Qing's Quest book 2, Chapter 17: Angel Nerve

It had come from deep within a belt that looked to be woven.

Is that made of horsehair? Some sort of local plant?

Qing squinted, moved closer.

“Good day, my brother,” the merchant said. “How may I help you?”

“The belt,” Qing said, pointing. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, this one,” the man said, lifting it up. “Many years it made me a happy man. My wife’s favorite. I could have sworn it kept her healthy, but…” The man’s voice cracked, and he smiled wistfully. “In the end, time runs out for everyone, does it not?”

“It does,” Qing said, nodding. Whenever he thought of his little sister, it felt like time was draining out of the bottom of an hourglass. So little sand left, and the opening so wide. He cleared his throat. “Why are you not wearing it, then?”

“Not much to keep me here any longer. All my children are dead, and now the rose of my heart has gone on before me. I long to join her. Hopefully, selling my treasures at Jorik’s will add enough to my karma that when I meet the gods, I go up to join my wife and not down to see my brother.”

“What does it matter if you sell your items here?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, as if seeing Qing for the first time, roaming across his face and his hands. “You are not from here.”

“I’m from Chicago,” Qing said.

“Ah, Sheekaggo. I see,” the man said, nodding sagely. “The world is big.”

“Indeed.” Qing suppressed a smile.

The man waved for Qing to lean in. “It’s an open secret among the merchants that Jorik spends his cut from the sales to fund the orphanages in the Golden Hold.”

Qing turned and stared at Jorik’s back. The man looked deeply engrossed in a conversation with three children, whom he loomed over.

“But never directly,” the man added with a smile. “He’d made it a bit of a game, you see, to donate money without being seen doing so.”

“If you want to donate your wealth to orphanages, why not just do so directly?”

“And miss out on this?” the man said, smiling and waving his hands about. “All my life I’ve been a merchant. There is not a part of our country I have not visited. I’ve ridden across the desert, walked back, escaped bandits, made love under the stars, and I’ve squeezed every piece of gold out of every transaction.” The man grinned, showing a few remaining teeth. “Charity done in a way that brings me happiness is a win-win, no?”

Qing nodded. “You might be on-to something.”

“So, will you buy my belt? I’ll give you a great price,” the man said, rubbing his hands together.

Qing chuckled and picked it up.

Item: [Vitality Chain, Level 23, Legendary]

Woven from the hair of Asgol Mond, the bald virgin, and inlaid with a single nerve from the angel Seraphinia. The belt pulses with a deep, verdant light, feeling as if it is alive, enhancing the wearer’s vitality. Shaped like a circle with a T inside, the buckle symbolises the strength of faith and discipline.

Increases Vitality by 10%.

5 quick slots

(Belt)

“Oh, crap,” Qing said. “Where did your wife get the belt?”

“She got it from her mother when we married.”

“And her mother?”

“From her mother.”

“And her?”

“I…don’t know. Her mother, I guess? You like it?”

Qing fought back a smile.

This would make any additional points in vitality ten percent more valuable. I’d get thirty more health now. Not tremendous, but I’m still low level… If I defeat Rufus today, I’ll go home, but if he has run away… Or if I need to grow stronger, this might be invaluable. And if I go back home, could I wear this and give it to Meimei, buying her time?

Qing schooled his face and handed the belt over. “It smells of rotten camel.”

“How did you know my mother-in-law?” The merchant asked, and Qing burst out laughing.

“I’m not interested,” he said. “Your price is too high.”

“But I haven’t told you the price yet!”

“Whatever it is, it’s too expensive,” Qing said and turned to walk away.

The man said his price.

Qing turned around, pretended to clutch his pearls. “How dare you,” he said. “Robbery, and in plain daylight!”

“It’s magical. Worth every gold.”

Qing picked up the belt, carefully digging into the individual weaves. “It’s made of hair.”

“Magical hair.”

“It doesn’t match my pants.”

“Your pants are ugly. Buy a new pair.”

Qing chuckled. “I’ll give you an eighth.”

“You son of a camel rapist,” the merchant said happily. “Such an offer is an insult to me and my whole lineage. Six-eighths is the lowest I can go.”

“Two eighths,” Qing said, “and that’s only possible if I eat gruel every day for a month to make up for such a poor purchase.” He squinted at the belt.

“Five eighths,” the man said.

“Three eighths,” Qing said, but he wasn’t paying attention anymore. Something had shimmered within the weave. Ever so carefully, Qing peeled back the brown hair, and suddenly gasped. Inside lay a glowing line, thinner than a strand of hair. It was as if he stared at a one-pixel-wide line on a high resolution computer screen.

Is this really the nerve of an angel?

He gazed in wonder. The color was unlike anything he’d seen before. A mix of swan white and the quicksilver within a thermostat, yet faintly glowing with an inner light.

“Damn, that’s cool,” he said to himself, before looking up and seeing the merchant grinning, rubbing his hands together.

Crap.

“So. I believe we settled on seven-eighths?”

“Didn’t you already say five-eighths?”

“You must have misheard me, brother.”

Qing chuckled. He’d been the one to mess up. “Fine. Seven-eighths it is.” He counted out the gold and handed it over. “Good luck,” Qing said. “May your elevator go up and not down.”

“Elevator?”

“Local word from Chicago,” Qing said and waved, leaving the booth to rejoin Morgana and Knut.

“What piece of crap is that?” Morgana asked, staring at the belt.

Qing leaned in. “This is a legendary belt that increases vitality. It’s woven from the hair of the bald virgin and inlaid with a nerve from the angel Seraphinia, whoever the hell that is. It also has quick slots for potions. Here.” He gave it to Knut. “It’s level twenty-three, so I may never be able to wear it. It will help keep you alive and your pants from falling down.”

“Thank you,” Knut said.

As he put it on his pants, Jorik appeared as if by magic, looming over them. “It’s been a long time since someone spent this much gold in my place in one go. Are you up to no good? Planning on robbing a bank?”

“Rob a bank?” Knut said, grinning. “Of course not. You know me, Jorik. Always close to the line, but never across.”

Jorik stared at them one by one, his eyepatch covering his right eye. As he made to move it, Knut grabbed his hand and said, “Before we head out, are any of your little friends in need of healing?”

Jorik frowned. “Are you offering to donate potions?”

Knut pulled the man towards the bar, away from the shops. “My friend has a unique ability,” he said. “As long as you can keep it quiet, we can help.”

Jorik looked at Qing, who tried to smile.

“There might be one… Lailani! Come here.” A young girl hobbled towards them. She was a few years younger than Qing’s sister. Her every other step sounded as if they were in a pirate movie, as her peg-leg tapped on the wooden floor.

“Yes, Jorik?” she said.

“My friend here might have something for you.”

“You have sweets?” she said, wide brown eyes brightening. Messy black hair hung around her face and down to her shoulders.

“This is not for the front room,” Knut said, and Jorik took Lailani by the hand. He led them into the kitchen and waved the help out.

Knut nodded at Qing, who knelt in front of the little girl. “Lailani, I’m going to need you to make me a promise.”

“What promise?” she said, hiding behind Jorik’s leg.

“Can you count to seven?”

“Yeah, I can count to a thousand, I can. Done it twice.”

Qing smiled. “I need you to promise me that for seven days you will keep what happens here a secret. After that, you can speak freely.”

“Jorik,” she said, voice shaky. “What’s going on?”

“Knut?” A dangerous edge had entered Jorik’s tone.

“Will you promise?” Qing asked.

She nodded.

“Good. Now please show me your leg.”

As she stuck out her foot, Qing chuckled. “The other one, I mean.”

She lifted the peg leg. Several leather straps sat wrapped tightly above her knee, holding the wooden piece in place. Ever so carefully, Qing undid them. She still winced in pain as he pulled the wooden leg off.

The stench of rot filled the room, and Jorik cursed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you what? It doesn’t hurt no more.”

“That’s really bad, Lailani. It means…” Jorik sighed. “Knut, I need to buy a health potion from you.”

“Jorik?” she said, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Just hold on a minute,” Knut said.

Qing gently stroked her hair. “You might feel a tingle, but afterwards it’ll all be better.” He closed to his eyes and thought of his little sister. How there was nothing in the world he wanted more than being able to do this for her. He opened himself to the energy above his head and pulled. Light rushed through his body, goosebumps spreading, flowing to gather in his right hand. He opened his eyes and cast divine light on the little girl.

Jorik’s eye went wide. “You’re a templar!”

“Shush,” Knut said.

Jorik clasped a hand across Lailani’s mouth right before she screamed, not in pain but in fright. Right before their eyes, her skin turned healthy, and the rot disappeared. And then, her foot re-grew.

Qing swallowed against his emotions, clamping his teeth together.

One day, meimei.

When the healing was done, Jorik released the girl. She plopped down on her butt and lifted her foot, poking at it, and wiggled her toes. “I got my foot back!” she said, mouth wide open. “Are you an angel?”

Morgana chuckled.

Qing looked at her. “Don’t you dare.” Then he turned back and said, “No. I’m just a big brother on a quest to save his sister.” He stood and tossed her a gold coin. “Remember. A seven-day secret, right?”

She nodded, clutching the coin to her chest.

“It is time we were on our way,” Qing said, dusting off his pants.

Jorik reached out, grasped his arm. “That is twice you have done me favors.” As he had done before, he pretended to pluck something out of the air and put it in the front pocket of his coat, which now looked freshly cleaned. Whether it was the same coat or he had multiple, Qing couldn’t tell, but he nodded at the man and followed Knut and Morgana out into the kirathaane’s common room.

“That should buy us some time,” Knut said in a low voice.

“Let’s not waste it,” Qing said, and waved at Taj, who came hurrying in.

“I’ve scouted a way, but we must go at once. There are soldiers everywhere. It seems the entire city is looking for us.”

After changing into the local clothes, handing Qing their other gear, they left. Qing kept his gloves, pants, and sandals, covering everything else in loose, flowing material. Only his eyes could be seen, and Taj instructed him to keep his head low and look at the ground.

They stepped forth from the kirathaane, hurrying past the queue, and into the sun. Qing took a heavy breath of the dry air, squinting against the sharp light.

Then taj cursed.

The uniform step of men in formation filled the air.