A deal worth making

Anjali has been observing the new wizard. She knows wizards. She does not know how to do magic, which started the chain of events that has gotten her into a cave as a human sacrifice, though she has learned a bit about the theory. They pay higher tips if you listen and answer intelligently. Not that she got the tips, but the hotel had a points system that got you perks based on them. Most of all she does know how it affects its practitioners. Well, its male practitioners. The hotel served a preponderance of male customers and she was rarely assigned to female guests.

This one is a sorcerer. He operated without rituals or equipment. That makes him a member of a minority. In fact he carries no equipment and shows no signs of distress about that. That strikes her as highly unusual. In fact she still thinks back to the one whose power came from a pact with a slug demon who, glued to his back with its own slime, watched over his shoulder the whole time with a row of eye stalks.

He is also heterosexual. She already suspected that from the ritual which employs only female sacrifices to use sexual attraction for a summoning. Truth be told, she owes that knowledge to her grandfather. He wouldn’t risk having a late bloomer with poor academic fundamentals. He employed solid tutors before her inability caused him to sell her to let potential rivals have their own wicks trick them into burdening their bloodline with a dud nut, as he put it.

The way his eyes wander confirms it.

The rest of his behavior does not match, though. She has had one who was celebrating a gain of sorcerous powers. He was a lot more like a man celebrating his escape from a pack of lions. He wasn’t awkward, as if he were a teenager dealing with a growth spurt. She has seen that, too, but not the combination. She’ll keep observing. She thinks that she has time, provided they survive, which is out of her hands. The other women, though visibly selected for physical beauty, are too scared of wizards to grasp their chance.

While she is tied to a rock, which is at least smoothed on its sides, so that it does not scratch her back or arms, she can at least use what she has. She arches her back decoratively.

Branislava badly needs to pee. What do you expect from a woman pregnant between six and seven months, who has been abducted while visiting her relatives? Relatives, who, for no fault of their own, are about to get them all killed. Again. „Come to us“, they wrote. „It is much healthier than the crowded city you live in.“. Sure, if bandits cutting your throath, abducting you and making you walk through the snow of the earliest onset of winter in decades and selling you to a wizard for a human sacrifice are healthier, then it is.

How long have I been curled up like this? At the time I ask I become aware that it has been 3 minutes and 2.4 seconds. Also, my head hurts. Well, I have been under unusual stress lately. First things first. I have no idea who I am. I know things. But I don’t know why I know them. Incidentally I am also nacked. Am I a nudist? The strange feeling of knowing without knowing does not appear. Apparently not. I am also tired, very tired. Well, a lot of stress.

While I cannot make an informed assessment of the situation, I can still use logic.

Immediate tasks must come first. I approach the woman I am tentatively assuming to be the little girl’s mother based on the tautness of her breasts, which are hard to overlook from this angle and this distance, and a little residual belly on her quite toned body. Again, distance and angle.

She is freezing up, barely even daring to breathe. I touch the ropes binding her and repeat a process becoming quickly familiar. Of them, not even rust remains. I turn away. There is no point in trying to communicate with a woman whimpering in fear. Not ideal. Better than derision or defiance, though, as long as they don’t try to slit my throat while I am sleeping or something similar. Oderint dum metuant. I stop. What did that quote come from? Do I speak that language? Do I speak multiple languages? A fascinating concept. The familiar feeling of confirmation is here again. I do. An unwelcome thought strikes me. Is it fear? I want a mirror right now.

Wishes, at least my wishes, have power. The air in front of my face turns reflective. Ugh. No eyebrows, nor eyelashes. Is this permanent? I touch my face. No, the first roughness of a beard has appeared. The feeling of confirmation is a lot less strong. Well, no eyebrows. I doubt people would pay a lot of money to watch my face, but it is not something they’d run away screaming from, either. And the baby now in her mother’s arms has stopped screaming. I am getting stuff done. Very good.

Logically I should now ask why nobody is interested in me, after getting so many sapient creatures for a sacrifice. My brief glimpse into an expanded reality seems to be confirmed by two large patches of charcoal next to the doorway and some bundles of charcoal still wearing the remains of a backpack right at the place I saw the lightning hit her. It does not tell me why the one I saw fleeing hasn’t returned with reinforcements, but I don’t care right now. In fact I am quite tired. What is going on? Some sense I did no know about informs me that the partial pressure of oxygen is heading below 16 kPA. Shit, that guy has closed an airtight door. I need to get to it and open it, the hard way if need be, that is if he has locked it, as I must assume. I start out, but, wait, would I set traps under those circumstances? Yes, I would. The feeling of confirmation is back.

Blindly running up the stairs I suspect beyond the doorway is not a good idea, particularly with a mind deprived of oxygen. Can I wish me oxygen? That feels good. I definitely can. The headache goes away. The tiredness does not. That is a temporary solution only. I will need to sleep soon. I am not looking forward to smashing the whole room’s air. Passing out once a day is enough, bording on too often already. I need to watch more. I try to do the process slowly and get a feel for what is happening. I sense some kind of reservoir within myself. Depleting it too quickly or too much is not good. This does not come from those mysterious confirmations, but a deeper instinct tells me. Well, I apparently can do it slowly. Can I replete the reservoir? I could simply wait. I can sense it refilling from sources I cannot identify. Can I use other energies. I try warmth. That is a bad idea. It works, but when I exhaled my breath showed. I am wearing no clothes.

This is not a feasible route. If I started a fire I might be able to use its energy, but if you want to increase the oxygen level of the air in an enclosed room, starting a fire is counterproductive. First things first. I make a round of the room and dissolve some ropes.

They do not meet my eyes, except for an Indian looking girl who risked a quick glance. Understandable in an involuntary nudist colony. I hear a sound behind my back. The pregnant lady has grabbed some kind of large pitcher standing in a corner and is, well, letting it flow. I see a plethora of practical problems awaiting us. Should I take the chance and try the putative door? Nope. I love my skin intact.

Some more fresh air and a bit of thinking. Can I use heat remotely, that is radiation? This feels like scraping an empty plate. Technically doable, but not enough radiation in here. What was that fireball I saw when doing the extended vision thing? Can I have only that part back? Wishes are powerful. What time is it. An hour before midnight. The mysterious sense also tells me the time of day. What is this? It is below me, shining through much of the Earth. Could it be? I think I am seeing solar neutrinos.

Let’s try this. It feels a bit harder, like balancing two effects, but I can refresh the air at the rate I absorb solar neutrinos to turn them into energy. I am still very tired. The ground looks attractive.