Chapter 1-23: Teacher’s Pay (1/2)
I was better organized this time, and partway I stopped and had the students introduce themselves in English, what they did, and where they came from. They spoke in English, I converted it to Human, their word choices, accents, and dialects helping build the rapport and link with their genetic tongue.
They didn’t really notice when they started using more Human in their speech. I had them tell basic childhood stories, sing a favorite song, recite a favorite poem or saying, and recite the names of their relatives.
The time passed fairly quickly as I ran smoothly through nouns, verbs, sentences, descriptive terms, and so forth. We had a Q&A session, veering into weird territory as they talked about themselves and their lives here and there. I didn’t talk about myself, as I didn’t have the akashic link that made all this work. I could just learn the language ‘for free’, without it taking up a mental inventory slot, I couldn’t learn it this easily.
Inheriting it had been about the same thing, however.
----
I held up my hand as Shelly finished a tale about her grandmother and the Christian Church she used to go to.
“All right, we’re done,” I smiled. “You’re all talking in Human.” The Valence I Comprehend Languages lasted an hour per Caster Level, and was about to expire.
“What?” Mr. Harrison exclaimed in disbelief, and then blinked as he realized he hadn’t actually said what.
I turned directly to the cameras, ignoring the astonished guys behind them focusing on me. “And that’s all you have to do. Read along, talk along. An hour of your time, and you all speak the same language, read the same language, can write the same language. Note that if you don’t know how to read or write, you still know what the words mean, but you’ll have problems putting your own words down.
“Thank you for your time, and I hope I won’t have to learn too much Englits in the future.”
I shook hands with the three still-astounded students, who were exclaiming all sorts of things, experimenting with new words we hadn’t even covered, but that were miraculously there when they went looking for them.
----
Father Bower was shaking his head as he greeted me. “You do not know what a service you’ve done with this, Miss Traveler. I’m not sure we can repay you adequately.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “So, I might be able to ask for something from the coffers of the Church that might be of use?” I inquired directly.
He looked at me, coughed, and smiled. “Well, the goodwill of the Church is hard to put a gold value on,” he hinted strongly.
“I am about to go into town to spend a mildly obscene amount of money on what will no doubt prove to be a low-Quality Casting Implement I will no doubt have to trash and recycle, wasting everyone’s time. I don’t need a magical Staff, I can arrange for such things myself. However, a high-Quality item requires a fine craftsman, and the appropriate contacts.
“I would like the Church to procure me the material for a very high-grade Staff. It does not need to be Crafted. It can be bone, ivory, or wood.
“I will do the Carving and Crafting myself at the appropriate time, but I need the material to do so. Is that within the Church’s remit?”
He considered that thoughtfully. “I can certainly inquire, Miss Traveler, but I do not know if the Church can acquire what you need. It should not surprise you that the White Necromancers of the Church also have great demand for superior Staves.”
I inclined my head, and we headed towards the door... with the blouse and slacks returned to Shelly, and my other scavenged clothes swapped back in and re-fit with fingersnaps. She didn’t hide her envy as she rolled her eyes and shook my hand. I just winked at her, and strolled away.
“You have not yet spoken with Sir Pellier, or he might have passed on something else your Church does not seem to know about,” I told him after we stepped outside. I flicked my fingers, and brought up my Darts.
He studied them curiously, intently. “There is holy magic about them,” he judged after a moment. “And... I believe that is banefire against the undead, I have seen some Weapons set up with it. I am not familiar with the white fire...”
“Technically, it’s unwhite fire. It’s actually white, not a confluence of colors your eyes interpret as white. Spiritual aspect to it, you see. It’s the exact opposite of the utterblack of necroic fire.”
He shot me another intensely interested gaze. “That sounds either ominous or propitious...”
“This is called Vivic Fire. It is the unnatural energy of the Mortal Plane, the energy that denizens of other planes hate to see. If you are familiar with this symbol,” I whipped up a Holo of a tai-chi symbol as I let my Darts fade, and pointed to the little white dot in the black comma, “that is vivic fire right there, as that is necroic fire.” I pointed to the little black dot in the white.
He rubbed his chin, thinking. “That is very interesting, but how is it relevant?”
“Undead slain with vivic fire are not reborn under the Curse of the Shroud. They are consumed and fed to the Land.”
He stopped in place. I took another step, and turned back to him calmly.
He was staring at me in shock, disbelief... and hope. “This... vivic fire, can actually kill the undead?” he gasped hoarsely.