《Splintered Worlds》Chapter 11: Considerations
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Aelia thought her body was ready for the grave, by the time Henry dropped her off at Whit Street. Aches crept up her bones like dye drawn up into a woody decomposing flower.
"I'll pick you up at midnight!" he'd shouted after her, as she stumbled down the cobbled street.
Midnight. Maybe if she slept all day, midnight would be possible. Maybe.
A groan crept out of her mouth as she saw the horse tied up outside her house. She'd been hoping everyone would be out -- not extra people in. Someone was probably buying a timepiece from Samuel.
But maybe it would work out. Maybe the buyer would be a distraction and she could just creep up the stairs unnoticed. Fall into bed and be dead to the world.
And if she was seen... she'd just say that there were no classes today. That a teacher was taken by the damned plague.
Luck was not with her. Someone in a long black cloak, back to Aelia, was talking to Samuel in the hallway besides the stairwell. No way past without being seen.
"Ah, there's the wonderful young lady herself," said Samuel, as she stepped inside.
"Good morning," she said.
The cloaked man turned. It took her a second to recognize the raven hair and strong handsome features.
"Coric?"
"Hello again, Aelia," he said.
Oh shit. Why was he here? Had he let slip to Samuel that she hadn't been accepted?
"Your friend has been looking over my motionechular, while he's been waiting for you," said Samuel.
"Quite the device," Coric said.
Aelia couldn't find any irony in his voice.
He continued, "Wonderful, really. If we can prove the model, I really think we could get it scaled up and commissioned for trial."
"We?" said Aelia.
"Coric thinks he might be able to enchant my model so that it unwinds at a quarter of the current rate. Without it losing speed, mind you." Samuel turned to Coric. "I must confess, it sounds too good to be true."
"Magic can often be too good to be true," Coric said. "But this particular spell will work. We would simply be burning moss that we'd tuck into a carved out hollow on the main body. It would aid the mechanism, fueling it, in essence," he explained. "It would only take a few ounces of moss too, per day and at full scale. It's how a lot of the army's steam power works. Wood as the primary source, moss making it a little more efficient to burn." He paused then added, "Never seen it used with a wind up before, though. And that's the thing -- I believe it'll be far more efficient than wood."
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Aelia smiled and said, "Coric, as nice as it is to see you, and as kind as it is of you to offer to help Samuel, might I ask what you're doing here in the first place?"
"Why Aelia, I've come to see you, of course."
"I'll leave you two students to it," said Samuel. "I have clocks to get ticking, and as they say: time waits for no man."
Students. Samuel had used the plural. A breath whistled out of Aelia's pursed lips.
Coric laughed politely. "It was nice to meet you, Samuel. We'll speak soon about your motionechular."
"Lovely!" Samuel gave a slight bow, turned, then returned to his study.
"You didn't tell him," Aelia said, relieved.
Coric grinned broadly. "Someone's been telling a few white lies, I do think."
"Don't judge me." She lowered her voice. "I didn't want to worry them. You know, if they thought I couldn't pay the rent."
His eyes fell searchingly over her face. "But you... can. You can pay the rent, can't you? You look tired. Like you've barely slept. Wait... Aelia, have you--"
"I've not been selling my body or anything, if that's where you're going!" Her cheeks were red, a mix of warm embarrassment and anger.
He raised a hand and shook his head. "I was just going to ask if you've slept at all."
"Oh." She ran a hand over her face and cursed her tongue. Why had her mind gone to that place? Probably wouldn't get much money selling her body anyway. "What are you doing here? And for that matter, how did you even find me? I didn't tell you anything beyond I was staying in Old Hill."
"Well this part you might be a little mad about," he said.
"Tell me."
"I tracked you using a little of the burned moss that fell from your hands."
Tracked her? Like she was some kind of animal that he was hunting? "How dare you?" she said. But she wasn't as mad as she wanted to be. A little flattered, even.
"I'm sorry."
She waited a moment, wondering if her rage would burn hotter, but instead if fizzled away completely. "How did you track me with moss?"
"There's a device in the Academy where we can analyze it. Trace its last few hours. Find where it was originally picked, too."
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Now she was doubly flattered. He went to all that effort to find her? "Why?"
"You said you wanted to learn basic healing for moss-burn." He imitated her voice poorly, cocking his head slightly. "Oh Coric, you simply must teach me that healing spell."
Those hadn't been her words, had they? She glanced at her right palm. Then at her other, trying to remember which one had the moss had singed. But they looked near identical. "That's nice of you," she said. "Thanks."
He smiled. "You're welcome, Aelia. Like I said, I think you have potential. But you can't keep practicing without guidance. You'll get nowhere fast. Not to mention that you'll end up hurting yourself again."
"So, what? You're going to guide me?"
"Just for a little while," he said. "Help get your basics smoothed out."
"Oh." She shouldn't really be disappointed, but her stomach had sunk. The thought of Coric teaching her seemed like a future full of possibilities.
"Then, I'm going to introduce you to my tutor. If she likes you as much as I do, and if she sees the potential in you that I do..."
"Yes?" she asked excitedly.
He shrugged. "Then she might sponsor you. Might be your referral."
She opened her mouth but said nothing. Couldn't think of what to say. Eventually, she managed a single word, "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. She might not agree to it. She's rather particular with who she recommends, as how those people do throughout their time at the Academy reflects on her."
"Then I'll make her proud."
"We'll see." His eyes scanned her face again. "Perhaps we should start tomorrow."
"I'm not half as tired as I look," she lied. "Today is fine. Better than fine."
He considered, then nodded. "Perhaps a few hours, then. I think we'll go outside the city walls and find somewhere remote. Go get your moss and we'll be on our way."
"I've got it with me," she said, padding her left jacket pocket. She always had it with her. But there was barely a bulge in her pocket and Coric winced.
"That's all the moss you have?"
She nodded and felt strangely guilty. Not that it was her fault -- it had been hard enough to find that much moss in the first place. Perhaps it was guilt about how much of it she'd wasted at the Academy.
"You'll need more than that. You'll burn through it in an hour of practice." He ran a hand through his long black hair as he thought. "You were working tonight, weren't you?"
She nodded.
Coric didn't pry further, although Aelia wouldn't have lied to him if he'd asked about it.
"I can get you a decent rate on moss," he said. "I mean, I really shouldn't -- it's Academy rates and not to be resold. But..."
"That would be amazing!" she said.
"Four silver for an ounce."
She reeled at that. Admittedly, it was half the rate that she could get it for, maybe even better than that -- but it still stung. The graveyard job covered the rent and a little more, but not that much more.
"Aelia. Can you afford that? I'd say you'd need six ounces. After that, if things are going well, I'll take you to meet my tutor."
She couldn't afford it. Heck, you'd have to be a graverobber to afford that much moss.
Oh.
"I might be able to," she said, picturing her hand stealing into the pockets of the recently deceased. Henry said the job paid well, but what he'd meant was it paid well if you supplemented it in the way he did.
"Great," said Coric, clearly pleased. "We'll still do today's lesson. We'll use what moss you've got, plus I'll give you a little of mine."
The thought of taking from the dead felt muddy and murky. But what choice did she have? She'd come to Rhodes to study, and Gods, that's what she was going to do. Morals be damned.
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