Frumas: An Agreement
“Where did it come from?”
“Is it a sign?”
“Do you think it will just keep going up?”
In only three days the tree was towering far above the skyline and people were talking. The mountains seemed even further away then before. I was admiring it myself from the center of town. I actually found it amusing I created something of such intrigue.
“You know, that would make mighty fine lumber.”
My ear twitched. I turned and saw it was some wood workers talking. One was tall and the other short.
The tall one spoke. “Ya boss, we should get the leaders to grant us permission. That’d keep the town running for years. Heck, even if half of that rotted away we’d still be golden. Lets get going.” He started scurrying away with the tall man lagging behind.
“I sure would like to hear the sound it makes on impact.”
I froze in place. My work was going to be ruined before its even began. I looked over and saw the smoke rise from a familiar building. Ugh, maybe I don’t have any other choice.
I opened the workshop door poking my head inside. The windows were open for the smoke to vent, which in turn allowed the sunlight to enter the room making all the cylinders, beakers and many other tools lining the walls glisten. A line of pots were brewing as the source of the smoke filling the room.
I had mixed feelings upon seeing the somewhat familiar face observing the way the smoke flowed through the air. He was a tall scrawny man, fidgeting, dodging and ducking nervous like around the room.
“Hi Arwita.” I said while stepping inside. I was short enough to stay well under the smoke. One of the few times its useful.
He turned around while bent over, then his eyes dilated. “Yipe.” He yelled and ran behind a long table on all fours and peeked over the edge. “It- oh, its you.” He managed to get out while shaking.
I took a deep breath to ready myself. “Might you have any brilawell?”
Arwita started prowling around without saying a word. Opening chests, looking under tables, behind flasks, in drawers, even out the windows. He eventually slinked over to a collection of clay pots and used a dipper to pull out a glutinous, sticky liquid.
“How much d- do you ne- n- need?” Arwita inquired.
“The pot.” I replied flatly.
Arwita threw his body backwards; dropping the dipper in the process. He then snapped forwards, letting his arms hang just above the ground. “I, I can’t slip that much by the leaders.” He stammered while flailing about, the smoke being cut and swirling around the room. “My he- head…” He fell onto the tabletop. “My head will be on a spear for sure.” He yelled.
I rubbed my cheeks with guilt. I knew this was a lot to ask for, even more so after coming around so little for so long, however I desperately needed this. I hung my head. It was silly of me to assume it’d be so easy. “How about I get the ingredients?” This way I’d be in as deep as Arwita, we’d be on even ground.
He tilted his head towards me while still on the table and slowly raised it higher with his hands flat on the surface. He lurched towards the smoke floating overhead and turned around. The shaking appeared to be diminishing, as he creeped with wide strides towards the back. Used his thin fingers to pull a drawer out of a cabinet and set the entire unit on top. Peering all around the room again, he then reached into the hole where the drawer used to reside and pulled out an immense book; briskly flowed through the pages without touching them and stopped flat.
I hadn’t seen him be this organized in forever.
He slapped the page with his hand and slammed it on a loose one right beside it. He put everything away, tip-toed back over to me and handed me the loose page without a word. It was a list of ingredients. I looked up and he was already back to ducking and dodging around the smoke. I took this as an agreement and quietly left the workshop.