Book 3: Chapter 7

Book 3: Chapter 7

The solstice dance was surprisingly complex, like a wandering riverdance but while holding the hand of a partner at arm’s distance. The partners switched as the dancers moved in rotating circles, and you had to keep track of the steps because the circles would suddenly switch direction. Hogg magicked up a couple dozen figures for him to dance with. They were sort of blurry and low-definition, but good enough for him to keep track of his place.

He did all that while also playing the music on his lute, and Hogg also provided back-up music to make sure he would never miss a beat. His hands were full with the music, but the girls in the dance still held their hands up to him and acted as if he were holding them.

They used the grassy clearing outside the house, which added another layer because the ground wasn’t exactly flat. He didn’t actually know where the real dance would take place; there wasn’t a dance hall or anything. It would probably be in the town square.

It was noon by the time Brin got another point in Mental Control. They had plenty of time to keep going, but he was done. He didn’t think he could tie his shoes, much less try to recite the alphabet backwards while doing a handstand under a waterfall or whatever psychotic thing Hogg would dream up next.

“Good time for a break anyhow. Look alive, we got company,” said Hogg.

Brin dragged himself off the ground and over to the chair on the deck, just in time for Prefit Elmon to appear on the road leading from town.

Like the merchant earlier, the large man wore a traveling cloak, a wide-brimmed hat and had a sword at his side. Unlike the merchant, the metal of a full suit of armor peeked out from under the heavy clothes, which Elmon wore with the same casual ease as Galan had. Instead of only looking like a soldier, this was a real [Warrior].

He approached Hogg first. “I was present with Tawna for every moment she spent outside of her house for the last two and a half days. However, I must now hurry to catch up to the merchants if I am to uphold my agreement with them. I trust this fulfills your requirements?”

Hogg thought it over, while scratching at the stubble on his neck. “We’re square.”

“May I speak to your son?”

“Of course, Prefit,” said Hogg.

Brin stood up and approached, while Hogg went inside, although there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that Hogg would hear every word that was said.

Prefit Elmon folded his arms and looked down at Brin. “First, I need to make it clear that you were absolutely guilty of the crime I charged you with. You did spread those rumors, and a few hours or even a few days at the pillory would not have been too much.”

Another time, Brin might have argued, but after a night robbing the town he didn’t feel all that innocent, and after a night robbing the town and then half the day training Mental Control, he was too drained to summon up the energy to argue about anything.

“I understand,” he said neutrally.

“That being said, I was too hasty in passing judgment. After spending two days with Tawna... suffice it to say I learned that she was far from blameless in this matter.”

Brin nodded. “Thank you for saying so.”

Elmon searched his eyes, and apparently didn’t find what he was looking for, because he frowned and said, “I’m sure you felt at the time that justice was being applied unevenly. Do you still feel the same way?”

Brin didn’t have any reason to lie. “Yes.”

“Then think on this: I’ve not visited everywhere or seen everything, but to my knowledge there’s never been a [Witch]-burning of a pre-System child. Perhaps, somewhere, it’s been done, but for all intents and purposes, it simply doesn’t happen.

“On the other hand, when friendless, unpopular [Weavers] are concerned, I’ve personally seen it happen twice. Not here, thank Solia, but there’s nothing different in our makeup that makes us immune to human foibles. Only with diligence and caution have we avoided it so far. You might think a [Witch]-hunt is a surgical procedure, a knife in the dark to remove an unpopular neighbor. You haven’t seen it, so you don’t understand the madness. The sheer chaos that’s unleashed upon a town when fear and paranoia are stoked into an inferno. For however dangerous [Witches] are, the fear of [Witches] is even worse.

“Do you think I could stop it if a mob came for Tawna? Hogg aside, I could easily defeat any two men or women in this town. But what about ten? What about a hundred? Impossible. To prevent a tragedy, I must stop it before it gets that far. I can’t let that happen here.”

“For the record, I don’t want that either,” said Brin.

“Good. Officially speaking, your rumors against her were damaging and illegal. Her rumors against you were not. As Prefit, that’s my only interest in the matter. On a personal note, however, I’ve warned Tawna and Myra against continuing such rumors, and I have asked them both to be nicer to you.”This chapter was first shared on the Ñøv€lß1n platform.

Even through the weary haze, that last part shocked Brin. He hadn’t expected a red cent from Prefit Elmon. After the browbeating and public humiliation Hogg had given him, Brin expected to have an enemy for life. Instead, the Prefit was trying to fix things. It wasn’t exactly some grand gesture, and he really doubted Tawna and Myra would change their attitude, but it was still something.

“Thank you,” said Brin.

The Prefit finally must’ve found what he was looking for in Brin’s expression, because he smiled and thumped Brin on the shoulder. “Good lad.”

The Prefit left, and Brin didn’t even remember stumbling off to bed.

He awoke at dawn the next morning, having slept away half the day. Just like that, his three-day exile was over.

His mind was a lot clearer after a good night's rest, even though he was a little irked that he’d slept so long. Yesterday might have been exhausting, but it had been worth it. He’d gotten four whole points of Mental Control in one day, which meant that he only had three left for the first threshold. That was looking entirely possible.

Not to mention all the other gains. The 10% increase to Dexterity, the improved vision, the value sense. He’d totally forgotten about that one, but now that he remembered it, he wanted to try it out.

Why had he not noticed a change last night? He’d noticed his night vision get better, but he hadn’t seen the value of things. He looked at his blanket, and... five silver. Oh, that was all; it wasn’t automatic, but only needed a little bit of intentionality.

The lute in the corner, four silver. The dresser with his clothes cost six silver. There wasn’t much else to look at in here; he was pretty spartan with his personal space. Not by choice so much as by omission.

The door cost another five silver, but he couldn’t really get a feel for what the walls were worth. Until he thought of the house while looking at them, and the two-hundred-fifty gold came to mind. It was strange how the Skill operated. It worked the same way as how he knew what was real or fake. There was no pop-up or line of text in his mind. He just... knew. The information just arrived as part of his perception. The same way he knew that the door was brown, he knew that the doorknob cost two silver, eight copper, four bits, give or take.

Outside, he saw Hogg, and was relieved when the Skill didn’t give the man a price tag. That would be uncomfortable. Marksi, on Hogg’s shoulder, cost a whopping eighty-five gold. No. Marksi is not for sale.

The Skill didn’t change its assessment. Was that on him? Did he think of Marksi as an object? Well, whatever the Skill said, Marksi was family. End of story.

“So that’s why everything here is so nice! I knew you weren’t the type to care so much about color coordinating your furniture,” said Brin.

Hogg looked offended. “No, I do. What’s the point of having all this money if I can’t live well? I had the storage sofa custom built. Oh, but maybe I’m traveling?”

He kicked the sofa, and it turned itself inside out. The walls inside the storage space were now plush yellow. The outside was an old wooden crate, with the lid off. Hogg kicked it again, and it went back to a partially dismantled sofa.

“How is it doing that without magic?” asked Brin.

“It’s magic, just not illusion magic. And the magic is all on the inside, holding it together, holding itself contained. Nothing leaks out, no sign that anything magical is going on from the outside,” said Hogg.

“That’s really neat. Do they make these travel sized? Like a backpack?” asked Brin.

“Well, yeah. We’ll get you set up with one sometime,” said Hogg.

Brin thought back to when the Heroes had rescued him. Hogg had carried a big black hiking backpack. “Let me guess, you carry your bag of holding in a much larger backpack so that no one will be able to identify it.”

“That’s right,” said Hogg.

“Clever,” said Brin.

He gave a glance back at his room. There was nothing stopping him from going through with his plans to go kill a monster in the forest. Well, nothing except the festival. Tomorrow, he promised himself.

“Time to go?” asked Brin.

“One last thing,” said Hogg.

He walked into his room and came back out with some folds of cloth over his arms. “The harvest festival is a day when everyone trots out their best dress. You can’t go like that. Put this on. It’s supposed to look like this.”

Hogg threw up an illusion of Brin, standing in the clothes that Hogg was apparently holding. There was a paper white collared shirt underneath a navy blue overcoat. The overcoat had glistening gold trim and as the model rotated, he could see a stylized rainbow dragon, like an adult Marksi, flying across the back. There were tassels coming off the sleeves, a vibrant red sash to tie across the middle, and matching blue trousers. The illusion wore shiny leather boots, and Hogg carried a matching pair in his hands.

“For me? But... who would sell to you? The merchants? How did you order it?”

“Think. There was a solution. Who’s the only other person in town who makes clothes that Tawna never touches?” asked Hogg.

Even now that Hogg had agreed to treat him like an adult, he could never simply answer a question. Everything had to be a puzzle or a test. Looking closer, Brin noticed how thick the cloth was. No, not cloth.

The answer came with a memory of the first time he’d ever met Perris, and noticed that the man’s black and white clothes were made from leather, cleverly disguised to look like fabric. Natural, for a [Leatherworker].

“Perris did this?” asked Brin.

“I had to twist his arm and pay way too much,” said Hogg. “He definitely didn't tell me to say that. He definitely didn’t come up with the idea and then insist on doing it for free as a gift.”

Brin laughed. “That sounds like him.” He mockingly raised his fist. “Curse that greedy salesman! We’ve been had!”

Hogg smiled. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Brin put it on in his room, and did his best to hide how good it made him feel to look this good. He eyed himself in the mirror in the living room, and it took every ounce of willpower to not strike a pose. They fit perfectly, and he looked good. The style was the same as what the villagers wore, but elevated. For once, he’d stand out because he looked better than everyone instead of worse.

Brin picked Marksi up, who slithered around to the normal spot around his neck. “No outfit is complete without your Marksi!” said Brin. The snake acted a little put out that there wasn’t a hood, but the leather was soft and felt pretty nice, and it wasn’t too long before Marksi was settled in and purring.

Hogg wore his normal black leathers. Well, the old guy was clearly capable of getting clothes if he wanted them. Brin only gave him a little bit of teasing for it, but Hogg was incapable of self-consciousness. He wore what he wanted, end of story.

The trip into town went quickly, and as soon as they crossed the gates, Brin started looking for his friends or really anyone he recognized so he could show off. The first person he saw wasn’t Davi or Zilly, or even Myra.

It was a figure in immaculate white robes and a tall headdress. The priest, Ellion.

Brin turned around. “Time to go.”

“Ah, Brin. I was wondering if we could have a word,” said Ellion.

“Uh, sure,” said Brin. “We can talk about whatever you want here. Right here.”

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable if we retired to the temple,” said Ellion, a twinkle in his eye.

“That’s... that’s fine, but it’s just you, right? We’re not going to meet anyone else there, are we? No, um, statues?”

“The gods will do as they will,” said Ellion with a world-class poker face. “I am only their messenger.” He was teasing him, right? He had to be.

“You’re coming with me, right Hogg? Hey, where’d Hogg go?” The treacherous old [Illusionist had abandoned him. Even [Know What’s Real] wasn’t spotting anything.

“Come along,” said Ellion.

Maybe Brin was being a little melodramatic about being terrified of the temple, but that was only to cover up the real, actual terror he felt at the idea that a goddess would want to speak to him again. She’d imprinted all sorts of knowledge into Ellion so she wouldn’t have to do that again, right? Brin gulped, and followed Ellion down the street.