The Slime Farmer

Defi saw Vesia tense. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to catch Dahall's attention.

"Isn't it great?" She asked, her tone falsely blithe. "I got my promotion and my first account in the same day. And this is like a celebration dinner. It's all a dream, isn't it?"

Dahall looked genuinely interested. "They promoted you just to take his account?"

"I asked that too!" She was suitably emotional. "Mestre Darred said I have put in the necessary time and work, what with the company being busy for so long."

"Oh?"

"Mestre Tennar said we needed more spice-mixers."

Dahall took on a look of surprise.

"A spice-mixer and a recently promoted clerk," the man laughed. "and yet you both already met the manager of the company and the lady owner. What luck you have."

"Bad luck," Defi openly grimaced. He knew what Vesia was doing, trying to lower his seeming value to the company. "The lady wanted to test my tongue and my nose."

Vesia breathed a brief laugh. "That was funny. I couldn't eat."

Gossips were everywhere. 

By this time, Bluzand's competitors would have known that Sarel had a meal with some unknown and a clerk in Watersiders. With Gylen Dahall's connection to Madame Caria, he would also know that company gossip put Defi in seclusion for a few hours in Tennar's office and that he had permission to wander around the rare spice aisles in the company warehouse.

"It was punishment for causing a commotion in the building." Defi added.

"How interesting!" Dahall looked between them with a smile. "You must have a very good tongue. Would you indulge your host's curiosity?"

Defi mentally translated that to: 'You think you can fool me with talk? I'll test your claims until you die.'

Dahall did not wait for their agreement. A single glance to a servant and sure enough, an army of small plates with a tiny pile of powder or a smear of paste in the center were soon arrayed before Defi. 

On the lip of each plate was a delicate silver spoon, thin and long-handled, with a bowl so small that looked like it was made to feed fairies.

"Isn't that too much?" Vesia goggled – there were over a dozen samples. 

Even Chomar, who had been determinedly silent throughout, made a noise of dismay.

"He…he is still to be trained, you know." Vesia tried to salvage the situation.

Dahall waved their protests away with a gentle look. "You do not have to be humble. For the Lady il Camarene to acknowledge you, you must be a flavor savant, with a naturally sensitive tongue. These are, of course, different than what might be at Bluzand but I believe you will surprise me."

That was: 'Haha, I got you, you peons.'

Defi gave the man his most believably innocent smile. "You flatter me, sir. I shall do as best I can."

Vesia looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her lip.

Defi pulled the first small plate toward him, a tiny pile of green, gold, and yellow flakes. He dipped the delicate spoon into the spice mix, not scooping it up but letting the spices cling to the surface of the metal. 

He brought the spoon close to his nose. 

The aroma swept through him like the sea greeting him with a wave.

He licked the small bit of spice from the spoon. It tasted slightly familiar.

He paused. 

The image of a house formed in his mind, an ever-fruiting orchard just a few steps away, and several pools of water being filled and drained by a violently rushing river.

He put the spoon down. The slight twist in the Current said that these were mystic spices.

"Delicate and powerful," he started. "A great choice to complement all kinds of seafood and white meats like the breast of poultry. There are five components of this spice? I do not know the exact names, but they go very well with each other. Oh, wait, is one of them Southern Songbark? It tastes like it. If you add something earthier, like Garginger, you can make it strong enough to enrich the lighter cuts of meat, like pork and poultry."

He glanced at the empty glass beside him. The server immediately took the cue poured pale wine into the receptacle. Defi sipped the wine to remove the taste of spices in his mouth.

"It's a spice-mix that tastes like it's mostly made of infrigidants, so would not recommend it to those who are of cold humors. It's also why adding something like Garginger, which is a calefacient, would make the taste better for more people."

The whole table stared at him. Obviously none of them were expecting him to say so much and so little at the same time.

Haha, he thought, wryly mocking himself. 

He had eaten both the highest and the lowest examples of Ontrean cuisine. Not even mentioning that a good number of his meals since he entered this world were made at the hands of a master chef who had once been the foremost tyrant of the imperial kitchens, a chef acknowledged by the emperor.

All that and yet, this was all he could say about a spice mix that was similar to something he was sure he'd encountered before. 

He was lucky in that his tongue was trained to know good cooking from bad. 

As for the finicky details, he was not a chef and had no strong wish to be one. He only knew enough to cook for himself. 

Sarel said that it was only because of his tongue that he managed to be an average chef.

Heh, he knew enough of this world by now that those words from a master chef of her cranky disposition meant he cooked better than half the hopefuls that entered the imperial chef examinations.

It did not mean he would pass said exams, but it was still an unexpected evaluation.

He was content with that, usually.

At a time like this, however, Defi wished he could remember more of Sarel's methods.

"It is Southern Songbark. Very nice." Dahall was now looking at him with more interest.

Interest was good, Defi told himself; the man would believe their story more if this was enough to catch interest.

Dahall motioned to the next plate.

Defi set the first plate aside and picked up the next. 

There was no time to waste.

*

By the time the three of them were escorted out, they had already been in the house for hours.

Chomar's bunkrey was standing serenely in front of the house gates. Chomar, upon spotting it, looked relieved and immediately ran to check on his horse.

He leaped up to the driver's seat. "Let's skiddy on out of here, you two!"

Vesia and Defi took their seats with no ceremony and they took off at a canter. A few shadows around the house moved suspiciously.

"We have to hurry," Defi said the moment the house was out of view.

"He was stalling us, wasn't he?" Vesia was pale.

Defi nodded.

What had been done? 

What had been done in the hours that they'd been trapped in that house?

A faint dread coursed through him.

"It shouldn't be so bad, if he let us go so easily." She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Even with suspicion on Madame Caria, there was no evidence but Vesia's word that she was with Gylen Dahall. The man knew it too.

Defi leaned out the carriage, about to say something, but then thought the better of it. Despite the carriage swiftly running, he stood and twisted his body so that his upper half was leaning forward, his head parallel to Chomar's torso.

He put a hand to his shoulder to keep Turq in place.

The driver sent him an impatient look. 'Didn't Defi see they were speeding?' was what his glance conveyed. What Defi was doing was dangerous, and he should stop before Chomar was responsible for the other getting into an accident.

As Defi took the seat with his back to the horse, he was able to speak softly enough that Vesia didn't hear.

"Chomar, take Vesia to Bluzand. You know the headquarters at Bolhaven?"

"Of course," Chomar said shortly. "My ma likes their spices and recipes."

The Maze of Kings was on a high point, a rocky formation that rose above part of the city. High enough to see the harbors, though the western view of the river was somewhat hindered by the bulk of the citadel fort.

Ecthys residents just called it the Kings. There was a gradual rise in the road until there.

"I'm going back, so you should hurry there."

"Back?" Chomar whipped his head toward him, wide-eyed. "Are you a crumninny? There's going to be bluntheads waiting to beat you to the ground!"

"Not to the house. Just tell them I went to the eastern docks."

Chomar opened his mouth to protest.

"Will you be taking Miss Vesia back there?" 

Chomar pressed his lips together, before snarling, "Be it on your head, then."

Defi smiled faintly at him. "I'll be getting off here."

They were approaching the rise to the formation, the bunkrey slowed naturally to compensate. Defi quickly twisted back into the carriage space and launched himself off the open sided vehicle.

He heard Vesia make a startled sound.

He hit the ground running, Turq transferred more securely to the crook of an arm. Behind him, Vesia made a startled cry. She would be mad at him, surely.

But he also heard Chomar urge his horse to speed up again, and Vesia had no way of asking questions at the moment.

"What are you doing, idiot?!"

Or she could just yell the words at his back, he amended wryly. 

He raised a hand without looking back. 

The moonlight was bright enough for her to see it before he disappeared around a bend. 

It had to be the river, and it had to be nearby. Gylen Dahall had not been subtle in his efforts at keeping them occupied. Almost desperate. The questions about Defi were nearly secondary.

Gylen Dahall's grandmother was the vice-manager of a Bluzand competitor. He had been meeting with Caria, who was the assistant to the Head Clerk in charge of a whole department dedicated to acquiring ingredients for Bluzand products.

A family friend? Who would believe it?

If Bluzand knew Caria was so close to Dahall, they would have been canny enough not to let her work too near classified materials.

Defi was savvy enough to know that logistics was as important to merchants as it was to generals.

If Vesia's mentor was truly involved in this, and intuition said she was, then this would be ugly if it were to be known. Gylen Dahall and the Amberlon Merchant Company would not want it aired that their spy in Bluzand had been caught.

There would be serious consequences. In prevention, they would want to cut that thread that lead back to them.

At least, he would spare his new account manager the pain of catching the woman in the act.

If she even was here anymore.

Defi came to the eastern docks, breath coming fast from his run. It was a greater distance to the eastern docks than to the house they'd been kept in. He had made good use of the information gained from his earlier tour. 

The eastern docks were tranquil, nearly serene. 

But not empty. 

There were fewer warehouses, as it was largely made of berths for private boats and large ships could not enter.

It did not have the hustle of the commercial docks, nor the bulky hulks of the trading ships that docked south and west of the city. The wall rising above turned the scene from picaresque to something that from the right angle might be seen with majesty.

In truth, it was a slim chance that he'd see anything. He didn't even know what to look for. 

Did he have the ability to look at some boatman and know he was a fiend?

Of course not. What was he, a sage?

He jogged along the docks anyway, blending in as an ordinary dockboy message runner. He'd seen enough of the Lowpool docks that he could play the part credibly.

Was he wrong, and Dahall was not stalling for time to hide evidence that Amberlon had been sticking their fingers into Bluzand's supply lines, but only making it so his men would muddy the trail between him and Caria?

But no, the man's familial connection to Caria was easy enough to hide. Like he said, the only evidence was Vesia's word. It was too easy for the blunt and half-anxious manner that he kept them out of the way.

Then again, it was only Defi's thoughts that led him here.

He could be mistaken.

He put his hand on one of the pilings of the wooden pier, paused to catch his breath.

There were several small ships on the water, and a few barges.

He peered at them, heart falling.

Defi froze, all thoughts in his mind shoved aside to focus on one thing.

It was a barge, only just embarked, but still close enough to see the people working on the deck. There was a figure standing at the rails, looking back at the city.

Defi remembered the roaring sound of a rushing river, water choking him as he flailed to stay afloat, and laughter from a man who thought his drowning was only a passing entertainment.

He dropped into the Sixth Circle, nearly subconsciously. The chaotic raging swell of the Current in him smoothed out into cold serenity, the chaos all shoved into the depths to roil and seethe.

In the grip of that icy cold composure, only one word could leave his mouth.

"Turq."

A form slipped through the water, making no sound.

Defi did not take his eyes off the man on the railing of the barge slowly moving away.

**

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