Chương 54: Three Bottles

Nessa knew the auction had become serious when she saw four bottles instead of three. They rested at the front of the private guild room in matching padded cases. Three carried small numbered cards for the lots. The fourth sat apart beneath a plain white label. VERIFICATION. Jacob noticed where she was looking.

"That one is not for sale," he said.

"Same batch as the other three." Nessa took off her coat and folded it over the back of her chair.

"Whose idea was that?"

"Mine."

"I assumed so." She looked around the room.

"Joe would have written three pages explaining why giving away a bottle was inefficient."

"He wrote two." That sounded about right. Joe had not come. Jacob had suggested keeping the maker away from the auction, and Joe had agreed with very little resistance. He had supplied the bottles, the preparation records, the dosing instructions, and a list of things that should stop the test immediately. After that, he had gone back to his own work. Nessa thought that was probably for the best. The room held fewer than forty people, but very few of them had come casually.

Noble representatives sat beside expedition officers, guild veterans, household stewards, and several people Nessa recognized only because their clothing suggested somebody else paid for it. Elias Venn sat near the front. Two seats beside him remained empty. Nessa suspected one belonged to a healer. The auctioneer waited until the doors closed before standing.

"This sale concerns three single-dose recovery preparations," he said.

"All three were produced in the same batch as the verification dose displayed here." A few eyes moved toward the fourth case.

"The preparation remains experimental. Results vary according to the recipient. No effect is guaranteed, and no additional supply is promised." Nobody left. The auctioneer continued.

"The seller has provided records from previous administrations, but those records will not be distributed. In place of that, one independent verification will be conducted before bidding begins." That produced the first real movement in the room. Nessa heard chairs shift behind her. A man near the aisle raised his hand.

"Selected by the seller?"

"No." The auctioneer lifted a wooden bowl from beneath the table.

"Seven volunteers were examined yesterday by guild healers. All meet the stated requirement of long-term physical mana conditioning. None is connected to the seller, the auctioneer, or the three bidding recipients." Seven folded slips rested inside the bowl.

"One will be selected at random." That quieted the room more effectively than another warning would have. Jacob sat beside Nessa with his hands resting loosely over his walking stick.

"You planned this before the notice went out?" she asked.

"Before."

"You expected people not to believe you."

"I hoped they would not." Nessa turned toward him. Jacob glanced back.

"People who believe extraordinary claims immediately are difficult to negotiate with." She could not argue with that. The auctioneer carried the bowl to a woman seated in the first row.

"Would you draw one?" The woman looked mildly surprised but reached inside. She unfolded the slip.

"Merek Doss." A stocky man near the back gave a short laugh before standing. He appeared close to sixty, with thick hands and a noticeable stiffness in his left leg. He made his way forward without hurry. The guild healer waiting beside the demonstration table checked the slip, then addressed the room.

"Merek Doss. Fifty-nine years old. Former C-rank shieldman, thirty-one years of active physical mana conditioning. Retired eleven years." A few people lost interest at the rank. Nessa noticed. Then the healer continued.

"Primary recorded complaints are restricted rotation in the right wrist following an old break, chronic pain and reduced flexion in the left ankle, and recurring stiffness after exertion." Merek sat on the examination stool. The healer demonstrated the wrist first. Merek could turn his palm upward only partway before the movement stopped.

"Pain?"

"Enough that I stopped trying years ago." Merek flexed his fingers afterward and gave the room a dry look.

"I was told this would be private when I volunteered." Several people smiled. The ankle was easier to see. Merek removed his boot and rolled his trouser leg high enough for the healer to examine the joint. The ankle was slightly swollen, and he could not lower into a full crouch without lifting the heel. The healer recorded both measurements. Then Merek ate. Jacob had insisted on that too. A simple plate had been prepared beforehand: bread, eggs, fruit, and tea.

Merek finished enough of it to satisfy the written condition while the room waited with varying degrees of patience. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Only after the plate was taken away did the verification bottle leave its case. The auctioneer held it up.

"This dose was sealed at the same time as the three sale lots." The guild healer checked the seal. Merek checked it too. Then he drank. Nothing happened immediately. Nessa had expected that. Several people in the room clearly had not. Five minutes passed. Merek rubbed his stomach once.

"Warm," he said.

"Moving upward." The healer checked his pulse. Another few minutes passed. Merek flexed his right hand. Then he stopped. The room noticed. He turned the wrist slowly. Palm down. Palm sideways. Palm up. All the way. Merek stared at it. The healer reached for the wrist before he could repeat the motion too quickly.

"Any pain?" Merek rotated it again, slower this time.

"No." A quiet sound moved through the room. The healer crouched beside his left ankle. The swelling had already begun to ease. Merek stood. He put his full weight on the leg, then bent the knee. Lower. Lower still. His heel remained against the floor. Nobody spoke when he stood again. Merek took three steps away from the stool, turned, and walked back. The stiffness in his gait was gone. He looked at Jacob.

"You said it might help."

"I said it might respond," Jacob replied.

"That was the safer sentence." Merek laughed under his breath.

"You have always been irritating."

"That result is unrelated to the potion." The tension in the room loosened, but only slightly. The healer examined Merek for another ten minutes before signing the verification sheet.

"Full wrist rotation restored. No pain under ordinary movement. Left ankle flexion substantially restored, with visible reduction in swelling." He paused before adding the final line.

"No adverse response observed at this time." Jacob stood.

"The preparation is still experimental," he said.

"That demonstration does not guarantee the same result for any other recipient." A man near the center raised his hand.

"Was Doss selected because he was C-rank?"

"No."

"Then rank is irrelevant?"

"Not entirely." Jacob looked across the room.

"But experience matters more." That seemed to bother several people. Nessa understood why. Rank was easy to measure. A lifetime was not. The auctioneer closed the verification case and opened the first numbered one.

"Lot One. Opening bid: twenty-five thousand kamera." The first card rose before he finished speaking.

"Thirty." Another followed.

"Forty." Within a minute, the number had passed sixty thousand. Nessa opened her ledger. She had expected serious money. She had not expected the room to reach serious money quite this quickly. The first named recipient belonged to an expedition company. Thirty-seven years of active fieldwork, according to the registration sheet, with an old hip injury that had ended regular expeditions. The bidding slowed near one hundred thousand. Then two representatives continued alone.

"One hundred ten."

"One hundred fifteen." A pause.

"One hundred twenty thousand." The other card stayed down. The auctioneer waited.

"Lot One sold for one hundred twenty thousand kamera." Nessa wrote the number carefully. 120, 000. The bottle disappeared into its padded case. She looked at the amount again. The Second Spark had celebrated its first year with a month that brought in a little over twenty-three thousand kamera. One bottle had just sold for more than five times that. Jacob did not look surprised.

"You knew?"

"I estimated."

"You could have warned me."

"You would still have written the same number."

"That is not the point." The second lot opened at fifty thousand. Nobody objected. The verification had changed the room. This recipient was a retired military officer with damaged fingers and an old shoulder injury. Three parties remained past one hundred thousand, then two carried the bidding higher.

"One hundred seventy."

"One hundred eighty." The room waited.

"One hundred eighty-five thousand." The opposing representative lowered his card.

"Sold." Nessa wrote again. 185, 000. Her total became 305, 000. The number sat on the page with an uncomfortable amount of confidence. A gray-haired man several seats away spoke before the final lot opened.

"Does the formula accompany the purchase?"

"No," Jacob said.

"Can the ingredients be identified from the preparation?"

"Probably." That answer earned more attention than a refusal would have. The man frowned.

"You do not seem concerned."

"I am not the maker."

"Is the maker concerned?" Jacob considered that.

"Mostly about incorrect dosing." A few people exchanged looks. The gray-haired man leaned back.

"Then he believes the preparation cannot be copied."

"I did not say that." Jacob rested both hands over the head of his stick.

"You are free to analyze what you purchase. You are free to attempt to reproduce it. The sale is for one finished dose, not exclusivity." That ended the question without answering the interesting part. Nessa suspected Jacob had done that deliberately. The third case opened. The named recipient was Sir Aldren. Elias Venn raised the first card.

"Seventy-five thousand." Someone behind Nessa answered with ninety. Another representative made it one hundred. The room moved faster than before. By one hundred fifty thousand, half the bidders were gone. At two hundred, only three remained. Nessa stopped writing each step and waited for the number that mattered.

"Two hundred forty."

"Two hundred fifty."

"Two hundred sixty-five." Elias raised his card.

"Two hundred seventy-five thousand." The remaining representative hesitated.

"Two hundred eighty." Elias did not look behind him.

"Two hundred ninety thousand." Silence followed. The other card did not rise. The auctioneer waited several breaths before bringing the hammer down.

"Sold. Two hundred ninety thousand kamera." Nessa wrote the final amount. 290, 000. Then she added the column. 120, 000. 185, 000. 290, 000. 595, 000 kamera. For a while, she simply looked at it. Around her, chairs moved and conversations began in low voices. The three cases were taken to separate tables for signatures, recipient confirmation, and transfer. Jacob leaned toward her.

"Correct?" Nessa added it again.

"Unfortunately."

"That is usually considered a favorable problem."

"It depends who has to explain it to Joe." Jacob almost smiled.

"You do."

"I noticed." Elias passed nearby on his way to complete the final paperwork. He stopped beside Jacob.

"Sir Aldren will follow the written conditions."

"I assumed he would."

"Our healer would like to examine him before and after." Jacob nodded.

"Joe asked for exactly that." The name passed without reaction from most of the room. Nessa preferred it that way. The preparation had drawn enough attention already. Elias glanced toward the empty verification case.

"Choosing the demonstration by lot was effective."

"It removed an argument."

"It created several others." Jacob looked around at the representatives already speaking quietly with one another.

"That was going to happen regardless." Elias inclined his head and moved on. Near the front of the room, Merek Doss was putting his boot back on. He stood without using the chair for support. Then he stopped, seemed to remember something, and crouched once more just because he could. The healer immediately told him not to overdo it. Merek straightened with the expression of a man who intended to ignore that advice within the hour. Nessa closed her ledger. 595, 000 kamera rested on the final line.

The number mattered. So did the three bottles that had earned it. But as she watched Merek walk out of the room without the limp he had carried in, she understood why the bidding had climbed so quickly. Nobody had really been bidding on a potion. They had been bidding on years they thought were already gone.