This time he stood up and was unable to restrain a booming laugh; he felt larger, taller, bursting with energy. Filling his lungs, enjoying the sensation of his chest expanding, he carefully stepped forward, placing his sandals between the delicate Black Star flowers as he crossed the island slowly.
A hundred and fifty-five plants. He’d not expected them to grow so quickly, but two Eighthdays and the sheer weight of Coal mana down here had been enough.
After endless cycles spent hunting down an errant plant, after all the risks he’d taken to reach them at their most hidden and recondite, it was stunning to see so many growing in orderly rows before him.
Reaching into his sack, he drew forth a slender reed. He’d cut them so that one end terminated at a node, while the other was a narrow spike. Carefully lowering himself to his knees, he pressed the sharp tip against a flower’s stem, and slowly inserted it at an angle, just deep enough to ensure it would cross the central channel.
The treatise had recommended little cups placed beneath each straw, but Scorio had decided to keep things simple; the open, spiked end in the plant would draw the bead of mana down into the reed, where it would roll and come to a stop at the node’s partitioning wall.
To harvest the mana, he’d simply draw the reed out, upend it into a small container, and let the bead roll back out.
Better yet, this would keep the bead hidden, trapped within the reed, and perhaps preventing flying scavengers from noticing it too easily.
Scorio delicately inserted the reed, then slowly withdrew his hands, watching it intently. The fibrous nature of the stem clutched it tightly, and it didn’t look likely to slide out. Would the weight of the bead cause it to drop?
Only one way to find out.
Reaching into his sack, he drew out another reed and turned to the next plant. Smiling contentedly, humming under his breath, he set to work.
Chapter 30
The next Eighthday finally arrived, and Scorio left his room before First Clay dawned to take a torturously long and circuitous route to their agreed-upon rendezvous spot. He jogged most of the way to burn off some of his nervous energy, slowing only to indulge in mana retention exercises which he soon found himself too impatient to excel at. Each time he started to find a measure of equilibrium his thoughts would stray to what they were about to attempt this day cycle, and his mana would spill out of his heart like water from an elbowed cup.
He arrived too early and found a recessed doorway in which to wait. Watching as the bloody light of First Clay finally gave way to First Bronze, he forced himself to breathe slowly, trying again and again to focus on the ambient mana, relishing the faint wisps of Copper that he sensed streaming through the air. Thin, obviously, with no great regenerative rate, but still more potent and pliable than that which he was used to. Eyes narrowed, he focused on nudging the wisps toward his Heart, guiding them as one might eels slipping through a pond, the touches of his paddle gentle, cautious.
The copper mana felt smooth to the touch, lithe somehow, limber. Where Coal was a great and static mass, a crunchy cloud that reluctantly obeyed the force of his will, the copper was almost too supple, slippery to the point of infuriating. Each sliver he pulled into his Heart felt alive and vital, swirling about within the obsidian confines as if seeking a way out.
So involved did he become in the analysis that he didn’t see his friends approach; one moment he was staring blankly out into the alleyway from his doorway, the next they were both there, both of them freshly scrubbed, hair still damp, wearing sturdy combat robes with reinforced patches neatly sewed onto their elbows and knees.
“Scorio?” Lianshi bent her head down to enter his line of sight and gave him a little wave. “You there?”
He blinked and smiled self-consciously at them. “Hey, good morning. You made it.”
“We did,” said Leonis, hands on his hips, standing in the alleyway as if it were his private quarters, at ease and confident. “You think we’d be late? We’ve been looking forward to this.”
“A chance to test what we’ve learned,” agreed Lianshi. “To put into practice what has been only theory and training.”
“You’ll get your chance,” said Scorio, glancing both ways before stepping out of the doorway and pulling down his hood. “Let’s get going.”
“Are you all right?” Lianshi fell in companionably beside him. “You look…”
“Nervous,” completed Leonis.
“Maybe just a little.” Scorio led them south along the avenue, staying to one side. “Just trying to avoid attention. There’s a lady looking to have a word with me.”
“A lady, hey?” Leonis grinned. “I see you haven’t just been training out here. Must be nice, to not be supervised at all hours.”
“No,” laughed Scorio. “No, nothing like that. The thought of me and Dola… no. No no no. She runs a team of… how to put it? Mercenaries, I guess. A criminal ring that helps the Houses acquire goods from each other indirectly.”
He could feel both of their stares.
“What? Oh—right. You’ve probably not been told.” And he spent most of the walk south toward the ruins telling them what he’d learned, how the Houses employed teams to steal from each other, which naturally led to his explaining how he’d become involved, who Dola was, and why he’d finally chosen to run away with the sapphire vials.
“Sapphire vials?” Leonis let out a low whistle. “I can understand your motivation. The most powerful Great Souls in Bastion need that kind of quality mana or lose their power. Someone very important must have become very upset when their shipment failed to materialize.”
“So now she’s looking for you?” Lianshi glanced about uneasily. They’d left the nicer wards behind, and were now moving through Ward 4, which was a few wards rotated around from his own immediate ward. Still, it felt as familiar as Ward 1; the buildings were run down, the streets crisscrossed by drying laundry, the paint faded, the promise of the encroaching ruins just a breath away.
“Yes. But that’s nothing for you both to be concerned with. Let’s just get into the ruins.” Scorio picked up the pace. The farther south they’d come, the more Lianshi and Leonis had stood out, their robes spotless, their fresh faces speaking of good food and privilege.
The ruins reared up before them at last, and to Scorio it felt like coming home; the blasted buildings, the hollow windows like gauged-out eyes, the streets strewn with rubble and chips of stone, the omnipresent and brutal gray.
His companions both slowed as they walked their first block, Lianshi leaping aside as a large piece of slate cracked apart under her foot.
“Incredible,” breathed Leonis, trying to take it all in at once. “I’ve seen the ruins overhead from the Academy, but they’ve always felt so abstract. More a distant threat than a reality. And you live out here?”
“It’s not so bad,” said Scorio. “There’s beauty to be found. Its own strange ecology. Come on, we’ve got to cut radial to get back to my own area. Then we’ll strike south. Just wait till you see some of the wildlife.”
Scorio found himself taking an almost proprietary pleasure in showing his friends the hidden wonders of the ruins; led them down rough streets whose walls were covered in dormant mollusks; showed them avenues down which thick, redolent rivers of Coal mana poured like treacle; the numerous mana traps set out by enterprising harvesters; chasms that plunged down into the dark depths.
“And this is with us hugging the border next to Bastion. Wait till we strike in deeper,” said Scorio, glancing up and gauging how far they’d come. “Actually, we can turn inwards now. Remember, the deeper we go, the more dangerous it becomes.”
The other two followed in silence, taking everything in, moving with admirable silence as he led them down a familiar street. He felt a combination of pleasure and strangeness to be walking along the broken sidewalk with his friends in tow.