A deal worth making

Anjali is beyond caring. By conventional logic she is dead. A wizard discovering the secret of mithril cannot leave witnesses alive. Yet, there is only so much fear you can feel. She lifts the glas off the lump. There is a small popping sound and a few more sparks. It is beautiful. A sphere of shiny metal on a dusting of clear crystals and some dust. She smells a sharp tang in the air. It looks just like the beads in the family vault her grandfather let her see on her twelfth birthday, when they were still expecting her to show powers any day. She lifts it. It is as light as she remembers. Some of the hotel’s guests liked to show off stuff made from mithril or small bars, especially when they ordered additional, less traditional, entertainment. She can’t take it any more. There is only so much deliberate control you can find in yourself. She starts shivering.

I am a bit concerned. Odd stuff is happening. Usually Anjali is not prone to emotional reactions to small stuff. Has this triggered anything? Do they pay for slaves with metal in beads where she comes from? Aluminium can be mistaken for silver, I suppose. We already have had a suicide. We almost died many times the last few days. She was comforting me earlier today. I have to admit to that. There simply was no time to really care.

She is lifting the bead in her hand, not really caring that it may be hot - or cold, for that matter. I have no idea what the thermodynamics are, here. The scales showed this side getting lighter. I made matter vanish. In fact something else may be starting to go wrong. She is shivering. Some kind of toxicity? Shock?

What to do? Taking the bead out of her hand is exactly what I shouldn’t do if it is causing a harmful reaction. I put a hand on her shoulder to check her health. She shakes a little. I can sense a jump in blood pressure, a spike in activity of the sympathic nervous system, too much adrenaline in the blood and an uncomfortable tension in her neck muscles leading up to a head ache. Also a slight deficiency in vitamin D. I am also detecting incipient cavity of a lower left premolar. There is also an oddity of a nonbiological nature in her. Did the sacrificial ritual do damage?

Has my perception of biological issues been improving? My reaction is almost automatic.

There are unshed tears in her eyes. „You are not toying with me, with us?“ she whispers. Without the tears, I would be angry. We have fought together. I am feeding them. I have killed for them, well us. I like cheese, too. What else does she want? A declaration of loyalty and sincerity in alliterative verse?

Still I answer quickly without giving it the proper thought and considering her motivation. „I’ve killed a young man who just defended his family and home. If that does not show that I am serious, what will?“ She shivers. Maybe I should have said something else. I take her hands. „We are in this together. You called me to this world. You are all I have. Literally. I don’t even have memories to dwell on.“ Her hands don’t relax „You are very scary and strange.“ she says in a voice that that tries to, but fails to be entirely firm. She forces herself to carry on „I fear, we all fear, that you will react to a supply shortage. So we do not want you angry. Yet we also don’t want you in a cold ontemplative mood.“ My muscles become a bit rigid. Was that why she … ?

She looks me in the eye. The tear is no longer unshed. Her voice is becoming breathy „My own grandfather sold me to a hotel in a dwarven city. He wanted a guest to buy me. He saw me as a way to weaken rivalling clans. Either by them getting weakened heirs through me because I have no magic or by sowing discord when the wiser elders removed me from their besotted scions. I can tell you that the tales of evil wizards are not just tales, if arriving during a human sacrifice involving a baby girl won’t do the job. Marental is no exception.“

I am pretty sure that I was neither an activist for social justice nor a puritan. Still I am disappointed. I am also feeling a need to protect her, which is weird, because that would mean protecting her from myself, as from an angle of pure rationality this is what I should do if we ran out of supplies. Perhaps I should take this less literally. I embrace her.

Hildegard sees them together and turns back as silently as she can, which for a woman that has hunted the shiest of prey in the woods and heaths of her home county is very quiet. She should be content with this development. She has a wedding still pending, presumably postponed indefinitely, but not called off and a family at home.

Anjali steels herself. Why is she getting so emotional? The damage is done. She can sense that he feels decieved. She has to keep it from turning into feeling betrayed, even if it is dangerous. There is no safe path anymore. She asks „Do you know the material you have made? And could you perhaps squeeze a little less? You are strong.“ He lets go and answers „I am pretty sure, it is one of the lighter elements. If we find copper ore, I will be able to make a very strong alloy. However, I have no idea how to make tubes, though I am pretty sure I can weld metal under a protective atmosphere. So we might need to keep the wooden sleds for now.“ He does not get it. She has to outright say it „Do you know what this stuff is worth?“. It hits me. If these people do not know electrolysis, the stuff would be pretty expensive. She sees it in my eyes. I have to respond „Any of you is precious. I am going to convert the whole box of broken ceramics and equally share the result.“ „But by the looks of it they never bothered to empty it out. It may be almost two kilograms. I suspect that some of them were too lazy to carry empty wine amphorae back home.“ she responds rapidly. I nod „Perhaps I should return to the farmstead. They had some ceramics.“ She looks at me with wide eyes and asks „You can do that with any ceramics? You did not specifically select that piece?“ I make an equivocal gesture „I would usually use clay. Some other minerals would also work, but not limestone. Should I perhaps make a few dozen kilograms, if we could find clay?“ Her mouth opens and moves, but no sound is coming out of it.

Thorgrimr the wizard again bemoans the lack of an apprentice as he has to transform the sending himself. „The Rabenstein girl has survived!“ he says aloud, continuing „And knows nothing about the mess she left behind.“.

Baron Ingmar is listening to the message his court wizard is repeating. His fingers are drumming a pattern on the arm rest of his seat. „Who knows about this message?“ „Only you and I, my lord“ answers the wizard. The baron rises and starts pacing, muttering more to himself than the wizard „Whoever did this went for her and Sigmundr. Why? Lots of people have a reason to prevent their marriage but taking out one of them would do the job. Who wants to kill both of them?“ and louder directly to the wizard „Keep it that way. We will have to tell her father, but we’ll send a sealed message via a demon bird.“. The wizard bows and replies „Certainly my lord. I will start preparing to summon a messenger bird at once. But, if I may, I could not help to overhear you concerns, but you are assuming that her abduction and her brother’s terrible fate are results of a failed attempt to kill them. Doesn’t her survival indicate that only the strike at your cousin was intended to be lethal?“