II

The Crystal Polisher

Milton watched as an old man pottered around a large stone workbench strewn with an assortment of crystal shards. Periodically the old man would interrupt his shuffling about to hold a crystal shard up to the dusty light that streamed in from a large opening overhead. At these moments Milton could see the individual character of the crystals brought forth in illuminated colour. One a deep, motionless green and another an airy blue that seemed to shift with a tidal motion. As Milton continued to watch, a subtle rhythmic ritual sense began to arise in his mind. The room and the old man moving about it appeared to Milton as through a deep mist and intermittently from out of this hazy scene a clear sharp pulse of some new spectral colour would flash.

Milton shook his head to clear his mind and approached the old man as he held aloft a glowing pink crystal shard. Without taking his eyes from the crystal in his hands the old man addressed Milton.

"Here for more, is it? Some success you've had, is it?"

"Yes. One of the shadows and another from the waters" Replied Milton as he patted a slight bulge under his cloak.

"No common thing is it, a crystal willing to receive. And further yet one so shaped as to accept your crude magics. No gold, a trade this time it is."

Having made this declaration, the old man shuffled off towards a large pile of dull, unshapen crystalline rocks in the corner of the room. Milton waited for a moment, watching as the old man took a lump of the dull rock and placed it on the stone workbench. A chisel-like tool blinked into the old man's hand. As Milton watched, the old man took on a countenance of deep concentration. With deft movements he was shaping the rock into a narrow faceted rectangle. Once satisfied with his work, he threw the chisel over his shoulder into the air, where it promptly vanished. Now appeared in his hand what seemed like a length of tarnished green leather with which he began to vigorously polish the now exposed and shaped crystal.

As the polisher continued in his work a certain somewhat familiar scent filled the air, and Milton raised his brows quizzically.

"Kobold hide it is" the old man stated. "Stench, yes, but it is what is required to bring the crystal to clarity."

Milton stared for a moment, bemused, but then banished this unfortunate fact from his mind. Reaching into his cloak he brought out a small worn red pouch and placed it lightly on the stone surface next to where the old man was working.

"Powdered essence from the Dream Masters of the lake. I believe this should be sufficient payment for at least three binding crystals"

The old man took a quick sharp breath as he stopped working and eyed the small pouch.

"Dream Master's essence you say it is? Through a fair dealing you came by this is it? I will not be involved in any wrong dealings with the Dream Masters."

"You can be assured" Replied Milton. "I have an accord with Wazir of the Mount."

The old man turned and stared hard at Milton through the dusty light of the room.

"The One Who Rings it is?"

"The One Who Rings" stated Milton.

After a moment’s hesitation the old man scooped up the pouch and deposited it in his apron pocket.

"Agreed. Three crystals worth it is."

With a few quick movements of his hand through the air, the old man caused a wooden chest to appear and land heavily on the workbench. Opening it and reaching in he withdrew three small perfectly clear crystals.

"The binding incantation, same as the last it is."

"You have my thanks" replied Milton, as he quickly wrapped the crystals and placed them within his cloak.

"Tell me Wizard, what is it you will do with the bound energies?"

Milton had already turned to leave but he paused and looked over his shoulder at the old man.

"Time will tell".

Entered by: 0x9D04…0922 and preserved on chain (see transaction)