28 Fyrva, 350BFD, 15 Ur
"Bizklo" Library
Despite his earlier astonishment at the seeming lack of books, Kanda-Nor had reverted to his researcher-tutor mentality with such ease he barely noticed. He had quickly narrowed his search to one tome and a map from one bookcase, and an exceedingly slim booklet from the other set of shelves that Findat, the overseer-come-clerk, had warned him about.
I actually only need the "debatable resource" to identify high elemental concentration. Elemental, with a small 'e', he thought.
The "EC Rating" was not a scientific or objectively-measurable level back home, which was probably why the booklet here in Shevezz had not met with full approval. It was marked as for "public perusal and and cross-cultural inclusion", allowing it to be placed in this meagre library, permitting a tree-living, single-outfit visitor to read it. Estimated by mages with identified Elemental Alignment, the
concentration level had a considerable effect on mages, especially in regenerating elemental essence - their capacity to cast spells or create items based on that particular element. The closer a mage was in their alignment, and to an epicentre of concentration, the quicker the mage could regenerate power and the stronger their incantations were.
And that was why those ice mages rarely needed to pause in their training or duties when they were in the Frozen North, for pity's sake. Not that they appreciated it, he inwardly grumbled,
right, focus on heat sources, then, fire mage.
To a casual observer, Kanda hoped he would just appear as someone studying mountains and volcanoes, active and dormant.
"Which, of course I am," he muttered, "kind of."
In the air above the map, he traced a described route from the Gate of the Queen in the East of Shevezz, out to the
Lake of Fire, then even further eastwards. From there, the author of the scientific tome described a location in the Great Canyon that seemed unmarked. Kanda noted that the mountainous terrain led naturally back to the Wilderness of Tarran.
"If the winds blow that way at this time of year, and I cross-reference that with what I shall call...uhm, 'heat veins'", he continued to muse, "they lead back to...hmm."
Without income for sustenance, he really hoped the calculations did not lead back to the Skarrka Bykla, as he would be unable to scale it while being elementally depleted
and physically exhausted.
"Heat Veins can work like rivers and like hot winds," he muttered as he paced around,
the elemental type as much as the other kind.
"...and are one of the primary reasons that the Wilderness of Tarran remains a rock-desert," a now-familiar voice instructed.
Caught off-guard, Kanda turned around to see Findat entering with a stack of books and some
Marine Papyrus.
"But I just called them that to help my thinking, I don't even know if they physically exist yet."
Findat carefully placed the books on the floor next to the two sets of shelves and shrugged.
"They're rivulets of underground heated air - occasionally water - that we think consistently flow in a form of cycle."
"Like blood in veins," Kanda realised, "and, it means they physically exist. Good."
"Are you searching for an epicentre? Or maybe the centre point of that cycle?" Findat asked, "I am not prying, so you may choose to continue your research without my intervention if you wish. It is your business, after all. But I am intrigued."
"There's little point being private in a small, public library, so I don't mind," Kanda explained, "as for an epicentre or centre-point, yes, well, something like that anyway. But I arrived at Shevezz with...well, nothing, really, so I cannot calculate it. And I do not have the time for a vague estimate - slight miscalculations on tiny maps can result in enormous variations in the wild."
"Geology is unforgiving in that sense," Findat agreed, "though not in its study, you understand. In nature, it is what it is and we try to navigate it."
"Indeed. Oh," Kanda recalled, "the entrance clerk said
Marine Papyrus was freely available. Well, temporarily free. Whatever that means."
"It is," Findat confirmed, sliding a few sheets to him across the nearby table, "you can keep these sheets for three days. Once you have transferred your notes, we ask for it back to re-shred, re-mulch and re-press.
Marine Papyrus does not endure like true paper, even the more durable kinds. Theft of pages of Marine is exceedingly rare in a city where the record of knowledge is far more valuable than a material that only roughly passes as paper," he chuckled, "but don't tell the decorative papyrus merchants I said that."
There was a pause. Kanda finally had something to write on, but now felt ridiculous.
I have nothing to actually write with...well, there goes my pretence of being logical, he despaired.
"Could I, perchance…?" he began, fumbling around for the right words.
"What is it, Sair-Kor?" Findat asked, revelling a little too much in Kanda’s awkwardness for the mage’s liking.
"Can I trade…an hour’s work for something to write with?" he asked, failing to mask the creeping embarrassment, "you see, when I said I arrived with nothing…I, uhm, wasn’t misstating my situation."
Findat was about to respond, when a familiar tone resonated through the library, startling Kanda who immediately recognised it.
"Apples," he whispered, "actual food."
"Two left, any takers?" the voice called, "and, sorry for shouting, if there’s someone in there today."
Kanda put his hands in his pockets, as though searching for his blatantly non-existent coin, but felt his fingers reach the seeds he had saved from the free gifted apple from his arrival that morning.
"Hold up, my friend!"
He ran to the entrance, where he was greeted by the jovial smile of the trader who had effectively fuelled his first day in Shevezz.
"How quickly do your apples grow?" he asked, much to the trader’s confusion.
"Hello again, stranger! To answer your question, not fast enough. I have to keep moving, following warm, but damp conditions."
"In a cycle that starts over every few years?" Kanda asked, holding the seeds out on the palm of his hand.
The trader, in amazement, took the seeds and carefully wrapped them in a cloth in his near-empty cart.
"Yes, but how did you know, stranger?" he asked, "you just gave me twenty apples, possibly for this season or definitely for the next. Why would you do that?"
"Strictly-speaking, they’re yours, as the apple that contained them was a gift. But the gift was freely given, making the seeds mine, I hope. So, I’d like to trade your remaining miraculous apples for these twenty seeds. I cannot plant them, or benefit from them, but you can. I don’t know if that trade is fair in these lands, so I’ll understand if you refuse."
Kanda wiped his sleeve across his face, his eyes beginning to feel dry in the 'delayed midday effect' he had been told about earlier that day.
"That’s not a fair arrangement," the trader replied, shaking his head, much to Kanda’s disappointment.
"Well, I have this ragged cloak. You could wrap some stock in it, I suppose. It is much too thick for this climate, anyway."
Puzzled, the trader looked up at him and realised the stranger’s reasoning.
"No, you daft clod," he chuckled, handing him both apples, "who trades two of something for twenty of the same?"
"They’re not the same," Kanda reasoned, "I have two definite apples in my hands. You gain twenty possible apples."
"Nah, you're still wrong. This fruit," the trader began to explain, "should be called, as you say, a miracle apple. Each contains fifteen to twenty seeds - which everyone else just blindly eats. I get it, they’re annoyin' as desert-dust in your under-whatsits to remove. But every seed replanted turns into a fruit-bearing plant, and you saved the seeds. You
actually saved the seeds," he repeated in awe, "but the root tree dies each year. I barely make a livin’, truth be told, but people need ‘em, you know?"
"Because the ideal conditions move, you can’t stabilise the supply?" Kanda asked, rubbing his eyes, and squinting.
"Yessir, I restart my cycle every four years or so - like you said. It’s gettin’ more difficult each year too. I’m ‘alf way through this season, but these seeds should make a few more apples, before I have to move to…"
"The South of those green fields just North of Shevezz?" Kanda asked, seeing the link from his earlier reading.
The trader nodded in bewilderment.
"Yes…but…how could you know?"
"Mathematics, geology, experience and…a lack of a writing implement that meant I had to guess a bit," Kanda admitted, "do you know anywhere within your cycle - or circle - which is almost ideal, with maybe just good enough conditions, most of the time?"
The trader shook his head. Kanda sighed, running out of easy routes for his own elemental problem.
"Then plant those seeds now where you know you’ll yield a crop. You’re the expert, after all," he added, trying not to sound like he was teaching the alphabet to lecturers, "I plan to go on a journey myself, which I hope will help you - and others."
"Thank you, stranger," the trader nodded.
"Just call me Kanda," he interjected, smiling.
"Deryt Pomont," the trader replied, sticking out a dirty hand, which the mage gladly, and firmly, shook, "see you ‘round, stranger, erm, I mean, Kanda!"
"Stay cool and hydrated," Kanda grinned, "look after your corner of nature and, for now, keep following that cycle."
The trader mock saluted him, left the library doorway and disappeared into the city’s scorching heat.
Coming Soon: Plumes of Distress
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