Nthal
Lizard folk in disguise
Creation and isolation - 6/1/2020
Somewhere I remember attending a lecture in the Civic Festhall called ‘Art and pain.’ The talk was a wordy screed about how true art takes not just effort, but pain and anguish in some form in the artists soul. The pain crystalized the art with that emotional state which could then be felt by the observers. Without it people couldn’t feel the true intent.
Later I heard that magic can be seen the same way, and that some practitioners used their own blood to enhance and empower spells. Some said it wasn’t the blood, but the pain was what made it so.
At the time I dismissed both as I mentioned, as screed. Later I learned there really was a truth to it. But nothing teaches better than personal experience.
Somewhere I remember attending a lecture in the Civic Festhall called ‘Art and pain.’ The talk was a wordy screed about how true art takes not just effort, but pain and anguish in some form in the artists soul. The pain crystalized the art with that emotional state which could then be felt by the observers. Without it people couldn’t feel the true intent.
Later I heard that magic can be seen the same way, and that some practitioners used their own blood to enhance and empower spells. Some said it wasn’t the blood, but the pain was what made it so.
At the time I dismissed both as I mentioned, as screed. Later I learned there really was a truth to it. But nothing teaches better than personal experience.
The hammer on the anvil was light and quick, the tones from the strike almost musical. I realized that every smith did things a little differently, in the quest of their own creation. In Sigil, I had met and delivered messages for a family of dwarven smiths from the Godvoid. Their hammering was a solid, firm tone that would make the earth shift. The human smiths in Waterdeep were lighter and tended to tap the anvil in between strikes to the metal being worked. The half-orc smith that worked on my shield was more random, making only as few strikes as needed.
I walked into the elven smithy and saw Talans and his apprentice Kalis shaping a spaulder out of a silvery white metal. Talans was reviewing his student’s progress when he saw me at the doorway and smiled.
“Adon Myrai,” he said, moving towards me.
“Adon, Talans iquar’kerym,” I said smiling focusing on the trill on the two ‘r’s.
Still smiling, he switched to common, “You are getting better, although you do not need such formality in talking with me.”
“I need the practice, and I thought it was still proper as we have not been yet named an elf friend. And it is your home, I should know the right words.”
Talans nodded his approval, “Your attention to our culture, shows much in your character befitting you ha-celas. Your actions show even more.”
“Thank you again. I received your message that one of the items is ready.”
“Yes, Kalis had finished it yesterday, and I checked the temper. The steel is true and is ready for the setting if that is your wish.”
“Yes! Yes it is. I appreciate you sparing the time for it, as I realized Daneath’s armor is going to take a while.”
“It was a simple request, and easily handled by Kalis on his own. The commission for Daneath has a number of complexities, and we still need some more mithril before he starts on the larger parts. And so, while we wait for it, we will be able to start on your armor as well.”
“Really? That soon?”
Talans laughed, “You didn’t ask for it to be made of mithril after all, so the amber steel is handy. And smelting the raw mithril into usable steel will take time once it has arrived. All we can work on are the spaulders until then.”
“I thank you again, how long will it take?”
“With two of us, one working the front and the other the back section we will have it done within two weeks. By then, we can focus and finish Daneath’s piece. But come,” and he motioned me to a wooden bench, which was upholstered in leather. This one was clearly used for polish and detail work, far from the anvil and the coals of the forge.
There on it lay a rod of darkened steel. Most of the length was smooth and polished, with a simple rondel. The other end had a flared top, that resembled four wings, stretched upwards. The shape of the wings at the top of the steel, looked as they would hold something between them.
“Do you have the Kiir?” Talans asked.
I nodded, and pulled out of my pouch, the purple sapphire that Beepu had given me. Where once it was a mishappen rock, it was now smoothed and polished, with what the jeweler had called an asterism in the form of a six-pointed star within. I handed the jewel to Talans, and he removed from the wall, a small hammer and tongs and set them down on the leather, as he pulled on some thin, leather gloves. He then took the steel rod and took it to a box of white sand and submerged the winged top within, turning it. He watched and waited and spoke.
“The steel requested, is an interesting one. The metallurgy is of a type I have not seen in a long time.”
“I don’t know much…well anything about it, other than what I had researched. What do you know about it?”
“The steel is of a type that was used for holding enchantments, but there are many mixtures that do that,” he said turning the rod in the sand. “But this particular one is not used much in weapons as it doesn’t hold a sharp edge. But it is not brittle, and it would return to its forged form if were bent. The high heat required, and the rapid quenching is one that is difficult to master, it is all too easy to cause the metal to shatter.”
“I don’t plan on swinging it at anyone,” I pointed out.
“Of course, you would not; not enough weight and the shaft is far too narrow. But it is clear what your intent is in general, if not in the specific.” He pulled the rod out of the sand and moved it to the leather covered bench. He wrapped a cloth around the end and then clamped it down with a vice, keeping it from moving. He then with the small hammer and tongs began to seat the jewel at the top. He delicately tapped it and bent the wings inward, so they acted as a setting for the stone holding it fast.
“There, it must cool a bit before you can take it with you.”
“My thanks to you,” I thought a moment and then asked. “How much do I owe you for the rod exactly? Yyou gave me a price for the armor after all.”
“Nothing; you have done something for me, that would be difficult to repay.”
“I did?”
“I did not know until my son came home, but it seems that you and your companions found him locked in a cage in a quarry. Keeping my kin safe was one thing, my family is quite another.”
“I…I…see…thank y—”
“And besides, Melandrach is paying for these works, so I will lose nothing in the materials.”
“Then…you are welcome; I’m glad I could help your family.”
Talans nodded and returned his tools to their places above the bench and walked over to Kalis working.
“Very good, Kalis. This indeed will be a worthy masterpiece.”
“Masterpiece?” I asked.
“Yes; if the others agree this piece will be the one that grants him the title of master smith, and it will be the end of his apprenticeship. “I am doing all the other work that needs be done.” He then turned to Kalis again. “When you are ready, we can create a pattern with her.” Kalis nodded, and then Talans moved over to another bench, where he started to cut some soft leather.
“Measure?”
“Yes…well we call it that, but what we do here is akin to a tailor making a pattern,” he replied as he continued cutting. “For a breastplate it is simple, we cut the rough shape out of the leather, and fit it to you, and then use it against a blank of amber steel and bend it to the right shape.”
“That makes sense; no waste and reduces bulk,” I said nodding.
“Very good, you are observant ha-celas,” he said. “You too could learn the secrets of working steel if you wished.”
“I suppose; I would never get anything done though; there are so many interesting things to distract me.” I said smirking. I watched him continue to make a shape that vaguely looked like a sleeveless shirt. But as he was doing so, I thought a second and realized something.
“Uh…wait. Do I need to…to…undress for this?”
Talans didn’t even look up, “The best fit has nothing between the leather and skin; the leather itself will be used for lining the steel afterwards.”
“And you do this for the…women as well?”
“If you feel uncomfortable, you can indeed wear a muslin top if you like.”
“Well, the bathing pools here aren’t different than Sigil’s; I think it bothered my human friends more,” I said smirking at the memory of Iesa and Daneath’s blushing as they one day visited them. And just like Sigil, there wasn’t a sign of clothing to be seen around the pool at all. I’m not sure which shocked them more; naked elves or the naked woman they had been travelling with for months.
“It’s just a bit more…well doesn’t matter. I paid for this piece; I certainly am going to get the best fit I can,” I said as I started to unlace my leather bodice and pulled it and my tunic off.
“Measure away.”
It was late afternoon when I finally left. The funny thing it was the second time in a tenday. The first one was for an actual dress in a home of an elf here, and it was just like the tailor in Yartar. There were a lot of needles and poking and prodding involved, and I had Arnara’s help.
This one was almost the same, but it was just going to be one made of metal, and the concerns were different. The form the leather took, looked like an inside-out shirt, with a cutout for my bosom, which required a different section of leather. Extra lengths of the edges to cover sharp metal from cutting into me. But the pair were as professional as any tailor, and my partial state of undress did not even register a concern with them. They as smiths probably had seen it all in their fittings.
I finally returned to my ‘chambers,’ but to call them that was an understatement. It was more like a small house on the grounds of one of the many gardens with a large pool behind it. The interior seemed to be almost grown into place, with no sign of cut wood anywhere except for the doors. There was a central spot for a fire, and a stone chimney to guide the smoke out, with over half of it an open porch area, and the other half were interior rooms for food preparation, storage and rest.
Rest turned out to be a problem though for me, which led to an interesting discovery. I had for the first several nights slept on the largest divan in the house, which wasn’t nearly large enough. After three days, my back complained. I then built a ‘nest’ by gathering and scattering sheets, blankets, and pillows in front of the firepit. All to lay down straight and flat on my back. And it worked.
But I woke to the sound of Arnara laughing at the sight of me, “What have you done with all the…did you grab all the sheets?”
“Every one I could find that you weren’t using,” I said as I lay there, eyes shut, my back no longer complaining at the contortions needed to sleep on a divan. “And my back is happy,”
“Oh my, you are quite the sight I must say,”
“Well if the elves believed in a proper bed, I wouldn’t need to do this!” I said, propping myself up and looking at the smiling sonalta.
“Oh, we do have beds its…just…” and she trailed off, her face turning into a frown, as she struggled with a thought.
“Oh, that would be great, if you can get a real bed in here.” I said, smiling at the thought. But as I looked Arnara kept opening and closing her mouth, not quite saying something.
“What? Did I ask for something…strange?” I asked, suddenly wary.
“Well…no…um, yes. You see, we do have beds, but we only use them occasionally.”
“Well then what’s the issue?” my social skills not quite picking up on the problem.
“Well, when a pair decide to…well…enjoin themselves in…um…” Arnara said her cheeks turning a bright red.
“I don’t…OH!” I winced, finally picking up context. “Of course, that makes complete…never mind. I’ll camp on the floor…sorry to have asked.”
Two days later, an ornate bed arrived in one of the larger side rooms. It was a lovely one, with either carved or grown images of flowers and animals on the wooden headboard and footboard, and four solid oaken posts at the corners, with the imagery of vines and mistletoe wrapping around each one in relief. When I saw Arnara next I simply said, “Thank you,” in elvish and she nodded politely in response.
We never discussed the bed again. In fact, the room itself to me became an awkward joke as it was only referred to as ‘that room.’ If it needed to be referred to. But as it turned out, I used that nest of cushions and sheets often for a quick nap, and the simple fact that Arnara was there most of the time to talk to. Every time I snuck into the room in the back to use the bed, Arnara had a bemused look on her face that was the elvish equivalent to “I know what you have been doing.” When an occasional guest, or my elvish tutor arrived for my daily elvish lessons, I noticed that Arnara always made sure that the door to that room was closed. But she did the same thing with my nesting materials as well, which basically explained a lot about relations between elven couples.
I entered the house, with my new prize, wrapped up in an oilcloth. Arnara wasn’t there, as I had remembered she had an errand to do that afternoon. However, Gossamer was there, fast asleep on a divan with a ray of sun shining down on his black fur, which color turned into a reddish haze as he appeared to ‘rust’ in the bright light.
I made my way to ‘that room’ and closed the door behind me. Beyond the bed, which was situated in its center, there was a writing desk. With a stand for holding open a book near the back edge of it. I lay the rod on the top surface and pulled out the Apocrypha and pulled out the sheet I wanted while flexing and using my light on an unlit candle. It bloomed into a warm orange light, which illuminated my silvery Apocrypha.
The layered letters on the sheet lit up, and I sat down at the desk. I quickly ran my finger over the formulae listed and then I placed both of my hands on the rod and started to focus my will on it. I slowly weaved a lattice of light and dark strands around it, one at a time. All the while chanting the same phrase over and over; pulling at the weave to bind the strand into knots on the hardened steel:
“Piko ma lana leya I ke punaeyalwalo ho’anpona I ke mea kunokuno haie I ko’noua makeamakea”
I knew that it would take several days to complete, but I didn’t realize that it would be a taxing process.
Or a dangerous one.
I remembered that first day chanting. I felt like I was pouring my heart and soul into it, as I felt what my Apocrypha called quanta flooding it, imbuing it with energy and power. I remembered pushing more and more into it when I suddenly became dizzy and I had the sensation of falling. The next thing I knew I saw Arnara staring at me, speaking or maybe shouting at me; I couldn’t tell as no sound left her mouth as I stared at her uncomprehending, shaking in a cold sweat. She with some effort dragged me off the floor and lay my limp form on the bed. As soon as I felt my body hit the quilted feather bedding, darkness enveloped me and I saw nothing more.
It was late when I came to, I felt a little sick and somehow very hungry. I started to move, when I realized that lying next to me was Arnara watching. I must have moved enough to disturb her reverie, as she moved her head to look at me, her hand touching my forehead.
“Myrai, what were you doing? I was worried.”
“Well…” I said slowly, “I was enchanting a…a rod.” I gestured to the desk, where the steel rod lay. “I’m alright, I just need some food,” I said and swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up woozily.
“Have you never done this before?” Arnara asked, as she clambered off the bed.
“Well, I’ve made a scroll or two, but this is a new thing. But I’m following a formula so it’s not unkno—” I started.
“—It was unknown to you. Enchanting can be dangerous.” Arnara said as she stood. Moving to the desk, she ignored the rod. She instead picked up the Apocrypha. While my light had gone out a while ago, the main room had enough light from the magical sconces to allow the illegible letters to be seen. She looked at it critically and turned to me.
“What is this…a spellbook?” she asked confused.
“Not exactly…its…a part of me really. It does have spells in it I can cast, and many others I can use ritually. It is my…binding I guess.” I said trying to think how to explain it.
“Binding?” she echoed looking at it with concern. “You should not blindly just do what it says, it could have unexpected results,” she said looking at me critically. “You might consider getting rid of it or giving it to someone who can research it.”
“Well…I can’t really.”
“I do not understand.”
“Here, give me,” I said, and I took the silvery cylinder from her, replacing the metal sheets back within. I then moved towards the small window in the back and opened it to the cool night air. Taking a moment, I put the Apocrypha in my right hand and tossed it up in the air and catching it. I did this a couple of times, getting a feel for the weight of it. Then suddenly upon catching it, I cocked my arm back and then threw it outside into the dark night and then closed the window.
Arnara looked at me in shock, “You can’t just—”
“Follow me,” I said somewhat resigned. I led her back into the main room, where a low table sat in front of the fire pit. Normally my nest of bad things would be there, but I had not laid down my bedding for the night yet. I then turned to Arnara and gestured.
There on the table sat upright the Apocrypha, unmoving and unblemished, glittering in the light from the sconces. Arnara’s mouth opened in surprise as she pointed at it.
“How did?” she stammered.
“I don’t know,” I said shaking my head unsurprised. “Learned that trick in Waterdeep when I got frustrated and couldn’t read it. I also know if I melted it in a forge I could, just recreate it with a little focus and time. And I don’t even know how I know that.” I sat down on a nearby divan across from the table and looked at Arnara.
“It’s a part of me you could say, part of the magic I am bound to,” I said looking at her and then at the cylinder again. “I can no more get rid of it, than I can break the binding and…the debt I am subject to.”
“Debt? Binding? How do you know this?” Arnara asked, stepping closer to look, but avoiding touching it.
“It told me.”
“What?”
“It had a compulsion on the writing that brought me to a place where I could...talk with it.” I said. I was feeling better physically, but I was more worried about Arnara who seemed to become more agitated as I talked.
“You should talk to ones of our learned one here, perhaps they can cure—”
“—Its not a disease! I talked with Beepu about it, and he believes that its true; that this binding, this pact; it can’t be undone, doesn’t matter if I don’t know why.”
“Why are you not more concerned about it?”
I bowed my head, “Because it might…just might…be the only thing from my father I have.”
“Your father…the one that is…”
“Celas. And for whatever reason, he can’t tell me about it. He wants me to do something…I just can’t understand what.”
Arnara looked at me, and then the cylinder on the table, and then looked at me with pity. “I…I understand. Not this, but I understand when your family wants something out of you but will not say what. It just seems to be…unfair.”
“It probably is, and it’s still here,” I said glumly. I then changed the subject. “Do we still have that cheese that the temple sent over as a gift?”
“What? Oh yes, there is a small wedge left in the pantry.”
“Ok, I’m going to eat and wash it down with some wine and call it a night.”
“Very well, shall I get your pillows and things?”
“No…don’t trouble yourself, I will just collapse in ‘that room’ and get some sleep,” I said as I got up to hunt down the cheese.
“I am going to keep checking on you until morning comes,” Arnara said and she moved to where a small rack of bottles lay on their side. She was about to open it when she frowned and looked at me.
“I know you tend to have a bottle every evening, but perhaps you should let your body recover from your exertion without it.”
“I’ll be fine, thanks.”
Arnara keep the frown on her face and nodded. I then entered the pantry and found the hard cheese with the salt crystals and buttery herb taste. I quickly peeled the rind away and bit into the wedge tasting the tang and the salt. I then walked back to Arnara who had prepared me a glass of a red wine of a vintage I liked from Melandrach’s cabinets.
I took the glass and half drained it, with Arnara looking at me concerned.
“Thanks,” I said. Her concern didn’t lessen, and I sighed. “I’ll be fine, trust me please.”
“Very well” she said, and I quickly finished the wedge and drained the rest of the glass, setting it down on the table next to the Apocrypha. I then moved towards ‘that room,’ when I realized that Arnara was following me.
Puzzled, she took me by the hand and sat me down on the side of the bed. She then knelt and then unlaced and pulled off my boots. I stared at her, uncomprehendingly at this; she had never done this in any of the prior nights. She was more inclined to read a book she had with her and would wave at me when I headed to whichever surface I was going to sleep on. But now, she set my boots aside and unlaced my bodice and lay it on the dressing bench at the end of the bed. She then lifted, or rather encouraged me to lift my legs on the bed, and she quickly unlaced the sides and pulled off my leggings as I lay there, feeling the wine course through my body. She then covered me and stroked my hair.
“I worry about you ha-celas. I don’t understand what I should do,”
“We learn about the multiverse through experience; the easy answers aren’t the important ones,” I muttered; the wine soaking quickly into my mind and diffusing my thoughts. The care and concern were new as well; tender and genuine. I started to drift off when I heard a familiar lecturer in my head.
--You know you should at least be honest.
I don’t want to burden her with my issues.
--I meant with yourself about those issues.
Leave me alone…I don’t want to…talk about it.
--You never do…that’s the problem.
And I could feel the echo of Gossamers last words in my head as the darkness washed over me and carried me out to another dreamless slumber.
Session notes:
The smith is the second contact from carousing. The elvish words are most gleaned and modified from Elven Dictionary
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