A Gnome's Tale-Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The things I needed to take care of before my return to Fallhaven could have been done in my workspace at the shop, but they required an attention to detail that was difficult to come by there. A customer could walk into the shop and disrupt my focus at any time. At Zigi there were no such distractions. As an added bonus, the bond lessened the amount of energy I had to spend on magically enhancing my supplies.

There's more to a Gnome scribe than just putting pen to paper. The pen is carved out of wood from my Zigriti. The ink is harvested from plants in my forest. The paper comes from skin trees that grow around my pond. My magical connection to all of those items remained even once I took them outside the boundaries of the forest, but it is strongest inside Zigi (it also requires much less effort on my part).

Skin trees aren't actually trees or skin. They're more of a reed. They can be peeled apart like an onion and the inner layers are very much like animal skin in texture and durability. It also absorbs ink incredibly well, and lasts centuries without the slightest hint of decay. Skin tree paper is resistant to fire and is very difficult to tear by hand. It's also incredibly thin and flexible making it possible to roll or fold it up into small sizes for storage or transport. To my knowledge, my forest is the only place skin trees grow, making me the only one to use it to produce documents. I have had numerous merchants over the years ask for access to my supply. I always say no. Harvesting it is too time-consuming to produce in the massive amounts they want and allowing them access to my forest to harvest it themselves is, of course, out of the question.

My inks are also distilled from plants in my forest and mixed to produce unique shades and colors. Again, the bond I have with everything that grows in my forest allows me to infuse them with a bit of magic reinforcement that makes them particularly effective for magical scrolls. When I write a spell onto one of my scrolls, using ink farmed from my forest, that scroll retains the full strength of that spell as though the mage himself was casting it. It's a service that no other scroll-maker can match.

Aside from all of that, there is an artistry that goes into producing my scrolls (magical or not) that gives them a certain aesthetic. Combined, the effectiveness and quality of my work makes it possible for me to charge outrageous amounts of gold for my services.

Getting those results requires hard work and extreme focus. Working in a hurry puts everything in jeopardy. The paper from an entire skin tree can be ruined by not peeling each layer meticulously. Once you've cracked the outer surface, the layers inside will start to curl in on themselves and become useless for writing within hours. Once you start, you need to finish the entire section so as to not waste any viable sheets. They then need to be treated with a special ointment I add to keep the sheet from the curling and shrinking. Once I have it sturdy enough to lie flat, I then hang it in a closed arid room to allow it to dry out. If I have the time I'll let a batch of paper lie out flat on a table, after it has dried, for an extended amount of time to age it. It accepts the ink more smoothly if you can give it an extra drying time. If you hurry the process, you run the risk of having dead spots on the paper where the writing will slightly skip, leaving an almost imperceptible gap in a word or letter. This is not only artistically unacceptable, but can also reduce the effectiveness of the magical properties of a spellscroll.

Today, however, hanging it in my drying room for a few hours was going to have to do. As soon as I was done preparing my inks, I'd have to gather the paper and go. I had enough paper still back at the shop to last a few days. The paper could finish drying there. It wasn't perfect but, in the end, it would get the job done.

Inks were a whole other process. I had to pulp the flower or plant to extract its fluid and then run that fluid through a complicated set of tubes and filters to get the purest, most debris-free, liquid I could get. If there were any solids or contaminants left in the ink, it would cause it to dry out and clump. Again, as the juice from my plants and flowers flowed through my home-made filters and traps, I added a touch of magic through the bond to help the process along. This process was even more delicate than extracting paper from the skin trees and was helped the most by being done while inside Zigi. But it was also more dangerous being done here than in my shop because it required a fire.

I know. I said no fire inside an ancient wooden tree. But heat is necessary to keep the pulp from clumping up too much to run it through my purifier. So I have a room inside Zigi where I have covered every surface (walls, floor and ceiling) with skin paper which, as I mentioned, is resistant to flame. I affixed the paper using a paste I made from Casper plants. Casper plant paste also is extremely fire-resistant. So much so that it can be used to snuff out a flame almost immediately the moment it comes into contact with one. It's also very sticky. Great for plastering paper all over my walls, ceilings and floors.

I know what you're thinking. If this stuff is so great why not use it all over the inside of Zigi and have all the fires I want? Well there are two answers to that question. One: I'm too lazy. Can you imagine the work it would take to produce enough paper and paste to coat the entire inside of a Zigriti? Have I mentioned how huge one is? It would probably take years of me working full-time to accomplish it, and probably deplete all of my paper supply to boot. Two: It would make Zigi unlivable. The Casper paste is the nastiest-smelling concoction I have ever come across. My ink room was completed more than 100 years ago and it still reeks. I can barely stand being in there for the amount of time it takes to complete the process. I fully expect that I will be found dead in there one of these days. I am also pretty sure that Zigi is still angry at me about it. I'm positive the tree can't smell, but it appears offended, nonetheless.

Paper and ink production is so all-encompassing that I didn't give my uninvited guest any consideration at all for several hours. Early afternoon the paper was almost dry enough to take back to the shop and several bottles of ink had been filled and were sealed for transport. It was time to face the problem of what to do with her. She was correct in her confidence that I wouldn't leave her here to die. I am not a murderer. If I hadn't just happened to need supplies, she would have perished before my next visit. Some would argue that that would have been a form of suicide and I wouldn't have to bear that responsibility since I didn't even know she was trapped.

I did need supplies, though. And I did know she was trapped. So what I did next is what would determine if I was capable of murder.

I'm not. Just so you know.

"There you are!" My prisoner jumped up to greet me as I came through the door. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd left me here to die after all."

"Well, that has been the big conversation going on inside my head most of the day. It all comes down to if you're ready to tell me the truth or not. But first..." I held up the tray in my hands.

"Is that food? I'm starving."

"Don't get too excited. Gnomes are fruit and vegetable folk. There's no exotic roasted meat on this platter. Just some nuts, berries and various fruits that grow in my forest. A little bit of grain as well." I set the tray down on a small work table in the room opposite her cell.

She eyed the carafe on the tray. "And something to drink, I see. I'm parched."

"Yes. Just some fresh-squeezed juice. No wine, I'm afraid." I did have wine, but it was for actual guests, not intruders. Besides, I needed her sober and my wine is strong. I may be small, but it takes a fair amount to get a gnome intoxicated.

"It all sounds wonderful to me." She reached her hands out through the roots keeping her trapped in the cell.

I paused a moment as I picked up the plate I had prepared for her. Would she try to grab me when I got close enough to hand her the food? I sensed earlier that she was dangerous. I had no doubt that she could kill me with her bare hands. Physically, I'm not a match for a large human child, let alone an adult--male or female. I stopped well outside of her apparent reach and held the plate out.

"I can't reach it."

"Stretch yourself." She did and, as I suspected, she was able to reach forward several more inches to just short of the food. I leaned in a bit until her fingers could grasp the edge of the plate and she drew it back to herself. I don't know if she intended to grab me and threaten my life until I let her out, but she certainly could have if I had not stopped short.

"You're a paranoid little fellow." She said through a handful of food she had already stuffed inside her mouth.

"That's what I keep telling people." I handed her a goblet of juice in the same manner. Holding the stem and tilting the bowl towards her so she could grasp it without touching my hand.

I sat at a small table and picked at my food while she continued to wolf hers down. She certainly wasn't concerned about decorum in my presence. The belch she let out after she drained the juice would have done a fully bearded man justice.

"I'm surprised you haven't been pestering me with your questions already." She was licking her fingers, more to clean herself up I think than out of lingering hunger. "You seemed in a rush earlier."

"I still am. You've created quite a mess for me back in Fallhaven and I need to get back and clean it up. If it can be cleaned up."

"I assume you're not just referring to your back room?" There was a half-smile on her face. She was trying to be funny. This irritated me more than her lies.

"Probably not a good idea to make fun of someone who is trying to decide your fate." Even to myself I sounded like an old goat.

"Oh come on. I didn't mean to leave you in such a bad position."

"Really? What did you think would happen when you stole a scroll from me commissioned by the most powerful wizard within one hundred miles? One that is meant for a very important client of his that is himself extremely dangerous? If things went the way you wanted, what was going to be my fate?"

Her head was hanging. Her dark hair covering her eyes. "I don't know." She looked up and there seemed to be genuine remorse in her eyes (or I'm just more gullible than I am paranoid). "To be honest, I didn't really think about the consequences for you."

It dawned on me that she had given up the innocent "village girl" act. Her manner of speaking had changed. She was very educated whoever she was.

"Let's begin with the most obvious question. What is your name?"

"Rowen."

I just about fell off my stool. "The Rowen? The one everyone is looking for? The spy in the Governor's Manor? Wait. So, you're stealing your own tracking spell? You have to know that Gabbert will just order a new one."

Rowen was shaking her head. "First, the tracking spell is not for me. I am not Cortulin. Second...the Governor's Manor is looking for me? And naming me a spy?"

"Yes. Aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but I wasn't sure that they were aware of that. It changes things for me considerably."

"What do you mean you're not Cortulin? Gabbert's looking for you and someone else? That seems wildly coincidental." My head was spinning trying to make sense of things. Being tired wasn't helping.

"The Governor is not looking for Cortulin. I am."

It hit me out of the blue and pieces started to fall into place. "You commissioned the scroll."

"Yes. My employment put me in a position to place the order with Artemis on behalf of Gabbert. As a matter of fact, I have commissioned similar items in the past legitimately so it was not at all suspicious."

"Why are the Corders after you?"

"I assume it's because the Governor has set them on me."

"Ahhh. And we were doing so well. Then you had to go and ruin it."

"What do you mean?" She was done eating and set the tray down on the floor in front of her.

"I mean that you went and lied to me again."

"I'm confused. What do you think I lied about now?"

"You just finished telling me that you weren't sure the Governor was on to you. But then you tell me that you assume the Corders were sent by the Governor. Which is it? Did he send the Corders after you? In which case you lied to me about your awareness of Gabbert finding you out. Or are the Corders after you for some other reason, meaning you just lied to me about that?"

She sat back down on the floor of her cell and began fiddling with her food tray. She was mumbling, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. I moved towards her a little in an effort to hear better. Almost before I could react her hand snapped back holding the tray. I barely registered what was happening as her arm moved forwards, flinging the tray at me in a spinning blur--straight at my face.