Chapter 022

Never give a merchant what they want.

Vodaten. Harker squeezed the bridge of his nose as he walked away from the inn. It was a lot further than he expected to travel. It would require him to cross over the Gnarl, pass across the delta, and through the port city of Bephir.

Vodaten was a proper city. The jewel of Kesca Isle, and a trade hub for most of the north. But Harker didn’t live on Kesca Isle. He was on Liir, separated from Kesca by the deadly ocean. Admittedly, it was only about a hundred miles south, but that might as well have been at the bottom of the Infinite Sea.

Further than I’ve ever gone. Harker checked the countdown on his wrist. Is three months going to be enough time?

Johan had been correct. Traveling with companions would go a long way toward speeding up his journey. It would be safer to boot.

Bestial Aberrants were far more common in the Gnarl than even the Drop. Few traveled the peak if they could help it, preferring to stick to the northern villages and towns or down by the coastline near Bephir. Technically the Sunken City was supposed to patrol the passes, but according to his mother no one managed them any longer.

Harker blinked back a trace of wooziness. It persisted, annoyingly, and his stomach grumbled in protest. He pulled a piece of jerky from his pack and chewed on it idly.

Traveling with others would be a comfort, but it wasn’t one he could afford. If Stitchers and mercenary companies were willing to hunt him down for the Vestige, what would other Talents do when they found out? Anyone he traveled with would be a risk to himself far more than any monster on the road. At least until he could more reliably defend himself.

Didn’t do too bad today, though. He fought back a grin. His duel against the stickjak and then Sven had been an unexpected boon, and had taught him quite a bit about himself and a few new Talents. The disorientation he felt upon manifesting his Talent was fading by slow increments, and Harker had felt himself holding Sovereign Sight at a three feet radius a touch easier this time. It gave him hope that, one day, he could master its power.

If I can establish tributaries and a Current, maybe one day will be far sooner.

Too much information still filled his senses as it stood, forcing him to rely on instinct to make his next move. Harker disliked that. In a fight, a single instant could change everything, and relying on instinct alone was a sure path toward the grave. It was untenable and chafed at his Laws. If Harker couldn’t prepare properly, then victory would always be a gamble, and the odds had always been against him.

Still, his efforts against Sven had been easier than he expected. While the boy was quite powerful, he wasn’t a fighter. Sven had been driven by frustration and fear, and he lacked any real combat experience. Harker’s childhood bullies were far better opponents.

The stickjak had been the real challenge. Facing down a construct without human flaws and emotions was eye-opening. He couldn’t always rely on baiting his opponents, so finding the Stickjack’s weakness was a fortunate turn. Finding Sven’s had been nothing short of revelatory. If Harker could manage to do that against everyone he faced, he could formulate better counters for their Talents and habits.

Far from a curse, Sovereign Sight could end up being the best thing that ever happened to him.

Harker swallowed the rest of his jerky and rubbed at his shoulder. It was quite sore from the bashing Sven gave it, but as he rotated it, he detected no real damage. Heavy bruising, certainly, but it would be fine, given enough time. The real issue was that his adrenaline was fading, and the ache of his tributary was growing worse again.

The jerky helped but his lack of sleep was catching up to him. Using his Talent twice in quick succession didn’t help either. His chest ached and all the way down his left arm felt raw and scratched open.

“Yes. It was stupid to fight,” Stillwater said from beside him. Harker jolted, hand seizing a knife before he recognized the diminuitive monster. Stillwater grinned, pleased at the reaction. “I bet your soul wants to break apart now, eh?”

Harker stopped rubbing his chest. Stillwater laughed.

“I’ll admit, you beat those children handily. Far better than the Aberrants, at any rate. And throwing that firebreather’s words back in his face?” Stillwater’s ears wiggled in joy. “That’s proper Gilken behavior.”

Harker frowned. Was that an insult or admiration?

“Don’t get it twisted. It was a pointless waste of time. All you’ve done now is wear yourself out further.” Stillwater clapped his hands. “Go to the market, human.”

“The market? It has—” Harker frowned at the creature. “The Charterstone. That’s what’ll help my soul?”

“My my my, you’re riding the riptide today. What will you figure next? Walking? Breathing, perhaps?” Stillwater turned around, but found Harker headed away from him. “Where’re you going? The market is that way!”

“I’ll go there,” Harker kept walking toward a squat building between two other small shops. “After I resupply.”

Stillwater dragged his claws across his face. “Ugh!”

Harker ignored him. He’d finally spotted the sign he’d been looking for since entering the village. A general store should have everything I need to keep going.

The door creaked as he entered, and the first thing that struck him was how small it was. At least half the size of Garon’s, it still had a wide selection of the basics. Food staples, farming tools, even seeds. He headed to that section immediately.

There he found dozens of bins, each as small as his hand, but filled to the brim with various common plants and herbals. Most were basic; things like corn, wheat, lentils, potatoes, and squash. There were even a few strawberry seeds left, though not many. Best of all, the shop had seeds for medicinal herbs too.

If he could plant them and feed them his abundant Water, could he encourage their growth into useful reagents? Better yet, they’d all be Sea-touched…and crops like that could sell for a great deal.

“Ah, I see you’ve found my seed wall.”

Harker glanced aside to find a woman in a dirty apron and wide voluminous sleeves. She smiled at him, as pleasant as can be, and her wide spectacles slipped down her nose. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Oh. Well, I’m looking to get a variety of these seeds.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Wonderful. I can get you a burlap sack to hold them in.” She tapped her chin. “But if you’re looking to get many, might I suggest a proper container?”

Before Harker could answer, the woman reached along a shelf and produced a hardened leather case. Harker’s eyebrows lifted, impressed as much by her quick hands as he was the object itself. “This is a partitioned container. As you can see, it’s flexible, with each section fully separate from the others. It’s intended to be worn on a belt, which goes through the loops in the back, and keeps the entire container to hand. I made it for farmers out sowing their fields. I call it the Seed Quiver.”

She handed it over. Harker took it with no little interest. He was always a fan of pockets and pouches. His own gear was woefully lacking them, at the moment, but his old cloak had a number of useful pockets he’d store all manner of things. The container was over a foot long and as flexible as she’d promised. The partitions were each five inches high and half that deep, and at first glance he figured it would be bulky, but when he placed it against his hip it molded to his frame like a second skin.

“Here you can access the interior,” she said, pointing out the bottom of the Seed Quiver. “The spring inside forces a measure of seed out of the bottom and into your hand. Then it can be cast outward with a simple flick of the wrist.”

Harker could immediately see several uses for a mechanism like that, but he wasn’t going to admit that to a shopkeep. They could smell interest like blood in the water. “I see how it could be useful, but I’m not a farmer.”

“It’s quite advantageous for anyone looking to access small items quickly.”

“This is quite nice,” he admitted, handing it back. “But out of my price range, I’m afraid.”

The woman refused to take it back. “Consider it for a bit longer. Fill it with the seed you require. It is the first I’ve made and I earnestly wish to see what you think.”