Chapter 162: The Magnificent Traveler Returns

The morning damp of Deadfall was a welcome detail after months away, reminding him of the Pacific Northwest. He'd slept through the night and well past the dawn bell, the comfort of his own bed fully erasing the road weariness. It was good to be home. Ahead, the garish blue paint of Jakob's Magnificent Market was a landmark against the grey morning. Cal pushed the door, and the chime above it announced his arrival with a cheerful, insistent clang.

"Ah, a customer! Give me just a moment to finish my inventory and I promise I'll—"

Jakob looked up and stilled, dropping the rag he had been wiping the counter with.

"The magnificent traveler returns!"

"Hey, Jakob."

Jakob came around the counter in a flash and gripped both of Cal's broadening shoulders, shaking him gently. "Partner! Partner, partner, partner! Come, come! I've been running on empty shelves for eleven days, do you understand what that has done to my nerves?!"

"You still have plenty to sell," Cal replied, looking around at the odds and ends stacked around the store.

"Mere scenery! The main attraction sold out and I'm just keeping the stage set for your grand return."

Cal let himself be steered onto the stool by the counter and rested his pack down on the floor at his heel, leaning his weapons on the counter next to it. He'd forgotten this, the sheer velocity of Jakob.

"Books first," the merchant said, and was already reaching under the counter. He came up with a slim ledger and pushed it across, then a locked strongbox, and finally a strip of paper on which he'd written a running tally in his cramped hand. "Everything should be in order."

Cal ran the numbers and counted the coin, and it was as the man said. Every line and copper. Jakob's cut a hair under what he would have been within his rights to bill for all the work he did, which Cal noticed and didn't mention.

He set the ledger down and glanced up. "It looks like things went well?"

"Well? Well?! We sold out of everything, my friend! Everything! I could have sold three times what you left me and still turned people away. The Verdant Phial is a shadow of what it once was, and people are eager for our superior product and prices." Jakob was off again, making gestures in the air with both hands. "There is a market to be claimed here, and I have been standing in the middle of it with empty shelves and a smile like a fool."

"You did well."

"Bah. Well enough."

Cal stared at Jakob, who was watching him with an expression of anxious expectation, and made his decision. He reached for his pack and drew it into his lap. This time he kept it square in front of him, the mouth of it opened toward Jakob. He slid his hand down inside, skipped the theatrical rummage he had performed last time, and simply drew his left hand back out with the silver ring visible on his finger and the first crate of healing draughts sitting on the counter between them.

Jakob gaped at him.

Cal pulled out a second crate.

A third.

By the sixth crate Jakob had sat down without seeming to notice he was doing it. Cal kept going until the counter was covered with small wooden crates stacked high with potions and elixirs, the evidence of his efforts while he bided his time in Mirathra. He even set out salves in their little clay pots, and, finally, three sealed cases of smoke bombs packed in wool. Two new types of creations that he'd managed to find recipes for in Aurelian's writings.

Both men had to stand up to see each other over the pile when Cal was done, and Jakob rounded the counter to grab Cal's left hand. The merchant looked at the ring, then glanced furtively between Cal and the crates.

"My friend…"

"Yes?"

"You are a lunatic!" Jakob whisper-shouted, and practically threw the clutched hand away, dragging both of his down his own face. "You are a rich lunatic, and you have been walking around with a—with a void ring, Cal, with a—do you understand—do you have any idea—"

"I know what it's worth."

"You don't." Jakob shaped the air with new intensity. "You don't, Cal. I have been in this trade for decades. I have brokered a lot of things, but I have never brokered one of those. I have seen one, once, on a Gilded merchant who traveled with four bonded guards. You just—" He mimed the magically appearing crates weakly.

Cal shrugged, and Jakob visibly gathered himself. He stood taller and straightened his waistcoat, then looked around the shop as if reassessing the exits. Leaning in closely, he dropped his voice into a register Cal didn't hear often—the hard, gutter-born voice that lived under the pitchman.

"You do not draw from it where anyone can see. If you need a delivery brought to my counter, you send word and I come to you, or you use the alley door and knock twice. I have never seen this ring. I will never see this ring. If a man asks me how you carry the inventory, you brought it in a cart that they must have missed. Do we understand each other?"

"We do…"

"Good." Jakob straightened again, and the pitchman came forcefully back on. "Excellent! Magnificent, in fact! Now, my friend, look at all this beautiful merchandise, just look at it." He was already pacing the length of the counter, hands outstretched, eyes shining.

Cal let him run.

While Jakob paced out the dimensions of a business plan only he could see, Cal turned inward and reached for the chore he'd postponed since Mirathra. The World Soul had spent his production run tapping at the edge of his awareness with notifications until somewhere in that first week he'd quit reading altogether.

He opened the queue, and the backlog unrolled in a wash of blue light.

[New Spell Gained: Homogenize (E) - Novice]

[New Spell Gained: Stabilize (E) - Novice]

The salves had forced the first one on him. The Concoction Compendium's section on unguents ran three pages in Aurelian's cramped hand, each margin holding useful tidbits of wisdom. "A liquid holds itself together out of habit. A paste must be persuaded."[Homogenize] was the persuasion.

The second Spell had cost him some singed eyebrow and multiple flux-shells, which were easy-to-shatter ceramic containers he'd bought from a vendor in Mirathra. [Stabilize] remained the strangest casting he knew. Build a reaction on purpose… then refuse to let it finish. A stasis lock clamped over a collapse, patient as a held breath, waiting for the shell to break and the Spell to fail exactly when and where he chose. Every smoke bomb in those sealed cases was a small argument with entropy that he was winning on a delay.

Along with the new Spells and products came a new alchemical discipline.

[New Skill Gained: Munitions (E) - Novice]

And then there were all of the rest of his gains.

[Your proficiency with Homogenize (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Stabilize (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Munitions (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Extract Essence (E) has increased to Adept]

[Your proficiency with Purge Impurity (E) has increased to Adept]

[Your proficiency with Thermal Manipulation (E) has increased to Adept]

[Your proficiency with Harmonize (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Decant (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Scour (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Isolation Field (E) has increased to Adept]

[Your proficiency with Air Hand (E) has increased to Adept]

[Your proficiency with Spell Layering (E) has increased to Practiced]

[Your proficiency with Mana Channeling (E) has increased to Adept]

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The workhorses had earned their keep. Hundreds of extractions and purges, heat held steady through more brews than he could count without help. [Harmonize] lagged behind the others, and that felt right; E-tier essences fought the binding in a way F-tier stock never had, and the hardest of the fundamentals was going to make him pay for every rank. Grubby had earned Adept the honest way, tending vials and moving reagents through half his stay in Mirathra. And [Spell Layering] was finally moving again—extract-and-purge in one hand, heat-and-bind in the other, the old production line that had shocked Aurelian only getting better now that he was in E-tier.

Then the last line in the queue.

[Your proficiency with Pharmacopeia (E) has increased to Adept]

Cal held on that one and thought of the alchemist.

Thank you, you insufferable genius.

He closed the queue and watched Jakob move around the crates like a man being handed his own birthday. Under all of it, he thought that he had made the right call. He didn't begrudge Jakob giving up his name under torture, and the man had only done well by him otherwise, proven twice over today by his honest distribution and concern for Cal's wellbeing. Sharing the secret of the void ring only made their future business logistics easier.

Cal rearmed himself and shouldered his pack, leaving Jakob to the crates. He was almost to the door when the merchant realized he was leaving.

"Where are you off to? Just going to dump all of this on me and run?"

"What do you mean 'dump' it on you? It's plain to see you're happier than a kid in a candy shop. I've got more errands to run, and I'm fresh out of reagents to perform more alchemy. I'll leave it in your capable hands."

"Fine, fine. Thank you for the haul, partner!"

Cal waved at Jakob over his shoulder as he strode out of the shop.

Leo must have heard the door of The Golden Mortar and was already coming in from the back with a rag over his shoulder and a smudge of flour on his jaw. He grinned when he saw Cal, and behind him, between the worktables and framed by the ovens against the back wall, Mira leaned into what used to be the door to the lab with her arms crossed, on her own two feet. She smiled and waved when she saw who it was.

"You made it!" the baker said brightly. "Welcome back."

He turned and motioned for Cal to follow, walking into the kitchen with Cal in tow, and for a few minutes Cal simply indulged his friend's excitement to show off all that he'd worked on. The ovens were framed. The proofing station Leo had drawn on a napkin three months ago actually existed, in wood and iron, in the corner.

"The venting was the real fight," Leo said, pointing up at a run of copper pipe. "The mason wanted it straight out the back, but if the heat leaves that fast the crust sets before the crumb's done, and then you've baked a very handsome rock." He grinned. "I had two arguments with him, one with the Dominion inspector, then one more with him. I won most of them."

"Well done, Leo, it all looks great. I knew you'd rise to the occasion." Leo could only groan at Cal's baking pun. "Where are the workers?"

"We gave them the day off and told them you'd sent word ahead that we need the space private. Which was true, and also convenient."

"How much longer do they expect the renovations to take?"

"Another two months if they don't run into issues. Maybe three."

They ended up at the front of the shop, stools pulled around one of the prep tables. Leo had heated some tea on one of the working stoves, and Mira had fetched them all a cup on her own.

"Fair warning," Leo said, pouring. "Vonda knows it's today. We told her at breakfast."

Cal lowered his cup. "Wait, what?"

"The healing," Mira added. "Cal, she's my mother, and you were seen at the gate last night. Half the street knew you were back by breakfast, and the whole village knows what you went to Mirathra to find. If she'd heard it from the butcher's wife instead of from me, she'd have had this door off its hinges by supper."

"She's expecting to meet him," Leo said. "She has questions ready… there's a whole list."

Cal turned his cup on the tabletop and looked at the old laboratory door before coming to a decision.

"Well, clearly the healer's come and gone already then."

Leo paused with the teapot still in his hand. "Huh?"

"He came unseen before sunrise and worked on Mira after you two arrived. He finished a little while ago and left just as discreetly." Cal spread his hands. "It's done, and Vonda will have no one to question."

Mira looked contemplative, both hands around her cup. "So right now… I'm already healed. That's the story? I could stand up, walk out that door, and just be the girl who walks again?"

"Just so. In fact—"

Three blows landed hard on the front door, and the latch jumped in its bracket.

"Leo Tanner! Open the door this instant!"

Leo was off his stool and halfway to the wheelchair in its corner before Cal caught his arm.

"It's done. Remember?" Cal glanced over at Mira. "Looks like the moment just arrived early."

Stopping, Leo looked at the chair, then at Mira, and let out a breath he must have been holding for weeks. Mira stood and smoothed her skirt down twice more than it needed. She walked to the middle of the shop floor, where the light from the front windows fell, folding her hands and looking at Leo.

"Let her in."

Walking over to the front door, Leo opened it and didn't move out of the way. Vonda Jain stood on the step with a covered dish balanced on one arm and a second basket over the other, her hair up in a scarf and her mouth already set in a firm line.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"Gone, ma'am."

"Gone?"

"He finished not half an hour ago and departed," Cal said, stepping in at Leo's side. "We were deciding who'd go and fetch you."

"I… I see."

Leo stepped out of the doorway and Cal mirrored him. Vonda let out everything else she'd wanted to say in one ragged breath. She pushed the dish into Leo's arms and the basket into Cal's without looking at them, crossed the floor, and scooped her daughter against her chest fiercely, speaking into Mira's hair before the tears had properly started.

"You're standing! Oh, Mira Jain, if that man left anything unfinished in you—"

"Mama, I'm fine."

"You are not fine, you are—oh. Oh, my girl. Oh—"

Vonda pulled back far enough to look at her daughter entire, hands still on her shoulders.

"Mama." Mira took her arm. "It's done, and I'm all better. Cal came through. Now come on, I'm ready to walk home. Let's take the long way."

Vonda glanced towards Cal at that, giving him the briefest of nods. Then they went out into the afternoon together, Vonda hovering on one side and Leo on the other, the woman clearly expecting her daughter to fall at any moment and ready to catch her when she did.

Cal watched from just outside the bakery-to-be's front door and enjoyed the scene. Down the street, a shopkeeper came out onto his stoop with his hand over his mouth. A woman with a market basket stopped in the middle of the lane and stared.

The story was already on the move, just like the young woman who had been crippled and now walked unaided. Cal smiled and headed toward the Hearthsong.

The inn's common room was full and welcoming and everything he'd missed. Cassia saw him first and made a noise that reminded him of Sashi, if Sashi were younger and less contained, and she was around the bar with her hands on his face before he'd fully cleared the door.

"Look at you. Just, look at you." She released him long enough to catch a passing serving girl by the sleeve and aim her at the kitchen. "Go get Gareth. Tell him the stew can mind itself for a minute because Cal is back!"

The girl ran off. Cassia turned back, and her attention went to the empty doorway behind Cal before it came back to him. "It was all over the village by breakfast that you walked in alone, dear. Tell me quickly. Is she well? Is she safe? Why didn't she—"

"Corinne's well, Cassia. She's safe and happy, and she stayed because she needed another month with her grandparents. If she keeps to her plan, she's setting out any day now." He touched his coat where the bundle sat. "I have letters."

Gareth came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron, and the sight of him on the wrong side of his own door turned more heads than Cal's arrival had. He stopped an arm's length away and looked Cal over, head to boots.

"She stayed?"

"Another month. It was her own decision."

"Safe?"

"As safe as Borin can make her."

Gareth nodded. "Good." He gripped Cal tightly on the shoulder before making his way back to his kitchen, and that was all.

"Letters later," Cassia said. "Later, later. Sit and rest." She steered him toward a table near the hearth. "And Mira and Leo? You've seen them?"

"Yeah, just this afternoon. Whether you see them tonight is Vonda's business now, but they were invited. She marched the both of them home from the Mortar."

"Marched them—how would—"

"Mira walked out of the Mortar an hour ago."

Cassia brought a hand to her mouth.

"On her own? The whole way? Nobody carrying her or holding her up?"

"All the way down the lane. If I had to guess, Vonda won't let her back out the door until she's fed her twice."

"Cal… you did it! Oh, thank the spirits! The healer must have been quite good, then? I don't even want to know how much you spent."

"They were the best, and everything I spent was worth it and more."

Cassia smiled kindly at that, a look of relief coming over her face. She brought him a mug of ale and left him to his own devices while she got back to hosting her guests. Cal deferred any food, choosing to just enjoy his drink and people-watch.

Second dusk had descended for an hour before Gareth came out of his kitchen for the second time in one night, put plates on the table, and sat down. Cal gave up on seeing his friends but didn't blame them for their inability to escape Vonda, and he joined Gareth in eating.

When the room's patronage had emptied enough, Cassia came and joined them, and Cal drew the bundle of letters from his coat and set it beside her cup.

Cassia touched the green cord gently. "How is she?"

"She's well." He chose his next words carefully. Corinne's confidences were Corinne's. What she was ready to write, she had written, and he didn't know how much she'd be sharing with her folks. "She's… she's been busy. Sashi has been running her a bit ragged. Family things, you know? Supplier meetings, seatings. Introductions." He paused, briefly staring off. "She's very good at it all, her grandparents insist, which came as a bit of a surprise to her."

Cassia went still, her hand on the cord. Gareth, across the table, said nothing. He cut a piece of bread and got to slathering it with butter.

"She was in the training yards most mornings," Cal continued. "She's better with the spear than when we left and learned how to cast her first Spell. In fact, she was emphatic that I make sure to tell you that."

"Magic! Did you hear that Gareth? Our daughter really is going to be a Harmonic!"

Gareth grunted approvingly and smiled at his wife, who came to gather him into a big hug.

Cal nodded at the letters after they'd settled back into their seats. "She has a lot of things to share, and I'm sure it's all in there. She mentioned the long one's for you, Cassia."

She picked the bundle up and held it a moment before setting it back down beside her plate. She looked at Gareth, who kept chewing his bread. He looked at Cal. Neither of them said anything.

"You said supplier meetings," Cassia eventually started. "Seatings and introductions." Her fingers were picking at the green cord now. "Gareth, that feels like an awful lot more than just a granddaughter visiting for a season. That's—"

She caught herself with a quick glance around the room before folding her hands in her lap and leaving the rest unsaid.

Gareth finished his bite before he spoke two simple words, as if they explained everything.

"She's sixteen."

"I know how old she is."

"She's ours. Yours and mine." He set his knife down and turned fully to his wife. "Nobody is going to hold that girl to a life she didn't choose for herself. Not even a Hearthsong."

Cassia held his stare for a long moment, and then her shoulders came down. She picked the letters back up and cradled them to her chest.

Eventually, Cassia and Gareth left and returned to their respective roles. When the common room was really growing thin, Cassia placed a fresh mug of ale at Cal's elbow and sat down across from him.

"By the way, Felicity's been asking for you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, nearly every other day for the last two weeks. Please stop by the Hall when you can." She hesitated. "They've… been stretched thin over there. That's the rumor, at least."

"Thanks for passing it along. I'll make sure to go first thing tomorrow."

"Of course, dear."

She got up and squeezed his shoulder as she departed. He watched her pass through the kitchen door and out of sight.