Orphan At The Edge Of The World 69 Crystal Cage 7

It was with a bit of reluctance that he parted ways with the artificer instructor for his alchemy training in Sek. The feeling appeared to be mutual but Orison wondered how much of that was him specifically and how much was the lack of kindred spirit she was more likely to find in everyone else that came under her tutelage. Either way, the desert capital Sek wasn't a place he looked forward on returning to.

Stepping out of the transporter, Orison wasted no time getting to the inn to get a room even though it was still early and bright outside. For whatever reason, the closer it got to evening, the more expensive the rooms became and the more empty the streets got. The trainer devices here might give the name adventurer and striker t.i.tles to what they taught but the locals and a good portion of the world had different names for those who specialized in their skills, thieves and a.s.sa.s.sins.

If he wasn't scheduled to be here these two weeks as contact and backup for Duran, after all he'd been through in the past near month, Orison would have ditched the alchemist certification. After all, he had no intentions on selling anything he made but didn't see the harm in having the ability to. And when it came to alchemy that was much an art as it was a skill, getting some pointers from a seasoned professional was never a waste of time unless that professional was a jacka**.

Sadly, the current instructor's reputation was so sour that even Alta talked about it with a frown. Combat instructors and trade instructors rarely mingled but artificers ran in both circles. And though they weren't particularly respected by either, her one run in with the alchemy instructor had been unpleasant enough to stand in his own league of dislike.

After signing up with the instructor's a.s.sistant, the first he had heard of an instructor having one, Orison went to the government building. In all but Thoth, instructor complaints were a part of public records and Orison wanted to see what he should expect. After his fey blood awakening, the young mage ran a little extra hot under the collar when something struck him wrong and hadn't quite gotten a handle on it. He wanted to make sure that his mouth wouldn't 'write a check his a** couldn't cash' and arrogant sn.o.bs were a sore spot for both sides of his inherited personalities.

Enlisting the help of a sweet but shifty eyed beast-kin archivist for a couple of gold, Orison sifted through the instructor records over the last couple of years that Emir Ghanem had been teaching. There were nothing but glowing reviews. For a second, the young mage wondered if the poor guy was just stuffy and anti-social but then it occurred to him, there should be something. These records were too clean. Too clean meant lies and cover-ups. Lies and cover-ups meant power. In this world there were only three kinds of sustainable power due to Chosen being rather fairly distributed and being rather short lasting at their peak; large mercenary guilds, Royal families and key merchant organizations.

Large mercenary guilds didn't cater much to an individual's vices. Reputation was too important. They might cover up one or two things for a valued member but would wipe someone's b.u.t.t for too long before finding someone more suitable. That applied to merchant organizations too but money could buy a lot of silence. Due to the instructor's last name and Sek being a place where the royal family's hold on the populace was more of an indulgence rather than a fact, they could be ruled out as well.

Upon seeing the file Orison was bent over intently, the mousy archivist said timidly, "Oh no! Don't do anything rash Mr. Cantrip. The Ghanem family are rich and powerful. You couldn't even buy a healing potion much less make one without their approval. You seem like a nice kid. Just sign the registry to sell through his family and get your certificate."

Orison's eyebrows shot up. "You can't even get through the instructor period without contracting through his family?"

In hushed tones, the archivist replied, "Of course I'm not saying that. It's ju-"

Her ears perked up and she darted off without saying another word.

Footsteps came around the corner revealing a late thirties man with a permanent smirk smeared on his face. "Orison Cantrip, completed summoner's training with an oddly seconded seal of approval from Moskvander the druid instructor. You were accommodated for bringing to light an environmental issue with summoner training. Did you know? Such things tend to take time to reach active Chosen."

Putting on his most benevolent smile, Orison said, "And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

The well dressed man in decked in latest Sek desert fashion sat down across from Orison and said, "Why, the man whose history you are snooping on."

The young mage maintained his saintly expression. "Snooping is such an ugly word for what any conscientious Chosen just beginning their journey SHOULD do."

"Quite right. And how have my qualifications stacked against you expectations of an alchemist instructor?" Emir asked.

Orison nodded thoughtfully. "Too clean. A good fabricated record should show a few minor dings to it. It comes off as either belonging to a ruthless but powerful criminal or a boring and lifeless individual. You don't seem boring and lifeless."

The Sek aristocrat raised an eyebrow. "If you think that I'm a ruthless but powerful criminal, why would you intentionally antagonize me? That seems fatally lacking in wisdom."

Orison replied, "You have a reputation as a blunt sn.o.b. If anyone could appreciate candidness, surely it would be one who exercises it. If you prefer I join your army of a** kissers that you despise then so be it."

"Being lost in a sea of irritating sand is better than being a pebble in my slipper. Both are under my feet but only one gets my attention. Is that what you want, little boy, to be a pebble in my slipper?" Emir's smirking poker face never wavered.

"I'm not nearly that bored. What I do want is something you may be able to supply, however. For you to be here less than two hours after I signed up for cla.s.ses and researched you... An impressive intelligence network. Does it run that well outside of Sek?" the young mage asked.

Emir sighed, "Answers are not something you can afford from me."

Orison stood up with a regretful look on his face, ignoring the three other life signatures hiding around him, "A pity that. Still, I should show some appreciation for you coming all the way here to let me know not to waste two weeks spent on more lucrative endeavors."

Orison released a modified teleportation circle his sub mind built in his s.p.a.ce using Sek's plaza transporter as the beacon. In front of Emir's surprised face, Orison disappeared in a flash of cylindrical light beams. Of all the things that the young mage had picked up from the great construct, the adaptation for beacon a.s.sisted teleport was his personal favorite. And with the untainted crystal as reference, Orison was starting to unravel the security on the devices themselves. For the time being it was only not having to pay as long as he used his own energy to cast but many opportunities awaited once the process was done.

The young mage took a moment to pop the inflation of his own ego. If not for the sub-mind, his own personal ability wouldn't just be halved. It's existence didn't make him smarter directly in any meaningful way but it made a.n.a.lysis and other purely logic driven functions exponentially faster. In a way that he couldn't even follow, the spiritual sub mind was stimulating his own mind to be more efficient and possess greater recall as well, though it was only as guide. A heavy amount of miasma was still sloshing in the back of his s.p.a.ce somewhere, waiting to fill the gaps his body was producing in minute ways every day.

As soon as the light faded to reveal plaza, Orison slapped feet on road to get back to the inn. After looking around and not seeing Duran back yet, Orison ordered an early supper and waited for his companion to return. When his plate was empty, building anxiety got the best of him and after asking around the inn, the young mage took off to go fetch the boy.

Close to the outskirts of the city, Orison ran into Duran. On most days, the young mage and the boy looked around the same age but on that day, Duran could have pa.s.sed for mid twenties and Orison highly doubted one day at the mine could do that. With the resolve to have a talk afterwards, Orison got the boy something to eat and then let him clean up before striking up a conversation.

Orison said, "You couldn't look more worn out if you wanted to. Is something wrong?"

Duran was about to shake his head when Orison narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Yes?"

The young mage sighed. "Have you been sleeping well?"

Duran shook his head so Orison asked, "Do you know what's keeping you from sleeping well? Please don't just give me a one word response. I get that you don't really like talking much but I'm trying to understand what the problem is. Imagine how hard it would be for a healer to figure out how to treat someone if they had to go through a long list of yes and no answers."

Duran was silent for awhile but Orison didn't push. Getting Duran to talk was like pulling teeth but it became three times harder if the boy started getting anxious. It wasn't the best plan but seeing Duran's state, if it would help the boy open up some, Orison resolved to get a little watered wine into him. Worse case, Duran might not talk but he might be able to sleep long enough to recover some.

Orison almost laughed when Duran saw him pouring a bit of water into a wine gla.s.s and said, "Gan tried that. It tastes bad."

Dubiously Orison asked, "I don't want you thinking this is a good way to do things but you need something to help loosen up or barring that, sleep uninterrupted. If I let you drink it without water, is that alright?"

Duran slowly nodded once which was his private language for 'not really but I'll do it anyway'. Sc.r.a.pping that, Orison let him try beer and a couple of other softer alcohols. In some ways, the young mage was glad Duran didn't have a taste for alcohol and didn't seem likely to acquire one. In this instance it was just annoying and if the boy just talked a little more he could have saved a lot of effort. A few tries later and Orison bought two shots of anise liquor which Duran took like cough syrup, a little trick that Medea had figured out ages ago but no one knew until Duran finally told him that night.

After the tenseness drained a little from Duran, Orison prompted him again. "We only slept alone when we were punished... I wake up a little and when I reach for someone... I remember the pain or other things. After that, I can't sleep anymore."

It took a lot of coaxing and a couple of times Orison had to backtrack to get the truth when he encouraged a little too much, accidentally leading Duran into agreeing to things that weren't exactly right. What had prompted the relapse of panic attacks that Medea had managed to lay to rest was Gan's fault but not in any way that could actually be blamed on the poor scout. Their Northland companion simply wasn't equipped with the understanding of abuse and its aftereffects like Rithus or the long years of acquired wisdom that Medea possessed. Orison wished he could pull Avenar back from oblivion to burn his soul out all over again.

Jiraya, having come from a somewhat saner master, taught the children to comfort each other with platonic affection and what the difference was between what Avanar and the sick elf's friends did to them and what the Bastet showed them. There was no real way to escape their situation but they could at least silently cry while holding each other and not fear that one of the other children would do to them what the adults did. It was their only lifeline to sanity and the only comfort they were afforded at the time.

Once Avenar found out about it, he turned it into yet another way to hurt, reward and mold the children. If they displeased him, he'd lock them away in a shed by themselves. If they were obedient, the elf would allow them to sleep together in a small room, occasionally having them blur the lines between what Jiraya taught them and what he wanted them to do. To earn further compliance and malleability from his guards and children alike, he'd even blur the line between punishment and reward by giving a child to a guard for a night but afterwards the rewarded guard was instructed to pamper and earn the affection of the child they were given to predate on.

Duran may have resisted the dark impulses and came out the other side relatively whole but all of the confusion, fear and pain were still in there. The boy was so twisted up inside that he didn't know what he even needed much less wanted. Medea gave him a focus and goal to his life, helped him define his own moral compa.s.s. For the short time he was with Rithus, the ex-Marshlander reinforced what platonic affection between men was generally acceptable and gave the boy privacy to work out the 'dark itch' Duran considered his growing libido without shame or comment of any kind.

Gan was a different story. On the first night that they had shared a room, Duran had woken in the middle of the night groping around for a warm body to a.s.sure his half asleep self that he wasn't in the 'punishment room'. Gan was a light sleeper himself and asked Duran what was wrong. Not a good communicator, Duran just responded with the simple truth that he didn't sleep well alone. In Gan's mind, that wasn't a statement but a request and said it was alright for Duran to crawl in bed with him.

Although it was strange for a fourteen year old, much less one in a young adult body to sleep with another adult, Gan was just trying to accommodate the boy's 'request' without overthinking it. Duran didn't want to upset Gan by rejecting the scout's kindly made offer. It did help Duran get back to sleep but also cracked open doors to bad memories.

The next morning, Gan woke up to Duran curled up into a ball, crying silently.

Unaware that the reason was related to himself due to accidental contact with 'morning Gan', the bewildered scout rubbed the boy's back until Duran stopped crying. The next evening, close to bedtime, Duran informed Gan that he needed to take care of his itch.

Confused, Gan said to help himself without leaving the room. Duran attempted to poorly clarify by saying that Rithus asked Duran to let him know first. Gan humorously asked Duran if the boy scratched loud or something and Duran shook his head. Gan shrugged and told Duran to scratch an itch whenever he wanted. Needless to say, things got awkward and even more confusing to both of them but Gan tried to make light of the confusion and went to bed after giving Duran some privacy. Waking up in the middle of the night to Duran crawling in bed with him was a little too much for Gan after the incident, however, and things devolved from there.

To end the issue, Gan let Duran keep the room and spent the rest of his nights at his instruction site. After checking in on Duran a couple of times and seeing that the boy had become an insomniac, Gan had tried the watered wine trick to help the boy sleep. After that, Duran was deep into his healer instructions and the mage who ran it cast sleep on him a couple of times to get the boy through the training but told Duran to follow up with a professional. Without any idea of what that meant and not wanting to open up a conversation with a stranger, Duran had simply tolerated until meeting up with Orison.

The young mage sighed and said, "Well, it's too late at night to do anything about it now. We'll go back to Auma and see a healer tomorrow. You can sleep with me tonight but it's only for tonight... What happened to you wasn't your fault. That makes your troubles because of it not your fault. That's what I believe and I hope you do too."

Duran's slow, jerky nod did nothing to alleviate Orison's worries. Worse, behind the worry was guilt. Guilt for forcing maturity on a boy who could have used that buffer to adulthood. Guilt for starting to resent all that he had invested into and sacrificed for the boy.

Dreading the answer but needing to know, Orison asked, "I have two more questions for you and then we sleep. Did you understand the explanation for everything in the note? Do you regret taking me up on my offer?"