish loneliness, I did wish she were still alive, even if I had to sever our link to protect her.

I looked around for where that had come from. It was a bat-like shape, but when I regarded it, I could see the stars behind it.

insisted the spirit.

I reached out, attempting to grasp the spirit from twenty feet away. Knowing it was futile, even before the taint had crippled me.

I had a point of Wrath bounce off my sin armor.

The spirit laughed at me, looping from well beyond my grasp.

And it was beneath the waves. I ground my teeth in frustration. Why should I be the only one to suffer?

“Husband, I felt something wrong...”

I whirled upon her, snarling. For an instant, she tensed, frozen.

Then she sighed. “THERE you are.” Without fear, she walked into an embrace with me, resting her head on my shoulder.

I held her for a while, just breathing, and hearing her heartbeat, and both of us wallowing in RAGE. And something else...

“Come husband, there is a hammock in our room. I want you to experiment on something with me.”

I gained both Wrath and Lust that night, and as wrong as I might feel about it later, she thanked me and seemed satisfied.

Women are just weird, I decided.

But it was cathartic, and I fell into a deep slumber, breathing still in rhythm with hers.

It didn’t last until we woke up, but for a few brief moments, everything wrong in the universe was SUPPOSED to be wrong, which made it right. I know I’m not explaining that well enough.

#

But that morning, our vessel was docking, and there was labor to be done unloading the cargo. Not by us, there was a Longshoreman’s Union for that. Little more than organized criminals, but also not much less.

Gamilla counted bags, and gladly exchanged insults with them over any bag handled improperly. They were burlap over what was called fish-paper, a paper made slick somehow. Like all paper, it wasn’t cheap, but it kept the grains from leaking, and was more water resistant than normal paper.

“Let’s start by getting rooms at our old inn.” I said.

Madonna hissed, turned her head, and spat. Her spittle steamed where it was breaking up in the bay. She was looking upward to the statue of Xistos, who pointedly ignored her hatred.

Kismet slid her arm into mine. “You’ll keep me safe, right?”

“Such safety as I can provide.” I said, in what was hopefully a reassuring tone.

“Hey! MY husband. Go get your own.”

“My FRIEND.” Kismet said, tugging on me.

I know I’m supposed to say that I was stumbling or that they tried to pull me apart. But all of us were Might 3, and my body was tough enough that I took no injury. Eventually, Kismet settled in on my left arm, and Madonna on my right.

Narces walked behind us, barely suppressing his laughter.

We settled into adjacent-ish rooms, and settled in to wait for either dinner or Gamilla.

Gamilla showed up first, with an anger that peaked Madonna’s interest.

“So we should guess the sale went poorly?” Narces asked.

“It appears there are machines that grind sugar finer than we did.” She said. “If we were to continue in the sugar trade, we’d need to purchase such a grinder.”

“Are we not continuing as traders?”

“Not in this market! Not currently. We barely made any profit at all! If we weren’t already coming here, it would have been a loss!”

“Told her.” Madonna whispered to me.

“Gamilla, did you learn to be a better trader from this? To better check on what is expected versus what is paid for?” I asked.

“Don’t you even ATTEMPT to turn this travesty into something positive.”

“Do we have enough to eat an early dinner, at least?”

“Not the way you eat, you gluttonous snipe herder!”

“Snipe?” Madonna asked.

“Imaginary invisible bird.” Kismet said.

“Then the Empire shall have to pay.” I said. “Let us dine well, feasting on foods made without sugar.”

Gamilla smiled. “Undercutting our part of market demand. Yes, let them suffer for their superficial and hateful greed.”

Pressed against me, Madonna shivered.

We had two dishes of chicken quiche, cooked with onions and celery, and some fragrant cheese or other, to which we applied liberal sprinkles of salt. The salad was a mix of spinach and cabbage, with slices of cucumber and hard-boiled egg.

In short, we spared no expense, not on the meal, nor on the ale to wash it down with.

“I feel better for having eaten.” I said.

“I feel better having come up with a plan for vengeance.” Gamilla said.

#