Chapter 5-120: Blood on the Rocks (1/2)

I slid over several pages of very white paper, upon which were written some very complex sigla in the Language Arcane in some very dark, very rich red blood... his own blood, which he had supplied to me to Write these spells.

The Mick pulled out a set of glasses that had nothing to do with fine eyesight, as Blooded didn’t suffer visual degradation with age, and looked the spells over slowly and somberly.

He said nothing as he studied the first one, moved on to the second, the third... and after a whole hour, finally finished with the seventh.

It was 4 AM. I didn’t much care, and he was born a night owl. There were plenty of Blooded of Fuilcroi in Detroit, the mishmash clan formed by survivors from other, destroyed clans of Blooded, now enthusiastically claiming and holding the city. With the blessing of Heavensbound Hall, as long as their conduct remained upright, no other clan dared to challenge them here.

Or rather, didn’t think of taking power here. Bloody conflicts with the Clans of the Tomb who had moved here to escape persecution in the shadow of the Hall and those outside the city who didn’t pass muster were not uncommon in the slightest, and occasionally their own fell to their inner demons and had to be dealt with, too. There were Withered, Glutton, White, and Juju Clans here, all finding places where they could work and live like normal folks, regardless of appearance, and without discrimination.

Indeed, given that their Racial Levels brought the least of them to Six, they were superior workers. The Juju made incredible line workers, able to do mindless tasks for hours without any difficulty, while the Whites and Withered made nigh-tireless general laborers... and despite their appearances, the Gluttons did extremely well in food service. A family of them ran the café we were in, and obviously knew The Mick well, refilling our cups quietly and withdrawing equally discreetly. There were plenty of alchemicals and magic to deal with their natural odors, and teaching them all the magic to do so was basically required in the modern age.

“Blood magic without corruption attached to it, all of them,” he said thoughtfully, looking over his little spectacles at me. He tapped the third and fifth set of pages. “These use positive energy. They have the feel of holy magic about them...”

“Martyrdom tends to involve a lot of blood. Of course, most martyrs don’t have Fast Healing.” He smirked acknowledgement of the fact.

He gathered up the spells calmly, noting that they were the perfect size to be bound into a standard Libram. “I can’t even cast four of these, lass...”

“Well, that’s partly because you’re Blooded, and it takes you more Karma to Level than others, and partly because you’re not studying the right kind of magic for you,” I agreed. “No reason not to give you a taste of what is coming.”

“This Blood Magery of yours.” He couldn’t hide his interest.

“I have to reach Five before I can break it down for you and instruct you in its essentials. Sorry, you’ll have to wait.”

“I have the feeling I won’t have to be waiting too long, all things considered,” he said agreeably. “I hear you have been selling some improved basic spells for significant amounts of income.”

“And I’ve already burned away over seventy goldweight on stuff. Money comes, money goes.” I tapped my finger. “Do the Blooded have their fingers in rubies?”

He grinned widely. “The Clans have fingers everywhere, but rubies are by far the favored gems of the Blooded clans, so they do deal in them widely. Are you looking for pigeon’s-blood rubies or somesuch?”

“Actually, I’m personally looking for about this size worth of crappy ones.” I made a Holo of an orb about the size of a tennis ball.

He blinked. “Junk rubies?” he confirmed archly.

“Specifically, ones with the potential to be red, but mixed with impurities.”

He laid heavy, dark eyes on me. “You have a way to refine out the impurities,” he muttered under his breath, and I grinned despite myself. “And dare I ask... does that appreciate the goldweight value?”

“Oh, my, yes. Often by an order of magnitude or more.”

He studied my smile. “There’s more. Ye’re beyond eating shit with that smile. Yer pissing champagne and puking caviar.”

“Stone Shape properly Heightened to a V Slot can affect gemstones.”

He looked at me, then looked up at the ceiling, closed his eyes, lips moving without saying anything. “Ye’re giving me the chance to make a LOT of money, then.”

“You’re going to need it.”

“That’s true!” he agreed immediately. “How much capital do I have to work with?”

“How much do you need?” I inquired.

“Crap gemstones aren’t that hard to get ahold of. I can probably get a pickup full of poor diamonds, emeralds, sapphire, rubies, and amethysts if you have the money. If it’s low on the goldweight scale, they only want to get rid of the stuff.”

“An immediate ten to one, up to a hundred or more to one, a thousand in rare cases, return on investment...”

“And... you’ve got to be able to cast a V Slot spell, which, what, five people on the planet can do right now? And they don’t even know that spell?” He was studying me intensely.

“Six, seven weeks away.”

“Fuck me running!” he blurted out. “Is that even possible?”

“If my Bloodline wasn’t jerking me around like an arse, I could do it in two weeks!” I declared with feeling, and he just looked at me and the two monster heads I didn’t have, wondering what he was dealing with here.