The Slime Farmer 83 Mite And The Lament Of An Apothecary

It was the day of Seers, and there were two slimes in Turq's basket.

Defi was disappointed he had not seen the splitting happen. It had been some time since the last one. But he was till smiling as he lifted the slime from the basket.

The new slime was a lighter green than Turq, a more yellowish cast to its hue. It was also smaller.

A consequence of too little vitality in the food, maybe? Hybrid Herbs did not have as much power as the originals, and there had been no other mystic ingredients in Turq's diet since the last splitting.

"I'll call you Moldavite," Defi decided. "Mite."

Curious, he put Mite in a kneading bucket first. What kind of extract did the slime have? 

The resulting extract, like all the others, had the clarity of water. The Current did not detect any wrongness or poison in the substance. It was only slightly thicker than water. 

Defi dipped a finger in the extract and brought it to his mouth. It tasted like concentrated zaziphos juice with hints of spice. 

Not bad.

The Current, active and swirling, did not sense any negative effects in him from the ingestion. Defi considered the extract thoughtfully. 

Then he dunked a cup into the extract and drank a mouthful. The burst of sweetly sour zaziphos, grounded by a hint of earthy spice, was heavy but refres.h.i.+ng. There was a slight increase in the strength and speed of his heartbeat.

There were no other effects.

He put down the cup. He had thought the next slime would be Ziv's replacement. This heavy flavour was unexpected. He should have guessed. Turq's primary diet was zaziphos after all.

 The hint of Shyleaf in the flavor and the vigor imparted by the Liongra.s.s were only advantages. If he added Savras to Mite's diet, would it impart some healing ability?

A cordial with this heavily flavorful taste and a side effect of healing would likely be popular.

In Ontrea.

Ascharon's mystic cooking, so entwined with the inner vitality of the people, already had the side-effect of making a person's body hardier and more resistant to illness. It was something Marmocha had proudly proclaimed when they first met in Stahlchausses. Defi had thought the man only boasting.

He wasn't.

Ascharon did not need doctors when they had mystic chefs. The physickers of the land were only trained to sense the body's humors, and their role was to recommend the food that would balance said humors for the health of the body.

Defi only learned that recently, from his last foray to the library.

That meant the savras extract from Ziv and Zav could only be sold to those that could not afford mystic cooking. That meant it had to be distributed inexpensively. But to profit with low-cost products, the amount sold needed to be high. Defi's current production speed, with Ziv gone, was one and a half quartels a month. 

That was not promising.

Defi filtered Mite's extract into a jug and corked it. He put Mite and Turq in the same feeding basket. For now, Mite's diet would be zaziphos as well.

A thought from yesterday came back to him.

Could slimes make wine? The taste of Mite's extract had good fundamentals. If he fermented the stuff, he could probably make wine.

He smiled wryly.

He was getting ahead of himself again.

To make proper wine outside of slime extraction, he would need another building and more zaziphos trees planted. He did not have the resources, and the knowledge he gained from fermenting suirberries with Hames did not delve into specifics.

He stowed the jug in the corner of the room and started on the other slimes.

Come to think of it, he had not visited the apothecary yet to see what conclusions the man made about the savras extract. Fortunately, he had no pressing business until late morning, which was his usual time to go to work.

He finished his ch.o.r.es, took a breakfast of bread with cured squid and samad, and floated down the Treachery leisurely. The warming air of the morning, the brightening day, the soothing sounds of the river – he was coming to love the beauty in these Ascharonian mountain mornings.

If only it wasn't so cold.

*

Defi roamed the dawn market, having already visited Marte and Grenia.

Like yesterday, the savras sellers weren't present.

If they planned to arrive on market day, Defi would have a problem. He'd miss the chance to buy savras.

The primary market day for the Lowpool was the day of Duels, which came after Moons. He would still be in Ecthys then. Sarel said their business would not take more than two days, so they'd be returning on the day after Duels.

He still wanted to acquire the mystic gra.s.s.

Even if it was not profitable, Defi could still make savras extract for himself.

Months into his stay in this other world, he was aware that his const.i.tution was not as hardy as the average Ascharonian. He could cheat using the Current, healing fast and purging toxins, but having medicine around was useful. The Current was not unlimited, and he had to conserve energy for the farmland.

The apothecary's shop was quiet when he entered. It was cleaner than the last time, the numerous bottles and boxes on the shelves behind the counter had been dusted. 

"Good morning, young sir. May I be of a.s.sistance?"

That sounded familiar, both the voice and the words. Defi turned to see a truly eye-catching pattern of embroidered bees and earthworms on the other's waistcoat. He remembered abruptly. The boy from the dried fish shop!

"…you work here as well as the seafood shop?"

The smile on Haral's face grew strained, but did not drop. "I don't work there anymore."

"Does your grandfather own this place as well, then?" Defi could understand elders pus.h.i.+ng their young family members into a wide range of experience in order to understand the family business.

"No." Haral answered shortly, even his professional smile fading.

Defi, surprised at the current change from the energetic manner of their first acquaintance, turned fully from the shelves to study the other. Haral's brown hair and clothing was slightly untidy, his green eyes had a dullness that was not helped by the faintly dark circles under them.

Before Defi could ask what was wrong, Haral had recovered a smile that did not reach his eyes. "So what are you looking for again?"

"I left something with the apothecary here some days ago, and wondered if he had some insight since then." Defi acquiesced with the obvious desire not to talk about it. He made a show of looking over the other's clothing. "Your vest looks better than the last one."

Haral chuckled, some life coming into his eyes. "Yes, thanks for the suggestion. My sister was elated at the possibilities. One moment, I'll get Karlant for you."

He had taken some steps toward the inner door when it banged open. 

The figure in the doorway, garbed in red, snapped an order out without looking up from a bowl gripped in one hand. "Haral, more whistle-pine needles!"

Haral turned on a heel, headed into the shelves behind the counter instead, calling over his shoulder. "There's someone here for you!"

Karlant scoffed, but when he looked up and saw Defi, his eyes narrowed in almost hate. "You."

Defi met his gaze.

"You did this! Is this a plot?"

"Your pardon. What are you saying?" Defi kept his voice even, keeping his confusion from showing.

"You only gave this to vex me! What is this? How is this?!"

Did he mean the savras extract? Realization started to dawn. It appeared that Karlant had not managed to recreate it yet.

"I did say it was given to me."

Karlant grew even more incensed.

"Useless! How could you let them go! This substance, this stupid impossibility…" His yells devolved into furious muttering as the contents of the bowl puffed a bare wisp of smoke. He stuck a finger in the bowl and started stirring frantically.

"He's been like this for days," Haral commented as he appeared from the shelves, a long, flat box in his hand. He opened it, nudging wrapping paper out of the way to reveal several blue-colored needles, as long as a person's forearm. 

A faint cool breeze seemed to emanate from the box as the whistle-pine needles were uncovered.

A mystic ingredient? Defi moved for a closer look.

Karlant's hand took one of the needles and slowly swirled it into the bowl.

A larger puff of smoke.

Karlant's expression grew ugly. "Wrong!"

He flung the bowl away, uncaring where it landed. Defi ducked. The bowl smashed into the wood of the door behind the shop's only customer.

"If we need to replace a window again, I'm not helping the builders."

With Haral's dryly calm statement, it looked like this had happened before.

Just how much stress had those small bottles of savras extract put on the apothecary? 

Defi picked up the now emptied and dented bowl that clattered on the floor near his boots, glanced away from the pale yellow liquid dripping down the wall to the apothecary.

Karlant was panting in exertion, eyes wild.

"Is it so important?" Defi asked, putting the bowl on the counter.

"Ignorance!" Karlant slammed a hand down beside the bowl, making it jump. "Do you know what I could do with something like that?"

"Many things, I imagine."

"I could finally make soap!" Karlant continued as if he didn't hear Defi.

"Soap?" Haral sounded incredulous.

Defi shared his disbelief. Soap was common. Apart from apothecaries, it could be acquired from butchers, candlemakers, oil-sellers, the average home-maker with some time on their hands. It wasn't rare, just varying in quality. The better soaps were sold in packages, ranging from fifteen to fifty rond per kilogar.

 "Soft, scented soap that does not make a bath feel like wallowing in greasy mud, that does not burn the skin! The highest quality soap ever seen! Do you know how many solstices I could get for that?"

Defi and Haral glanced at each other. Haral shrugged, looking interested.

"None." Karlant snarled. "Because I would be earning in djamants instead."

**

Chapter End

**

Notes:

Djamant – a crystal-based currency in Ascharon, in the shape of a triangular prism, worth 1000 gold solstices. It is used in great transactions, like those between nations or large merchant companies, and is recognizable for the iridescent gleam of its surface.