Supply and Demand [Hozxi]

[Sivan]

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74 Searing 121
Jacun's Alchemical Goods

For an alchemical supply and apothecary shop, Jacun's was rather tidy. But dark woods and a robust inventory made it seem close and cluttered. As such, Sivan spent a fair amount of time dusting and polishing, which weren't especially helpful in his quest for alchemical mastery, but they did take up some time when he didn't have anything he could work on up front. But today, everything was tidy and so he was scribbling in a notebook at the desk in the corner while a pot of tea steeped beside him. The place smelled of lavender, which was a boon as there were several pungent things in glass bottles that nobody wanted to smell.

He had only begun to study alchemy because his former master had died and on his deathbed, directed him to Master Jacun. His former master had been teaching him about artificing, the better to help him care for IX, who was hibernating back in his little house at the moment. Complex creatures required more expert handling, and Sivan was hardly an expert in that arena. And so he began to go over the basics that his master had taught him, hoping not to lose anything, even if he wasn't able to push his knowledge forward while focusing so intently upon alchemy.

Drawing plans for a lure well wasn't new to him, but he no longer had a trusted expert looking over his shoulder. He had to draw from his own memory and attempt to find the most elegant solution to the problem. This project would work best for a golem crafted out of wood. Perhaps it was an elven thing, but he enjoyed wooden golems. Their materials remembered being alive, which made it easier to persuade the aether that the golem was alive, but one had to also persuade the aether that the golem was alive in the way he wanted it alive, and not like a tree. Golems that acted like trees weren't useful.

He spent time calculating the dimensions he would need for the lure well, then began to draw the pictographs that he thought would best create a vacuum for latent aether. Whereas before, he would have carved the lure out of wood and fed it with blood to trick the aether, he now lived in Kalzasi atop a huge, dangerous dragonshard mine, so he considered which would make the best foundation for a wooden golem. He settled on aetherite because it was abundant and didn't carry any magical baggage as it were, though he was curious if he could fashion a lure out of pesticyte, perhaps encased in something that would prevent it from emanating any sort of energy that would make people nearby fall ill. It was famous for its negative effects, but it was also good for absorption, so it might make an excellent funnel for energy into this would-be golem.

He decided he would have to get better at scrivening to do that properly, and made a mental note. He chuckled to himself ruefully, as if he had enough time for that. The pictographs he was using were ones he learned by rote, though scrivening got more complicated when one was trying to fashion one's own pictographs and such.

Well down the rabbit hole, Sivan blinked owlishly up from his notes to the door when he heard the handle turning.

[Hozxi]

74 Searing 121

The door opens. There is no room for view of the street, the hurried passing of shoppers to and fro, all in a hurry to spend and buy and participate in the carnival of commerce, as the frame is filled with the figure of a giant woman in dazzling robes. She hurries inside.

Hozxi had often passed Jacun's on her way to and fro. Her first impressions from outside had been that it was a tea shoppe and little more. A place for those who had glutted themselves at the Roasted Hen to find a digestif and rest away their full bellies.

Now, inside the store, she could see it was much more than the meager painted wood sign that hangs outside and threatens to hit her in the back of the head advertises. All manner of reagents, potions and salves lined the display cases. Hozxi takes care to mind the ceiling as she proceeds farther into the store.

Alchemy was still new to her. The practice, not the concept: borrowing from one thing to make another was elementary. It was the cycle of life. To make such trades with the enforcement of aether smacked of brute force in the same way a city grew out of the ground like an unnatural tree, its roots, its trunk, all made from borrowed stone and wood taken at an unfair exchange rate. It was a trade to ply, but it was not what she had learned in the desert, and so everything here was intoxicatingly original.

"Ah," she exhales, noticing the man scrawling away at something behind the counter. "You are Jacun? The owner?"

Her gemstone pupils land on his figure and sparkle with imagination.

[Sivan]

The door frame was large enough to fit the Mortallen, but it was not made with such large people in mind. While she took in the shop, he took her measure. He hadn't dealt much with the Kishoi. He knew their Zhal cousins better from some time spent in their city. But they were not unknown to him. Her eyes were like chips of illumite, and he wondered if they actually glowed or it was just a trick of the light.

There was a pleasant mien about his face, though he didn't smile much at strangers. He stood up, his artificing notes forgotten for the moment.

"Hello. Master Jacun is with a client at their home," he said. "I am his apprentice, Sivan. How may I be of service?" He laid the back of his hand against the teapot beside him; still warm, though he would brew a new pot for the client, something specific to her tastes.

"Would you like tea?"

If she were only here for a few questions or a quick transaction, perhaps she would decline. But there were sometimes magi or groups of them here just gathered to talk shop, gossip, and sip at stimulating beverages. Sometimes people going over plans for a commission with the master alchemist would talk things out over a pot of tea, as well. Other times, anticipating the costs of Jacun's efforts, they would decline in favor of something alcoholic across the street.

But Sivan could help with the majority of clients. He was trusted to make transactions; everything on display was for sale, though the more dangerous reagents and more powerful dragonshards weren't on open display. He could even take preliminary notes on a project someone wanted Jacun to make, and his master would follow up with them based on those notes if necessary. It was rare he was called upon to make anything for clients, though. His skill level was still low, but he assisted Jacun on some things, mostly doing a lot of the repetitive grunt work so his master could focus on the more delicate work that required his expertise.

[Hozxi]

"I apologize for the mistake, Sivan." Sivan. A name that floated on the tip of one's tongue.

Hozxi lets herself prowl further into the shoppe. She examines the man at the counter. An apprentice was appropriate for the reputation Jacun had among those satisfied customers she had already spoken to in her time in Kalzasi. The man was clearly Hytori by blood. Golden hair. Fair skin. Ears that grew to a point, much in the fashion of a blade of grass.

And yet.

Something was off. It was as if all of the features of Hytori heritage were there, but muted, faded as one sees hide fade in the brutal desert sun.

She breaks from staring. It was rude, Hozxi reminds herself, to stare at strangers here in the city.

Instead, her attention wanders to the wares tagged and on display. A wall shelf of various herbs and cuttings, dried, some already chopped or peeled or smoked. Each has a powerful fragrance. For the apprentice herbalist it was much easier to work with an ingredient that was made more potent by preservation. Fresh herbs may produce a better product but they had every manner of variable that one had to calculate and formulate.

"The sign did say you serve tea. Is it rude to ask what kind?"

Picking a gingko root up, Hozxi examines it while she waits for an answer.

[Sivan]

The elf wasn't entirely unused to being stared at. Elves weren't uncommon in the Free Cities of the North, but his mixed heritage made him look odd to most. He hadn't been Hytori enough for the Hytori, nor Dratori enough for the Dratori and so he had wandered, ending up somewhere more cosmopolitan. He certainly didn't love Kalzasi, but as he mastered the Common tongue and made a few real connections with people, it wasn't so bad as it had been at first.

In any case, a Mortallen woman was more likely to draw looks here than he was unless she was a Zhal, which this one was not.

He offered a slight smile. While not the most ebullient of characters, he wasn't unfriendly, just reserved.

"Yes, we have quite the variety. Blacks, greens, whites, oolongs... and all sorts of herbs for tisanes or blends. Master Jacun is the alchemist of teas, but I have learned several of his recipes, and steeping times and such. I have not had any complaints." He paused, wishing Jacun would just write out a menu to keep things simple, but it was the human's shop, not Sivan's. "Do you have a preference?"

The elf was prepared to offer some suggestions for those clients with little or middling knowledge of their teas. Sivan was still learning himself, but Jacun gave good lessons, left excellent instructions, and even if he wasn't a master herbalist, he had spent enough time communing with nature spirits that he felt he had a good idea of what things would blend well, though he wasn't sure if that intuition was infallible. Again, he hadn't had any complaints, but he hadn't had a tea connoisseur review his talents and skills. The people with a real nose for tea would ask for Jacun specifically and, if he wasn't too busy in his workshop, he would emerge to brew something specially and speak to his clients.

Sivan envied him his facility with people, but he didn't have the first idea how to gain those skills.

[Hozxi]

The giant was also used to being stared at. There were no other Kishoi she had met here in Kalzasi; most of the kin she saw working at the waterfront were Zhal who had jobs as deckhands and dock workers. Their nimbleness made them well suited to the task. When she had first arrived, she had made an effort to assimilate into their community, but not all giants were made alike: even parsing the differences in dialect had been a challenge. These Moratallen had been bred into the city. They knew the settler mindset. They did not know their roots as creatures of the land.

It frustrated her to no end, and so, minus the occasional trips to meet her supplier of sundries chartered on Lake Udori, she did not mingle with the Zhal. Not out of any malice or ill will, but simply because there was no profit to be gained from doing so.

"Chamomile."

Hozxi nods contemplatively. She had tried many varieties of tea since leaving the desert. It was another marvel of the settler world, to have so many options available to one in such abundance and from such vast distances. Of all the brews and flavors she had come to try she found a distinct preference in the soothing floral notes of chamomile.

"Made in the manner you find most agreeable. I wish to observe."

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. Apprentice or no, this man had made an offer to display his talent at serving others. As one who aspired to serve in the same manner, there was no greater desire in Hozxi's breast than to glean his technique, learn his affectations, and act in a manner becoming of a student.

[Sivan]

"Of course," he replied.

With a gesture, he invited her into the room off to the side of this main shop which was something of a sitting area. There was a small table and several cushioned chairs, as well as a kitchenette of sorts in the corner for the brewing. The walls behind it were shelves with a neat array of tins containing the teas and some of the more mundane herbs that Jacun could sell, but not the sort people came to an alchemical goods and apothecary's shop for. As she had indicated she wished to watch, he didn't usher her to a seat. There was an old man sitting in an armchair with a book and a pot of tea on a little side table.

"The tea is fine," he opined, "but don't try the baked goods."

"Thank you, Master Mirlind," Sivan replied, though he didn't say he was wrong. Master Jacun was talented in many things; baking was not one of them. The man's robes weren't red, but he did wear a dark red mantle and had the air of a Circle mage, at least to Sivan's mind. This wasn't the Rose Teahouse or anything fancy, but Sivan liked to think he had developed a personal flair for it. He set a porcelain teacup and saucer before him on the counter where the Mortallen could see, took a measured spoonful of dried chamomile flowers and poured them into a fine steel mesh infuser, which he placed over the rim of the cup.

Calling two of his sprites from home, he waited for a moment with his hands held palm up as if he were weighing options or asking a question. Soon enough, a mote of fiery energy with some degree of sentience hovered over his right hand and three watery wisps manifested over his left. He whispered to them, though they didn't really speak any mortal language. It didn't take long. They had played this trick before, though he had to tell them how hot the water had to be first.

They shot over to hover above the teacup and then began to dance. Zin pulled ambient water out of the air and Khal heated it up. It was a slow build, but soon enough there was a small globe of boiling water hovering over the cup, which then released in a measured stream into the waiting flowers. When the show was over, he murmured, "Thank you, little ones," in Rivach and they flickered acknowledgment before disappearing back to his home, which had been their home for seasons now.

He slid a metal cover to lock over the infuser, which would make it easier to remove without a mess. He pointed out, "Rock sugar, honey," and various other possible additions waiting to be self-served there on the counter.

"Please, make yourself at home and let me know if you have any questions. Master Mirlind can be removed if he proves a bother." Half his mouth twitched upward into a sort of smile, though his humor was gentle enough.

"I heard that," groused the old man.

[Hozxi]

Hozxi is entertained by the show. It was fascinating to see water and fire dance in harmony, pirouetting above the cup, controlled by a mage's will. They dance and Hozxi must resist her impulse to poke one with her index finger to see if they are real or merely an illusion. Instead she takes in a breath of amazement as they complete their dance and vanish.

"Thank you," she says reflexively as she takes the cup. The counter of additives is next. Almost as amazing as the dance of the orbs is the glut of options on offer. Sugar. Honey. Mint. Lemongrass. Maple. She seems paralyzed at the plethora of options, but that is only a semblance. The gears of her mind turn and she weighs her options, taking some and smelling them, feeling others beneath her fingers.

In the end Hozxi contents herself with a roll of cinnamon and a few cubes of sugar. She uses the cinnamon to stir and regards the other visitor in the tea shoppe.

Old. Physically, yes, but also mentally. A man who has calcified in his beliefs and his routines. To him she must be an affront of the unfamiliar in his demesne.

"You may stay, alshaykh. I will not bother you." She bows her head politely to the gentleman and finally gets to sipping on her tea.

"Ah."

A contented sigh. A smile, not forced. A change in grip from one hand to two, carrying the porcelain as if it were a precious child, to be protected.

"It is very good, Sivan. And you learn this from Master Jacun? Does he train all of his students so well?"

[Sivan]

"Shukran," the old man said, a correct form of thanks in Tallenese, though his accent was strange. His gaze dropped to his book for a moment, then drifted back to the window to watch the passers-by. Sivan's eyes had drifted thoughtfully to the old man, though he turned them back on the Mortallen when she spoke his name.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Well, I did learn how to brew tea as a boy, but Master Jacun is a connoisseur and very particular, so I have certainly learned a great deal from him. Even some alchemy." The corner of his mouth quirked at his small bit of humor. The herbalism inherent in the Master's tea-mixing wasn't precisely alchemy, but herbs were easy to infuse with other things through alchemy so they were an auxiliary line of learning so that he might have a fuller understanding of the magical art—or science; from one day to the next, his understanding of the practice oscillated between the two definitions.

"I'm his only apprentice at the moment, but I have met a couple of his former students when they have dropped by. They all seem to know their tea." He considered for a moment. "If you wished to learn, he might be amenable to teaching you." Amenable was a new word he had picked up and he was trying to use it in sentences until it became second nature. His Common was good, but he didn't know if he was properly fluent. "It wouldn't be the strangest request he has received." And he could only imagine what other requests the man might have received before Sivan had come into his shop trying not to beg for work and apprenticeship in the most broken Common one might imagine. Master Jacun was a handsome man, as well. Sivan had been forced to witness people mooning over him from time to time.

If that wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was.

[Hozxi]

"Amenable."

Hozxi nurses from her teacup again. The cinnamon had taken a more prominent role; the sweetness had moved aside to allow the spice to lead, tingling at the bridge of her nose, giving the pleasing sensation of having sneezed without sneezing.

"I would not ask for much, you understand. I know he must be a busy man. So busy he does not watch his own shop at the middle of the day."

She thinks of the work she already has. Another shipment of gems to audit for a jeweler on the other side of town. A nun who asks for her skills in diagnosing the sick and decrepit who come into a shelter down at the edge of the entrance to the undercity. Pages of documents to recover from the wear of time. Hozxi was a busy woman. It was her natural state. To be doing nothing was to be letting the great Ysa bear down on one mercilessly with her heat. It was to be in the kitchen tent and get yelled at for not contributing to the meal to come.

Hozxi finds a seat nearby to the threshold between the alchemical segment and the tea sitting room and sits, testing the chair to ensure it did not give way like the cheap stools at waterfront bars. Falling to the ground would be an embarrassment, but not as grave as one when the eyes watching greedily for a peek were all sailboat hands and laborers. Zhal, especially. It did not take much to imagine how their tastes were mostly unanswered in a city of Avialae and men.

"Perhaps I could bring wares here, let him judge their merit, sell those that are amenable for a modest commission. And it would bring me back when he is working. Or when you are."

She eyes Jacun again. This time it is more measuring, less cordial. It is the look of someone who is separating those who are of value and those who waste one's time.

If being sized like a cut of meat wasn't awkward, then Hozxi was right at home.