Flashback Break with the past Part 5

[Karsynwa]

6th of Spring, 490 AV

When he walked into the library, Zandar greeted him with a knowing smile. “Come to check out one of those books Karsynwa?” Zandar asked, leaning slightly forwards over the desk propped up on his elbows. Karsynwa’s eyes widened slightly in response, and after a tick, he nodded slightly. The briefest inclination of his head but the interest was clear in his eyes. He wondered what he would have to do for the information this time.

“Got something else for me to dust?” Karsynwa asked hopefully, then looked slightly crestfallen as Zandar shook his head, but as the librarian continued to grin he started what else was in store for him.

“Actually no, but the windows could certainly need a good washing. After that I’ll bring you the book.” Zandar said, handing him a coarse rag and a bucket of soapy water. Surprisingly this was more time consuming than it was to dust the whole library down because it required him to lug a small ladder around in combination with the bucket and rag. The complication came when he had to climb the ladder in order to reach the upper parts of the window. He wasn’t exactly partial to climbing them. They made him feel off balance and he stepped up the rungs slowly as he moved to wipe down another window. The ladder shook ominously underneath with every heavy footstep causing him to pause occasionally on his ascent. Fortunately, he’d had the presence of mind after the first few attempts to start putting the bucket on the sill so he had easy access to it without trying to balance that burden on the top of the ladder.

When he had the rag good and soaked, he started scrubbing at the grit on the window starting from the top and working his way down. Windows got a lot dirty than he imagined they could with dust, dead bugs and sooty corners. He gave it all a good scrub, working the rag in with his elbows even though they ached something terrible from his practice. The corners usually required a few pass overs before they were truly clean and remembering Zandar’s comments from last time, he wanted to make sure he did a much better job with this. Otherwise Zandar might get him to climb the ladders again on each window to finish the job.

After about two bells had passed he was finally finished with the windows and brought the bucket back to the front desk with Zandar. There the librarian had left a note for him to meet down in the basement when he had finished which brought a smile to Karsynwa’s face. He checked his pockets to make sure he had brought enough blank parchment and a charcoal stick then headed down the stairs to go meet with Zandar. The librarian was at the alcove they had used last time, with a book already on the table and a strange collection of other items in a basket on the floor.

WC - 501

[Karsynwa]

Date, Season, Year

As he drew closer he saw that there was a couple of eggs, a bowl of flour, and plate of soft cheese. Karsynwa cocked his head as he approached.

“Lunch?” Karsynwa asked.

Zandar shook his head. “Not quite, you’ll see.” Zandar said cryptically as he opened the book. Karsynwa took a seat beside him and after laying out his parchment leaned over to take a look. He held his charcoal pencil at the ready pinched between thumb and forefinger. It looked like Zandar was staying for the reading which was strange to him, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune. The librarian had been beyond helpful in his studies so far, and quite patient with him despite his constant inane questions. Well maybe not inane but he felt bad for asking this man to explain the fundamentals of something that was probably so basic to him that he seldom had to think about it. He knew he felt that way when sparring with a student that was new to the Sasaran and explaining the basic motions to them.

“I figured you would come for Spiritism, so I took the liberty of procuring a few things to help with today’s lesson since you worked so hard.” Zandar said, carefully handling the book to turn to the first page with an entry on it.

“Oh, so those materials are for a recipe in the book? What does it do?” Karsynwa asked intrigued, scribbling the materials quickly onto his piece of parchment.

“Correct. This is a recipe for soulmist which is apparently an important substance for practicing Spiritism. The first few pages are dedicated to the different styles of producing this soulmist as well as what factors into the quality of the soulmist and keeping it persevered for longer periods of time.” Zandar said, bringing up the supplies onto the top of the desk and sorting them out on the table in front of himself.

“Soulmist at its most basic can be used to nourish a ghost, to make it stronger so that it can maintain a corporeal form for longer. There are other uses as well such as using it to make weapons that can harm ghosts, or tools for seeing ghosts or preventing them entry but those are mentioned only vaguely which makes me think that they must be a more advanced portion of the discipline. For our purposes I think just creating the soulmist without attempting to utilize it is enough of a demonstration to help you grasp the idea behind world magic.” Zandar said, setting a bowl in front of him that had a bottom that was sprinkled with flour. Next Karsynwa took an egg handed to him by the librarian and a small glob of soft cheese.

“Put the cheese into the bowl, and then break open the egg into the bowl as well before you start mixing the ingredients with this.” Zandar said setting down a pestle beside him. As he did what Zandar asked the librarian did the same with his own bowl and then pulled out his Lakan. Carefully he drew a shallow cut along the flesh of his palm and dripped the blood down into the bowl.

WC - 535

[Karsynwa]

Date, Season, Year

“Give me your hand.” Zandar said.

Karsynwa’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“You want to learn don’t you?” Zandar asked.

Karsynwa nodded, but still did not extend his hand.

“The last ingredient is blood, and I don’t think you want to be using my blood for the reaction. Come on, its a little cut, surely you’ve suffered worse in the Sasaran.” Zandar said, chiding him gently.

Reluctantly Karsynwa handed him his hand, and received a small cut along his palm. He winced as the metal bit him, an was lost for a moment as Zandar directed his hand over the bowl. Karsynwa knew what he was supposed to do for this part. He snapped back to it, and squeezed his hand, dribbling blood into the mixture. Then Zandar took his hand again, and wrapped it quickly with a clean white cloth bandage. Karsynwa didn’t look at him. Instead he just took up the pestle and started mixing the ingredients together. His eyes flicked over to his hand, caught with a sudden trepidation about what they were doing. He wondered why this magic required his blood, and hoped what they were doing wasn’t against the rules. Perhaps it was just the atmosphere of the basement getting to him. He trusted the librarian, or at least he thought he did. The man had been very kind to him and hadn’t steered him wrong so far. He had to give this a chance. After all it shouldn’t be that surprising that the magic was strange to him. Magic was a strange concept by itself, and he was still wrapping his head around the three laws of djed. An what had Zandar said about magic? It was the art of manipulating that djed. That must be what they were doing here, mixing the stronger djed of his blood with the weaker djed of these other substances to create a djed that could feed ghosts. It made a sort of sense when he framed it like that.

After a few chimes, he had a gooey blob in his bowl that looked more or less like Zandars. He set down the pestle and looked at the librarian hesitantly.

“Now you have to chew on it for a while. I wasn’t able to find an explanation for why exactly that is, but apparently it has to spend a significant amount of time in your body for it to transform into soulmist. Perhaps it is absorbing the latent energies of your body, but I am far from an expert in this area.” Zandar said, quirking a grin. Then he popped it into his mouth without a second thought.

Karsynwa stared at his own bowl for a few ticks till he too popped it into his mouth, feeling the pressure of Zandar’s eyes to do so. It tasted, unpleasant. There was no other word for it. The iron of his blood mixed in with the tangy cheese, raw egg, and flour made for a unique combination of flavors in his mouth. He almost spit it out right away but he muscled through that first impulse as they carried on with chewing it. It was hard to do with nothing to distract his mind so he took to writing down what they had done so far with the materials before he remembered that the book was set down in front of them. Moving slowly, and looking up slightly for permission, he started paging through the book once he got a nod from Zandar who was also busy chewing.

WC - 589

[Karsynwa]

Date, Season, Year

Breathing in through his nose, he tried to get over the flavor of this concoction. It was like chewing wet sand and didn’t taste much better. The book was written like a personal journal of sorts from a man that was intent on recording what he had learned over the years in his practice as a spiritist. Mixed in with the anecdotal stories of his past were recipes and diagrams he deemed important enough to remember. Karsynwa decided to pick up with one of the stories as the first part was only worth skimming as he devolved into a miniature rant about a neighbor that was apparently making quite a bit of noise.

[I learned the art from my great grandfather. It has been a traditional practice in my family since for as long as any can remember, though there are occasionally those who stray away like my father. Because of this, I came to the practice relatively late in my life. Nearly eighteen years old at the time I was introduced to spiritism, I struggled to grasp the fundamentals for a long time. My grandfather rapped my knuckles everytime I missed a step or created inferior soulmist. Inferior soulmist! What a crock I thought that was for the longest time, after all the steps are fairly straight forward. There are only a limited amount of variables you can even control for it, and the only one I could think of was how long it was kept in my body. An where. Which was when the idea came to me to swallow it. My grandfather laughed his ass of when I gagged it back up and it was still rather poor as far as soulmist goes. Petch that man, he could have told me that it only improves with time and experience. Needless to say that is the last time I tried to gargle soulmist.

Eventually something clicked between my body and the concoction which gave me stronger results from the reaction. Still I have doubts on even good days. I feel occasionally phantom raps on my hand when a ghost refuses me, or I get paranoid that my veil is not working. The man was a shite teacher, but perhaps I cannot blame him for that. It is much easier to teach when the pupil is younger, and not filled with spit and fire. I was more than a little bit distracted by girls in my youth, and-]

Karsynwa skimmed ahead, carrying little to hear about his youthful dalliances. He wondered if there was anything to what he had said about the soulmist. Perhaps it was like training a muscle. The thought of having to chew this for an exercise was far from appealing. To be truthful, he wasn’t even sure if this was something he wanted to pursue. Interfering with ghosts wasn’t exactly something he had ever thought about doing, and he generally tried to avoid the subject. Yet, strangely enough, here he was chewing on some strange substance trying to make food for ghosts.

WC - 507

[Karsynwa]

Date, Season, Year

Zandar made a gesture, and then spit out his own mouthful of the concoction. Relief flooded through him. Karsynwa quickly followed suit, crinkling his nose in disgust at the not quite white gel that congealed in the bottom of the bowl. It was a color that made Karsynwa feel queasy. He almost tried wiping off his tongue on the collar of his shirt when he caught a look from Zandar, then stopped. Guess he would just have to sit with the flavor.

“What do we do with it now?” Karsynwa asked. He turned his bowl around between his hands.

“Well, I think you are going to have to try again.” Zandar said, slowly enunciating his words as he tipped his bowl towards Karsynwa. Inside the gel produced a slight eerie glow. Zandar touched it gentle with a fingertip then motioned for Karsynwa to do the same. He shook his hand.

“Oh, don’t be a child. Touch it.” Zandar said, chiding him.

Rolling his eyes, Karsynwa reached hesitantly towards the gel. His fingertips felt the coolness of the material and then withdrew immediately.

“Why did yours come out like that?” Karsynwa asked, frowning slightly as he looked at the contents of his own bowl. He had done everything Zandar had. It should have worked.

“Well, from what I have been lead to understand, it takes a significant amount of time and concentration. You have to remain focused while you are trying to produce the gel and be thinking about what you are going to use it for. Why don’t you try reading the rest of the book and will come back to this for another try.” Zandar asked, patting the table before getting up from his seat. “I’ll be back in a bell or so to check on how it is going. Don’t leave without checking it back in with me.” His voice carried a slight warning to it, prompting Karsynwa to nod earnestly.

“Will do.” Karsynwa said as he paged open to the next part just after the soulmist recipe. He glanced at the passage for the moment before he got to reading it, realizing this was an account of one a job the spiritist had taken.

[My first experience professionally happened when an elderly couple tasked me with speaking with a ghost that had taken with a passing fondness for their house and was causing them a minor amount of distress. An what a troublesome one he was. To start, he was a real horror to look upon. He wore the marks of his death openly on his flesh, and was prone to growl at you if you disrupted his morning routine which was a little odd. Up in the eaves of the house he would drift back and forth, miming dragging his hands slowly across the surface of the roof. Occasionally he would chip away at the pitch that sealed the thatch roof, springing plenty of leaks over the course of a tenday. So, small wonder I was called.

He would not respond to anything I would say, just go back an forth every morning. It was frustrating so finally I decided to do something my grandfather would have tanned my hide for if he was still alive to find out. I antagonized the ghost and got him to possess me. There I was able to trap him within me until I got out of him his story which he was reluctant to give. It was a familiar tale. The house had been his before his untimely death and he wasn’t too happy to see that it was now occupied by strangers instead of his family moved to more affordable quarters on the other side of the city. I tried to reason with him, but he was more stubborn than a mule so I used the lie on him.

I went to meet with his wife, talking with her so I could know her voice and see her face. I did not tell her about her husband because I didn’t want to stress her out that he was sticking around to terrorize the house. Instead I pretended to delivering a gift on behalf of another, and fortunately she was much more gracious than her husband. She gave me ample time to study her so that when I went back to the house I was ready. Let me just say it is hard to concentrate on that woman’s face and the sound of her voice at the same time. Add to that the fact that I’ve got soulmist covering my face making it itch terribly and there is a wailing ghost raking the roof with his fingers. I was so afraid it wouldn’t work so you could imagine my relief when he believed I was his wife. He was so happy to see her he readily agreed to my terms to move to a much quieter part of the city. However I will have to give my terms much more thought in the future as if I agree to leave an offering to every problem ghost once a tenday coming as their wife, well I won’t have much time to do anything else will I. I’ll figure out something to get myself out of this one, but at least I’ve got a tenday to think about it. For now I’m glad to just get that smeared soulmist off of my face. That is probably the worst part about the lie. It takes forever to wash off. I’m still picking some of it out of my nose even now!]

WC - 929