Jason chuckled.
“How’s that going?”
“It’s odd,” Clive said. “It’s like there’s a ‘whatever it is I’m looking for’ shaped hole in the historical records, as if someone went through and purged it. I’m putting a puzzle together by connecting around the outside, working in, until I’m left with a gap the same shape as the weird piece I started with.”
“I love puzzles,” Jason said. “Farrah had me doing speed runs as mental training.”
“I like them too,” Clive said. “Do you have one of the magic sets where the picture and the pieces change? Back when I was studying to join the Magic Society we’d get drunk and try to solve them.”
“Oh, we’re definitely doing that,” Jason said. “Hey, you should talk to Gabrielle about the missing knowledge thing. You know, Humphrey’s lady friend.”
“The acolyte of Knowledge,” Clive said. “That’s a good idea. Destroying knowledge is the biggest sin they have. Can you pass me the book on that table?”
Jason took a book out from under a potted plant and handed it to Clive.
“I’m fairly certain that ritual is in here,” Clive said, flipping through it. “I’ll make you a copy and you can be on your way.”
“Finding high salt content?” Jory said. “Yeah, I have something for that. Come with me.”
Jason followed Jory into his new store room, practically an alchemical warehouse.
“With the clinic closed all week for the final renovations,” Jory said, “things have been completely mad. The big re-opening is in a couple of days. Will you be in town?”
“Not sure,” Jason said. “I have this contract and I’m not sure how long it’ll take.”
“You know you’re the one who made all this possible,” Jory said, gesturing to the building around him. “It’d be nice to thank you, publicly.”
“On second thought,” Jason said, “I’m pretty sure that contract will keep me out in the delta. I’d rather be a silent partner, thank you very much.”
“I’m not sure that works, with you healing sick people with your magic powers for months, but sure.”
Jory took a bamboo watering canister down off a shelf and gave it a shake. “Should be about four cubic metres of water in there.”
“A dimensional bag watering can?”
Jory chuckled.
“Just clean it out and top it off before giving it back,” he said. “Those things aren’t cheap.”
“Will do.”
Jory opened a cabinet, taking out a large glass bottle with a teal liquid inside. He tipped half the bottle into the watering canister before putting the bottle back. Then he took out a small vial of liquid, before handing the vial and the canister to Jason. He gave Jason the instructions to use, clean and refill the canister.
“Not sure what you’re up to,” Jory said, “but good luck.”
93
Truth
The lumber region was on the south side of the river, in the eastern parts of the delta, furthest from the city. Jason had been refining his long-distance running style that employed the weight-reducing power of his cloak. It was really more like a series of floating, horizontal hops over whatever surface he was crossing, be it land or water.
He’d been through enough of the delta that he had most of it mapped out and he could save time by taking direct routes instead of following the embankment roads. He could walk on water and teleport past obstacles, so while he might not match the speed of airboat travel, his straight-line navigation outpaced an ordinary mount. It required occasional replenishment from mana and stamina potions, but Jory’s low-cost options were easily worth it. Their moderate effects might not have the kick required for intense combat, but they were perfect for Jason’s travel needs.
The days were growing shorter as summer moved into autumn, and the sun had just set as Jason arrived in the town of Leust. It was one of the largest and richest towns in the delta, with paved roads and stone instead of mud-brick for the buildings. Mostly it was the cheaper, yellow desert stone, but there were green stone buildings as well.
The interior coolness produced by the water affinity of green stone was appreciated by everyone who could afford it. In the muggy heat of the delta, it was often the difference between a good night’s rest and a sweaty, sleepless night. For that reason, Jason selected a large, green stone inn to stay the night. Pausing outside the door, Jason stopped to put on his game face.
His posture shifted and tightened, face and shoulders both scrunched up in annoyance. He threw open the door and marched inside, face full of aggravation. Striding across the room, he parked himself angrily on a barstool.
“Drink,” he demanded of the barman. “Best you have, and same for food, after.”
The barman reached for a bottle of amber spirits behind the bar.
“Not that bitter crap,” Jason said. “Do you have any Norwich Blue?”
“Uh, yes, sir, we use it to make blue juice jumpers.”
“Blue juice jumpers?”
“It’s a mixed drink, sir, but…” The barman leaned in close. “…usually we serve to our female patrons.”
“If someone has a problem with what I’m drinking then I’ll be happy to clean them off my sword.”
Jason was in full adventuring gear, weapons at his hip and bandolier of throwing darts on his torso. He turned and took in the busy common room at a glance, no one willing to meet his gaze.
“That's what I thought,” he said, turning back to the bar.
“If I may ask, sir,” the barman said as he made the drink, “are you an adventurer?”
“That’s what the badge says,” Jason grumbled. “Some bloody adventure they’ve sent me on, though. Do you know how many people they sent out before me after this imaginary frigging monster? Eight! I’m the ninth, and I’ll be the last, one way or another. You can believe that. If this monster isn’t out here this time, I’ll personally see to it that the prick sending out these notices gets black marked. A fergax that doesn’t kill anyone or break anything? What a load of crap.”
“That would be the Lindover Lumber Mill you’ll be heading out to, then?” the barman asked.
“Probably,” Jason said. “They gave me a map; I don’t care what the place is bloody well called.”
Jason had trouble grumbling through what turned out to be a delicious drink and a quite excellent dinner, but he did it anyway, resisting his normal urge to seek out the recipe. He retired angrily to his room, performing a simple ritual to shield himself from surveillance magic before dropping the act.
The next morning, he left the inn as irritably as he arrived and set out for the lumber mills. The lumber region was more solid ground than marsh, like most of the delta, but not dry and hard or dead and empty like the desert. It was like walking through a forestry reserve, with straight, earthen roads passing between trees lined up in neat rows. Sometimes it was akin to a natural, if neatly arranged, forest. Other times he was walking past a sea of saplings or the devastation of a recently deforested field. Wagons went past on a regular basis, wheeling loads of lumber to Leust.
Jason passed several large, wooden archways with signage declaring the name of the lumber mill the road behind them led to. When he reached the one labelled Lindover, he walked through it. He followed the road through the trees to a large lumber mill, but it was still and devoid of people. Jason kept going past the mill and up to a sizeable farmhouse.
Knocking on the door, he was met by the most lumberjack-looking man Jason had ever seen and they made introductions. Kyle Lindover was a leonid even larger than Gary, with a red plaid shirt, tough worker’s pants and huge, thick boots. He looked like he could knock down trees simply by punching them.