Chapter 36: A Better Use for It

Chapter 36: A Better Use for It

On the fourth morning after the hearing, Silas stopped exactly where he meant to.

His forward foot landed inside the chalk mark. His knee bent, his weight settled, and he remained upright without reaching for the counter.

He looked down, pleased enough to want to try a faster version immediately.

Instead, he rested and repeated the same short step twice more. The third landing was less tidy, but he corrected it with an ordinary shift of his feet.

[Burst Motion — Assimilation: 15%]

That was enough for the morning. He wiped up the chalk, washed, and was considering breakfast when the academy custody office sent its notice.

The money had arrived. The metal had arrived. Verification was complete.

Silas read the message standing beside his bed, then sat down and opened it again.

One hundred platinum coins. One kilogram of adamantite, accepted against the purity requirement of the contract. He could complete the acknowledgment and collect the sealed material that morning.

He checked the sender and the attached case reference before allowing himself to grin.

It still hurt his mouth a little. He did it anyway.

There was no Gareth waiting at the custody office. A clerk checked Silas’s identification, showed him the verification record, and had him acknowledge the transfer. The metal occupied much less space than its value suggested. It came in a fitted case with the assay record enclosed beneath the lid.

The clerk counted the sealed packets of platinum with him before arranging the deposit into his account. Silas watched the balance change on his slate.

For a while afterward, he could not stop checking it.

He messaged Kerr from a bench outside the office. She had a consultation opening later that morning, so he ate while he waited and sent Garrick a request to discuss materials that afternoon. Then he put the slate away before he could begin shopping for things he had never wanted until ten minutes ago.

Kerr’s first question concerned his tooth.

"Better," Silas said. "They checked it again. It’s still tender."

"And the rest?"

He described the fatigue, the practice, and the stiffness afterward. He called Burst Motion footwork. Kerr asked how much he was doing, made him demonstrate the ordinary landing position without mana, and told him which signs meant he should stop.

When she had finished examining him, he asked the question he had come for.

"If cost were less of a problem, what would you change?"

Kerr looked up from his notes. "How much less?"

"Enough that I would prefer to hear what helps before what’s cheapest."

She studied him briefly, then turned the screen so he could see it.

"There is a more targeted restorative course. I would adjust it as the damaged areas respond. It can shorten recovery, but I still need to monitor you." She indicated the proposed schedule. "The tissue has to repair. Giving you more medicine than you can process won’t hurry that along."

"How much sooner would I be functional?" Silas asked.

"You are functional. You mean able to train without these restrictions."

"Yes."

"I won’t promise you a date from one examination. We begin, compare the response, and revise the course." Kerr brought up the estimate. "The supervised treatment is part of the cost. Don’t buy the preparations separately and increase the dose yourself."

He remembered waking on the rug after his first week and decided she did not need that example.

The estimate would once have sent him looking for another page of commissions. Against the balance he had checked outside, it left most of his money untouched.

"Book it," he said.

Kerr gave him the first appointment and updated his instructions. He read them before leaving. She seemed satisfied with that, though she repeated that better treatment did not mean he could double his practice tonight.

On the way out, he passed a patient walking slowly with an attendant. Silas held the door, then continued toward the courtyard with an unpleasantly familiar ache in his legs.

A healing Talent. That’s what I need.

Kerr could find damage he could barely describe. Repairing it was another matter. He wanted something he could use at home, something that would let him recover without arranging half his day around appointments.

Useful healing Talents were rare. He could think of one woman from the game whose ability would be worth an extraordinary amount of trouble.

He thought about the woman herself for another few seconds.

Perhaps not that much trouble.

He sat until the ache eased, ate lunch, and kept his appointment with Garrick.

The smith was sorting a rack of unfinished fittings when Silas entered. He recognized the wrapped steel pieces first.

"What have you done to them?" Garrick asked.

"Nothing. They still work."

"Then put them on the cloth. Let me see."

Silas complied. Garrick examined the joints, checked an edge beneath the lamp, and grunted before looking at the second case.

"That the material you mentioned?"

"Yes."

Silas opened it.

Garrick reached across the counter so abruptly that Silas drew the case back.

"Carefully," Silas said.

The smith stopped with both hands out. His eyes remained fixed on the metal.

"Where did you get that?"

"Legally."

"I asked where, boy."

"Through the academy. The assay is in the lid."

Garrick took the record, read it, and moved the lamp closer. Then he leaned down until his beard nearly brushed the case with it.

Silas waited.

The old man drew a long breath through his nose. He turned the case a fraction, watching the surface under the light, and made a sound Silas sincerely hoped he would never hear again.

"Is something wrong with it?" Silas asked.

"Wrong?" Garrick looked offended by the possibility. "Look at it."

"I have. That’s why I brought it here."

Garrick was already looking at it again. His breathing had become quite audible. After a moment, he pulled a clean cloth from beneath the counter and held out his hand.

Silas did not move the case.

"Are you capable of working with it?" he asked. "If this is beyond your workshop, say so. I can find someone else."

Garrick’s head came up.

"You little—"

His gaze dropped to the metal halfway through. He pressed his lips together, breathed out heavily, and laid the cloth flat with excessive care.

"Put it there."

Silas did so, keeping one hand on the case.

Garrick took the time to shut the door before returning. When he lifted the metal for examination, his hands were steady. He checked it beneath the lamp, consulted the assay again, and placed it down without a sound.

That helped. Silas loosened his hold on the case.

"Now," Garrick said, "what do you intend to make?"

"A better version of those." Silas indicated the four steel pieces. "They suit me. I’d like them to keep doing so when I can use more force."

Garrick picked up one of the pieces and showed him a joint.

"Then we start here. I made this to fit your budget. I won’t reproduce every compromise because you’ve brought me better stock."

Silas leaned closer. "You said it was sound."

"It is sound. You also asked for cheap." Garrick turned the piece so the join faced the light. "You want stronger connections, clean separation, and enough room to make changes without ruining the whole set. Let me draw it properly."

He fetched paper and began sketching. His earlier excitement kept breaking through in the speed of his questions. How often did Silas combine the pieces? Where did he place the holds when they turned? Had he noticed any hesitation during separation?

Silas answered what he could, then demonstrated the last point with two pieces above the cleared counter. Garrick had him repeat the motion more slowly and amended the sketch.

By the time they stopped, Silas had forgotten to be uncomfortable. He wanted to know whether a proposed connection would catch when he separated the pieces at an angle. Garrick disagreed, tested it with two wooden blanks, and then drew a slightly wider clearance without commenting on the change.

They agreed that Garrick would prepare a design and estimate before cutting anything. Silas packed the adamantite away to take home; the smith watched him close the lid with obvious reluctance.

"You’ll bring that back," Garrick said.

"If your design is suitable."

"It will be suitable."

Silas tucked the case beneath his arm. "Then send it when you’re ready."

Outside, he paused to let a delivery cart pass. He could hear Garrick moving things around inside the workshop already.

He returned home tired, with treatment scheduled and drawings to expect. The sealed case went into locked storage. He washed, changed into loose clothes, and ordered a dinner he could comfortably chew.

Evan had sent a message while he was out. There was a small assembly job available the following evening, if Silas wanted it.

He started to ask the fee.

Then he deleted the question.

I’m not taking work tomorrow. Ask someone else. — Rooke

He read it once and added, Thank you for thinking of me, before he could make that unnecessarily difficult too.

Evan’s reply arrived while Silas collected his dinner.

All right. Enjoy the evening.

Silas took the tray to his chair. He ate slowly, found his place in the novel, and went back two pages to remember what the bitten man’s lawyer had demanded. Apparently, an apology to the horse had made things worse.

By the time he finished the scene, his tea had gone cold. He drank it anyway and turned the page.