4th Day, Month of Clans
It's festering now, and the healer says I need to keep the poultice on for another day at least. He wanted to put a fleam on me, but I took out my blade and that changed his mind. But it's not all a loss, because now I know it ain't how deep you cut the tattoos. Deeper just makes them ooze pus. Ain't nothing magical in that.
12th Day, Month of Songs
I finally come to realize it ain't enough just to have a tattoo. A tattoo is nothing but a pretty picture put in your skin. That's all.
So I been studying those marks on Paolo's talisman. I don't know where he got that old dried up corpse hand - he takes a bullet in the head, a blade in the gut, whatever - and then he's back in his little secret room, right next to his office, like nothing ever happened. Maybe some day I'll just drink a little more than usual and ask him straight up.
Anyway it's something out of this world. I can tell just by looking at it. I get a funny feeling close up. Wish I could look close at the marks on it. I bet there's special herbs or something in the ink. Or maybe not herbs - something more. Mayhap whale's brain or crushed bloodfly wings. Or something brought up from the mines and crushed into powders.
25th Day, Month of Songs
Whale blood in the ink's not right. I'm feeling terribly off. Head pounding worse than since I was little and that other boy hit me between the brows with a brick, just before I threw him off the water tower. And the tattoo ain't setting proper-like.