By the time Declan was done with his shift, he had in no way handled the small mountain of runes. He’d stacked each identified one with the associated form and his stamp, and carried them up from the basement below the armory workshop. He didn’t need special tables or gear to know exactly what these were, and had three that were Feather Fall and one Death’s Falling Grasp which was a deeply fascinating. He would have done more Corrosive Slime runes but he spent the time to grow Insight.

  Death’s Falling Grasp: Create a circle of grasping hands that will drag down the target and hold it for a length of time relative to this rune’s tier. Struggling against the grasp will inflict mana burn. Mana Cost: High, Fixed. Tier Four Rune.

  He found Vera North and brought her to check his work. And ask a difficult question, one that had been nagging at him. “How do you keep people from stealing? I’ve carried runes in and out. I’ve watched people carry runes out. I’ve traded for runes. You’ve got a mountain of runes in a place where people fight for shards.”

  “Ah. One of those.” Vera North looked at him differently now. “Thorn, you’re an arcanist. Most of us aren’t. Second, it’s Corrosive Slime. No one—and I mean no one—is out to steal them. If you were going to steal a rune it would be the one you catalogued, stamped and turned in upstairs. Tier Four, noble families pay a shit-ton of rin for them beause they let hunters catch blazed beasts and restrain them.”

  “So they can ‘kill their first,’” Declan said with a sigh. “What happens to the other runes?”

  “The shit-pile get crushed down to power artifices. This place eats runes. It eats them by the bucket load. You really did work on all of these?” North seemed impressed by his mound. Declan was depressed at the remaining work. “Yes, and I’m certain. Hey, that’s not a Corrosive Slime. That’s a Pierce!” He scooped it out of the pile. “I’ll trade for it.”

  North pointed him up the stairs and gathered the crew. “Thorn just figured out there’s a mountain of worthless runes downstairs. Turned in the Grasp and got excited about a Pierce.”

  The result was laughter and mild cheers.

  It was madening. He’d fought and fought to get a single rune and been denied a tier zero Strike and here these people joked about crushing runes for power. “I don’t understand. Why don’t you give runes away?”

  “Arcanists don’t appreciate power that’s given to them. Those noble assholes get it handed to them on a platter and everyone else knows what matters because they worked for it. If you’re open to it, swap your shifts on occasion. We don’t make you deal with corrupted runes,” North said.

  “I really like Gladson. Maybe I could alternate? I have a private lesson or I’d stick around and help more—on a pay basis, not free. Right now I have to go get ready to meet Brak Atur for Advanced Mana Services. You don’t even want to know how much an hour of his time costs, and I’m no noble.”

  North’s face had gone pale and she wasn’t laughing. “Ash and shit. I wouldn’t have put you through that if I knew. My sister’s an arcanist who swears by—and at—the memory of him.”

  “Rune’s a rune, they’ve all got to get done.” Declan handed her the Pierce.

  She tossed it back. “Alternate night shifts for me until all the slug runes are done and that’s yours. Also, I’ll mark you off the next shift. Just a hunch.”

  Brak Atur owned a private classroom in ring four and it wasn’t a classroom at all, It was what Declan would have called a fancy bath, or at least that was what he thought when he entered. “Declan Thorn, I’m early, I’ll wait.”

  The interior of the shop was shrouded in dense steam and the air was hot and humid. Water trickled somewhere and a soft gong rang constantly. “Come in, come in. My previous client quit early. You booked an hour. It will be a great year, Mr. Thorn.”

  Declan stepped into the back and found the owner of the voice. It was a man, a short man with round glasses and a heavy belly, he came up to Declan’s waist, but had musclular arms and bald head. “Sorry, I won’t be doing this the entire year. I could only afford an hour.”

  “Right…where did you hear about me?” Brak asked.

  “I was researching mana channels in the library and it mentioned twenty seven. Another chart showed a thousand. I asked the Librarians who knew and they said you were the person to go to. I’ve been practicing, taught by the ArCore. I can hold any of their positions for long enough I’m sure it’s not doing anything.”

  “ArCore.” Brak spat. “There are thousands of mana channels, more than anyone could possibly align. There seven that form the basis, four in the arms and legs, two that run down the spine and one that joins the core.”

  Declan waited. This wasn’t a pause, it was a trap.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “If you had to choose, would you rather not be able to walk or not be able to move your arms? And if it were an arm, left or right?” Brack opened another door, and a literal river flowed out, steaming hot water. “You’ll undress there, lay in the river there, they’ll work the muscles first so you don’t break a bone. My time—the time you paid so well for—starts when they’re done. You decide when you can’t handle more. And if you want to, you can come back later for more. You’ll need a month or so to heal, of course.”

  Now, doubt began to creep in. The man was a certified instructor but there were always fakes. “What exactly are you going to do?”

  “You can’t flush impurities in the lesser veins on your own. So we’re going to break them down and flush them out. You’ll enjoy the first part. Juri will start when you ring the bell.”

  ###

  Declan lay face down, his nose just barely above the water, water that was so hot it almost hurt, while a woman taught him she could inflict pain without using a welding artifice to set his clothes on fire. It was alternatingly pleasant and painful and this was the relaxing part.

  Then the door opened and Brak came in, singing to himself happily. “Let’s begin by checking mana channels. Hmmm. Well, that’s a pleasant surprise. You are from Mazal?”

  “The Foundry,” Declan answered, half slurred.

  “Interesting. Does this hurt?” Brak jabbed a point in Declan’s arm and then one in his wrist, and then the tip of his index finger. “No? At all? What about here?” Bit by bit, he probed, then activated a trio of runes, one of which was clearly Healing but the other was a mind rune, and the third, Declan couldn’t make out without lifting his head and the masseuse, Juri, hadn’t taken her knee off his back.

  “Some times, Mr. Thorn, we are suprised. Sometimes, we find something pleasant. Your channels are odd. I will enjoy this.”

  “I figured out my answer to your question. I need my arms. I can limp around.” He’d surmised that clearing the mana channels would probably overload the nerves. Everyone talked about how amazing magic was and most of those people hadn’t taken the steps to get here.

  “Ahahahahaha. Again, sometimes the world has a sense of humor. That answer would have been helpful a few moments ago. We have already broken loose the blockages. Now we purge them.” The third rune flared to life.

  Declan began writhe. “Oh my god! I can’t breathe.”

  “Yes, yes, the pain finally comes,” Brak said, not paying attention. “Juri, do not let him drown.”

  “No. It. Tickles!” Declan rolled over and curled up, laughing “Ash and shit, that rune tickles.”

  Brak remained silent. “Eh, I’ve seen wierder. Juri, arm.”

  She locked it behind him in a sumisison hold, and Declan began to laugh until he cried.

  When they finally stopped, Declan was more than a little unsteady. His world had swung from one direction as he dressed and picked up his pack. It was going to be a bit hard to carry but he’d crawled further one day when he was drunk in the slag piles.

  Brak was no longer in a pleasant mood. “No one lasts a hour. You go home. You sleep. You ask yourself, what god did I offend, to make me such a man? Porters will be here soon.”

  “I can crawl,” Declan said. The porters served at the pubs of the Academy, dragging drunk arcanists home, and Declan wasn’t drunk. He was happy that he’d found one thing that didn’t hurt. It was like all of magic was marked Do Not Touch and he’d found a sliver that wasn’t.

  He made it ten feet before relaxing, limp on the cobblestone, a smile on his face as he stared up at a bitterly clear sky. Then a leather clad giant leaned over and smiled. “Ariloch, right? Let’s go.” He slung Declan over his shoulder and sang badly the whole way to the house, where he unspooled Declan in a pile just inside the door and bit them goodbye.

  Chen came running. “Did you get attacked?”

  “Advanced mana treatment. It tickled.” Declan sat up and fell over. “Can I sleep on the couch?”

  “Sure, steal my spot.” Chen dragged him there and then threw a ragged blanket. “Anything else Lord Ariloch?”

  “That’s Senior. I’m the Senior Ariloch.” Declan nodded to his pack. “Hand me the bearing.”

  Chen did. It was hot to the touch and the warmth soaked through him. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Also, the ArCore woman came by. Gurik told her where you were, and that if she wasn’t finding you, she wasn’t all that interested in it. Or was it ‘If you haven’t found him, it’s your own damned fault?”

  Shit and ashes, ashes and shit. “I’ll send a message to Tegan tomorrow.”

  “Tegan? Nah, this was the other chick. Long hair, robes, Annika? Annisa!” Chen smiled. “Yeah, Anissa. You look tired, man. Get some sleep, I’ll get my own ass to study tomorrow.”

  ###

  “It’s a foundry thing. Some kind of holy relic they have to carry if they leave. Makes sure their kids can’t run too far,” A woman said. “He’s not dead. If he were dead the mana wouldn’t be circulating. Poke him again.”

  “Don’t poke me,” Declan growled. He wasn’t wrecked like he’d expected but his muscles ached. Pops said the best cure for aching muscles was more work. He sat up and set the mana bearing on his pack. A group of Ariloch house members surrounded him, concerned. Hayden stood with them. “You too drunk to crawl to your bed?”

  “Something like that. I need a volunteer to run the front, I’m taking the day off to rethink my bad decisions. If the ArCore come looking for me, tell them I’m in my apartment, for real. Zero chance I’m lying and actually somewhere else.” He could stand and drag his pack to the apartment, then shut the door. He didn’t want to sleep, though. He carried the mana bearing into the second room and set it down in front of him. Then he set the mana stone to orbiting and took the third one and began working on it. The gentle wash of mana was comforting. It soaked through his body and though it had to drain away, it was like a warm bath, without a psychotic man manipulating his mana channels.

  Time slowed as he focused on the pattern, one, two, three. Occasionally, voices spoke in the distance, doors slammed, or feet moved, but there was only the pattern of attention, that almost reached the third stone. He could feel it changing under mental pressure. But the pain kept distracting him. Declan dropped his attention on the third stone and instead focused on the mana bearing, not trying to lift it. He simply made it roll, smooth, gentle, around him until at last it completed the orbit and a deluge of mana poured down, muffling the jangling in his nerves until it drained into the ground. And he could breathe. “That feels better.”

  Then he realized he wasn’t alone in the room. Tegan stood not five feet away, along with Anissa Drevond. Both were staring at him with open mouths, but Tegan spoke first. “What—and I cannot stress this enough—what the actual fuck was that?”