Reaping Recollection (Part XVI)
Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2021 7:28 pm
28 Ash, 121
The days were flowing with purpose again as the season took hold of the world and wrapped it under its sway. Rivin spent the time he was not instructed to work walking in the gardens. His body wanted to move, run, work his muscles in the heat warming of Glade, the heat of Searing, and the cold of Frost, each for its own reason. Glade felt like renewal and his body wanted to leap and dance, to be a part of that. Searing was of maturing growth, of wrung sweat and pushing, ever pushing for more. Frost put fear of idleness into his bones, fear of cold and not moving until one could not, so he strove against it to maintain himself. But Ash was none of these things, Ash was gentle lean, as on falling asleep comfortable before the hearth, belly full of food and head full of dreaming.
Rivin did not enjoy being still for too long, it was not in him to be so unless it was required, but his urge to run and climb faded into the longing for rambling walks with no destinations. The walled-in gardens of the current home were not large enough to really get lost in, but Rivin did his best to fool his mind. Taking time to examine the trees, grow to know them. Time to stare deep into the little ponds and observe the fishes preparing themselves for Frost's hardening. His training recalled the names of each species to him, the child mind that still lingered behind his eyes gave them other names which he thought was silly but did not fight. Bright-Tail and Flashing-Belly dashing between one place of shadow to the next, fearful of his eyes. Squirrels and field mice ran hither and yon, collecting bits of fluff to line their nests against the coming gloaming, collecting foodstuff that would not spoil to hide away with themselves.
A part of Rivin that rarely surfaced wanted to follow their example, tucking himself and provisions into some hideaway where none could find him and he could spend the season drowsing, finding rest from the things that pressed in at him always.
Yet, when he returned to the house and the labor that waited for him he was not discontent. Ilex was introducing him to alchemy, though he was not allowed to perform any acts of the discipline. The introduction was in which ways the products of alchemy could be used in their studies. Certain substances of magical creation could be used to inform them of the magical potency of other things, including blood. Rivin did not know if the blood he was not trusted to run the test on himself, though never without the doctor being present, were from sentient creatures like himself, or from lesser beings. He did know that the doctor tested the blood of the specimens of the experiment, himself included. For all he knew, he had tested his own blood among the many samples, marked down his own potency in the small notebooks filled with their cipher, and gave a report on it to the man who owned him. The actual work was deceptively simple, he took a vial of the alchemical substance and, with a dropper, placed in several drops of the blood. The color the combined liquid turned, and the brightness of it, told him what he needed to know. Usually, the results showed little to no active magic and only the passive sort that meant the being from which the blood came was alive. Now and then a greater response would be seen and he would mark it down more carefully. Rarely the response would be bright enough to light the area around him. When this happened Ilex would always rise from his desk and come over to look at the label on the sample, murmuring to himself, sounding displeased. This confused and intrigued his young protege, who had thought the purpose of the work was to find those who had the potential for strong magic.
That was the purpose of the experiment. To combine Lysanrin blood with that of other races until the traits that were wanted were brought forth and the ones that were not wanted had faded into the background of the genetic expression. Rivin himself was such a product, though his lineage was not as well documented as many of the other specimens. His mother's blood had been tested and come out as Lysanrin, but she had revealed to him, in the quiet of their time spent in the dark together, that the father of her mother's mother had not been Lysanrin. She had not told him what the ancestor had actually been, and he suspected that she did not know. He had learned two things from her revelation, though one of the things he did not learn till much later.
The science that Dr. Ilex did was not perfectly accurate, not infallible. It had not known his mother's secret that became Rivin's secret, for he did not tell. He had never been asked directly, and did not know what he would do if he was. But while he was not asked he kept it wrapped in his heart, like snow in so many layers of cloth it does not melt, even though the summer months.
As he worked, carefully taking samples of blood, breaking their wax seals, dipping the tip of the dropped into them to extract a tiny amount of the vitae, and then pressing it out into the equally small vial of alchemical fluid. The filled vials were all placed on a rack made for the purpose, lined up, prelabeled, to sit as the chemical process worked away. By the time the last of the batch was finished the first would have began to glow and he could mark down what secrets he held only for those who knew its language.
He was careful with every motion, had never dropped a precious vial for it to spill or shatter, but his muscles were used to the work and his mind was only needed for the end when he must read the results. The rest of his processing power was free to wander, and, unsurprisingly it wandered to the day he had first been allowed to assist the doctor.
~~~~
Rivin's first major spurt of growth had come earlier than it did to the other boys. He was only turning twelve when his growth ceased to be so slow he did not notice it and pushed him up several inches over the course of one Searing into Ash. When he had been called in for his thrice-yearly examination the doctor had viewed him with surprise. Rivin knew he was taller but his idea of exactly how much hadn't been obvious until he had stood before the man he so rarely did. His head reached the doctor's collar bone now, and the doctor was not a short man. At least, not by the standard of the other men Rivin encountered. The doctor had proceeded with the normal examination but his questions as to Rivin's health now included new ones. It was asked if he was seeding, either awake or in his sleep. Rivin had not yet, though he knew that some males of his species began to when they were around his age. It did not feel any different to speak of these things and Ilex did not treat them with any particular interest. Examining the doctor in return as he was examined Rivin thought he looked tired, more so than the last time they had seen each other. The exam room had more in it than usual as well, there were vials and examination equipment that Rivin was familiar with from books alone over every available surface. The arrangement was neat but still looked cramped compared to the sparse equipment usually on display.
As the doctor turned to make some of his notes Rivin began quietly naming each piece of equipment he knew. It was sort of a game in his head, a test to see how well what he read could be applied to reality. The books his teachers let him read were seemingly endless, allowing him to step from one set of new understandings to the next, building on his knowledge like walking up a staircase. Each step needed the one before it to get to it. Yet he was never allowed to apply his knowledge outside of the theoretical. He proposed experiments with his science tutor and they discussed possible outcomes. He suggested mathematical ideas to his maths tutor too, though the man was more likely to explain to him how his idea had already been proven or disproven than work through the process with him.
The doctor had gone still and then turned around to look at the boy, then over the equipment. Pointing at one he had asked for its name. Rivin had given it. The pointing and asking went six rounds before the doctor had stopped, considering Rivin more carefully. He pointed back at the first one he'd asked the name of and asked what it did. Rivin gave this answer as well, with no hesitation or worry. He found the equipment fascinating and often spent the better part of a lesson asking question after question about what each piece drawn in his books was capable of.
This game went on longer until the doctor had asked about nearly every piece on display. The next question was one that would change the course of his life more than possibly any other.
"Do you know how to use them?"
The answer had been a bit more complicated. Rivin had taken a breath done his best to explain that he had learned as much as he could from books but had never been in the same room with most of them before. The doctor had motioned him down from the exam table and over to one of the counters where equipment stood. He told Rivin to align a scale to a certain measurement. The boy looked over the available weights and did so. The doctor called out other measurements and watched as Rivin complied until came one for which the available weights did not allow. He said so, and the doctor nodded as though it had been a test to see how he would react to being unable to follow instructions. Taking a piece of some substance wrapped in bags from a pile he put it on one side of the scale and told Rivin to balance it. This took him longer, since he had no good idea of estimation for the weight of the item but he managed to balance them after about a minute.
He had Rivin do several other basic things with the scale; weighing out the substance to match a specific weight, checking the alignment of the scale itself, adding weights from different systems of measurement and coming out with the correct weight in each. He asked Rivin if he knew any note-taking systems and was told the two that the boy had learned. Nodding he told Rivin to measure each of the little, burlap bags of whatever the chalky, oily substance was and mark them down by their number with their weights. For this purpose he gave Rivin a small black notebook, a pen and ink. The Lysanrin had frozen for a long moment as he looked at the book, eyeing its textured surface he allowed the fear of it to fill him for the space of a deep breath, in and out, then pushed it out as one pulls of plug to drain water.
Then he took up the book, opened it to its first, empty, clean, cream-colored page and began making his measurements. As he worked the doctor had other boys come in, taking his samples from them and asking his questions. It was the same way he did so with Rivin, although he did not ask them if they had any questions at the end. Over several hours Rivin began to wonder if he was still being tested or if Dr. Ilex simply had more work to do than he had time to do it. The second option soaked into him; the idea that he might be helpful to the man who controlled every aspect of his fate.
When he had finished the doctor had been in the middle of another examination so he waited, ran several calculations just to keep his mind busy. Found the average weight of all the bags, the range of weights, the median, the total, and marked them down in the little book, on a separate page in case it needed to be removed. When the doctor returned to him he took up the little book without asking about it, muttering under his breath as though running calculations before turning to the next page and seeing the calculations. Looking down at Rivin's placid little face he blinked one in surprise and then gave a short laugh. It was not loud or projected, nor long enough to really be a chuckle, but it sounded like a part of one. He had reached out and ruffled Rivin's hair, which confused the boy at first but combined with the expression he thought it must be affection.
Ilex still went back and checked the measurements of several of the bags, checking his own findings against the ones Rivin had written. If there were mistakes they were minute and not enough to call attention to. The doctor told him how well he had done in simple, honest words that made Rivin feel something he never truly had before; useful. Ilex brought out a small chest, about a foot on the long side and almost as wide. When opened it revealed to be full of small glass bottles with corks, each was about the size of the doctor's thumb. He asked Rivin if he could fill each one equally with powder from a large jar he pulled over from another table and watched as the boy first measured the weight of a bottle when it was empty before carefully measuring an amount into it with a tiny spoon. He kept adding powder until it matched the weight the doctor had specified. Then he corked it again and set it aside. The doctor had nodded and then shook his head as though at himself.
"Go on then, do them all." He said as he walked away to have a conversation with the woman mage who usually attended the exams now.
The task also took hours but Rivin was so excited that he was being allowed to use the equipment that his mind did not wander. He stayed aware of his surroundings, of the other boys and their exams, but most of his attention was for the work. When the chest had been emptied and then refilled with full bottles the doctor returned, measured several of the bottles to ensure the quality of Rivin's work had not slipped, and then closed the chest.
Ilex had nodded his praise, told Rivin he had done well and then sent him back to his mother, for it was past the evening meal. The meal that had been sent to him had been filled with meat and sweets, both of which his young, growing palate craved. His mother had been curious, and obviously worried that he had been gone so long. He told her about his afternoon between bites, which he was more than happy to share with her. Another idea came from the encounter, that his good behavior might earn better things for her.
He had fallen asleep not long after, curled into his bed; warm, belly full and tired. It was almost how he felt after a day of running and climbing all afternoon, except the pleasant exhaustion was of his mind rather than his body. His mother seemed pleased with him as much as the doctor, and the last thing he heard was her humming the old songs from when he'd been small enough to sleep always in her arms.
The days were flowing with purpose again as the season took hold of the world and wrapped it under its sway. Rivin spent the time he was not instructed to work walking in the gardens. His body wanted to move, run, work his muscles in the heat warming of Glade, the heat of Searing, and the cold of Frost, each for its own reason. Glade felt like renewal and his body wanted to leap and dance, to be a part of that. Searing was of maturing growth, of wrung sweat and pushing, ever pushing for more. Frost put fear of idleness into his bones, fear of cold and not moving until one could not, so he strove against it to maintain himself. But Ash was none of these things, Ash was gentle lean, as on falling asleep comfortable before the hearth, belly full of food and head full of dreaming.
Rivin did not enjoy being still for too long, it was not in him to be so unless it was required, but his urge to run and climb faded into the longing for rambling walks with no destinations. The walled-in gardens of the current home were not large enough to really get lost in, but Rivin did his best to fool his mind. Taking time to examine the trees, grow to know them. Time to stare deep into the little ponds and observe the fishes preparing themselves for Frost's hardening. His training recalled the names of each species to him, the child mind that still lingered behind his eyes gave them other names which he thought was silly but did not fight. Bright-Tail and Flashing-Belly dashing between one place of shadow to the next, fearful of his eyes. Squirrels and field mice ran hither and yon, collecting bits of fluff to line their nests against the coming gloaming, collecting foodstuff that would not spoil to hide away with themselves.
A part of Rivin that rarely surfaced wanted to follow their example, tucking himself and provisions into some hideaway where none could find him and he could spend the season drowsing, finding rest from the things that pressed in at him always.
Yet, when he returned to the house and the labor that waited for him he was not discontent. Ilex was introducing him to alchemy, though he was not allowed to perform any acts of the discipline. The introduction was in which ways the products of alchemy could be used in their studies. Certain substances of magical creation could be used to inform them of the magical potency of other things, including blood. Rivin did not know if the blood he was not trusted to run the test on himself, though never without the doctor being present, were from sentient creatures like himself, or from lesser beings. He did know that the doctor tested the blood of the specimens of the experiment, himself included. For all he knew, he had tested his own blood among the many samples, marked down his own potency in the small notebooks filled with their cipher, and gave a report on it to the man who owned him. The actual work was deceptively simple, he took a vial of the alchemical substance and, with a dropper, placed in several drops of the blood. The color the combined liquid turned, and the brightness of it, told him what he needed to know. Usually, the results showed little to no active magic and only the passive sort that meant the being from which the blood came was alive. Now and then a greater response would be seen and he would mark it down more carefully. Rarely the response would be bright enough to light the area around him. When this happened Ilex would always rise from his desk and come over to look at the label on the sample, murmuring to himself, sounding displeased. This confused and intrigued his young protege, who had thought the purpose of the work was to find those who had the potential for strong magic.
That was the purpose of the experiment. To combine Lysanrin blood with that of other races until the traits that were wanted were brought forth and the ones that were not wanted had faded into the background of the genetic expression. Rivin himself was such a product, though his lineage was not as well documented as many of the other specimens. His mother's blood had been tested and come out as Lysanrin, but she had revealed to him, in the quiet of their time spent in the dark together, that the father of her mother's mother had not been Lysanrin. She had not told him what the ancestor had actually been, and he suspected that she did not know. He had learned two things from her revelation, though one of the things he did not learn till much later.
The science that Dr. Ilex did was not perfectly accurate, not infallible. It had not known his mother's secret that became Rivin's secret, for he did not tell. He had never been asked directly, and did not know what he would do if he was. But while he was not asked he kept it wrapped in his heart, like snow in so many layers of cloth it does not melt, even though the summer months.
As he worked, carefully taking samples of blood, breaking their wax seals, dipping the tip of the dropped into them to extract a tiny amount of the vitae, and then pressing it out into the equally small vial of alchemical fluid. The filled vials were all placed on a rack made for the purpose, lined up, prelabeled, to sit as the chemical process worked away. By the time the last of the batch was finished the first would have began to glow and he could mark down what secrets he held only for those who knew its language.
He was careful with every motion, had never dropped a precious vial for it to spill or shatter, but his muscles were used to the work and his mind was only needed for the end when he must read the results. The rest of his processing power was free to wander, and, unsurprisingly it wandered to the day he had first been allowed to assist the doctor.
~~~~
Rivin's first major spurt of growth had come earlier than it did to the other boys. He was only turning twelve when his growth ceased to be so slow he did not notice it and pushed him up several inches over the course of one Searing into Ash. When he had been called in for his thrice-yearly examination the doctor had viewed him with surprise. Rivin knew he was taller but his idea of exactly how much hadn't been obvious until he had stood before the man he so rarely did. His head reached the doctor's collar bone now, and the doctor was not a short man. At least, not by the standard of the other men Rivin encountered. The doctor had proceeded with the normal examination but his questions as to Rivin's health now included new ones. It was asked if he was seeding, either awake or in his sleep. Rivin had not yet, though he knew that some males of his species began to when they were around his age. It did not feel any different to speak of these things and Ilex did not treat them with any particular interest. Examining the doctor in return as he was examined Rivin thought he looked tired, more so than the last time they had seen each other. The exam room had more in it than usual as well, there were vials and examination equipment that Rivin was familiar with from books alone over every available surface. The arrangement was neat but still looked cramped compared to the sparse equipment usually on display.
As the doctor turned to make some of his notes Rivin began quietly naming each piece of equipment he knew. It was sort of a game in his head, a test to see how well what he read could be applied to reality. The books his teachers let him read were seemingly endless, allowing him to step from one set of new understandings to the next, building on his knowledge like walking up a staircase. Each step needed the one before it to get to it. Yet he was never allowed to apply his knowledge outside of the theoretical. He proposed experiments with his science tutor and they discussed possible outcomes. He suggested mathematical ideas to his maths tutor too, though the man was more likely to explain to him how his idea had already been proven or disproven than work through the process with him.
The doctor had gone still and then turned around to look at the boy, then over the equipment. Pointing at one he had asked for its name. Rivin had given it. The pointing and asking went six rounds before the doctor had stopped, considering Rivin more carefully. He pointed back at the first one he'd asked the name of and asked what it did. Rivin gave this answer as well, with no hesitation or worry. He found the equipment fascinating and often spent the better part of a lesson asking question after question about what each piece drawn in his books was capable of.
This game went on longer until the doctor had asked about nearly every piece on display. The next question was one that would change the course of his life more than possibly any other.
"Do you know how to use them?"
The answer had been a bit more complicated. Rivin had taken a breath done his best to explain that he had learned as much as he could from books but had never been in the same room with most of them before. The doctor had motioned him down from the exam table and over to one of the counters where equipment stood. He told Rivin to align a scale to a certain measurement. The boy looked over the available weights and did so. The doctor called out other measurements and watched as Rivin complied until came one for which the available weights did not allow. He said so, and the doctor nodded as though it had been a test to see how he would react to being unable to follow instructions. Taking a piece of some substance wrapped in bags from a pile he put it on one side of the scale and told Rivin to balance it. This took him longer, since he had no good idea of estimation for the weight of the item but he managed to balance them after about a minute.
He had Rivin do several other basic things with the scale; weighing out the substance to match a specific weight, checking the alignment of the scale itself, adding weights from different systems of measurement and coming out with the correct weight in each. He asked Rivin if he knew any note-taking systems and was told the two that the boy had learned. Nodding he told Rivin to measure each of the little, burlap bags of whatever the chalky, oily substance was and mark them down by their number with their weights. For this purpose he gave Rivin a small black notebook, a pen and ink. The Lysanrin had frozen for a long moment as he looked at the book, eyeing its textured surface he allowed the fear of it to fill him for the space of a deep breath, in and out, then pushed it out as one pulls of plug to drain water.
Then he took up the book, opened it to its first, empty, clean, cream-colored page and began making his measurements. As he worked the doctor had other boys come in, taking his samples from them and asking his questions. It was the same way he did so with Rivin, although he did not ask them if they had any questions at the end. Over several hours Rivin began to wonder if he was still being tested or if Dr. Ilex simply had more work to do than he had time to do it. The second option soaked into him; the idea that he might be helpful to the man who controlled every aspect of his fate.
When he had finished the doctor had been in the middle of another examination so he waited, ran several calculations just to keep his mind busy. Found the average weight of all the bags, the range of weights, the median, the total, and marked them down in the little book, on a separate page in case it needed to be removed. When the doctor returned to him he took up the little book without asking about it, muttering under his breath as though running calculations before turning to the next page and seeing the calculations. Looking down at Rivin's placid little face he blinked one in surprise and then gave a short laugh. It was not loud or projected, nor long enough to really be a chuckle, but it sounded like a part of one. He had reached out and ruffled Rivin's hair, which confused the boy at first but combined with the expression he thought it must be affection.
Ilex still went back and checked the measurements of several of the bags, checking his own findings against the ones Rivin had written. If there were mistakes they were minute and not enough to call attention to. The doctor told him how well he had done in simple, honest words that made Rivin feel something he never truly had before; useful. Ilex brought out a small chest, about a foot on the long side and almost as wide. When opened it revealed to be full of small glass bottles with corks, each was about the size of the doctor's thumb. He asked Rivin if he could fill each one equally with powder from a large jar he pulled over from another table and watched as the boy first measured the weight of a bottle when it was empty before carefully measuring an amount into it with a tiny spoon. He kept adding powder until it matched the weight the doctor had specified. Then he corked it again and set it aside. The doctor had nodded and then shook his head as though at himself.
"Go on then, do them all." He said as he walked away to have a conversation with the woman mage who usually attended the exams now.
The task also took hours but Rivin was so excited that he was being allowed to use the equipment that his mind did not wander. He stayed aware of his surroundings, of the other boys and their exams, but most of his attention was for the work. When the chest had been emptied and then refilled with full bottles the doctor returned, measured several of the bottles to ensure the quality of Rivin's work had not slipped, and then closed the chest.
Ilex had nodded his praise, told Rivin he had done well and then sent him back to his mother, for it was past the evening meal. The meal that had been sent to him had been filled with meat and sweets, both of which his young, growing palate craved. His mother had been curious, and obviously worried that he had been gone so long. He told her about his afternoon between bites, which he was more than happy to share with her. Another idea came from the encounter, that his good behavior might earn better things for her.
He had fallen asleep not long after, curled into his bed; warm, belly full and tired. It was almost how he felt after a day of running and climbing all afternoon, except the pleasant exhaustion was of his mind rather than his body. His mother seemed pleased with him as much as the doctor, and the last thing he heard was her humming the old songs from when he'd been small enough to sleep always in her arms.