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The Migration of Vivex: Chapter 17: Inter Vivos

  “Knowledge will set you free.” An odd saying of the smoothskin scholars. This seems to be correct at first, as ignorance can trap you as well as any snare. However, the concept of ‘freedom’ within their society is far too complex to take this at face value. Usually, freedom is predicated more on the ability to wield power over others. What is interesting is that is similar to our own culture, and requires the same examinations.

  -From Philosophies of the Smoothskins, Chapter 4: Institutionality.

  It wasn’t long before Ironmantle was in the older part of the building. Large oak bookshelves full of hoarded knowledge.

  His target, Limma Ovamus, was one of the leading researchers in combatting disease, and had been crucial in creating a medicine that actually counteracted trollpox.

  She also, according to his sources, was a previous colleague of Floss, and could possibly hold another piece to the puzzle he was so excited to solve.

  And is a devout worshiper of Il’taura. That was the final piece of information from Treyvor was what Ironmantle had needed. The God of Medicine.

  The Nissar woman was busy scanning over several reports when Ironmantle walked in.

  “Just leave it on the table there.” She said without looking up. Her small frame was perched on a stool that had several cushions on it to get her to the proper height. One of her hands slid under the table slowly when he remained there, though she didn’t look up.

  Nervous? A crossbow under there?

  She looked just like her description. A few inches shy of five feet tall, White hair up in a tight bun. Half-moon spectacles. Button nose, and brown eyes. She looked like she had been crying. He put away the glasses, peeling off his false nose and standing straight.

  “Oh, I am here for the perpetuity equations, not to deliver something, dear Limma.” Ironmantle said, casually scooping the paste out of the scars on his face. “And to end your grief, whatever its source.” He locked the door and took the key.

  The Nissar woman didn’t seem to notice him for a moment. Then her shoulder twitched.

  Tink.

  It was almost silent, but it was all the warning he needed.

  Tsh!

  A suspended vial smashed, right where he had been standing just an instant before. Caustic yellow liquid spattered where it had landed, fizzing angrily as it gnawed through runed tiles meant to deal with the worst possible magics and chemicals.

  “Good! I was worried this would be boring.” He grinned, striding forward.

  Ovamus dove off of her stool and scrambled up, looking at him with panicked eyes, working hard to keep the desk between them, her tiny legs reminding him of a scampering mouse. He so enjoyed being the tomcat.

  Ironmantle could see that she had been beautiful once, though that was waning as she left middle age for her twilight years. She opened a cabinet on the floor and hurled two more vials at him. He dodged one, which smashed on a wall, then caught the other.

  “Oh dear, you could just tell me where they are.” The wall started to melt behind him, more runed tiles dissolving and dripping down to the floor.

  “No! One unending monster is enough!” She snarled, glaring as she looked for a weapon.

  He waggled a finger at her. “Tut tut, Professor! Is that any way to talk about the emperor? Especially when you are shifting blame away from yourself.”

  The gnome woman blanched. “Guards! Fire! Murder!” She shrieked, scrambling away from him again.

  Ironmantle smiled, letting it be cruel. Waiting.

  Nobody came. There was no sound from the hallway outside.

  “Guards!” She screamed louder, grabbing more beakers, throwing them, and he slowly prowled closer, sidestepping the glassware and chemicals.

  “They won’t hear us. I wanted this to be a special occasion my dear. It is Roshamas, a time to celebrate new beginnings. And endings.”

  She was crying, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  “Really, you think I would ask for those equations before actually doing my due diligence? You think I killed Floss and didn’t get his part of it too?”

  “N-no! You bastard!” she found a small knife and ran at him. Her sudden fury confused him and he caught her wrist.

  “Idiot.” He snarled, twisting viciously, relying on his manipulation of the Dark in the hallway to mask the sickening crack of bones and the woman’s scream as he easily lifted her up off the floor.

  He glared into her pained face, and saw fear had been replaced by rage. And loss. Oh? So that’s why she was crying.

  “Well, that explains why you two stayed in contact.” He said, sneering. “Have many discussions of the process in the night?”

  She spat in his face and he dropped the Nissar before backhanding her. She crumpled onto the floor, still weaping, clutching her wrist.

  “We were going to figure out the missing parts! We were going to run away! Be happy! Start over and not miss out on anything!” She wailed.

  He wiped his face, continuing “It is a foregone conclusion that you both would die. Do you think the emperor would knowingly let you live with that knowledge?”

  She sobbed. “What makes you think he’ll let you live?”

  “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  It had become tedious.

  “I am here to kill you professor. But if you tell me what I want, I’ll make it quick.” He shook the little vial making sure it got her attention, “Otherwise…”

  He grinned like a hyena as he watched the terror fill the woman’s eyes. He watched the fight drain out of her.

  “It… they’re locked in my desk. There is a false bottom in the middle drawer an-”

  Ironmantle whipped his arm through the air, the weighted ball at the end of the height-rope shooting right at the Nissar’s forehead.

  Crack!

  The Nissar woman didn’t have any time to react. The weighted end punched into her skull, and he yanked it free with a spatter of gore. Spinning it to let the majority of the viscera sail off before wrapping it back around his arm.

  “I am a man of my word.” He said with an ironic bow to her crumpled form.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Ironmantle looked down at her shocked expression. The same expression his mother had when her stroke had killed her.

  He bent down and closed the Nissar’s eyes, some of the fun leaving as he did. It was still amusing, but his mother had been one of the few people he had actually cared for apart from himself.

  He did miss her, occasionally. Less and less as the decades dragged on.

  He found the keys in Limma’s pocket, and walked to her desk, unlocking the central drawer, and it only took him a moment to collect what he needed.

  Ironmantle skimmed the equations, making sure they weren’t decoys. Couldn’t have that if he really wanted to achieve his new goal.

  He then set about searching for anything and everything he could that might lead him to the others. He found letters, notes, old journals, and none were safe from his search. There were even encrypted notes that he would have to break and inspect. He took all of the things he deemed important, piling all the rest on top of the corpse.

  When he was done, he turned and opened the window. He pocketed the vial of acid. He would look into reproducing the substance.

  Perhaps one of my students could manage it?

  He tossed the unweighted end of his line out of the window, wrapping the knotted end around the leg of a chair, on top of which he placed several vials of various oils, chemicals, medical spirits, and flammable alchemy components.

  As a final touch, he took a candle out of his pocket, lighting it with a match and placed it in the middle of the conflagration to be.

  He was surprised that the components hadn’t been added to the fires outside.

  No matter, they’ll get their own special bonfire tonight.

  “I’ll even light your pyre for you, good woman.” He said, smiling grimly.

  After he slid through the shadows again to the ground, he gave the line a sharp tug, hearing a faint clatter from up above. As he turned and walked away through the night, smoke started to billow out of the window, and several alarm bells began to ring all throughout the campus.

  He grinned, pleased that he was one step closer to regaining his youth forever.

  Shashk let the Initiate use the stove, but required her to cook both of their morning meals.

  Vivex didn’t even mention her anger at Zegoth, wincing in pain and having to turn her sore head and neck to see out of her one unswollen eye. Shashk was not someone to trust. She did scheme in the privacy of her own mind, thinking of all the ways she would get back at her Tutor. She hissed softly to herself.

  Shashk looked up from her papers, and something must have shown in the Initiate’s pattern because the Redscale broke the silence with a lecture, which Vivex only partially listened to.

  It ended with Shashk hissing “Learn the hierarchy, fool-neonate, and you will find more paths open to you.” Before picking up another missive. Her turquoise eyes glanced at Vivex before she started reading again, “If you don’t, all ways will close. Just like your eye.”

  Vivex felt her other eye narrow, but she forced out a respectful “Yes, Teacher.”

  The Redscale let her take the medicine herself this time, though it was well past midday before she could fully open both of her eyes.

  Shashk started her lessons after they both had eaten. And in a way, Vivex found them quite enjoyable.

  “Smoothskins do not use prefixing, but they do have prefixes.” She said, hands behind her back as she made Vivex do sprints back and forth. She was a big believer in multitasking it seemed.

  “What?” Vivex gasped, not slowing, but not having the breath to be more specific.

  Shashk snapped her tail and Vivex collapsed onto the ground, glad for the reprieve. “The emotional content of their words is based on pitch and rhythm. For example, when they ask a question, the sound gets higher pitched at the end of the sentence.”

  Vivex blinked, confused.

  “It’s like this?” Shashk said, demonstrating. “Regardless, they use separate words as well to describe the aspects of things. Prepare the basking stones, we will continue there.” She eyed Vivex. “Well? Hurry.”

  Vivex scrambled to obey, knocking over a Fodder that was in charge of tending the plants near the Ambassador’s home.

  As confusing as the smoothskin language was, it was nowhere near as confusing as the dehk-zuir.

  “How are you so adept at learning physical motions for combat, and so abysmal at it for conversation?” She snarled when she had finished.

  Adept? Had Shashk watched her training with Zegoth?

  Her Instinct snarled, disliking being called abysmal at anything.

  But she was, and Shashk got so frustrated that she ordered the Initiate to roll one basking stone over to another, just to roll the other back over to where the first had been, as if the physical training would help.

  And the whole time, while Vivex was reciting things like numbers, the ‘names’ of the days of the ‘week’, and ‘months’, Shashk was clearly only partially listening, reading new missives and reports brought to her by what seemed like a never ending stream of Redscales.

  “Teacher?” She said, trying to pitch up the words in the smoothskin language.

  “Yes, Pupil Vivex.” Shashk said, turning one sheet of paper over.

  “Not… wait… I have the words question-not.”

  “Fine, what is it, dunce-initiate.”

  She bristled at that, she thought she had made quite a lot of progress, remembering Tok’s previous lessons and learning new ones.

  Keep calm. Shashk reacted well to respect, as did all the adults. There was a lesson there, if she could let go of her pride, she would not have as many issues.

  But I won’t have them belittle me either.

  Compete!

  “Speak, Pupil.” Shashk snapped, papers rustling in her claws.

  “Can you also teach me to read in the Truetongue too?”

  Shashk paused, then looked at her.

  “I will not slow your other lessons.” The Redscale said, and her frill was so still that she had to be holding it that way on purpose.

  “I will make you proud, Teacher.” She bowed her head, flickering deference.

  Shashk’s frill fluttered finally, agitation.

  “Idiot Student. Submission can be overdone. But a good effort.” She returned to her documents. “You will learn if you can keep up.”

  Shashk grunted, the first sign of approval she had shown thus far, before muttering about this Iron-mantle again for a moment.

  Vivex felt yellow flicker across her pattern before she could stop herself.

  Shashk also made sure to leave the last part of the lesson open for Vivex’s questions, and it was by far her favorite part of the lesson. She learned so much!

  How the mage emperor parasite had dominated the previous broods of smoothscales. How they used numbers and earthbone to make up for their pitiful bodies. But most of all, what was out in the world.

  “There is a glorious place, the Unclaimed Steppe. It is where many of the sixth genera, are.” She paused and looked at the Greenscale with expectant turquoise eyes.

  “They are the… sorry…” Vivex thought for a moment, exhausted “Known as Orcs or Orshkar are they.”

  Shashk swatted Vivex on the snout, not hard, but with enough force to make her jerk. “‘They are known as,’ Neonate. Do better.”

  “Yes, Teacher Shashk.” She struggled to keep the growl out of her voice.

  Shashk seemed to have a passion and interest in the orcs. It was easy enough to understand. They were hunters, they had fangs, and were, from the sounds of things, very close to what was proper in their behaviors.

  Vivex looked to the portrait of the Orshkar female. “Is that why you have a picture of your companion, Ambassador?”

  Shashk hissed, her frill flapping in agitation as she reached over and pressed it face down. “No. It was a gift.” She looked up at the clouds, her own long yellow tongue sliding out once. “Now, head out, Keshka has you now.”

  Keshka, having already evaluated her skill, already had drills for her, which made it the most relaxing part of her regimen. Drawn targets, fruits, and facsimiles of creatures she might want to hunt were all used.

  The best part of Keshka’s lessons was the mature female also shot arrows with her. She quickly found herself mimicking the motions, and her aim improved exponentially. That was, until her arms were worn out, and then the accuracy fell off entirely.

  “It is a migration, not a sprint to catch prey.” Keshka said, soothing half lidded eyes taking the sting out of Vivex’s failure. Her tutor had her just pull the string back on the bow for a while, occasionally commenting on the technique.

  “You need to shoot a squirrel.” She said after a long while of Vivex just, pulling on the string. “You can use the tail to muffle your string.”

  Vivex grunted, pulling again, then letting go with a loud twang!

  Zegoth arrived, but Keshka told the Initiate to keep practicing, walking over to the male and talking with him.

  Discussing my progress?

  Her Instinct hissed thoughtfully. Perhaps. Perhaps discussing fatigue.

  She wouldn’t mind that at this point. Food hadn’t been a problem, but even with as much as she could eat and medicine to heal the injuries from sparring that morning, she was barely able to stay conscious.

  Seeing how much I’ll grow with no limit of resources?

  She joined her Instinct, also hissing.

  Zegoth spent the evening discussing tactics with her, still making her run through the trees as he did, but not sparring.

  At the end he joined her hunt, watching her stalk down and kill a large python. He didn’t comment, which she took as a good sign.

  Or at least a less annoying sign.

  “Collect whiptails too. And there is a pridefruit tree to the east.” He looked at her. “Variations and change are important in all things. It is the core to life.”

  “Yes, Tutor.” It was easier to be respectful this time.

  At the end of the night she was happy to finally bed down. In spite of the medicine and food, she ached.

  Day one…

  “Provider?” She asked, exhausted.

  He grunted.

  “How long do I have?”

  He rumbled. “A cycle in place, and a cycle traveling.”

  Two smoothskin ‘months’. The conversion was part of Shashk’s training. She grunted. She needed to make more progress.

  “It is taking too long…”

  “It is the first day. Sleep. And do better if you feel it is necessary.” Tok’s bright blue tongue slid out as he hissed, his eyes closing. “You are not Fodder. You just need to show that to the world.”

  She curled back up around her tail, the gentle movement of his breathing lulling her, and she drifted into sleep in mere moments.

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