The Slime Farmer

Chapter 101: He Who Lives Here Must

It was twilight when the carriage pulled by winged goats flew over the Garge homestead. 

From above, Defi noticed that there were people near the warehouse. A fire flickered cheerily in the open space between the trees, casting long and thin moving shadows of various individuals on the ground.

There was a large canopy set up beside the dark and empty building that was going to be his slime habitat.

The flying carriage alighted near the house, screened from view of the people by a stand of trees.

The scent of sansu fruits and blossoms lingered in the air of the place and Defi breathed in deeply as he disembarked. The smell of the river here was distinctly different from the Indar river that surrounded Ecthys.

"I thought you lived here alone?" Gosseu the driver asked, as he and Marmocha helped Defi unload packages and barrels from the carriage. He'd seen the people as well.

Defi noted that the carriage, despite the sizable load packed inside and on top of it, still floated sturdily above the ground. "There's a blessing feast for the warehouse tomorrow. They're probably getting ready for it. Please come if you can."

At least, he hoped it was Aire and her cohort who were setting fires in his front yard.

Gosseu lit up. "Of course. You already know Gide, yes?"

They started lighting lamps. The sun had already set.

"Just bring anyone who wants to." Defi made for the room beside the kitchen, to check on his slimes and make up a basket of food for Turq. 

Ascharonian ceremonial feasts were public. Anyone who had acquaintance with the host could take part and bring anyone who wants to be introduced. It's why most of his current cargo was food.

In the room set aside for them, the slimes all were lounging about in empty baskets, not one missing. He sighed in relief. The last time he came backwell.

It was the work of a few minutes to refill the baskets. Turq left to one of the baskets with the rest of the slimes.

When he returned exited the room, Gosseu and Marmocha were carrying boxes into the central hall. 

"Blessing feast? No wonder she told me to carry so much stuff." Marmocha sighed theatrically. "Why can't that woman just tell people what she wants?"

Defi ignored the dramatic lament. Marmocha and Sarel had been friends for so long that sometimes, between them, words were trivial.

Marmocha clapped a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "My young friend, it looks like most of our cargo this time is yours. Your first time hosting a blessing feast! We must get ready."

"What did she want you to do this time?"

"From the look of the supplies she sent, we'll be setting up your receiving hall tonight."

Defi did intend to do that. "I already bought furniture. It won't be delivered until next week."

"It does not matter how you order your hall, young friend. But the traditions must be kept and things must be arranged in proper places."

Defi understood. He had cleared the room of everything before he rearranged it. So he'd removed the items that made the central hall into a suitably Ascharonian receiving hall.

"Don't worry, Defi. You are in luck! I learned the calculations and the ceremony from a master. In my younger days, I was quite the scholar!"

"You've done it before?" Defi did not trust the man's currently too bright enthusiasm.

"A simple thing like this, it won't take very long!"

Defi considered that the man hadn't answered the question, then nodded with a sigh. What choice did he have at the moment? 

The blessing feast was essential if Sarel rushed to get it done from Ecthys even with the chaos at Bluzand.

"If you curse my house, you're paying for what happens next."

Marmocha just shook his head, looking very disappointed. "Ah, young people these days, no faith in their elders."

"I have plenty of faith. I will have faith until the moment my house gets cursed."

Gosseu snickered as he passed them by.

Marmocha snorted, then waved his hand at the rest of the cargo. The largest and heaviest package still was on the carriage. "Impudent brat, come and help bring down those stands."

Surprisingly, to Defi, the process was indeed simple. It was not even an hour before his house had what Marmocha termed a 'proper' receiving hall.

What Marmocha called 'stands' were actually plinths, elaborately carved stone pieces that were lighter than they looked. The carved stands came up to Defi's chest, and needed to be placed in various strategic places around the hall.

In the light of the lamps he'd bought in Ecthys, Defi touched a finger to one. 

The stone was smooth, cool and almost silky to the touch, the black-grey-white patterns of the grain contrasting beautifully. He imagined the stone plinth set against the aged wood of the walls, and was struck with the casual harmony with which they came together in his mind.

He tilted his head in contemplation. He had talked to Sarel about Ontrean art before, did he give away his preference for stone over wood then?

Should he write to ask where she acquired the stands? He would like to see what other items would come out of such a workshop.

The carved plinths were eccentric in design and, in addition, not one of the pieces exactly the same. Curious. Was asymmetry considered a major element in Ascharonian art?

Still, Defi could see they were carefully made, thoughtfully designed.

Ontrean art was a story caught in many mediums. A single glance at Ontrean artwork and people would know what it was about.

He was too untutored in Ascharonian tradition to know precisely the details. But art was a language that transcended culture and Defi knew beauty when he saw it.

It was impossible that they were made in three days, not even three months. And it would cost a few handfuls of gold besides. 

He wondered idly, exactly how grateful was Bluzand that Turq brought down that barge?

Defi had the feeling it was a larger case of spying and theft than he initially thought. Not to mention, Sarel would not stay in Ecthys if it was a minor problem.

He put the matter out of his mind as Marmocha started instructing him and Gosseu to carry things here and there.

Merchantry intrigue was not something he could help with yet, so he focused on the things he could do and started helping Gosseu move the plinths.

"Three of these will do, generally, for fortune, hospitality, and health. But seven is auspicious too." Marmocha declaimed while looking through a surveying mirror and marking places in the hall. 

As he babbled, the two younger men unwrapped the rest of the cargo that Marmocha needed.

"It looked like there were seven stands that used to be here." Marmocha bent to study the markings on the floor. 

Defi remembered those stands. They were carved from wood rather than stone, rendering scenes of frolicking woodland animals. There was indeed a certain grace to the carvings, but they were too boisterous for his taste.

The wood of those stands looked older than even the walls of the house, and part of them had char marks from fire. Yet they were carefully polished and there had been attempts at restoration.

Defi did not think Leraine intended to sell him what he suspected were family heirlooms, so he stored them with the rest in the former master bedroom. Should she return, he would give them back.

"The old calculations are nearly the same as mine. Eh, saves the bother of checking again," Marmocha clapped his hands together in satisfaction and waved them to move faster. 

The bulk of the ceremony was Gosseu and Defi carrying heavy iron candlesticks and placing them on top of the plinths while Marmocha murmured offering chants in Abrechal language and lit the candle with his Shade.

They slowly circled the hall, lighting candles one by one, listening to the rise and fall of Marmocha's chanting.

After the final one was lit, Defi and Gosseu stood at Marmocha's back while he kindled a blaze in the fireplace with the final candle before placing it on the last plinth.

There was a silence in the hall as the fire crackled to life in the large recessed space.

Fire, since ages past, had been essential to the comfort and survival of humankind. It kept away the predator beasts, the killing cold, the fatal hunger. 

Without fire, would the forges that gave humankind the physical weapons to match and rise above any other predator been created? 

Without fire, would the bonds that gave humans the inner strength to endure the hard uncaring world been strong enough to form kingdoms and empires?

In Ontrea, warriors revered the ravaging flame, the passion that stirred the blood to seek battle. It appeared, in Ascharon, the nourishing flame that brought people together was similarly exalted.

He should have guessed, with how food was so central to various local traditions.

"The items to place on top of the stands, traditionally, are chosen as a family. For you, until you marry, the candles will do. You should light them every night."

Defi had included a fireguard on his list for the fireplace but had not brought it back with him. He contemplated whether there were similar products to guard against candle-flame accidentally setting the curtains ablaze.

"That's done." Marmocha sighed happily. "Now your receiving hall is nearly ready to welcome people."

"I am grateful that you both were here to help."

Gosseu smiled brightly at his thanks, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

"I said nearly." Marmocha waved a finger at him in disapproval. "Don't think I didn't see the state of your wine cabinet. A travesty, I say, a travesty!"

Defi eyed the wine-cabinet. It was the same as always, and he was certain he'd cleaned the hall recently. He really didn't want to ask. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's empty! By the seven-colored skies, why is it empty?"

"I have wine," Defi protested. "Quartels of it, in fact."

"You should show off your wine, my young friend! Your wines should say: 'He who lives here is a gracious and generous host. He who lives here shall allow you to drink the best of his wines. He who lives here shall blow your underclothes off with the taste of these wines'! Do you understand?"

Defi gave him a doubtful look. To the side, Gosseu was also looking at his employer half in stifled hilarity and half in resigned despair.

A stretched out grumbling sound cut off the conversation.

Defi shut his mouth and refused to be embarrassed.

Marmocha laughed, clapped a hand on both Defi and Gosseu's shoulders. "Should we go and see what delicacies those people outside have come up with this evening?"