Chris soon learned that he was not able to hold on to anything for long. His belongings were constantly being stolen by other residents and sometimes even the workers at the shelters. The only possessions that he was able to keep were the scribblings and theories contained in his note books. With nothing else to do, he had started memorizing his writing. Even if the books were taken, he could now re-write all the magical theory within a new book. His once fit and active body steadily deteriorated, as he was not able to get a healthy diet or regular exercise.
Chris’s mental health also slowly spiralled into depression. He felt hopeless and at a loss for how the climb out of the hole he found himself in. The only really pleasure in life was using his mind to develop his theories about the Ether pillar of magic. Getting lost for day in the space-time elements of the of the magic was the only fulfilment he enjoyed.
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Chris was squatting on the floor in one of his hideouts from the world that had been cruel to him. It was partially inside a storm drain leading into one of the main aqueducts crossing the city. This was normally a quiet spot where he could sleep rough, by himself, but now there were a few homeless people around trying to rest. He knew all of them, and they weren’t too bad for a group of people. As he had been homeless for a while now, he had gotten the nickname of The Professor. This was given as Chris was always scribing in one of his note books. No one else could understand anything he was writing in the magical script. He was generally well liked as he was easy going and could write in magical script if they could get the proper tools for the job. At the moment, the homeless, men were all sitting around a fire script that Chris had managed to carve on the floor, using an improvised metal scribing rod. The script was giving out enough heat to keep them warm, on a cold night. One of the men in the group was sharing some of food he had been given. So, for now everybody was now quietly eating as the night went on.
Chris was writing in his latest note book using the colour lights from the entertainment district across the aqueduct. The district was a no-go for the homeless, as the criminal gangs that controlled the area would give them a severe beating if they ventured in to their areas. Often the men, around the heat script, would fix their gaze onto the coloured lights, thinking of the enjoyment to be had. But for Chris this was only a free source of light.
For the past several days, Chris had been developing one of the many math-a-magical theories coming out of his study of the Ether pillar. Chris was deep thought considering a theory of how the volume of space integrated with the rest of the universe. Just as he came to the conclusion of what his model would have predicted, he was struck with an exciting insight. This was an idea for a new magical inscription for changing the relationship of space inside a container relative to the rest of the universe. He eased himself back down into a more comfortable position to think on this some more. After a while of pondering over this new discovery, he wanted to develop the idea more and see if it could work in practice.
Looking up from his note books, he turned to Ben, one of his fellow homeless sharing the hideout, “Do you still have that broken scribe tool from earlier for fine inscription working?”
Ben patted down his many pockets contained in the various shambles of clothing he wore. He turned a few pockets inside out before saying, “Yeah Prof, I have it here if you want to try and use it.”
Ben pulled the small metal pencil shaped inscription tool, out of his pocket. It had a fine sharp nib at it end. This tool was really at the bottom of the barrel when it came to the quality he used to have available, but at least it was something Chris could work with. As he thought back to his previous life, he remembered how he once had had all the latest scriber tools, with magical enchantments making it possible to carve into any surface. Often with power setting for heat or cold as needed. This tool in his hand now was just a fine sharp nib on the end of a steel shaft.
Chris picked up a metal water bottle he had managed to acquire recently and emptied it out. For the next half hour, he sat in solid concentration as he scribed magical script on the surface of the water bottle. Not only was this a matter of careful engravings on the metal surface of the water bottle, but it also required adding just the right amount magical power into the right sections of the engraving. As this was what Chris considered to be a new pillar of magic, he had to channel the feelings he had for space into the work. This was the same for all of the other inscriptions. Any work with any of the existing four pillars of magic: earth, fire, water and air. Only somebody that completely understood the theories that Chris had developed would be able to do any work in this new pillar of magic. This was, in fact, similar to all the other pillars, but their knowledge was always taught in schools, academies and at every university. If a person did not have an understanding of at least one of the pillars of magic, then they were considered illiterate in this magical age.
As he finished, a deep blue flash emanated from the script on the metal surface. This was noticed by the men surrounding the heating script on the floor.
Ben, who had been peering over surreptitiously ever since he had lent the scribing tool, was the first to ask a question, “What have you done there Prof? I never seen magic flash that colour before.”
Chris flashed a ragged smile at him. “Let's find out what it does,” he said. Chris walked down toward the aqueduct where there was a small stream of water flowing smoothly in its centre. Walking over the pavement, he was able to bend down and start to fill the metal bottle with water. Before Chris had added the magical script, the bottle could hold a litre of liquid. Chis filled the bottle from the stream by holding it under the water. As the water flowed in to the bottle, Chris felt it get full, and then heavier than would be expected for a litre water bottle. Chris smiled to himself, as he now was confident that his experiment had been successful.
As Chris picked up the bottle of water, Ben, who had been watching form the sidelines, asked, “Ok then, so what’s different about this bottle? It’s not one of those fancy hot water bottles is it?”
In answer to Ben’s question, Chris just started to pour the water out of the bottle without speaking. Ben’s face looked unimpressed until it became obvious that much more than a litre of water came out of the bottle. As the water continued to flow out, he had a look first of shock, then of excitement on his face. Finally, the water stopped with the two men smiling.
Ben opened his mouth, closed it again and finally opened it saying, “I’ve never seen nothing like that before, it’s as if the inside is larger than the outside.”
Chris smiled, glad that Ben had figured it out. “Yes, firstly, you’re actually right about the effect and secondly, this is new, so nobody has ever seen this magical effect before. Let’s see how much more it holds!”
The two of them started to refill the magical bottle and measured the output, into other water bottles; soon they found that it held around ten litres rather than the one litre it held before the magical inscriptions.
For the rest of the night, Chris practiced changing the detail of the markings on the magical inscription. He was able to work with different bottle and some leather bags. All of the magical inscriptions gave similar effects. Ben, who before losing his business, had once crafted, handmade leather bags, suggested the they talk to one of the sellers in the street market in the morning. The person might be interested in buying some of the created inscription magical bags.
Towards the end of the night, Chris was gazing into the coloured lights, shining from the entertainment district, thinking about his previous experience of inventing something and how it had been taken from him through a betrayal of trust. He was determined for that it would not happen to him again. He took out his note books that described the fundamental of the Ether pillar of magic. Long ago, in days that almost seemed far gone, he had been able to memorize all of the information. The only copy that he knew about was right in front of him, in the note books. Deciding it would be best for him to only carry the information in his
mind, he dropped the note books onto the fire inscription. As they slowly turned brown and small flames engulfed them, Chris smiled grimly in remembrance.
Chapter 3 The Start
Early the next morning Chris and Ben found themselves walking down one of the many street market areas of the city. This market was mostly for tourists, selling all type of items, most of which were magical in some way. A lot of small back-street magical work went into producing all the items. This was often done by factories or the owners of the stalls themselves. When Chris normally walked around markets like this, he was poorly dressed, filthy and had a large scruffy beard, that he had grown in the time he had been homeless. Typically, most of the store owners would shout and get him to move on or just ignore him. This time he hoped that with Ben’s help when he tried do a deal with a store owner, he wouldn’t be immediately chased off. Without Ben’s help, Chris doubted he would get a chance to even present his ideas to any store owners.
As Ben and Chis walked deeper into the street market, they noticed a large number of clothing stores. Chris was able to pick up on some of the magical inscriptions on the clothing: many had self-cleaning properties, while others had more novel effects on person. Some were advertised to produce a charm, effecting the attractiveness of the wearer and making them more glamorous. Chris smiled to himself, as he looked at some people buying the enchanted clothing. As most of the items in the market were cheap knock-offs, the magical effect would be lost in the first washing or not be as effective as advertised. Watching the sellers and the tourists, selling and buying items was like seeing a cat play with a mouse. Often the tourist thought they got the better deal with their bargain, but Chris knew from his experience, that nobody got the better of these sellers. No matter how the store owners seemed to be upset as they reacted to, what they said was a bad sale, it always came with a larger profit than they would like to admit.
Closer to the centre of the market, Ben led Chris directly toward a small store selling mostly leather bags. The store was located in a small walkway that only about two people side by side could walk their way through. The walkway was quiet once they moved past the other clothing and novelty item stores. Ben cheerily greeted a man who was sitting in the centre of the store, surrounded by all different styles of leather bags. Some of the bags were even hanging from the ceiling, at head’s height. Most of the bags had different magical scripts glowing faintly on them. Chris saw a range of effects that were advertised: some were security locks on the contents of the bag; some kept the bags clean; and other were more unique in their effect.
Both Ben and the man in the market store were chatting along quite nicely, and every now and then Ben would gesture to Chris. Chris kept his distance, not wanting to throw anything off, and watched the conversation. Eventually, Ben signalled with a lazily waved hand for Chris to come over and talk to the store keeper. As Chris moved over, Ben got up and moved out of the way.
The man nodded as Chris approached and said in an even voice, “Hi. My name’s Frank. Ben says you’re called the Professor and he’s been telling me that you have invented a magical effect that can be applied to bags. From what he says, if it is true mind you, it should be a good seller. Do you want to show me the effect of your magical script?” He folded his arms in a casual manner and watched Chris.
Without speaking, Chris pulled out a scruffy leather bag, that he had managed to script an inscription onto last night. Frank had a dubious look on his face as he saw the scruffy bag. The bag from the outside was like a small hand bag, as it only had about a litre in volume. Chris opened the top of the bag by undoing a clip. He then passed the bag over for to Frank to examine. Frank was frowning as he examined the outside of the bag.
“The magical effect of the inscriptions is on the inside,” Chris hurriedly explained, “It increases the volume of space available for storage.”
Frank put his hand in, to try and feel the bottom of the bag. If this had been a regular bag, Frank would have only been able to put the most of his hand inside. His eyes widened as he managed to fit up to his elbow into the small bag. He stared in astonishment at his apparently ‘missing’ hand.
Frank smiled and turned to Chris, “Okay, now you have my attention. I’m definitely interested and can think of a few others who might be too. How much do you want me to pay you for the method of doing this?”
Chris looked him coolly in the eyes. “I’m not selling the method, but I’ll inscribe bags for half the profit you make on them.”
Frank grimaced slightly and started arguing with Chris about the price and cut. Even after all these months, or perhaps because of them, Chris remembered his last experience entering into a partnership. He was stubborn about any deals he was going to make. After a few minutes, Frank realized Chris wasn’t going to give any ground and accepted the conditions.
Frank rubbed his hands together, lips pursed in thought. “Right then, for starters, how about you inscribe about one hundred different bags, in the store room at back of the shop, and we'll see how they sell over the next few days. Come back in a few days and I’ll give you your share of the profits.”
Chris agreed readily and Frank excused Ben and led Chris to the back-store room. This had a clear scribing bench for him to work on. As Chris set up the table, he was handed a large pile of bags from Frank. Once everything was in order and set up to his liking, the first thing he did was to note each type of bag and the prices-indicated, to limit the opportunity for Frank to cheat him. For the rest of the morning he painstakingly inscribed all one hundred bags being careful to ensure a good quality. This was difficult for Chris, as he still only had a low-grade inscription tool that was partially broken.
After Chris had finished, he checked over his entire series of magical symbols and was pleased with the quality of his work. The only aspect of the work that he was not happy with was the bag quality. Many of them were cheaply made, cutting corners in the design. Chris considered the bags. It was possible that if they had specific magical inscription work done on them, they could become higher quality and the flaws would be fixed. Not wanting for the bag’s quality to weigh down his own work, he used his extensive magical inscribing experience to upgrade all of the bags. For some bags he added durability and strength inscriptions, while for others, he improved on the original magical inscriptions. By the time he was happy with his work it was late in the afternoon. Exhausted but satisfied, he went to fetch Frank.
Eyeing over the bags, Frank said, “It all looks in order. You’ve even improved all of the other inscriptions. You must have an… interesting background, to be able to do such high-quality work. What happened to put in the same situation as my friend Ben?”
Thinking back to days before his betrayal, Chris looked down. “Life does not always go along the path you expected.” He looked back at Frank. “I’ll see you in three days to check up on the sales.” He said as he left the store.
Chris left the market and walked back to the storm drain, feeling oddly energized after a long day of work. Hopefully he would be able to get some money out of this enterprise. As Chris and Ben waited to go back to Frank in three days, they managed to make some leather bags out of the scraps of leather and cloth that Ben always seem to have on him. While they were making them, Ben confessed that he had once owned Frank’s store. Unfortunately, due to his drinking problem, he had lost it all over time. Eventually he had found himself on the streets, homeless and jobless. Chris had noticed early on that if Ben had any money, he would spend it on some type of drink, mostly the very cheapest stuff. When he was sober though, he normally was reliable and friendly person.
Chis covered the four bags they had made in all different types of inscriptions, giving them high durability and large inner volumes. One of the bags was only a small strip of folded leather, with an inside, that was several litres big. It also had a hidden opening to be able to put items inside. Chris’s plan for this was to hide any money he gained from the enterprise. If people around him found ou
t that he had money, he could find himself robbed with no way to get his money back. None of the city's security forces tended to believe anything the homeless said, especially when they said they had lost large amounts of money. It was best to be prepared for all eventualities.
The rest of the time he worked on developing more inscriptions based around the Ether pillar of magic. By the end of the third day he was very close to a couple more inscription developments. The first inscription he developed had been a catalyst to his dormant thought patterns, and now he was hopeful of more developments. The other pillars of magic had established millions of possible different inscriptions with different properties for each one. Chris was hopeful this would be the same for the Ether pillar.
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On the third day, Chris and Ben went early to Frank’s market store, to see how many, if any, of the bags had been sold. As Chris was walking, he was slightly nervous. Maybe he had gotten his hopes up too much. This had happened to him too many times in the past year. His hopes were often destroyed by the reality of his situation. As the two man threaded their way through the market, He couldn’t help but notice how empty it was. Probably due to the lack of tourists about, as not all the market stores were open yet. As they approached Franks store, they saw him setting up for the day. Frank looked up saw the two unkempt men. Chris paused at the intensity of the look until he saw a blossoming look of relief on his face.
Frank smiled widely, “You two are impossible to find. I’ve been trying to get hold of two of you for the last two days. I wasn’t sure if you had pulled some cruel joke and ran off on me. Anyway, all the bags have sold, and I keep getting requests for more. Even some of the other stalls have been asking for some of the bags. Chris, I don’t suppose you can work all day on a new batch of bags for me to sell?”
Into the Ether Page 3
