Return of the Runebound Professor

“Is that really necessary?” Moxie asked, choosing her words carefully as she gauged Arnold’s expression. The burly craftsman’s features were completely unreadable.

“Yes.”

Moxie sighed and shrugged. “Fine. What about him?”

“Name.”

“How does that–”

“Evergreen put up with my questions when she wanted a staff,” Arnold said, not letting Moxie finish. “If you want me to help you, then you’ll do the same. Now answer the question. It’s protected under the Oath, as is everything else we discuss. If that isn’t enough, then you can leave.”

Moxie chewed her lower lip.

Technically, I could say Vermil. It wouldn’t be wrong, but it definitely wouldn’t be right either. I’m not sure why Arnold needs his name, but if it’s for some sort of Imbuement, then it might be more effective if it was Noah’s real name.

His name isn’t mine to share, though.

“I don’t know if I’m at liberty to tell you his name,” Moxie said after a few more seconds of internal debate. “It was shared with me in confidence, and even though your Oath exists, that doesn’t justify me sharing the secret.”

Arnold’s eyebrows raised and a flicker of approval passed over his features. It vanished as quickly as it had come and he inclined his head in the barest gesture of acknowledgement. “Very well. Your lack of answer tells me just as much as giving me a name would have. It will be dealt with when the time comes. Is this violin for an experienced user, then?”

“Very,” Moxie said with a nod.

“Do they travel often, or will it be a showpiece?”

“Function over everything else,” Moxie said immediately. “Durable as well, please. We don’t live a peaceful life, and if possible, I’d prefer that the violin be able to survive damage.”

“What kind of magic does he wield?”

Moxie paused again. The questions were right on the line of uncomfortably personal, to the point where it probably wouldn’t be that much of an issue if she actually told Arnold anything, but it still felt like giving away secrets that weren’t hers to trade.

“Nature based,” Moxie said after a few moments. “But not just earth. All forms of nature.”

“Vague.”

“Another secret that isn’t mine to share. Perhaps I should have just brought him with me. That would have been a lot wiser and more effective.”

“Perhaps,” Arnold agreed. He lowered himself back into his chair and raised an eyebrow. “So, why didn’t you?”

“He was really busy, and it’s likely that he would have objected to spending this much money on himself when we could use it for other purposes. I believe that this is worth it, though. I know your craftsmanship.”

Arnold chuckled. “A surprise, perhaps?”

Moxie glanced to the side. “I never said that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Arnold’s gauntlet tapped against the table in thought. “Does he sing? Or does he only play?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him sing, though.”

“Last question, then. Why are you getting this for him?”

Moxie’s brow furrowed. “Formations are powerful. That should be reason enough, shouldn’t it?”

“You said that this was for passion more than Formations, and I know that you did not lie. This is not for power.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.” Arnold’s gaze pierced into Moxie’s eyes, unblinking and unflinching. “Every single aspect will matter. I have no hands. I cannot make something as detailed as what we seek. You will have to aid me, but you cannot do everything. We will need to work together. And, to do that, I must understand your purpose for making this instrument.”

“It’s a gift.”

“From whom?”

“From me.”

Arnold snorted. “You are being difficult.”

“And you aren’t making sense. What more do you need?”

Arnold studied Moxie for a few seconds. Then he leaned forward, bracing himself against the table as he rose back to his feet. Rolling his neck, Arnold strode through the wood and metal covering the ground and pressed his gauntlet against the wall.

With a dull grinding noise, a section of stone slid open, revealing a short passageway into a much cleaner room. A craft table sat at its back, with shelves full of materials lining the walls all around it.

“Come,” Arnold said, striding inside.

Moxie followed after him. As soon as she stepped through the doorway, it rumbled shut behind her and left the two of them in the darkness. An instant later, a soft click echoed through the dark and several candles fluttered to life all around the room.

Arnold knelt by one of his shelves, moving pieces of wood and unfinished carvings to the side in search of something. Moxie remained silent. For the moment, it looked like Arnold was going to help her – and she didn’t want to say anything that had a chance of impacting that.

A few seconds later, Arnold found what he was looking for. He pushed himself upright, holding a long block of pitch-black wood in his hand. Delicate swirls of faint, almost shimmering purple shone within it, just barely visible in the light.

Arnold set the wood on the table with a thunk that sounded far more like he’d dropped a brick of metal rather than a piece of wood. He impatiently gestured at Moxie. “What are you standing around for? Put your hands to use and hold this.”

She approached the table and held the block down on either side. “Like this?”

“Yes. Don’t move.”

Arnold’s brow creased in concentration and wind whirled around his gauntlets, forming into a thin covering of churning white air. He reached out, dragging his hands along the edge of the wood.

Wood whined as it was carved away, sending sawdust spraying across the table and into the air. A gust of wind carried the dust away as soon as it arrived and Arnold continued to work, dragging his hands along the block with quick, precise movements.

Moxie didn’t dare let her grip slack for an instant. Arnold wasn’t exactly being gentle with the wood, and if she took even a little pressure off it, the block would probably go spinning.

I don’t get the feeling Arnold will be willing to start over if something goes wrong.

Arnold continued to drag his fingers through the block, melting away large portions of the black wood at a time. The wind faded from his fingertips for just long enough for him to adjust Moxie’s grip, and then he got back to it once more without a single word.

Within minutes, he’d cut large portions away from the piece and put them to the side of the table. They were left with a single, large flat piece. To Moxie’s shock, Arnold grabbed the thin rectangular piece and brought a finger straight down the center, carving it in two.

Arnold turned, grabbing a large, corked vial from the top of a shelf. He tapped one of the halves. “Hold this upright.”

Moxie did as instructed and Arnold popped the cork off his vial. A rancid smell filled the room instantly, and with such intensity that Moxie almost gagged. Arnold ignored her and carefully raised the vial to the wood, holding it against the edge and pressing his lips together.

His eyes narrowed. He cursed under his breath and set the vial down, grabbing the piece from Moxie’s hands. “I’ll hold it. You pour the glue. Not too much. Not too little. Along the edge. Understood?”

Moxie nodded and picked up the container, holding it as far away from herself as she could. Arnold steadied the piece of wood and she ran the vial along the edge slowly, upending it just enough to tip out the viscous grey liquid within it. As soon as it touched the wood, the wood started to sizzle.

“Faster,” Arnold barked.

Moxie moved her arm quicker, tilting the vial just a little more. As soon as her hand was out of the way, Arnold thrust his chin in the direction of the other piece.

“Hold it against this. Now.”

Grabbing it, Moxie positioned the two and pressed them together. She almost immediately felt them start to bond. The hissing from the wood grew louder, then faded away over the course of the next two seconds. Moxie held the pieces firm.

Arnold gave her a nod and set the pieces down on the table. “Good. I will do the next part. Stay.”

He reached into a pocket and, with a little effort, slotted an ink pen into a groove in his gauntlets. It looked like the pen had been made for that exact purpose, because it secured easily. Moxie pushed the cork back into the vial of glue for both of their sakes.

Despite Arnold’s missing limbs, he drew on the wood with the confidence and accuracy of a master artist. Within just a few minutes, he’d drawn out the design of the violin’s front face.

“Hold.”

Moxie put her hands on the center of the block and pressed down. Arnold ran his fingers along the outline he’d drawn, carving away the excess wood within seconds. He then batted Moxie’s hands away and worked over the surface of the violin face, carving a downward slope from its middle.

Arnold formed a blade of wind at one fingertip and ran it through the wood, about a quarter inch from its edge. He then turned, ruffling through the wood he had on his shelves until he found a long, thin strip of a golden-yellow wood. He measured it out, cutting the excess portion of it away, and then gestured to Moxie.

“Glue in the groove I carved. Not too much. Don’t spill any.”

Moxie picked the vial back up, uncorking it once again, and a thin vine slipped out from her robe. It dipped into the pot, then ran along the groove, coming back up to gather more whenever it ran low.

By the time it was done, the top of the vine had melted away. Arnold pressed the strip of golden wood into the groove, and the sizzling that rose up from it told Moxie that the two pieces had bonded.

As soon as the sizzling stopped, Arnold moved the piece to the side of the table and grabbed some of the other wood he’d carved away. Carving this one took him nearly an hour, but Moxie didn’t dare saying anything. She barely understood what they were doing, but she imagined it would make sense once it was all finished. The look of concentration on Arnold’s face was so intense that it felt as if his eyes could cut through steel.

By the time he was done, he had the face of a violin formed in his hands. Arnold set it to the side and picked up a block of the obsidian-colored wood. He tossed it to Moxie. “You know what to do.”

“Hold it still?”

“Very good.”

Arnold pressed his fingers against the wood, and a dull whine rose up from it. Moving with calculated precision, Arnold started to cut a thin strip away. He rotated the block in Moxie’s hands, continuing to carve until he had turned the entire thing into a long, flat wooden noodle. Arnold knelt and grabbed a large metal apparatus, setting it on the table. He pressed a hand against it, and a dull orange glow started to fill the room as it heated.

“Push the strip against the curved part,” Arnold ordered, handing Moxie the piece he’d just cut. “And be ready to glue.”

Moxie swallowed, then nodded. The instructions were starting to get a little more difficult to follow, but it didn’t sound like anything needed to be too precise yet. She obeyed his instructions, pulling the hard wood against the metal with a sizzle. To her surprise, it showed no signs of burning.

Arnold took her hands, pressing against them and forming the wooden strip into shape. He moved quickly, shifting and having her press different parts of the wood against the hot metal. Within seconds, he’d perfectly formed an outline of the violin faces he had lying on the sides of the table.

“This will be the ribs of the violin,” Arnold said, setting the outline down.

How is he doing this so effortlessly? I thought he’d need some sort of guide or mold. Eyeballing everything is insane.

“Glue,” Arnold ordered, pointing to a spot on the back face of the violin. Moxie dabbed a tiny amount of the foul smelling substance onto the wood, and Arnold pressed a thin strip of wood into place on it. They repeated the process several more times before taking the ribs and, after putting some glue along the edges of the violin and onto the thin pieces they’d just added, glued the ribs onto the back face.

Arnold then took a long, slightly curved piece of wood that he’d set aside before and snapped his fingers. Moxie dabbed some glue onto it, and Arnold glued it onto the center of the violin’s underside.

When the sizzling ended, they glued the face of the violin on. No sooner than they had done that did Arnold turn and stride away, muttering under his breath. He rifled through the shelves once more before returning with a cylindrical piece of the black wood.

“Hold this and concentrate,” Arnold said, thrusting it into Moxie’s hands.

“Concentrate? On what?”

“On him,” Arnold replied. “Whatever you picture this violin to be for him. Just concentrate on it. Do not get distracted. Normally, I would do this part myself. It is the most important one – but I do not know him, and he is not here. You will do it instead.”

Moxie took the wood from him.

“This will take some time. Ten minutes, at least. Do not let your mind wander. Are you prepared?”

It was a moment before Moxie replied. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Closing your eyes will help,” Arnold suggested.

Moxie took his advice, clearing her mind and focusing only on the piece of wood in her hands and Noah. The excitement in his eyes when he’d talked about music, and the disappointment he’d felt about losing his past life. Every single piece of longing that had hung in the air in his words – everything swam back through Moxie’s mind.

The vision grew sharper than it should have been, almost as if she were really experiencing the conversation all over. A faint, tingling sensation ran down Moxie’s limbs and out her fingertips, but she ignored it.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent concentrating, but someone grabbed her shoulder. Moxie’s eyes snapped open to realize that she was no longer holding anything. She staggered as a sudden wave of weariness washed over her, but Moxie’s mind barely even registered it. She opened her mouth, but Arnold spoke first.

“Relax,” Arnold said, noting the worry in her eyes. “You got deeper than I had expected. You did well.”

Moxie let out a relieved breath. “I thought something went wrong. What was that?”

“An old Imbuement technique,” Arnold replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “Some people are more adept at it than others. Evidently, you have some experience. You sank into a deeply concentrated state for much longer than you needed to.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that. Why does it feel like my Runes are drained?”

A flicker of a smile passed over Arnold’s features. “You were kind enough to provide much of the energy I needed. Your Runes are likely completely used up, but they did their job. You’ll recover soon enough. A little energy is a small price to pay for something like this.”

“The violin is safe, then?”

Arnold chuckled. “Yes. I – we, I suppose – finished it an hour ago. Would you like to come take a look at our creation?”

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