Fluid - 19 (Patreon)

Leaving Myrto at the door to the rectory, I shift us to the rear of Zosime’s house. I freeze with my hand on the latch when I catch the voices within.

“-you stayed here. Why?”

“Gail’s very strange-”

Stepping back, I pull in Resonance to avoid hearing more.

It's so tempting to teleport away; staying put is hard, and admitting to myself I’ve been avoiding Phile is harder still.

“Are you alright, Gail?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what to do,” I admit, and at his look of confusion, I hurry on to one of my concerns. “Do I knock or just go in?”

“You’re a guest, it’s not like you’re barging into a bedroom; just go in,” prompts Nikias and shoos me inside.

Even with his urging, I rap on the wood hard enough to cause the door to rattle in its frame before I proceed inside. Still feeling like I’m intruding, the latch makes more noise than I’d previously noticed.

“Is that you, Gail?” calls Zosime before I’ve got the noisy door open.

“It’s just us troublemakers.”

“Speak for yourself,” protests Nikias, laughter brightening his words.

Phile ‌looks at me when we reach the courtyard instead of avoiding eye contact. She was no longer humming like a plucked harp string.

“You look worn out; maybe sit down before you fall,” suggests Phile, shifting the pot back atop the fire. The tea’s steam tickles my nostrils with peppermint’s sharp scent. “Tea?”

“Sounds tempting, but I might go to my room. Otherwise I’ll doze off with the tea half-drunk,” I reply and continue when her tension returns. “Sorry, I ran into my limit creating a place outside the village on top of the rest of today.”

“It’s different, with fancy towers that produce water and doors that open when you near them,” exclaims Nikias enthusiastically.

Focusing on Phile, I imagine soaking my feet in the delightfully cool river so I can give her a relaxed smile. “Can we talk in the morning?”

At her nod, I head for the stairs and leave Nikias to describe the building.

Just as well Ras had insisted that I practice putting wards in place until it was second nature—even caught between fatigue and other distractions, they’re set within minutes of sitting down.

Night has fully set when I wake, and no sooner than I’ve opened the door, I catch Phile’s song downstairs by the firepit. Nikias is in the room next to mine, a folded blanket serving as a pallet.

It’s tempting to teleport back to my project, but I muster my courage instead.

Drifting downstairs, I find her relaxing by the banked embers, staring at the night sky. Scuffing my feet lightly on the stairs is enough to get her attention, and she sits up properly.

“Copper for your thoughts?”

My timbre draws my attention to a slight change, and I shift to female.

“Sorry, it seems I was still waking up.”

“You don’t pay attention to your form, do you?” asks Phile curiously, the tension from yesterday absent from her voice.

“Not within certain limits,” I say. “I won’t risk things like trees; my mother panicked when I first considered it, and I’m sure it would be bad. Lack of a brain would make it hard to want to transform back, but most species are fine.”

Phile tilts her head in consideration. “What’s the strangest thing you’ve risked?”

“The Power is weird; I once went swimming as an octopus and had no issues.”

“Having all those arms sounds bizarre. When did you learn you could change?”

“Very early, but why does it matter?”

“Perhaps it doesn’t, but I’d just thought it might help to understand your perspective,” admits Phile. Setting back down, she interlaces her fingers behind her head and glances back at the stars, new tension slowly tightening her motions.

“The day after I was born, I changed to male for the first time,” I explain, causing Phile to inhale sharply and her eyes to bug out. “Mother got given a bracelet that restricted my changes to safe ones so I wouldn’t try trees to eat light.”

Phile's brows lifting causes me to snicker too loudly, and I motion for her to wait while I set a sound ward in place.

“What’s up?” asks Phile when I lower my hand.

“I put up a ward to prevent our conversation from waking anyone. I’m surprised you’re not asleep,” I reply.

“I was thinking things over,” confesses Phile. “Staring at the stars usually makes my problems feel smaller; I needed that after last night.”

I bow apologetically from the waist, exhaling slowly at her words. “Sorry for overwhelming you and avoiding you after we spoke at the cove. I’ll admit I’ve been nervous about your reaction. I know I’m incredibly strange and even what many species would consider a freak or a monster.”

I raise my hand when she goes to interject.

“My actions, beliefs, and treatment of others are what I see as proving if I’m a good person, not my gender or skin—whether I keep it constant or let it shift. I’m not very good at understanding anyone’s attachment to a single form. With how things worked out, I wish you all the best in whatever you decide to do.”

“You’re so frustrating,” huffs Phile, scrubbing her fingers through her hair.

“Why?”

Phile thumps her chest and glares at me in disbelief. “I made a fool of myself last night, and at the docks, yet you’re wishing me the best. I’ve been lying here thinking through what you’ve been up to, and my problems weren’t shrinking. You came down so calm and composed and leapt right in while I was still mustering the courage to say sorry.”

“Oh.”

Sitting up in a rush, she twists about to sit cross-legged, facing me. “I’m not like you, Gail. I don’t rush through life. You seem to run through life from moment to moment, and I’ve sometimes barely survived by planning and practice.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt and smile at her brightly when relief hits. “So it's okay that I’m very strange?”

“You heard? I was sure you must have heard something when you came inside.”

“Only the end of your mother’s question, and you saying I’m very strange,” I admit. “I’ve been trying not to listen widely while in the village, but I hadn’t restricted its range again after construction.”

Phile frowns thoughtfully. “Gail’s very strange, and I’m trying to figure things out. I think that’s what I said moments before you showed up. I was worried you didn’t want to talk when you left so fast.”

”I was exhausted,” I huff.

“Nikias told us of your new estate, Gail,” teases Phile. “Beautiful, exotic, and magical.”

Feeling awkward, I fidget with a branch atop the woodpile and give a lopsided shrug. “I wanted to put my stamp on a place that would be around for a while.”

“From Nikias' description, you certainly put your mark on it,” murmurs Phile. “I’m not sure I’ll be used to your form shifting anytime soon, but I’ll try my best.”

“It's unnecessary, but thanks,” I say, smiling hesitantly. “So we have seven members in our team?”

“Your team, though now I’m going to have propappoús looking over my shoulder,” says Phile, and she lets out a deep sigh.

“Is Androkles going to be a problem for you?”

“He’s an excellent mentor and gives brilliant advice even if the taste can sometimes be sour. Also, I doubt he is rusty at all. It’ll probably feel like I’m attending his lessons again, but I’ll manage,” allows Phile. “You’re this force of nature that threw everything up in the air, but those things that went for spin are looking better for it.”

“My mother says I can be a whirlwind sometimes, so you’re in good company in that assessment,” I admit.

It's an admission that has Phile’s mouth twist into a frown. “You know, the way you always mention your mother or an aunt makes you seem inexperienced.”

The objection is on my lips before I realise it, and I stop myself as I consider her statement. “The four of them, and my father, cast long shadows. They’re all intimidating in different ways.”

Phile holds her hand up with fingers splayed wide. “I’ll offer five pieces of evidence that you’re no slouch yourself; one is right at hand. I’ve heard tales of high priests regenerating lost fingers or limbs.”

Wiggling her pinkie briefly, she pulls a face before lowering her hand.

“I wanted to help,” I reply.

“Never mind the thousand platinum coins or more that most churches would expect in donations for a Blessing to do the same,” chides Phile.

The sentiment has me wrinkling my nose in distaste. “People are more important than coins. I’m no saint; I don’t go hunting for people to heal. When I meet someone whose song is nice though, it's good to help.”

“My song?”

“When I listen, I can tell a lot about someone by their music. I’m trying not to be so reliant upon it,” I say and give a tight shrug. “It feels like I am walking around with my eyes shut‌ and hands clamped over my ears.”

Phile winces at my description, and one question dies on her lips, only for another to emerge. “Could you have taken Petrus’ affinities away?”

“You heard about that?”

Pursing her lips, she gives a knowing nod. “Small village, so news spreads fast, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Do you want to be a Wizard?” I ask, seeking to change the subject.

“Are you avoiding answering the question?”

Gesturing helplessly, I give her a vague smile. “Yes.”

“Yes? What question are you answering?”

“Either, both or neither; I was trying to be properly frustrating,” I reply. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine first. Could you take an affinity away?” asks Phile.

“An affinity is a deep, intuitive understanding of a type of energy. But they are like a channel through an individual’s mind. Adding or removing them is possible because the individual changes to gain an affinity. Adding them is helping someone attune their mind to that understanding. But removing them doesn’t even mean you need to reverse that change. Consider it like a river filling their mental cove with silt, enough distorted information ruining their understanding and it becomes useless,” I explain.

“Thank you for explaining. Though I’m not sure about adding a new Class. It would slow you down while I’m training,” cautions Phile.

“Not a concern; after all, Nikias and Myrto added four. I can even teach you some initial spells from some spells lists,” I counter quickly and raise a hand to get her to wait with the No on her lips. “Think about it while I do some work; there isn’t a need to answer immediately, so get some sleep.”

Standing, I give her protest a wink and teleport into the lobby of my building. I hear Yngvarr’s presence upstairs, but he’s not here alone; Alfarr and the stranger who’d arrived at the Guildhall are with him.

“Hello, Yngvarr and company,” I call. “Aren’t at least two of you up a bit late?”

Alfarr laughs and leaps down from the balcony above, deflecting himself off a wall to land silently only a metre away. “We’d been working far to the west, the sun wouldn’t have set there yet. This place is quite different from your mother’s house. Who are you going to get to look after it?”

“I’ve got a few names in mind. Was going to see if they wanted the opportunity shortly,” I admit, and flick my gaze towards the ceiling. Tracking Yngvarr and the new arrival heading for the staircase announces my curiosity to Alfarr.

He bends to whisper conspiratorially to me. “The current Grand Master himself came to clear up the mess.”

“And he isn’t deaf, Alfarr. You could at least wait until we come down to start introductions.”

The burning energy in Alfarr’s presence rings in amusement, despite the firmness in the Grand Master’s gravelly tone. I catch the twitch of his lips, and he rubs the back of his fingers against his chin.

The man that appears at the top of the stairs is broad-shouldered and clad in dark leathery armour. Within the hide used is a hint of Dragon lineage intermingled with earthen serpentine energy; the residual strength from the Dracolisk killed to craft it proclaims it wasn’t a minor nuisance. A practical helm crafted of a matching hide has flaps to protect his checks and a long flap at the back. Runes of mithril trace each segment’s edge and encircle the helm above his brow.

He almost carries as many blades as my mother. The variously-sized weapons on his weapon harnesses call out numerous elemental enchantments, giving him access to a wide range of potential vulnerabilities to exploit in foes. Life has battered and accented his theme, composed of many solid notes salted with undercurrents of sharp rifts and a quick beating bass. He’s focused his levelling on Ranger and Wizard variations, but the Assassin filling the final Class slot makes me wary.

Dark eyes like obsidian chips consider me as he quietly and steadily makes his way to the floor. A quartet of scars twist the left side of his face, drawing attention from his oft-broken nose and stiff lips. Whatever his day-to-day role in the guild, the leathery skin of his face shows the long hours he’s spent beneath the sun.

Just in case, I silently hold a defensive song ready, prepared to slip away fast, but with both Yngvarr and Alfarr present, I doubt it's necessary.

Alfarr smiles and gestures to beckon the man’s attention to me. “Grand Master Hasusar, I would like to introduce you to Gailneth. Gailneth, this is the Adventurers’ Guild's current Grand Master, Hasusar.”

I know enough to catch the game Alfarr is playing. The lower-ranked person gets introduced to the senior among many cultures, including seemingly the Hittites, based on how Hasusar’s melody shifts in consideration.

Hasusar doesn’t blink at Alfarr’s game but nods to me politely and extends a hand in greeting. “Gail. You’ve not had a pleasant introduction to our guild.”

Returning his nod, I don’t accept the handshake; interlacing my fingers before my stomach makes it quite clear I’m not taking the offered hand. “I found my first days quite useful in seeing the present rot in the guild, Hasusar. Certainly, I’m glad I discovered it early rather than after more serious arrangements were settled.”

He lets his hand drop rather than drawing it back, ‌avoiding any motion I might translate as preparation to attack.

“There has been no communication about your departure from the guild to other halls, so officially you’re still on our roster,” states Hasusar.

“Isn’t paperwork awful? I’d suggest you have someone get right on that; it can snowball when you least expect it.”

Palming the crystal I’d created during the meeting from a belt pouch, Hasusar holds it up, the glow leaking through his fingers. “I’m disappointed in Imhotep’s behaviour, and I’ve dealt with the team that had all those deaths.”

“Why did they die?”

“Whenever they had an extremely profitable find, they cut away their ‘excess’ members,” admits Hasusar, his lips curling in distaste at the word.

“What did you do to them?”

“I removed them from the guild and sent them for trial,” announces Hasusar flatly. “I won't tolerate such individuals weakening our guild. Their possessions will form part of the compensation the guild will provide to the families of those betrayed—where we have the details.”

Hasusar hasn’t moved to relinquish the stone at all, and it stays quiet at his answers.

“I’m still moving the planar effects to this building. I’m undecided about allowing the guild access to the floors,” I state.

Hasusar blinks but is unfazed by my words. “What would you do with them?”

“I can create a Portal to allow dwarves, elves, or that civilised western Orc tribe to send contingents to use them.”

His lips press into a tight line, but Hasusar finally nods. “You’ve already made it quite clear you don’t need the guild. What do you want for us to gain access to the floors?”

“I can provide individuals to train groups of administrators and clerks. The guild pledges to ensure all guild masters and clerks receive suitable training. You check all individuals currently in those positions to remove any more rot. The trainers will also be able to audit reports and ensure the details aren’t misrepresentations.”

“I doubt many will be happy to just accept an elven say on what makes a proper administrator,” says Hasusar.

“The guild has a set of laws and rules for your processes, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“The trainers won’t be elven, nor even Mortal. They’ll train people in properly following your processes and developing their ability to spot trouble. You'll get nothing from me if you don’t take them on,” I declare, ignoring his unwavering stare, a pale echo of those I’d trained my mental resilience against.

“What did you have in mind?”

“If I can recruit a trio of Mechanus’ Inquisitors for a decade to assist. I'd expect the guild will make a good-faith effort to see as many of their staff receive training in that first decade. If, after that period, the guild doesn’t see the benefit in continuing the training and auditing, they don’t have to do so. However, the extension of their hiring will be at the guild’s own cost. Whenever the arrangement with Mechanus lapses, so will the guild’s access to the facilities hosted here until we renegotiate suitable terms.”

Hasusar's fingers tap against the crystal for a long while, his thoughts hidden behind his calm. “I’ll have to consider what you’ve proposed.”

“That’s good. I’ll put the guild in touch with my negotiator for any further discussion of terms. They’ll get proper remuneration and add additional conditions if there are undue delays,” I caution.

The warning has Hasusar snap in surprise. “What?”

“If the guild drags its heels, they’ll see that the terms reflect the delay. Take too long and I’ll withdraw the offer entirely.”

The clarification causes Hasusar’s brows to lower as he glowers at me. “Why would the terms need to reflect the delays?”

“Each day’s delay potentially has cost someone’s life,” I say, keeping a calm expression, so my usual smile doesn’t lessen my seriousness. “Given that, I’ll treat excessive delays as actions hostile to innocents.”

“How can you be sure this will save someone’s life?” asks Hasusar.

“The inquisitors can weigh written accounts against reality and let you know which ones are misrepresentations. They can’t tell you how the facts are wrong, but the more grievous the difference, the more it’ll draw their attention. You’ll still have to watch out for those that use precise facts to lie.”

“Particularly familiar with the last tactic, are you?” questions Hasusar, though his tone is calm.

“Absolutely,” I say, and let my smile loose.

“What will you do if we cannot come to terms?” asks Hasusar. “Or we don’t want to?”

Tilting my head, I smile and channel Sarah’s coldest voice, despite how alien it sounds. “I currently see the guild as a parasite on its members. It's tempting to set up an opposing guild outside the kingdoms controlled by the Adventurers’ Guild and drive you out of business.”

“Would you care to enlighten the Grand Master on how you’d achieve that, Gail?” asks Yngvarr, using the same inquiring tone from the meeting with Imhotep. The slightest twitch of his lips is the only clue to the laughter he’s holding firmly under control.

Hasusar has frozen in place, his gaze not having shifted from me.

“Well, I could start by informing Amdirlain’s Cadre of what I’ve found. Perhaps they’d like to assist in the logistical administration of my new endeavour. I’d hire every Alchemist—or anyone desiring to learn the Class—supply them with materials, and have them create a great number of potions to supply to my endeavour alone. I imagine those looking to level quickly would love that arrangement..”

“Potions being available is an interesting lure. Given this building and the Guildhall's current state, I imagine you could make good on the materials supply. Though that only works for those with the coin to afford them,” counters Hasusar.

“I’d make the standard healing potions available for free to the new guild’s members only and keep the alchemists so busy they have no time for your members.”

A slight frown shows, but he remains silent, considering my words, and I go on as his gaze narrows in serious concern.

“Of course, I’d have to make it subject to them not being a member of your guild, plus discounting most of the others up to seven coins in ten. A condition of their supply would be not reselling them, and I would equip the clerks with objects to spellbind the vials to ensure that, then I’d get serious.”

“What exactly would you count as serious?” rumbles Hasusar.

“I wouldn’t wait for jobs to be funded by locals, the local administrators would actively hire our adventurers to cull out monsters, pests, and malicious humanoids, and patrol past farmlands for trouble,” I say, nodding at the crystal in his grip. “I’d set it up to allow verification of truthful reports, and work conducted would receive immediate payment. There'd be no jobs for anyone you keep to be hired to do.”

“Sounds like you’d be bleeding money,” argues Hasusar.

A snort from Alfarr beats me to correcting Hasusar, so I lead with a cheeky smile. “Funding wouldn’t be a problem, as I’d sell the excess potions above the current market price and on other worlds or planar locations. I’d craft some magical items or buildings and use the coin from those to make up the shortfall. You’d eventually have only the adventurers you’re currently looking to get rid of, as I’ll be ensuring we don’t take in the morally dubious.”

Hasusar gets an expression similar to my mother’s when she’s gathering her patience. “What would it take to convince you to work together instead?”

“For starters, the guild properly trains and appoints only guild masters and clerks suitable to the role, but I’ll give you a list of conditions sunrise after next. When you’ve managed that, then we can talk properly. Those appointed should commit to a code of ethics to prevent outrageous breaches. That commitment isn’t just their word, but enforced by their accepting a geas when they take either job.”

Turning slightly, Hasusar addresses Yngvarr over his shoulder. “Is this what you meant when you warned Imhotep not to send Gail on her way?”

Yngvarr looks unbothered by the question and readily nods. “I imagine she didn’t even have those ideas until you asked what would occur. It’s a prime example of how she and her family think outside the bounds or scale of what others consider normal.”

Giving the pair a broad smile gets Hasusar to focus on me again. “Just following auntie Am's example on how to wage organisational warfare. Your ability to function as a guild is determined by organising adventurers, so encouraging them to leave will destroy your guild.”

“Sounds like you're planning to snatch them away but potentially leave them high and dry,” says Hasusar. The trace of acid lacing his tone doesn’t fit with the calm composure he keeps without.

“If your guild pushes me in this direction, what I offer will be genuine, not a trick,” I retort, keeping my tone firm despite the urge to laugh in his face. “The adventurers risk their lives undertaking work that needs doing, so I’ll get them equipment, protect their interests with trained officials, and ensure their fellow guild members aren’t those they need protection against.”

“No wonder you have a connection to Lerina’s celestials. Are you an agent of change on her behalf?” asks Hasusar. “Though a geas doesn’t fit that faith.”

I snort with laughter, and Hasusar relaxes slightly at my display of amusement. “My beliefs don’t fit Lerina’s mould. Though I like Lerina and her followers, I’m hardly an agent in her employ. However, I got paid for building the Temple here. Does that count?”

“Not what I was referring to,” mutters Hasusar

“What are you doing about Imhotep?”

“He’ll get residence somewhere in the southeastern region of Crete. He retired here to support local forces in case of any large monster incursions—swarm years get bad,” explains Hasusar nodding sharply eastwards.

It's clearly a matter to check out with the others at a later time.

“I’ll happily make him a tower away from Apollo’s Reach,” I counter, and my use of the village’s name draws a hiss of distaste from Hasusar.

“You might not get on Gail, but Imhotep is a strong Wizard, and the rest of us won’t always be here,” observes Yngvarr.

“There will be plenty of other wizards in the area, as I’m sure many will come for the resources available in the Beastlands’ annex or to access the crafting workshops,” I argue.

Alfarr nods smugly. “The same boar I killed earlier in the day appeared again when we returned to the entrance. So the beasts are like the lantern archons, their essence reforming a physical form within hours.”

Nodding in satisfaction at the news, I don’t restrain my grin. “If it's behaving the same as the Beastlands itself, that’s not surprising. The spirit leaves the flesh behind and then reforms its ideal flesh from the plane's energy. Did you find any alchemical reagents?”

“Lots of them, so you wouldn't have trouble supplying the alchemists you talked about,” agrees Alfarr. “Not that you need them, but if others bring in the supplies, you don’t have to provide them yourself.”

Giving Hasusar an understanding smile when he winces, I cut in before Alfarr can rub more salt into the wound. “You should likely talk to your council about the training of the administration staff. If they’ll get caught up on that concept, there isn’t any point in giving you other conditions for my cooperation.”

“If it can stop another of these incidents, I’ll cover the costs of hiring the inspectors myself. You’re right though, the council will still need to agree,” admits Hasusar before addressing Alfarr. “Guild Master Alfarr, try not to give her everything without arguing for the guild’s benefit.”

“Fine, you’ve got my foot pinned to the floor for a few years, but I want that training Gail offered,” grumbles Alfarr. “I know the rules from a practical point of view, not all the fine print.”

Hasusar ignores Alfarr’s complaint, giving a strange grin before he teleports away.

“Was that a set-up?” I ask.

“He might have wanted to see if you were as hard-headed in person as the memory crystal,” Yngvarr admits, giving me a mischievous smile. “We will return your truth crystal, but Hasusar needs to check a few other situations.”

“I gave it to you; what you do with it is your business. However, Esdras might determine a hefty fee in his role as mediator, Myrto warned he haggles hard. Hasusar holding it so firmly while he made his declarations was a dramatic gesture.”

Extending a hand, Alfarr presents my guild token. “Hasusar removed probationary status from your entry after he finished jumping up and down on Imhotep.”

“Just because you were silly enough to take your new job, don’t think you can lure me back,” I say, and poke out my tongue to counter his pout. “Now, excuse me, I’ve got extra-planar effects to move.”

“Do you need us to exit the building?” asks Yngvarr.

“Not particularly, but that is up to you.”

Yngvarr nods but doesn't let up. “Anything we can do to help at all?”

“I know you involved a being from Mechanus in the initial meeting with aunt Am. While there are others I intend to contact, I thought I’d try them first if you’d share their name?”

“You mean Midyåci?” asks Yngvarr, and when I nod, he writes out its full name and hands it over.

With that, I give the pair a wave and head for the meeting room behind the reception.