Chapter 57: Forty-Five

Joe completed Skin Tempering III during the first cold weeks of Deepwinter. His sixteenth birthday was approaching. He knew the third pass was finished before consulting the panel.

There was simply nowhere obvious left to push. No region lagged enough to matter. The skin across his torso responded with the same readiness as his limbs. Transitions around wrists, ankles, shoulders and neck no longer produced meaningful resistance. Hands and feet remained functionally different from face and eyelids but no longer felt inferior.

Every region had become remarkably good at being itself.

Joe sat in the courtyard after sunset. His breath showed faintly in the cold air.

A brazier burned beside the medicine table, carrying a faint bitter smell from the packet simmering above it. Somewhere beyond the wall, a cart rolled over blackstone.

A dog barked. A neighbor shut wooden shutters against the cold.

Joe could feel the air moving across his cheeks.

The slight warmth radiating from the brazier reached one side of his face more strongly than the other.

His clothes pressed against dozens of points he normally ignored. He could ignore them.

Sensitivity without the ability to filter it would have been torture.

Perfect Body appeared to adapt perception as well as tissue.

He opened the panel. Skin Tempering III was complete.

Joe smiled. Then he began the fourth. Not immediately. The next morning.

-----

The first several weeks confirmed the problem.

Harder. Clearly harder.

Joe pulled out his old training records.

The first pass had established the transformation.

The second seemed to require roughly twice the meaningful work.

The third had demanded another substantial increase.

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Skin IV appeared to be continuing the pattern.

Suppose each full tempering required roughly one additional first-pass equivalent. Then five would cost five.

Six, six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Joe added them.

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 = 45

He stared at forty-five. Not impossible. But Absurd. That distinction annoyed him.

No Regression meant genuine achievement remained.

Every Hard Work Pays Off meant meaningful effort continued producing something. Given enough time, medicine and patience, Joe could probably continue far beyond what any reasonable practitioner would choose.

But years had value.

Years spent improving Skin were years not spent tempering Muscle.

Then Bone.

Then organs.

At some point, perfection became stupidity.

Joe leaned against the courtyard wall. Perhaps IV was worthwhile. The returns were still noticeable.

Five?

Maybe.

Six through nine?

Not unless something changed.

Simon came through the gate carrying noodles.

"You look miserable."

"I'm thinking."

"Same thing."

Joe took the bag.

"What did you buy?"

"The good noodles."

"You finally learned."

Simon sat beside him.

"What's wrong?"

Joe looked at the paper.

"I may need to stop improving something."

Simon shrugged. "Then stop."

Joe stared.

Simon opened the food.

"If making the same thing better takes longer than making something else better, make something else better."

Joe hated how reasonable that was.

"Occasionally," he said, "you say something useful."

Simon looked offended.

"Occasionally?"

Joe moved the noodles out of reach. They argued until Mira arrived.

Life continued.

Patrol. Medicine. Training.

The first snow of Deepwinter turned Blackwood white overnight. By midday, carriage wheels had carved dark tracks through it and shopkeepers were pushing slush away from their doors.

A letter arrived from Green Hollow.

Lily reminded both sons to wear thicker clothes as though Blackwood had not yet discovered winter garments.

Mike asked whether Joe's medicine sales were real because Simon had apparently mentioned them.

Pam wanted more information about Mira.

Mary had improved enough at writing to produce an entire sentence.

YOU PROMISED SWEETS AND A GIFT.

Joseph added beneath it: Roads slippery?

Joe laughed. He wrote back that the blackstone was indeed slippery under ice and that Mary would get her sweets when somebody trustworthy traveled north.

Simon added three sentences about Mira and then crossed out two.

Joe pretended not to notice.

Skin IV continued slowly. Painfully slowly.

Joe was now confident that his original plan needed to change.

Complete IV. Measure the result.

Then move into Muscle Tempering unless he can obtain some opportunity.

His birthday approached.

Joe had noticed the pattern years ago.

One. Two. Four. Eight.

Past Life Memory at one. Perfect Health and Perfect Body at two. No Regression at four. Every Hard Work Pays Off at eight.

Sixteen had sat quietly in the back of his mind ever since.

Four points did not prove a law.

Joe knew that. He had no guarantee anything would happen. So, he continued planning as though nothing would.

Medicine measured carefully. Blood energy guided deliberately. Training recorded.

One genuine effort at a time.

Then his sixteenth birthday arrived.