. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The sun was in the world again, and all things seemed just a bit easier.
Scalvoris Town still clamored. The scent of salt and trash still permeated the air, and it all made Jinyel wish for nothing more than calm forests and birdsong. But the raw pain of it had lessened, or perhaps he had simply grown a thicker tolerance for it.
In any case, he rode Ailuhn through Scalvoris Town with only soft clothing and Monya at his side as protection. His armor lay back at camp, alongside Divi and Masoch with Toutouye to watch over them. Divi, heavy with new fat and his silver dapple coat aglimmer with good health, trotted agreeably beside Ailuhn with his head held high. More than one passersby paused their work to watch him pass, especially those passersby who worked carriages. With such a striking pattern and mane, Divi would make an enchanting carriage horse.
But Divi’s future was not a question to be solved today. Here, now, he was Jinyel’s pack horse, because there were many things to be bought in Scalvoris Town before he set out for Almund ― not least of which was a saddle for Ailuhn, suited to both land and water travel. Until she had one, Jinyel couldn’t very well store supplies on her bare back.
The grounds of Scalvoris University were quieter than the general streets. Though plenty of students lay on the green to take in the Ashan sun, there was far less shouting and far more reading. Jinyel had never been one for civilized places, but he tolerated the University far better than the rest of Scalvoris Town.
The stables were accustomed to Ailuhn by now, and in due time Jinyel found his way to the University halls with Monya at his heel. He navigated by memory alone; letters and signs were still incomprehensible to him. He knew how to write his name ― two of his names ― and little else.
Artiga bustled about her laboratory, as she usually did at this hour. She lit up at Jinyel’s arrival, with an exclaimed, “Oh, good! The amanita has gotten all the way through the wood, and I need you to draw a diagram of its structure.”
“I can help with a diagram of its structure.” Little time, must be swift, I must go on a journey. As he strode toward their experiment, his wolf took up her customary patrol around the room.
“That’s… a trip? You’re going on a trip?” Artiga’s ability to read his hands grew deeper with each season. “Oh, well, help would be just fine. The beans haven’t grown much, but they aren’t dying since the graft, so I’ll take that as a good sign. Ashan’s only just started, after all.”
With the sun returned, their little laboratory had been converted into a greenhouse. On the desk, potted plants stretched toward the window. Under the desk, six types of mushrooms sprouted out of a decaying log.
When he crouched, Artiga crouched, and whispered, “Well? Are they still connected?”
He lay hands on the rotten log, and with a thumb to an amanita cap was able to peer through its enervations.
“They are… connected.” Amazement. “One organism? But all growing the same way.”
“Growing the same way?” Artiga tilted “Wait, they aren’t separate species anymore?”
Yes. And no. “The roots, the threads, all the same. But each mushroom blooms as the species it was before.”
“Are they all eating the wood?”
Yes.
“Even the ones that aren’t supposed to eat wood?”
Yes.
“Fascinating.” Artiga leaned so close to the wood that her nose was nearly pressed against it. “What do you think would happen if you attached a proper plant to it? Some of the bean leaves, perhaps, or ― no no, you’re in a hurry, we can deal with this elsewhen. But the fact that all the species have merged is plenty of evidence for my next proposal, I might even have us a bigger laboratory next time.”
That would make things easier. “I would be glad.” Jinyel straightened. “Monya,” to me. Departure. There were many things to do before the day was out.
Scalvoris Town still clamored. The scent of salt and trash still permeated the air, and it all made Jinyel wish for nothing more than calm forests and birdsong. But the raw pain of it had lessened, or perhaps he had simply grown a thicker tolerance for it.
In any case, he rode Ailuhn through Scalvoris Town with only soft clothing and Monya at his side as protection. His armor lay back at camp, alongside Divi and Masoch with Toutouye to watch over them. Divi, heavy with new fat and his silver dapple coat aglimmer with good health, trotted agreeably beside Ailuhn with his head held high. More than one passersby paused their work to watch him pass, especially those passersby who worked carriages. With such a striking pattern and mane, Divi would make an enchanting carriage horse.
But Divi’s future was not a question to be solved today. Here, now, he was Jinyel’s pack horse, because there were many things to be bought in Scalvoris Town before he set out for Almund ― not least of which was a saddle for Ailuhn, suited to both land and water travel. Until she had one, Jinyel couldn’t very well store supplies on her bare back.
The grounds of Scalvoris University were quieter than the general streets. Though plenty of students lay on the green to take in the Ashan sun, there was far less shouting and far more reading. Jinyel had never been one for civilized places, but he tolerated the University far better than the rest of Scalvoris Town.
The stables were accustomed to Ailuhn by now, and in due time Jinyel found his way to the University halls with Monya at his heel. He navigated by memory alone; letters and signs were still incomprehensible to him. He knew how to write his name ― two of his names ― and little else.
Artiga bustled about her laboratory, as she usually did at this hour. She lit up at Jinyel’s arrival, with an exclaimed, “Oh, good! The amanita has gotten all the way through the wood, and I need you to draw a diagram of its structure.”
“I can help with a diagram of its structure.” Little time, must be swift, I must go on a journey. As he strode toward their experiment, his wolf took up her customary patrol around the room.
“That’s… a trip? You’re going on a trip?” Artiga’s ability to read his hands grew deeper with each season. “Oh, well, help would be just fine. The beans haven’t grown much, but they aren’t dying since the graft, so I’ll take that as a good sign. Ashan’s only just started, after all.”
With the sun returned, their little laboratory had been converted into a greenhouse. On the desk, potted plants stretched toward the window. Under the desk, six types of mushrooms sprouted out of a decaying log.
When he crouched, Artiga crouched, and whispered, “Well? Are they still connected?”
He lay hands on the rotten log, and with a thumb to an amanita cap was able to peer through its enervations.
“They are… connected.” Amazement. “One organism? But all growing the same way.”
“Growing the same way?” Artiga tilted “Wait, they aren’t separate species anymore?”
Yes. And no. “The roots, the threads, all the same. But each mushroom blooms as the species it was before.”
“Are they all eating the wood?”
Yes.
“Even the ones that aren’t supposed to eat wood?”
Yes.
“Fascinating.” Artiga leaned so close to the wood that her nose was nearly pressed against it. “What do you think would happen if you attached a proper plant to it? Some of the bean leaves, perhaps, or ― no no, you’re in a hurry, we can deal with this elsewhen. But the fact that all the species have merged is plenty of evidence for my next proposal, I might even have us a bigger laboratory next time.”
That would make things easier. “I would be glad.” Jinyel straightened. “Monya,” to me. Departure. There were many things to do before the day was out.
