A Chalice of Ivory
Posted: Wed Nov 10, 2021 3:05 am
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Dust to Dawn
12 Ash 121
"Good day, Master Fletcher," she said as Kaus followed her into the disreputable, yet tidy shop.
"What's good about it?" he groused. He hadn't gotten any tidier since the last time she visited.
"We get to see each other again."
He grunted. He scratched himself. "How'd those ivory pretties work out for you?"
"Excellently, thanks. Well, I've scrived proper pictographs upon the bowl, anyway. Soul totems are now in my arsenal, though I shan't make more than one per season, I think. Not until I'm more aware of the toll it takes upon me. The dagger will have to wait a while yet, though. I haven't any plans to do a soul binding at the moment, but I want to be prepared in case the need arises. In the meantime, the dagger can be coated with ichor and used in defense against ghosts if a simple dart proves insufficient."
Fletcher grunted again. In his interactions with her, he found her wisdom sound in most regards, though he thought she was a fool to be teaching herself necromancy. Then again, she would be a fool to trust anyone to teach her anything—people always had strings hiding.
"Still think you ought to invest in some human bone. Or even Avialae bone... probably more potent and you'd have more access to it than most." He gave Kaus a distinctly measuring look. The young Avialae just smiled winningly at him, which only made Fletcher the sourer. Kala was certain that Fletcher was comfortable doing things that many people would find offensive, and she rather thought he said offensive things in order to get a rise out of other people. She chose to treat him with respect regardless. He had proven an honest merchant with regard to her and he didn't owe her false, unctuous behavior. She could respect him for what he was.
"Has anyone laid claim to yours?" she asked. Kala gave him a distinctly measuring look to mirror the one he had cast in her twin's direction.
Fletcher laughed. It was an ugly thing, but it was sincere.
"Where the Mists have you been? I sent word about the chalice last season."
"Late last season, yes," she agreed. "Right before we were called away from Kalzasi to go home. We have returned now, have settled back in, and here we are to purchase it if you still have it."
"There have been interested parties," he said, "but none willing to pay what it's worth."
"You quoted me four hundred and I accepted."
"I should have asked for more," he complained, hobbling over to climb a few steps up a ladder to pull a box down from one of the shelves.
"But you are an honest merchant."
"Faugh, don't spread around such nasty rumors!" He stumped back down and pulled something wrapped in silk out of the box. If he was disrespectful to repeat customers, he was at least careful with the goods he sold. Removing the silk, he revealed a large chalice carved out of ivory. It reminded Kala of those she had seen in the Temple of the Fallen Skies, though she saw no mark of any particular deity. It had an aged look about it, perhaps antique, and yet in rather pristine condition. He looked proud. She nodded; it seemed as though it was indeed worth the price he asked for it.
She reached out to touch it, imagining where her pictographs would go. It would be a shame to disfigure such a beautiful item, and she did strive to scrive in an elegant manner. Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but she did like to make things beautiful when possible.
Fletcher frowned. He didn't like people touching his things, but he held his tongue, knowing that she was going to pay him for it and then it wouldn't be his bauble any longer, but hers.
Nodding, she let her hand drop and she said, "Then if you will vouch for its provenance, we can complete our business, Master Fletcher."
"Didn't come from a temple, nor from a coven of vampyre," he assured her. "Looks religious, but it was just some art décor in someone's mansion, gathering dust and age. No blood magic or death magic tainting it." He gave her a look. "Yet."
She nodded again, accepting him at his word. Perhaps that was another reason he continued to do business with her—she treated him with respect. Kala didn't know, nor did she rightly care. She would treat him with respect unless he proved unworthy of it, and coarse manners were not a thing that made him unworthy in her eyes. While he began to write up a receipt of purchase, she pulled out a promissory note from the Bank of Kalzasi for the correct sum. She watched him then, while Kaus explored Fletcher's wares, his hands carefully clasped behind him so he wouldn't touch anything shiny or interesting.
Fletcher's scrawl was crabbed but legible. He added a bit of documentation as to where he had gotten it, apparently concerned someone might think he or she had stolen it. That was nice to have considering this was the most expensive object she had purchased from him, and she did seem to be a loyal customer, so he was facilitating successful exchanges, as well. She exchanged the banknote for the documentation, and they shook hands. Fletcher carefully wrapped the chalice in the silk and replaced it in the box. Kaus returned from his meandering and picked it up.
"I'll keep an eye out for anything that you might put to good use," Fletcher promised. "And you should drop by from time to time to see what I've gathered anyway. I don't know your business or all your magics, so you might be surprised. Come here before that bastard Jacun's shop, though, you hear?"
"Noted," she said with an amused smile. "Thank you, Master Fletcher. 'Tis always a pleasure doing business with you."
The twins bowed to him, which flustered him and he just groused and waved them away.
Away they went.
Cintamani Pavilion
Later
Between her previous work on the ivory bowl and the schema she had carved into Torin's runeforging tools, Kala was getting better at using her Elementalism in conjunction with her Scrivening to neatly lay in pictographs for objects to be used for magical purposes. Her bowl had already produced a working Soul Totem, and her preparatory work had led to Torin's tools being less expensive and, hopefully, more useful. But, of course, every new project built upon the foundation of the last. The work wasn't easy by any means.
In the workshop, Kaus looked on, though his attention was split between what she was doing and his notebook of poems. He had been writing the last time she had made a necromantic tool for herself, so this was likely a good precedent to follow. She carefully measured and made marks here and there with a wax pencil, not wanting to leave permanent marks except with her Fire. She wanted the geometry precise, the better to ensure the magic flowed most felicitously into the forms she required.
This time, she eschewed the stylus and instead focused her Fire to a pinprick of intense heat that she directed with her will rather than with her hand. She used it to scrive pictographs of Release, Exploration, and Opening of the Senses. Some of it she had picked up from reading the old family grimoires, the rest was cobbled together through her own sense of things from studying the art of Scrivening. She was developing a vocabulary for her own magic and she thought that was exciting. She connected the pictographs with more, wanting the magic to be as elegant and efficient as possible, and then, separate from that, she added what had become her idea of balance: pictographs honoring Raella, Wraedan, Keela, and Lyren.
Life, Death, Wisdom, and Knowledge. And, of course, Undeath, though she wasn't trying to create that. She only wanted to understand the advent of her people, and to help people.
Her work done, she held up the chalice for inspection. Kaus looked over from his notes.
"Now you can make ghostwine at will," he noted. "Do you think Torin's haunt will require a lot of work to exorcise?"
"I don't know yet," she admitted. She didn't know exactly what the permanent solution would be on that count. "I was thinking... I was thinking the next time we're home, seeing if I can't summon the splinter of Father's soul that resides in his pact weapon and speak to it."
There was a long pause before Kaus said, "Oh."
.
12 Ash 121
"Good day, Master Fletcher," she said as Kaus followed her into the disreputable, yet tidy shop.
"What's good about it?" he groused. He hadn't gotten any tidier since the last time she visited.
"We get to see each other again."
He grunted. He scratched himself. "How'd those ivory pretties work out for you?"
"Excellently, thanks. Well, I've scrived proper pictographs upon the bowl, anyway. Soul totems are now in my arsenal, though I shan't make more than one per season, I think. Not until I'm more aware of the toll it takes upon me. The dagger will have to wait a while yet, though. I haven't any plans to do a soul binding at the moment, but I want to be prepared in case the need arises. In the meantime, the dagger can be coated with ichor and used in defense against ghosts if a simple dart proves insufficient."
Fletcher grunted again. In his interactions with her, he found her wisdom sound in most regards, though he thought she was a fool to be teaching herself necromancy. Then again, she would be a fool to trust anyone to teach her anything—people always had strings hiding.
"Still think you ought to invest in some human bone. Or even Avialae bone... probably more potent and you'd have more access to it than most." He gave Kaus a distinctly measuring look. The young Avialae just smiled winningly at him, which only made Fletcher the sourer. Kala was certain that Fletcher was comfortable doing things that many people would find offensive, and she rather thought he said offensive things in order to get a rise out of other people. She chose to treat him with respect regardless. He had proven an honest merchant with regard to her and he didn't owe her false, unctuous behavior. She could respect him for what he was.
"Has anyone laid claim to yours?" she asked. Kala gave him a distinctly measuring look to mirror the one he had cast in her twin's direction.
Fletcher laughed. It was an ugly thing, but it was sincere.
"Where the Mists have you been? I sent word about the chalice last season."
"Late last season, yes," she agreed. "Right before we were called away from Kalzasi to go home. We have returned now, have settled back in, and here we are to purchase it if you still have it."
"There have been interested parties," he said, "but none willing to pay what it's worth."
"You quoted me four hundred and I accepted."
"I should have asked for more," he complained, hobbling over to climb a few steps up a ladder to pull a box down from one of the shelves.
"But you are an honest merchant."
"Faugh, don't spread around such nasty rumors!" He stumped back down and pulled something wrapped in silk out of the box. If he was disrespectful to repeat customers, he was at least careful with the goods he sold. Removing the silk, he revealed a large chalice carved out of ivory. It reminded Kala of those she had seen in the Temple of the Fallen Skies, though she saw no mark of any particular deity. It had an aged look about it, perhaps antique, and yet in rather pristine condition. He looked proud. She nodded; it seemed as though it was indeed worth the price he asked for it.
She reached out to touch it, imagining where her pictographs would go. It would be a shame to disfigure such a beautiful item, and she did strive to scrive in an elegant manner. Beauty might be in the eye of the beholder, but she did like to make things beautiful when possible.
Fletcher frowned. He didn't like people touching his things, but he held his tongue, knowing that she was going to pay him for it and then it wouldn't be his bauble any longer, but hers.
Nodding, she let her hand drop and she said, "Then if you will vouch for its provenance, we can complete our business, Master Fletcher."
"Didn't come from a temple, nor from a coven of vampyre," he assured her. "Looks religious, but it was just some art décor in someone's mansion, gathering dust and age. No blood magic or death magic tainting it." He gave her a look. "Yet."
She nodded again, accepting him at his word. Perhaps that was another reason he continued to do business with her—she treated him with respect. Kala didn't know, nor did she rightly care. She would treat him with respect unless he proved unworthy of it, and coarse manners were not a thing that made him unworthy in her eyes. While he began to write up a receipt of purchase, she pulled out a promissory note from the Bank of Kalzasi for the correct sum. She watched him then, while Kaus explored Fletcher's wares, his hands carefully clasped behind him so he wouldn't touch anything shiny or interesting.
Fletcher's scrawl was crabbed but legible. He added a bit of documentation as to where he had gotten it, apparently concerned someone might think he or she had stolen it. That was nice to have considering this was the most expensive object she had purchased from him, and she did seem to be a loyal customer, so he was facilitating successful exchanges, as well. She exchanged the banknote for the documentation, and they shook hands. Fletcher carefully wrapped the chalice in the silk and replaced it in the box. Kaus returned from his meandering and picked it up.
"I'll keep an eye out for anything that you might put to good use," Fletcher promised. "And you should drop by from time to time to see what I've gathered anyway. I don't know your business or all your magics, so you might be surprised. Come here before that bastard Jacun's shop, though, you hear?"
"Noted," she said with an amused smile. "Thank you, Master Fletcher. 'Tis always a pleasure doing business with you."
The twins bowed to him, which flustered him and he just groused and waved them away.
Away they went.
Cintamani Pavilion
Later
Between her previous work on the ivory bowl and the schema she had carved into Torin's runeforging tools, Kala was getting better at using her Elementalism in conjunction with her Scrivening to neatly lay in pictographs for objects to be used for magical purposes. Her bowl had already produced a working Soul Totem, and her preparatory work had led to Torin's tools being less expensive and, hopefully, more useful. But, of course, every new project built upon the foundation of the last. The work wasn't easy by any means.
In the workshop, Kaus looked on, though his attention was split between what she was doing and his notebook of poems. He had been writing the last time she had made a necromantic tool for herself, so this was likely a good precedent to follow. She carefully measured and made marks here and there with a wax pencil, not wanting to leave permanent marks except with her Fire. She wanted the geometry precise, the better to ensure the magic flowed most felicitously into the forms she required.
This time, she eschewed the stylus and instead focused her Fire to a pinprick of intense heat that she directed with her will rather than with her hand. She used it to scrive pictographs of Release, Exploration, and Opening of the Senses. Some of it she had picked up from reading the old family grimoires, the rest was cobbled together through her own sense of things from studying the art of Scrivening. She was developing a vocabulary for her own magic and she thought that was exciting. She connected the pictographs with more, wanting the magic to be as elegant and efficient as possible, and then, separate from that, she added what had become her idea of balance: pictographs honoring Raella, Wraedan, Keela, and Lyren.
Life, Death, Wisdom, and Knowledge. And, of course, Undeath, though she wasn't trying to create that. She only wanted to understand the advent of her people, and to help people.
Her work done, she held up the chalice for inspection. Kaus looked over from his notes.
"Now you can make ghostwine at will," he noted. "Do you think Torin's haunt will require a lot of work to exorcise?"
"I don't know yet," she admitted. She didn't know exactly what the permanent solution would be on that count. "I was thinking... I was thinking the next time we're home, seeing if I can't summon the splinter of Father's soul that resides in his pact weapon and speak to it."
There was a long pause before Kaus said, "Oh."