The Slime Farmer 12 Seakrait Bone Is A Fool's Trophy

Since the first trip to the Lowpool, Sarel had been leaving most of the town deliveries to him, and had increased their frequency to nearly every day. It's not like he hadn't the time, now that the suirberry harvest was done and Falie only needed his help in the mornings. The wages were of course, also cut in half.

He used the time in town to increase his knowledge of the Ascharon language. To Erlaen's ire, he kept returning to the library.

It would have been faster if he had been writing down the information he collected, but most people in town already thought of him as a farmer's child from the south, a.s.sociated with Sarel's family or something similar.

Him writing fluently in a strange language would soon spread if he took notes on Erlaen's lectures. To be a farmer attempting to learn how to write was less gossip-worthy than a foreigner seeking to learn their native language.

Ascharon letters did not really compare to Ontrean characters. Even if the Ascharonian language had only forty-nine letters compared to the hundreds in Ontrean, the structure and spelling of its words varied so widely it was near illegible. There were fewer rules than Ontrean and that only served to make the written language that more confusing as different dialects of the language came up with differing and arbitrary rules.

The empire, some decades back, declared that writers must write in the words of the empire rather than the former scholarly Abrechal language, which was diminished enough that less than a thousand people spoke it.

Good for the common Ascharonian, but unfortunate for him as the books with the most information on slimes were written at least a century ago. That meant to see what scholarly doc.u.ments there were about Turq's species he needed to learn yet another language.

He decided to learn the Abrechal written language first, as most of it had become the Ascharon letters anyway. It didn't matter if he could not speak Abrechal, only that he could understand the words written in it.

Then his interest in the sorcery of Ascharon sent him on yet another language hunt, this time for the language of the glyph-makers.

Since it was a sorcery craft based on imbuing symbolic art with power, he of course was interested. One of Ontrean alchemy's more obscure branches was called eikonography, in which images were imbued with Current. The slave mark was a particular example.

He decided to look more into it after he learned all he could to make a better owner for Turq and Jar. It was better not to do too many things at once.

In any case, he already knew spoken Ascharon; learning how to organize forty-nine letters into some semblance of sense would be easier than learning Ontrean had been. He gave himself two months to learn Abrechal, another month to learn the current written Ascharonian, and the rest of the year for glyphs.

With these goals for the next several months set, he stretched from the library chair in contentment. Erlaen stood up with a sigh. He waved at her with an innocent smile, only to be answered with a silent glower. She turned her back on him.

"See you later," he added, just to salt the festering sore.

Walking back to the docks, he looked around the streets. There was no inn in the Lowpool, he had already found. That was not ideal. It was less than a week before Seral's month of grace would end.

He caught sight of someone he knew and without hesitation called out.

"Reon!"

The baker looked around, large bag in his arms. His brows lifted in surprise at the sight. "Defi?"

"I wanted to ask," he went straight to the point, "if you knew somewhere in town that's renting a room?"

"Not many people come here," answered Reon doubtfully. "I'll ask around. I should have something by the next s.h.i.+pment."

"Ah, if possible could you make sure they'd be alright with Turq and Jar?"

"Your slimes? Sure."

"I'm grateful."

He helped Reon load his pullcart and headed once more to the lake. He slipped two ronds to the dock-master and untied the scow from its mooring.

He was lazily poling himself back to Sarel's homestead when the serpent attacked.

The scow ripped out from under him. From the calm flower-strewn summer riverbank, he suddenly was staring at his reflection in the water. The familiar weight on his head was gone.

His eyes widened. "Turquoise!"

The water was calm around the Lowpool, as calm as it could be being part of the Little Treachery, and most times a gently lapping lake.

But now the water lashed about, pale forms disturbing the tranquility. Defi could not breathe for the panic, memories strangling him. He knew then, that he would drown to the mocking laughter.

Was it to happen again?

His hand brushed b.u.mpy scales.

A serpent.

It was large enough to make a mouthful of him.

To be eaten? His mind suddenly went to the baskets of suirberries, absorbed into Turq and Jar's bodies.

No. He would rot on his own or not at all.

He would not die here.

Not before he purged the laughter from dreams of death.

He yelled and, despite the futility, struck the serpent with all the strength he had. He could only see the scales dent a little.

One blow. One blow struck underwater. A success.

He smiled triumphantly, a faint curve of his lips. His eyes closed as his body sank.

He struck something. Soft and firm, like slightly leathery grape-skin.

He forced his eyes open, to see bluish-green in front of him.

Turq?

Air forced the water from his lungs. He choked, instinctively fighting it before he came to his senses and forced himself to take a breath.

He was…

He was floating on the river, on a giant slime that was the same color as Turq, rising from the waters.

What?

He pushed himself up. "Turq?"

Under his hands, under the water dripping off his soaked form, within the translucent body of his pet slime, were the coils of a serpent.

Incredible. A slime could do this? He laughed in delight, grateful to the core of him. The beasts of Ascharon were the best pets!

Then a thought struck him.

"Turq!" His distress was genuine. "What if it was diseased?"

Turq, possibly due to some form of homing instinct, propelled itself upriver to Sarel's homestead. It did not seem to have any averse effects from eating the ma.s.sive serpent, so Defi let the matter go.

Defi had not even known it could move within water, though with the amount of literature that said slimes were often found near bodies of water he should have expected it.

Why else would Turq have such a sleek and streamlined body structure?

He slowly relaxed on Turq's body, his pounding heart gently returning to its steady beat. He had nightmares of falling off that boat and he felt his aversion to the water was natural. He hadn't expected he'd fear so powerfully being submerged in water. After all, he'd been bathing in the river all this time, hadn't he?

He lifted his hand, as if viewing it for the first time. He'd moved. He'd at least struck a blow against the enemy while in the grip of fatal fear. It was small, it was insignificant, but great epics were a collection of small victories weren't they? He did not expect to live an epic, merely to live.

He curled his fingers into a fist and raised it to the sky.

Within him, the Current radiated.

*

*

Sarel was visible, holding a fis.h.i.+ng pole while leaning back in her shaded chair, when Defi realized he'd lost the scow.

Ah. She wouldn't like that. She'd probably make him borrow the next farm's boat and go make certain it had survived. Surely he should have some leeway? A giant serpent had attacked them and the scow was the only casualty – wasn't that a good thing?

Sarel caught sight of them and was staring blankly.

"Is that a seakrait," she asked with impressive composure, as she peered into Turq. He had not been so unruffled.

"Are they common?"

She eyed him. "Not even going to tell me why the slime has a monster in it?"

"We met it when we were coming back. I think it was hungry. Turq was hungrier, it appears." Defi smirked as he patted the slime's back.

"It's not a common occurrence," Sarel answered his earlier question, "but ocean beasts sometimes come up the great river. They're usually captured before they reach the Overpool though. I haven't heard any seakrait stories in the Lowpool anyway."

Defi smiled. Was Sarel warming up to him? She was more talkative now than before.

"Tell me he's not going to stay that size."

"He's always returned to the same size before."

She stood and started clearing away. "Might as well stop here. You've scared away the fish."

"What's for dinner?"

Not stopping in her actions, she asked flatly. "What happened to the scow?"

"I'll…pick more zaziphos tomorrow?"

"Start today. It's not sundown yet."

Defi leaned back against Turq with a groan. He patted the newly giant slime's skin. "At least we'll be outside together."

Turq gurgled and spat the intact skeleton of the seakrait out onto the pier.

"Well," said Defi, after a moment, "it would make a good trophy?"

How was this unacceptable to Turq when it ate crab sh.e.l.ls and fish-bones equally, he wondered.

Maybe it was the size?

He should really get some writing supplies. Turq and slimes became more interesting by the day! Noting down his observations would make it easier to care for them in the future.

"…you're not keeping that." Sarel called as she exited the shed.

"Don't you want it?"

"Go sell it to some glory-seeking fool in the Lowpool."

Oh, good idea. He did need the funds.

**

Chapter End

**

*

Notes:

eikonography - the art of imbuing power into images; an Ontrean traditional artform.

pullcart - wheeled transport cart usually pulled by a person or people

seakrait - sea beasts that often plague the coasts and deep waters of the Morblu Sea. A rare summon as they are temperamental and difficult to control. May grow from the size of the average land snake to larger than a trade galleon, and commonly seen in shades of blue.