by Jean Johnson
The Efrijt grunted. “Veer left,” he ordered at the next junction, “then take the slope down to the right.”
“Left, then right, got it . . .” With the Efrijt at his back, grunting orders, it didn’t take long to reach the guest quarters carved into the rocks of the far hillside. Picking the door to the quarters housing Muan-taje and Djindji-taje, Tuki knocked on the wooden panels forming the door. Straight, long wood being rare around here, someone had laminated many smaller pieces together, forming a set of zigzags and longer lines.
The door opened just after he knocked a second time, leaving him staring at Muan-taje, clad in a knee-length tunic and little else. “. . . Tuki?” She peered past him at the bigger male. “And you are . . . ?”
“Muan-taje, this is Daro Dakin Urudo,” Tuki introduced. “Daro Dakin, this is Muan-taje, our healer for this journey. Muan-taje,” he continued quickly, recapturing her attention, “there is a young man about my age, Tanaluk, who is suffering from the crazy rock. He needs to have the crazy extracted to make the pain stop. Did you learn how to do that?”
That made the Fae frown. “Do the Efrijt not do that? I thought it was implicit in their contract.”
Daro Dakin huffed. “We cannot all be Fae with madjic dripping out of our noses, female. Such spells are costly in time and energy. We save them for the worst cases. The boy Tanaluk is not one of the worst, by far.”
A huff of breath escaped Muan. “Well, we’ll see about that!”
She slammed the door shut. Tuki jumped a little, blinked, and peeked up at the Efrijt. Rather than looking angry at the rudeness of her act, the male looked bemused. He even arched one of his auburn eyebrows. “She has fire within her . . .”
“I . . . guess so?” the youth offered tentatively. “I don’t know if she’s coming out. I’m sorry.”
Muan-taje called back to them through the panel, her voice partially muffled. “I’m changing into my clothes! And getting a few supplies . . .”
That made him flush, embarrassed at having doubted the kindness of one of the god-beings. Even if this one was a new Fae, barely born into the world, Muan-taje was a god-being, and was kindhearted. Tuki wasn’t so sure about the Efrijt, any of them. They were gruff, rude, arrogant, and pushed people around. They were not kind, did not care that humans like Tanaluk hurt until their suffering was really bad . . .
That’s evil. They are capable of being evil. Just . . . subtle about it, he realized, slanting a look at the demon, the evil anima-being. Zuki was telling us apprentices that danger can be subtle, not just obvious. Like how certain berries look very attractive, and taste tart, but can cause very bad stomach cramps a day or two later. Or even kill, in large enough doses. Trying not to stare openly, he glanced at the Efrijt again. I think these people can kill in large enough doses.
Grandmother Siffae, I will try to remember everything these anima-beings say and do. As the animadjet have warned us from time to time, evil can seem nice, but can also be very tricky, too.
***
“About time you showed up,” Jinji murmured to Muan when the other woman dropped onto the seat next to hers. She eyed her fellow Fae, and pushed over a big bowl of cooked grains and legumes mixed with meat and cheese from some of the local sheep, then added a clean bowl from the stack set at the end of the table. “Have some food. Ban cooked it. He said it’s a local delicacy. Have you been out all night?”
Muan glopped some of the porridge into her bowl, then picked up a horn-carved spoon and dug into it. “After treating Tuki’s newfound friend, Tanaluk, he went and blathered to every miner who had ‘crazy sickness’ and I ended up spending the whole night and into the morning treating human after human for mercury poisoning. Also? You’re going to have an enraged triumvirate ranting at you today.” She ate a mouthful of the grain-and-meat mix, and raised her brows with a grunt of pleasure. “S’good!”
Jinji nodded, and poured her a cup of sheep’s milk to go with it. “It’s spicy, yet sweet. He said the secret lies in cooking it extra long so that the starches in the grains and beans break down. So what, exactly, did you do that is going to enrage our hosts no end?”
Raising a finger briefly, Muan ate a few more bites, then cleared her mouth with the milk. “. . . Ugh, warm . . . Well, I went out prepared to extract the mercury, with the portable scanning crystals to make sure I was catching all of it. But I also took a couple bottles to store the mercury, because I wasn’t about to extract it and then just have it beading up on top of things, or worse, hovering as a mist—did you know that mercury vapor is red, not silvery?”
“I did, actually; a lot of litigation of the Fae against the Efrijt is based on their mining practices, which tend to be uncaring toward those workers who are poisoned by the stuff,” Jinji agreed. “I trust you used all the necessary precaution spells.”
“Of course. And I condensed everything I extracted into the bottle. By the time dawn came around, the night shift workers were lining up to visit with me and I was working through the day shift workers, and then one of the overseers . . . Kuro . . . Kuro Suton, that was his name, Overseer of the Workers under Seso Parut, came storming up to yell at me about delaying his workers on their way to the mines.”
“So that’s going to get them yelling at us?” Jinji asked, arching her brow.
The door to the dining hall of the guest quarters opened, and Kefer stepped inside even as she spoke. He scratched at his ash blond hair, bound back in a plaited braid that looked rumpled from sleep, and arched a brow at her. “. . . Who is going to be yelling at us? And who is included in this ‘us’ that’ll have to deal with it?”
Muan cleared her mouthful of savory porridge and gestured with her spoon. “You, me, and Jinji. Possibly Éfan as our group leader. And the yelling will be done by the Efrijt. As I was saying, I spent most of last night extracting mercury from all the poisoned miners. Overseer of the Workers, Kuro Suton something-or-other came by shortly after dawn to yell at me about delaying his day shift workers getting to work, because they were lined up out the door of Tanaluk’s place, where I had set up the scanning crystals for treatment and everything.”
Frowning in annoyance, Kefer joined them at the table. He grabbed a bowl for himself and scooped some of the porridge and meat mix into it. “I hardly think that would be worth yelling at the three of us, when I’d think that workers cured of mercury poisoning would be more likely to work faster and better and longer, since they aren’t having to fight their symptoms.”
“That’s not why they’ll yell.” Lifting the satchel that she still wore slung over her head and shoulder, she rested the sturdy buff leather bag on the table next to her food. Opening the flap, she pulled out a small coffer box about the size of a baby’s head, manipulated the puzzle latch to get it to unlock, and opened the curved, decoratively carved lid. The carefully corked and sealed bottle inside looked like it could hold up to a cup’s worth of liquid . . . and currently held about half a cup’s worth of liquid metal.
The Fae negotiator and her law-sayer partner both started, then leaned forward, honey gold and mustard eyes widening so much, Muan could see the whites of their sclera all the way around. Kefer managed to speak after two tries. “How . . . how much . . . ?”
“I’d say a little over thirty drams’ worth,” Muan told them. “The bottle holds over sixty.”
Jinji choked on her own spit. Kefer squeaked.He clapped a hand over his mouth, then pulled it down. “You . . . and he let you walk off with that? Do you know how much that’s worth?”
“Not a clue, and I told him to go jump in an ore crusher,” Muan replied.
Jinji sucked in a gasp . . . and then choked on a laugh that turned into a guffaw interrupted by coughing. She pounded herself on her sternum, trying to clear her throat between chuckles. Kefer slanted her an annoyed look, but then gave Muan an earnest one. “I’m serious! How did he let you walk off with that much mercury? I�
�m quite sure there’s some clause in the Efrijt’s contract with the Red Rocks miners that all mercury they extract belongs to the medjant.”
“That’s the exact point I made,” Muan replied. “I was rather vexed at that time by how many of these poor humans—and their family members!—were suffering from mercury poisoning. I even extracted an eighth of a dram out of a toddler!” She scowled at the air in memory, then stuck another spoonful of the spicy strange porridge in her mouth.
Jinji, giggles finally at an end, eyed her, waited, and finally groaned. “. . . Are you going to tell us how, or not?”
Swallowing more of the milk, which cut the low-burning spice nicely, Muan cleared her mouth before replying. “I pointed out that their contract said that if the Efrijt extracted the mercury, it belonged to them. I am not Efrijt. And I pointed out that healers are allowed to charge a fee appropriate for our expertise. I pointed out that mercury is extremely dangerous, the spells to remove it are extremely difficult to administer, that I was doing this for a lot of humans, and that I was taking the mercury as payment for my services, which were making his workers healthier and more ready to resume their work in the mines once I was done, and that I was ensuring their family members were also healthy and well, and that I deserved compensation for curing them, too.”
“. . . And?” Kefer asked when she paused to eat another spoonful of breakfast. “And?”
“And I told him that if his medjant wishes to purchase the mercury from me, they are free to do so, but they will have to wait until the two of you are up and about, and that you are authorized to negotiate appropriate payment on my behalf . . . based on estimated current mercury values as traded in the Efrijt Empire.” She popped another spoonful of the stuff in her mouth.
“. . . They are going to come yell at us, all right,” Jinji muttered, dropping her cheek into her palm, elbow braced on the laminated wood of the table. A moment later, a slow, wicked grin curved her lips. “I think I should set up a scrying crystal, to record that bargaining session. There are many people back on Faelan who would pay to watch it as entertainment.”
“I think you should back off from the idea of gouging them,” Kefer countered. “At least until after we’ve examined the idea of using this incident and the implicit wealth in that vial as leverage for our other negotiations. And if so, when and how.”
Jinji pouted a little, at that. Muan closed the coffer, pushing on the lid until the puzzle lock snapped back into place. With the lid secured, the runes of the cushioning spell activated, ensuring the bottle would not be harmed. The vial itself had more magic imbued into its crafting to prevent a break, but it was better in her and Jintaya’s opinion to have double the protection against harm when it came to something as dangerous as quicksilver, particularly in such a large quantity.
She scooped up another spoonful of her breakfast, then set it down again, thinking. “Actually, if it’s all the same . . . I’d rather use that mercury to negotiate mandatory protective gear for the miners. They’re working in their normal clothes. I haven’t gone through their homes, but I could probably extract another dozen drams of quicksilver just from their living spaces and their garments.”
“Spoken like a healer at heart,” Kefer stated dryly.
“Spoken like a person who cares, at heart,” Muan retorted.
He quickly held up his hand, forestalling her argument. “I concede, someone who cares, not just a healer. And I do care, I assure you. I just have to weigh long-term benefits versus short-term benefits. We probably can afford to do both. That is, if you’re capable of doing more extraction spells? How tired are you?”
“I’m not,” Muan stated honestly. “I wasn’t even hungry until just now, when I smelled this porridge stuff. But I came in here anyway, because Éfan lectured us about too much anima making us forget to eat or sleep. I’m not tired—energized, rather—but I know I need food. And I’m not a healer at heart,” she added. “I dislike the messier parts of the healing profession. Things that I’m not even going to think about, because I want to finish this really good food. You said Ban made it?”
Jinji nodded. “It’s some recipe he said he learned on his first trip through this region thirty or so years ago. When he visited the upper end of the valley yesterday, he was reminded of it, and asked how to make it. He said an elder of the upper valley, Nandjed, gave him all the ingredients, and told him to say hello to ‘that nice Sejo Red Skin’ who apparently interrogated her rather politely a day or so after Ban left.”
“I’m glad she did so politely,” Muan murmured.
“I’m a little surprised she did so politely,” Kefer added. “But Ban said Nandjed is quite old for a human, and very friendly. Even he found her charming his first time around, and apparently he was not very inclined to accept friendliness, all those years ago.”
That made Jinji snort. “I got an earful from Rua about him, and the differences in how he behaves now, versus how he behaved when the pantean was first established. Be glad we’ve come along after Jintaya has had forty-six years to wear away at his suspicion, anger, and wariness. Like water to a pebble, she has gradually smoothed down all of his sharp points and edges. Or at least most of them—and better her than me. I haven’t developed my sense of patience that much, just yet.”
“Give it another forty, fifty years,” Muan counseled her. “You’ll get the hang of it in a few more decades, and then it’s just practice.”
“How old are you again?” Jinji asked, curious.
“A little over a century.” Muan grinned. “I know, I don’t look a day over sixty.”
A glance from their youngest Fae toward Kefer had him shrugging. “Not quite a quarter millennium, myself.”
“I feel like a baby,” Jinji muttered, dropping her chin onto both palms. She grinned wickedly after a moment; she was not a Fae given to bouts of self-pity. “But then I think of how I get to use my too-young looks and seemingly sweet and innocent ways to trick all those opponents at the negotiating table . . .”
“You are far too devious for your age,” Kefer retorted. Not for the first time, since they had associated with each other for a couple cases now. “I think I know why you have so little patience; you filled up its pockets in your brain with double and triple scoops of mischief.”
That made her laugh and execute a little bow in her seat. “Naturally! And I use it to your advantage.”
“Yes, you do,” he agreed, resting his own chin on his palm, smiling back at her.
“If the two of you are going to flirt, find me some bread on which to spread all of that sweet,” Muan told them.
“You sound like you haven’t found anyone you like well enough to flirt with,” Kefer said, sitting up and back. He dipped his own spoon, carved from sheep’s horn like the others, into his own porridge. “Or have you, and this assignment is interfering with it?”
“I haven’t flirted with anyone in a few years,” she dismissed. “The closest I’ve come was that daro last night.”
“Daro?” Jinji asked, confused for a moment. Then corrected herself. “Oh, that’s right. The Efrijt who escorted Tuki last night.”
Muan nodded. “Daro Dakin Urudo, Taro Anzak’s cousin, and brother to Kuro Nazik. He stayed all night with me and into the day, and finally escorted me back here, far enough that I could walk the last bit on my own with confidence. We talked a bit. He’s a daro of craftsmanship, working in metals and gemstones, precious and semiprecious. So he’s quite a bit like my brother Zedren. That allowed me to talk with him about different things. I actually managed to get a fair bit of information out of him on the non-mercury mining and refining they’ve been doing. I couldn’t tell him as much about what the pantean is doing, but I shared some reminisces from my and Zedren’s childhood.”
“A fair bit, you say?” Jinji asked, brows raising in speculation.
“Pretty much all of it is open knowledge,” M
uan warned her. “Things the humans were confirming while they listened. The conversation helped distract them from the treatment . . . though according to one of the older miners, my method of extracting the ‘crazy poisoning’ hurt a lot less than the Efrijt version.”
“I’ll bet it also takes you longer to extract it,” Jinji added, a touch cynical from her past experiences with the other race. The Efrijt in their normal, magically accessible surroundings were efficient at casting most magics. Brutally efficient, at times. “Which is what initially annoyed that overseer no end.”
Muan touched her finger to her forehead in acknowledgment, since her mouth was full of spicy-sweet porridge.
“Well, tell us what you’ve learned,” Kefer urged her. “We might as well add it to our list of things we know about this particular medjant, so we’ll know where to pry and where to press in looking for advantages.”
“And don’t delay too much in sharing,” Jinji added. She reached for the big bowl of porridge, hungry for another serving. The brownish stuff really tasted good, even if it came across a bit odd as a breakfast food. “Who knows how soon we’ll have to argue with their leadership on who gets to own all those drams you extracted.”
“Exactly,” Kefer agreed. Nodding, Muan began.
***
Finally! They’re gone . . . the smug, arrogant, condescending, nosy, pushy . . . el-fae! Zakal watched their departure from the doorway of the audience hall. The sky barge slowed as it reached an elevation of about fifty or sixty lengths, turned to aim itself to the southeast, and glided off in that direction. The bartering over who had rights to protect and/or exploit this world had not been settled, but the golden annoyances had managed to wrest a temporary contract “for miner health services” in regards to the mercury poisoning.
That contract was both a blessing and a pain in her tusks. For as long as the negotiations took place and the miners continued to extract mercury, the Fae named Muan, or someone of similar appropriate skill, would visit every twenty days and check on the health and living conditions of the miners. They would extract the mercury from flesh and home with far less pain and far more efficiency than the Efrijt could. The humans were ecstatic over that part of the deal, and praised the sejo for agreeing to the arrangement.
