The Fractured Tower

Book 2, Chapter 8

“Buying or selling?” the woman standing in the middle of the pavilion asked.

“Selling. Maybe buying, if you’ve got anything I’m interested in,” Sorin replied.

With a cackle, she said, “I’ve got something for everybody. I doubt you’ll be the exception. The real question is whether you’ll be able to afford it.”

The merchant was rank 12, head and shoulders above anybody else he’d seen down here. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that made her the strongest person he’d met in the red tower, with that trio of rank 10s he’d killed a week ago tying for second place. Samael didn’t count, not having physically been present during their one conversation.

Oh, and Bradford is rank 10, so I guess that’s a four-way tie. Is there something about that floor that causes a lot of people to retire there?

“Noticed, did you?” the woman asked with a smirk. Raising one arm to flex it, she said, “Don’t be stupid and try robbing me. I’ve broken more necks than you’d believe when dumb climbers think they’ve got fast feet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, peering around. The pavilion was big, twenty-five or thirty feet across and square. The sides had all been tied closed, leaving just one way in or out, not counting anyone with any sort of digging soulprint. If ever there was a floor to find something like that, it was Floor 3.

But he could see it. Someone stupid like that guy at the booze table near the edge of the hub cutting through the canvas, grabbing whatever was in front of him, and making a run for it. It’d probably be the last stupid thing he ever did, but young climbers thinking they were invincible once they got a bit of power wasn’t that uncommon. Rue had given some indications that she thought of herself that way, too, though Sorin was hoping getting the crap kicked out of her by a guy twice her rank had mellowed her out a bit.

“Let’s start with what I’ve got for sale, then we can talk about what I’m looking to buy,” Sorin said.

“Let’s start with a name,” she countered. “I’m Lorvaine.”

“I’m Vanir.”

She regarded him for a second. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

With a snort, she gestured to an empty table tucked off to the side. “Well, I won’t pry, Vanir. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Lorvaine, as it turned out, was a fierce negotiator. She haggled over every danir like she was in desperate need of the money despite having tens of thousands in inventory just casually sitting on the tables around them. It was a thoroughly draining experience that made Sorin appreciate Bradford all the more, but he soldiered through it.

“There you are. Two hundred and twenty danirs,” Lorvaine said primly, placing stacks of coins in front of Sorin and sweeping up the soulprints to whisk them away. “Now, let’s talk about spending some of that money.”

With a tired chuckle, Sorin said, “You really are a devil. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Both of my late husbands.”

“My condolences,” he said automatically.

She just grinned back.

“I… won’t ask how.”

“That would be smart of you. Now, what are you looking for today?”

Sorin considered his budget as he eyed the shop tables. He had about four hundred danirs total, but some of that was on reserve for food. He was expecting that to be significantly more expensive at the Floor 3 portal hub, but then again, maybe not. There was no tax going down to the other two floors, and if merchants here tried to gouge climbers too hard, they’d just walk through the portal and get it elsewhere. That would serve to keep goods only slightly marked up for convenience.

The money wasn’t all for him, though. He decided to limit himself to one hundred and fifty. “I’ve got a few holes in my build I still need to fill,” he said.

Lorvaine’s eyes took on a predatory glint. “Don’t we all? Tell me all about it.”

“Well, let’s start with what’s rare and work our way down.”

If he was going to be soloing on a more permanent basis, he wouldn’t be able to rely on Odric. That meant he needed, at minimum, some sort of first aid soulprint like Sticky Blood to prevent him from bleeding out while his passive regeneration fixed him up. Something that could actually heal a wound would be even better, but he’d had absolutely no luck finding anything like that for a reasonable price.

“What do you have in healing and first aid?” he asked.

“What rank?”

“F through D.”

“I’ve got a Lesser Restoration you can have for five hundred.”

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Sorin barked out a laugh. “I might pay half that if I was feeling desperate.”

“No need to feel embarrassed about being poor, boy,” Lorvaine said with a sniff. “If that’s too rich for your blood, I think I’ve got a few Minor Regenerations collecting dust. I’ll sell you one of those for fifty danirs.”

“Pass,” Sorin said immediately. Even if he hadn’t already absorbed that exact soulprint back on Floor 1, he still wouldn’t have paid that much for it.

“Picky, aren’t you. Hmm. How about something between regeneration and restoration then. E-ranked Lesser Rejuvenation.”

“I’m listening,” Sorin said cautiously, though he was almost afraid to hear the absurd price tag she was about to list. Rejuvenation wasn’t highly sought after due to its unusual method of healing, but Sorin could make it work.

While restoration healed an injury instantly, and regeneration accelerated natural, passive healing at all times, rejuvenation types were more of a support ability that was cast ahead of a fight and lasted for a few minutes. During that time, it would rapidly repair any injuries sustained, but the fact that it had to be used preemptively instead of reactively turned away most climbers.

While Lesser Rejuvenation still had its uses, especially for a front liner who could expect to get hurt during the normal course of climbing, Sorin was more interested in the soulprint for its parts. Empowering his regeneration yet again wasn’t precisely what he was looking for, but truthfully, if he stacked enough of it up, it wouldn’t much matter that he lacked an active healing spell.

“Seventy-five danirs,” Lorvaine announced.

“Yeah, okay. How about twenty-five?”

“For an E-ranked soulprint? I’d never sell one for less than sixty.”

“I bet that thing’s been gathering dust for years. I’d be doing you a favor taking it off your hands, let alone paying you for it.”

“I’d burn it before I let it go for twenty-five. For fifty-five, I might consider it, and only because I like that handsome face of yours!”

“Call it forty-five, and I’ll smile all pretty for you while I absorb it,” Sorin said.

“Hah!” Lorvaine cackled. “Trying to sweet talk me? Fifty-five is my final offer.”

Sorin could pay it. It was well within his budget, but he just didn’t think the soulprint was worth that much, especially considering how situationally useful it was. The fact that he was planning to use it to modify another soulprint didn’t enter into the equation.

“Don’t tell me it’s too rich for your blood. I know how much money I just handed you,” Lorvaine said, squinting at him.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like getting scammed. For that price, I’d be better off hunting for an F-ranked direct or channeled heal.”

“Got those, too. But you’re not getting one for fifty-five. Those are actually useful.”

Sorin’s eyes narrowed. If he could get something like Odric’s Soothing Touch and combine it with Rejuvenation, that would be a potent healing soulprint that would hit well above what its rank would indicate. Specifically, it would be something that would allow him to overcharge the healing effect whenever he needed to, something he was uniquely suited to take advantage of.

“You’ve got Soothing Touch?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“How much for both?”

“Both?” Lorvaine asked. “Why would you need both?”

He just stared back at her silently while she studied him. When no answer was forthcoming, she crossed the pavilion and produced a jar with what looked like a wisp of cloud trapped in it. From a drawer came a purple leaf with veins of green running through it.

“One twenty for both,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

It was within his budget, if a bit more than he wanted to pay. He could always make more money, and he needed to fix this hole in his build before the lack of it caught up to him. Almost begrudgingly, he nodded his acceptance.

He counted out the money, but before they completed the trade, Lorvaine said, “Tell me why you want both, and I’ll take ten danirs off.”

I guess it wouldn’t hurt to explain. “I’m going to combine them together in my soulspace to form something better.”

“You’re a rank 3. You really think you can pull something that complicated off? Besides, everyone knows not to combine Rejuvenation with another healing soulprint. Despite what it might seem like, it works completely different.”

“Oh, well if everybody knows, I’ll just give up then,” Sorin said dryly while pulling ten coins back off the stack. He pushed the remainder across the table.

Any trace of levity disappeared from the woman. “I’m serious, young man. Even if you do have a talent for merging soulprints, this is a bad combination. Don’t try to force it. You’ll just end up crippling yourself when you have to rip it out. At best, you’ll be on bed rest for months while you recover.”

“I appreciate the concern and the advice, but I know what I’m doing.”

With a sigh, Lorvaine scooped up the money and left the two soulprints in its place. Sorin reached out and absorbed Rejuvenation first, then unscrewed the lid of the jar and slapped his palm over it. The mist brushed against his skin, cool for just a moment, and turned into a tiny little puff of ash that drifted down to the bottom of the glass.

I’ll merge them together once I get back to camp.

“Perfect,” he said. He glanced around the tables. “Got any Heat Resistances?”

“Of course, but if you’re balking at perfectly reasonable prices for healing soulprints, you can’t afford one.”

“Better to go look on a different floor, then. Figured. What about something with a bit of range that could be channeled through a weapon?”

Lorvaine pursed her lips in thought for a second. “Lightning Slash has a nice arc.”

“No, something a bit less attention-grabbing.”

“Reach?”

“You’ve got one?” Sorin asked, surprised.

“Two hundred and fifty danirs.”

He would have expected to pay four times as much for such a rare and valuable soulprint, but he supposed they were probably easier to obtain in the red tower than back home. Lorvaine certainly wasn’t trying to give anything away. It was technically within their budget, but if he dropped that much, they’d be eating scorpions and wasp paste.

“Two hundred’s as high as I can go,” he told her.

“Don’t insult me.”

Shaking his head, he said, “No games. I literally can’t afford higher than that. If you won’t take it, I’ll have to pass.”

“Vanir, or whatever your real name is, you do know that you take all the fun out of haggling, don’t you?”

“Sorry,” Sorin said.

“You don’t sound sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“Bah! Two hundred. Just rob an old lady of her retirement. Fine!” Lorvaine produced a black, ropey tentacle from a different drawer on another table, collected the money Sorin laid out for her, and then shooed him out of the tent. “Come back when you’ve got more money!”

You’re barely forty, he thought. I suppose that’s old for the average climber.

Smiling, Sorin started walking again. Food was never difficult to find at a portal hub. Everybody needed to eat, so there were always plenty of people selling. It only took him a minute to locate someone selling the typical climber’s fare at an open-air stall, but before he could approach it, he picked up a familiar shape approaching him from behind.

“Hey! There you are! What happened?” Calder asked, coming to a stop next to him.