Gestation, John Gold [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

in the guild, in the world, in other words. Don’t insult me with questions like that.”

That’s something I noticed back when I was in Hell: with more streams of consciousness comes an improved ability to think, and not just the speed at which your thoughts come. I didn’t go crazy when I lost everything I’d gotten in Hell because I was able to react to the situation quickly and correctly. Right now, it’s the same thing. I know how I can regain the master’s trust.

“I sincerely apologize. Insulting you was the last thing on my mind, master. It’s just that I need to do a whole lot of different tattoos, and they’re all secret. Your mastery is exactly what I need for the kind of complex, interesting work I’m looking at.”

What do people need who have the recognition of their peers? They want a challenge for their skills and experience, the kind of thing that pushes them to work to and beyond the limit of their abilities. And that’s exactly what I have for the master.

“Kid, it’s hard to surprise me. What do you want?”

“Magic seals right on my body.”

The master soured immediately.

“You call that interesting? The seals would be destroyed the first time you use them, and whoever activates them will get a serious punishment for harming a child. You’re no mage. You can’t do that yourself.”

Eleven flames appearing at once in the room change the master’s mind.

“What if I give you ink that doesn’t disappear after the seal is used? And, as you can see, I’m a mage, so I don’t need anyone to activate the seals.”

Bor stares at the eleven flames circling me. Astonishment, stupefaction, interest, and a mountain of questions chase each other across his face.

“That kind of ink doesn’t exist. Although, if you’re asking about it… Do you know how to make it?”

“I need to understand how ink is made. I know how to make it impossible to destroy for my tattoos, though I don’t know how to make it in the first place.”

“I usually make my ink myself, but we can do something a little different. Bring me the basics and pick a color, and I’ll make it. My skill is higher than yours, so the effect will be much better.”

“Sounds good. Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not exactly…legal, though there’s nothing that terrible about it.”

“If you only knew what kinds of people I’ve done tattoos for, you wouldn’t ask stupid questions like that. Who do you think a tattoo master working in a port city might have as their main customers?”

“Got it.” Sailors, pirates, marauders, thieves, killers, and other shady characters. “I’m going to need a month to get everything together.”

Bor sours again, apparently languishing away from boredom.

“I can get the main ingredients together in just a few days. The problem is finding the books with the seals and putting together the money to pay for your services, and that’s going to be what takes a while.” The master nods. “I promise, I’ll be back.”

“Get out of here. I’ll need some time to prepare the ink, so bring me the main ingredients in three weeks.”

I make it within his timeframe, primarily by taking care of a whole list of contracts at the guild. My boosted reputation gets me a price cut at the book store, and the books I don’t need cover part of the cost. It takes me two weeks to collect a hundred and fifty thousand gold, though I have to pay for the master, too. I spend the last week putting together another hundred thousand.

∞ ∞ ∞

There’s yet another knowledge check going on at the orphanage. Vaalsie would do anything to boost our budget, which he’s long since had his dirty hands in, and he presents me as a promising wunderkind. Once a year, his usual distaste for me turns into veneration for a week. Yeah, right! I’m his cash cow, the one who brings the shower of golden milk.

Last year, they took me to a child development center on the fourth level, where I was only too happy to blow the interview. The test was easy.

This year, I’m dumped into an aerocar and taken to the education center, where I’m given a whole bunch of tests in a separate room.

∞ ∞ ∞

Eliza kept an eye on Anji through the one-way mirror in his room. The boy was too busy taking tests to figure out that he was being watched.

The current education system assumed that citizens would study materials that interested them, and then pick a specialty and start picking up information specific to that field. The general education was just enough to give everyone an overall picture of society and culture, the minimum citizens needed in all the colonies and stations. The course lasted six years. At twelve, children had their basic education, and they spent the next six working on their specialty. That delineation was added to lessen the amount of information being dumped on children.

Anji finished his education when he was five. Back then, people thought it was just the stars coming together for him: the boy passed one test right after the previous one, and then three more yearly exams over the course of the next year. Currently, he was moving past the general track and starting to put together information on different specialties. The logs at the orphanage’s educational center showed that he was exploring ship-building, engineering, electrification, hydroponic facilities, force fields, and a number of other areas. At thirteen and a half, he had almost finished the basic program.

He just saved an enormous chunk of information and used a virtual space to master it, not looking to pick up unwanted attention at the orphanage. At thirteen, he had no problem with how fast he learned things, considering it the norm and practically laughing at the other kids’ attempts. Back then, two years previously, he’d got into a fight with a kid taking the test at the next desk. It was then that he stopped