What else?
Desaturation.
His body was cleansed.
It had been brutal but he’d done it. Why hadn’t the instructors at the Academy mentioned this before? Probably because they were already providing their students with the best treasures. Those Fat Cricket pills and more had ensured that every student was already working with the finest quality mana they could reasonably afford. It would have been like warning them to not drink filthy gutter water when they had crystalline purity at hand. Completely unnecessary.
So he was physically in the best condition of his life and his body was wrung clean of almost all the Coal mana he’d soaked up over his time in Bastion.
But his Heart.
Still fractured. Still venting. The few weeks of Bronze had begun to do its work, but… he needed more.
Which meant making sure Dameon saw fit to cut him a share of Kraken’s payment. He couldn’t countenance just wandering the Plains looking for random pockets of Iron or trying to walk deeper into Hell in the hopes of finding unguarded reservoirs.
For better or worse he had to make Manticore work.
Which meant ensuring their reputation grew in the Fiery Shoals and the Iron Tyrant was suitably impressed.
Scorio sighed. Was Dameon being duplicitous? What if he hoped Thorne would renew his offer and take Scorio off his hands? That would be a tidy way to cut him loose. No hard feelings all around.
Wasn’t going to happen though.
He’d die before he abandoned his friends.
Finally, the last night cycle ended and everyone rose. Scorio washed, donned clean robes, and bound his ragged mane back into a short ponytail a couple of inches long. He’d find a barber in Fiery Shoals.
“Can’t believe you’ve wrangled your way into this mission just to get a soak,” said Leonis, following him outside.
“You missed your opportunity.” Scorio blinked at the activity. People were up early and loading The Sloop. “In a few days’ time, I’ll think of you, though, as I lie there in utter bliss.”
“Sadist,” muttered Leonis.
“Seriously,” said Lianshi, stepping up and tugging his robes into place. “You get to lounge about on The Sloop for four days while we break camp? I guess your fortune has finally turned around.”
“And get to know Druanna,” said Leonis. “She’ll be all stiff and sore from her fight. Maybe you could offer to give her a massage?”
Lianshi scowled and elbowed him in the gut.
“What? She’s a beautiful woman, and Scorio’s not afraid of being with someone stronger than him. Are you?”
Scorio shook his head ruefully and opted not to respond.
The hall door opened to reveal the Pyre Lady in question. She was clad in fresh robes and stood tall, but seemed in some intangible way diminished; she’d undone her braid, and now curled a lock behind one ear. There was a pallor beneath her golden skin, which seemed without luster in the morning sun.
Dameon and Ydrielle followed her out. Davelos had gone below to tend to Simeon and Evelyn, so only the two Dread Blazes escorted Druanna to the rope ladder.
The air was tense. They’d probably already spoken about everything of import while within. Scorio moved up, leaving his friends behind, and stood expectantly.
“Well, here we are.” Dameon still looked worn out. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Pyre Lady. And if Manticore can ever be of service, please don’t hesitate to send for us.”
Druanna nodded stiffly. “Thank you, Dread Blaze. I hope the next time we meet our losses won’t be so terrible.”
“That’s life in Hell,” said Dameon amiably. “Mavel and Tsing Ma will return to us in time.” But nobody could miss the iron beneath his words. “The artifact is in your possession. Scorio here will show Captain Thorne how to activate it when the time comes, a pleasing demonstration of Manticore’s utility to the Iron Tyrant.”
Druanna drew herself up and for a moment Scorio thought she’d offer a cutting rejoinder, but then she simply nodded and turned away. “Let’s be gone.”
Crush and three other Flame Vaults had already ascended to The Sloop. Druanna followed after, her movements stiff, and then Scorio went next. Dameon caught his eye and gave him a knowing nod which Scorio returned; his friends were more exuberant, with Lianshi waving enthusiastically and even Naomi raising a palm in farewell.
There was no sign of Jova.
Scorio climbed into the hold. A large bed had been fashioned out of cushioned mats and blankets, and Druanna had moved there directly to kneel in the gloom with her eyes closed.
Scorio didn’t linger but climbed all the way to the deck.
Ydrielle appeared a moment later, calling out her commands, and the Flame Vaults worked the rigging as Crush descended below to haul up the anchor. The second it was disengaged they began to rise; Scorio stood at the starboard railing so that he could gaze out over the camp and the Chasm.
His friends diminished below. Lianshi continued to wave. Crush climbed back onto the deck. Scorio regarded her warily; months of being beaten down by her strength had made her very presence a trial. But she ignored him and set to work drawing down the mainsail and helping Ydrielle steer the ship.
The Chasm retreated behind them. The camp was swallowed up by the forest, the great hole grew smaller, and then, just before the end of the day’s first sun cycle, it disappeared into the haze that hung over the jungle, miles behind them.
Nobody asked Scorio to help, so he remained latched to the safety wire by the railing. Copper mana swirled in the air; it wasn’t worth saturating.
The day cycle became night became day. They entered the broad valley over the marshland, the permanent fog rising up to obscure the details below and turn the world into a twilit mystery.
“Scorio.” Ydrielle’s tone was peremptory.
He stepped over, clipped in beside her.
“A few rules. You’re not to bother Druanna. She needs sleep to recover. The more healed she is by the time we reach the Fiery Shoals the better.”
Scorio nodded.
“There’ll be no training on this trip. I want a minimum of noise disturbing the Pyre Lady, so no sparring or unnecessary movement. You can practice your meditation, but no forms or asking the Flame Vaults to train you.”
There was no point in protesting. “All right.”
Ydrielle took her gaze off the foggy horizon and stared right at him. “Think of this as an extended holiday. Believe me, they’re rare and will only get rarer. Savor it while you can and stay out of the way.”
Scorio inclined his head. The more he got to know Ydrielle, the less he wanted to talk to her. He unclipped and returned to his bench.
The endless and rapid passage of the small sun overhead made it so that the world below remained fascinating, cast in different hues of light, with the glories of sunrise and the somber hues of sunset painting the same landscape in varied tones. He studied the ancient towers in the valley, seeking to make out fiends below in the marshland. Saw the wreckage of a caravan, six old carts partially sunken in the mire with no signs of people about. Saw a great and slowly lurching fiend that looked like a carapaced slug with octopus-like tentacles growing out of a large hump in its back.
At night the swamp lit up with blue and green lights and the cries of fiends rose, as if all the predators waited for darkness in which to hunt each other.
But The Sloop was fast. They broke free of the great valley, the marshland drying out as the rivulets coalesced into a central river that undulated toward the Farmlands. They flew over wild country for a few hours then passed the Golden Circuit.