Chương 23

Or they'll take everything you've got. For a brief moment, the world made sense again. The shopkeep had poisoned him. Of course she had. Who gave gifts to strangers? Harker gritted his teeth against the pain, even as he felt weakness steel into his legs. Someone who was only going to take them back, that's who. Well, she won't get satisfaction. He stumbled forward, hand braced against the exterior wall.

The stacked fieldstone bit at him, tearing at his cloak as he dragged his shoulder against the corner, turning into the narrow alley between shops. He fumbled with his pack, rummaging through his new purchases and the rest of his bundled belongings. Food and his medicinal pouch fell from the bag, but it couldn't be helped. Harker slumped, falling onto his rear only ten feet into the alleyway, but he'd found what he needed. He pulled it free, unwinding it from its damp cotton bindings. Heronbane.

A common plant, found in marshy areas or places with a great deal of rainfall, they were a favorite to anyone with a hint of herbalism knowledge. It had many uses. Its leaves could be brewed into a potent tea good for curing sinus congestion, its stalk could be baked and mashed into an ointment to prevent infections. It could even be shaved and added to a meal to benefit digestion.

Or, if taken whole and mixed into a tincture, it would have an entirely different effect—one useful for hunters who ran afoul of the more noxious predator fauna around Vale. He didn't have time for any of that. Harker shoved the whole thing in his mouth and chewed vigorously. Bitter and dry, it was a crude solution, but the only thing he could manage. Strength drained from his arms, leaving them heavy and trembling, but his jaw crushed leaf, stem, and root together into a foul mash. He swallowed.

Immediately, the heronbane coursed through him. It burned his belly, searing through his guts as if a trail of fire had soaked into his blood. His heart hammered, but the effect was sluggish, rolling through his veins with all the speed of Winter-thickened sap. Move! Harker pushed at it, squeezing the same strange muscles he'd used on his tributary. It was agony, both the scorching heat and the tingling clench of weakened muscles.

The burning shifted, slipping a bit faster as it spread down across his hips and thighs. No! Wrong way! He wheezed, unable to draw a full breath. Delayed paralytic. Focused on the respiratory system. It's trying… to stop my lungs. The fire flowed toward his knees, and Harker pulled at it with every muscle he could muster. By slow inches it halted… and cut its way upward. He heaved, his lungs only managing short gasps now, but spared no focus for air.

All he could think of was the heronbane trying to sear through the meat of his hips and up sides like a cauterizing knife. Higher! The inferno in his belly flared, the sourness now a sharp spike through his innards. The burn of heronbane passed upward, flowing without his help now. It bloomed in his chest, reaching scorching fingers out into his lungs. It squeezed. Harker gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his nose as his hands shook.

He braced one against the ground and the other he wrapped around the hilt of his knife, bearing down on it until his knuckles turned white. His back arced against the wall, every muscle inside of him locking into steel as his breath left him completely. The scent vanished. His eyes unblurred. The burn shrank, until it was only a guttering bonfire at the bottoms of his lungs. Harker managed a single, grateful breath before he collapsed. Miriam stepped out of the side door of her shop, whistling.

"What a grand day today, and it has only just begun." She adjusted her glasses, staring down the alleyway she shared with the wainwright next door. He was often absent, spending more time at the tavern than his workshop, but he often dragged himself back in the early mornings. So it wasn't entirely surprising to see someone slumped in the alley.

"What do we have here?" The boy from her shop was hunched over on the ground. It seemed he had strayed from the main road, for which Miriam was grateful. While Creston was a sleepy village, it had been unusually busy these last few days—had someone seen him, it would have raised far too many questions. But it seems the boy brought himself to me. How kind of him. A smile stretched her thin lips. Miriam had considered leaving the boy alone, but he was too tempting.

Traveling from the far north, Chartermarked on a journey that risked life and limb—no one in the village would have batted an eye if he'd gone missing. He also had a surprising amount of silver in his purse. That alone would have tempted any number of bandits on the road. Not her, of course. She had far more refined tastes. Then he'd gone and flashed around that bounty of Sea-touched herbs in his pack. Miriam drooled at the thought of them. With those herbs, she could make all manner of things.

Potions and poultices were certain, but her craft delved in other directions. Poisons were her trade, and those sold for gold back in the Sunken City. With the boy's stash and her own savings, she'd even have enough to purchase her return to the Shroud.

"The Shroud." She snorted.

"Mark my words, corpse boy. Those salt-stained bastards will regret banishing me to this forgotten armpit of the world." Miriam squatted down.

"Now let's see what you've brought for me, hmm?" She opened up the boy's pack and pulled free the packages she'd just sold him. Items that she had just neatly recovered for resale. A smirk tilted the edge of her mouth, spreading into a full out grin as she delved deeper. Beneath the basic supplies he bore were a great deal of wrapped herbals and reagents. Far more than she had anticipated, even.

"Sacred Depths…" Her expression melted as she gave a long, slow blink.

"Ghostflower Root? Sea-touched and mature. How did he get such a treasure?" Miriam rifled through the rest, and confirmed that almost all of it was Sea-touched. Had the boy encountered a hidden tidepool? Perhaps a cavern untouched by scavengers existed in this far-flung northern isle. She laughed. Her luck had finally turned around! Soon she would be back on the path toward First Depth. Soon, she would reclaim what was rightfully hers—! Pain blossomed at her throat, followed by a wash of hot liquid.

Miriam clutched at it and fell back. What was that—? Eyes of gleaming gold stared at her from under the dead boy's brows. His hand was up and a red-stained knife was already falling. He cut me?

"I should have known," he muttered.

"You were too nice." Blood poured down her blouse, staining its flowing folds. Miriam tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked gag. She reached for the boy, hands curled into claws, but he stepped away. The world spun and Miriam hit the ground. She felt nothing save for the deep heat that spread across her throat, and the chill that stole into her head. They fought, vying for her attention, until the cold won out. Then there was nothing else.

Harker leaned against the building, still a little woozy for the lingering effects of the poison, but also his Sovereign Sight. He'd activated seconds before the woman had emerged. Unable to lift his head or ruin the ruse of his demise, it was the only way to figure out when she had come into range. Where it had been truly useful, however, was peering into the shopkeep's center. Like with Sven, he'd pressed through some sort of resistance around the woman, one she hadn't even noticed.

Once there, he could see the rush of her reservoir and tributaries… and the venomous bile that was her Water. He couldn't be sure, but Harker was willing to bet that her Talent had to do with poison directly. More than that, he'd noticed a lack inside her. In Sven, his skin had a thickness to it that tasted of iron. A feature of his refinement, no doubt, and his muscles and bones were devoid of it. The shopkeep exhibited the same condition, save that she hadn't any refinement at all. Harker didn't understand why.

Perhaps she was like him, lacking some fundamental aspect. Regardless, it had been her undoing. Sink swiftly, you wretch. Harker had never enjoyed killing, but he couldn't deny a grim satisfaction as he stared down at the woman's corpse. Living in the northwoods meant he'd butchered his fair share of animals, and his training under his mother had instilled in him a deep appreciation for the gruesome side of life. The weak fell to the strong… unless they were clever, fast, and willing to do what was necessary.

Law 4D—Show No Mercy. With a little effort and no small amount of hissed complaints, Harker dragged her body back into the shop. It took longer than he expected, but thankfully the crowds were still thin this close to dawn. Once inside, he stashed the corpse behind the counter, awkwardly folding her at the waist to keep her from casual view. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Don't forget to lock the front door." Harker glanced behind him, where Stillwater stood just inside the closed side door.

"Coming inside now?"

"It was boring out there." Harker walked swiftly to the front, happy that the shop was small. In seconds he'd slid home an iron bolt and barred the door with a length of timber.

"Why didn't you help me," he said as he made it back to the counter.

"Wouldn't that have settled one of your life debts?"" I didn't have an antidote." Stillwater shrugged.

"You're annoyingly adept at saving your own life, it seems."

"What about when she emerged?" Harker gestured to the corpse.

"What if her skin had been refined and my knife snapped?"

"What would you have done then?" Harker paused. Something in the creature's tone…he took a good look at the Gilken. Stillwater was leaning forward, and his yellow eyes all but glittered in the low light. He seemed…fascinated.

"I would have done what was necessary."

"Mmm." The Gilken grinned.

"I like that." Harker gave a grunt of acknowledgement, if not a pleased one. He wasn't sure he wanted to be admired by the little monster—but there were better things to focus on. Such as looting this shop clean. The back of the general store had the counter, which contained nothing except a folded corpse, a storeroom, and a residence. He went to the storeroom first. Within, there was a great deal of items, but most of it was simple supplies. Food, tools, nails, and the like.

Harker took the opportunity to fill up his Seed Quiver, adding a number of herbals he'd ignored due to pricing. He also snagged a number of burlap sacks, clean bandages, and small tempered glass vials with Talent seals. In the residence, there was a kitchen, and it was neatly organized and nearly spotless save for a large, partially butchered sheep on the oversized counter. Stillwater gasped as he followed in Harker's wake.

"I take it back. Entering this shop was the best choice you could have made." He grabbed at a half-butchered animal, still bloody, and growled joyfully.

"Look at all this meat!" Harker left him to it. There was a single set of simple dishes and cutlery, enough for one lonely woman, but there were several cabinets with shelf stable cooking ingredients. She even had a tiny icebox, one of those thaumic contraptions used to cool items placed within them. A clear reservoir sat on the rear of it, connected to the interior by etched tributaries in odd, angular patterns. Harker whistled.

Thaumic devices were rare outside of cities, and rarer still in the hands of someone who clearly didn't have a lot of coin. In Vale, not even the mayor had one. If he did, he would have spent every second of every day talking about it. Unfortunately, it was far too heavy to carry around, let alone lug up a mountain. Harker left it and the feasting Gilken alone. Outside of the kitchen there was only one other room.

Half bedroom and half workshop, it was no more than twelve feet square and just as orderly as the rest of the shop had been. Harker supposed anyone that handled poisons would by default need to be fastidious. The bed was fitted with clean sheets and pristine pillows that looked and smelled freshly laundered, while a pair of slippers sat on a small rug that centered the entire room. The other side of the room was far more interesting.

A desk filled the full twelve foot space between walls and was piled with all manner of racks and tools. Reagents were stacked in small drawers, each one notated with the name of the ingredient as well as a list of common uses. Charcoal, lime, several bottles of squid ink, the list went on. Most interesting were the harvested remains of a Bestial Aberrant: bile, heart, small intenstine, and a number of organs he didn't recognize.

All of them were put in jars and labeled with "Tide-Touched Bestial Aberrant, Subject #234." It reminded him of the claw he still held. Harker reached into his pack, finding the carefully wrapped bundle and unwrapped it. Whatever poison was in the claw from the Illwrought was still active. Harker handled it extremely gingerly, fishing out one of the vials and placing it inside before releasing a splash of Water onto its seal. The Talent seal tightened, cutting off all air and liquid from entering the vial.

"Impressive." He put it away into one of the spare compartments of his Seed Quiver.

"It'll be safe there until I can find a place to dispose of it." As for the rest of the reagents on the desk: Harker took them all. He even snagged a second Seed Quiver he found in a drawer of the desk, and a larger pack set in the corner of the woman's room. After a quick reorganizing, Harker now had a full travelers pack, complete with bedroll. In another drawer, he found various bits of rope, hooks from fishing lines, and a ledger for her shop.

He tossed those back in and kept hunting, and was rewarded by the bottommost drawer. Within it were two objects that gripped his attention immediately. The first was a thaumic cauldron. Approximately six inches in diameter, it was a small device and much like the icebox was fitted with a reservoir and those angular lines. What was different was that the cauldron had two distinct settings, written in elegant script along the side. Heat. Freeze.

The thaumic cauldron used Water to cook objects within it, or to slowly freeze them instead, depending on what the recipe might require. It was an extremely useful tool that Harker had only ever read about—and for good reason. Even a small cauldron cost a fortune. Where had a shopkeep in Creston gotten the funds for it? No matter. It was his now. He put it into his pack and focused on the last item.

A notebook, it had a plain leather and wood binding with nothing more than a strap around the outside to keep it closed. Inside, however, it was a treasure trove. These are her personal notes! Harker flipped through a few pages, and sure enough most of them detailed plants and animals while discussing the nature of their poison or venom. Near the back, however, he spied entries on general practices and even a few recipes. Harker packed it away, eager to read it in the future. The rest of the room was fairly empty.

Harker didn't trust that for a moment. If she was half as clever as he assumed, his would-be killer wouldn't keep anything important in plain view.

"Sovereign Sight." Every time he used his Talent, it felt like stubbing his toe over and over again, except all across his chest and left arm. Despite it all, he didn't hesitate to press his radius to three feet and hold his Water. Information flowed through him and he took several careful steps around the room, starting in the center and expanding outward in a slow spiral. By his third loop, he found it. The floorboard. It's loose. He reached down and, guided by Talent, he found the exact point to press down.

The board popped up, just enough to catch the lip of it with his finger. When he pulled the board free, he could see the dark, tasting the accumulating dust and feeling the chill damp. And a metal lockbox. Harker lifted it out of the hole, setting it on the floorboards before himself. It was wide but relatively thin, made of iron and rusted all along the bottom. The lock on it, however, was well oiled and strong. Inside… he frowned. I can't sense inside. Why?

Briefly, he considered bashing the lock open, but sighed as he realized the obvious answer. Still holding his Talent, he made his way back to the front, where the woman's corpse lay crumpled behind the counter. Harker gagged at the scent and taste of her dead flesh though, bending over and wretching.

"Oh Ancestors' mercy," he muttered.

"That is foul." Harker tried to shift his focus, tightening the effect of his Water around himself and pivoting his body until he only had the woman's head and shoulders included. There was a glint of metal in her hair. The key. He snatched it up, but hesitated when his Talent caught on something else. It was around the woman's neck on a leather thong. A porous stone no bigger than the last joint of his thumb, Harker recognized it instantly. A scourge stone?

It was a thaumic consumable meant to ward off the weaker types of Aberrants. Having seen the woman's collection, he shouldn't have been surprised she'd have something like it. This will be useful. He returned to the bedroom. Once there, he carefully unlocked the iron box. It clicked, releasing its grip on the lid without ill-effect, and as he opened it Harker found his Talent giving him information once more. He closed it, and the jumbled details faded from his awareness. Something in the box is blocking me.

Inside was a pouch containing five silver bars, three inches long and flat. Harker could believe it—sitting before him was more wealth than he'd ever seen in one place. Each bar was worth fifty silver coins each, something only banks and businesses possessed. They would be hard to spend in a village like Creston. Harker pocketed them. Layered beneath the pouch were identification papers, a kind that Harker had never seen before. They even were stamped by the official seal of the Commonwealth.

Name: Miriam Gale Born: Issu, 1/8/977 Talent: Poisoned Touch Scope: Minor"I was right." She must have manifested the Talent when she'd patted him on the shoulder.

"Potent, and I didn't even feel it until it was too late." Normally, his skin would prickle or tighten when someone used their Talent, like goosebumps. Was it part of the Talent itself to be subtle? Harker shuddered. If that were possible, it meant he'd have to be far more careful in the future. Beneath the paperwork, he found three palm-sized vials and a number of bundled ingredients set beside each. The vials were labeled in a neat hand, but it did not list out their purpose.

"Gutrot poison," he murmured, opening up the notebook. He found an entry on it fairly quickly.

"A common poison meant to be imbibed in drink. Tastes sharp and medicinal, but the flavor can be masked by strong wine. After a ten-minute delay, will cause bowel distress for several hours." So it's a powerful laxative. Probably very powerful if its effect is drastic enough to be called a poison. The next was labeled as Wild Tincture, and it too had an entry.

"An uncommon poison, meant to be applied in a fine mist. When sprayed into the eyes, ears, or nose, it inflicts the target with hallucinations for ten minutes. Warning: hallucinations are often violent." Now that is interesting. Harker smiled and moved on to the last. It was labeled as Essence of Shadow.

"Expensive to make. Inflicts an extracted Talent (Shadowflare) onto a twenty-foot radius. For thirty seconds, it creates an impenetrable darkness that can only be seen through by specialized tools. A Shroud specialty." Harker frowned.

"Shroud specialty? What does that mean?" The note said nothing else, and Harker put it side. It wasn't important. Far more interesting was the fact that one could extract a Talent into a bottle. He lifted the Essence of Shadow up, holding it against the light that shone through the high windows. The black liquid inside sloshed about, but not like water. Instead, it seemed to act more like smoke. The stories of thaumists always spoke of them taking Talents and putting them into bottles and tinctures and salves.

They were powerful crafters, creating wonders out of Water, reagents, and the might of the Infinite Sea. Yet he hadn't quite imagined this. Harker packed them all back into the box and took it all. After a little more than twenty minutes, Harker exited the shop with a significantly heavier pack and aching tributary. He slipped out of the side door, locking it with Miriam's key before heading in the direction of the market on swift, sure steps.

Stillwater followed, blood staining his mouth, still munching appreciatively on a haunch of raw meat.

"Onward human! Let us find another shop to ransack!"