60 Frost 120
Jacun's Alchemical Goods
Plaza of the Jeweled Arches
Late Night
Jacun's Alchemical Goods
Plaza of the Jeweled Arches
Late Night
The philosopher's wool was naturally occurring, but rare. Like many secrets of alchemy, it hid in many forms. This was new to him but something he had begun to internalize. The orange crystals were not useful in the same way as the white powder, though Jacun asserted they were one and the same thing. It was similar, he supposed, to the way water could steam could condense into water, which could freeze into ice; conversely, ice could melt and evaporate. In extreme enough temperatures, the liquid phase could be skipped entirely — sublimation or deposition depending on which way it was going. These were new words to him, and he learned them in Common as well as Mythrasi because he had chosen to live in a more cosmopolitan city where his elven background didn't trump those of others. He didn't mind, really. Learning was something he enjoyed.Mysterious chemistry someone's cooking in the kitchen
Elixir of the pearl, a luscious berry swirl
I'm losing some sleep
No company I'd rather keep
The crystals, which Jacun had shown him, were orange, even red, because there was iron in them. He didn't quite understand how that was possible yet, but he accepted it until he had the context to understand it. That was how he learned from a master, taking their word for something until he could piece together the proof of it himself.
Sivan was working late tonight because there was just so much that needed doing. It turned out that Jacun was a busy man and had been only too glad to have a new, dedicated apprentice, even if that meant the loss of a friend to inherit the young elf. He had warned Flower not to expect him back and the Fae'ethalan had seemed to understand, though he hadn't been happy about it. Sivan tried not to bristle; this work was important to him and important for keeping a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. He knew he had a temper, though, and that Flower wasn't trying to upset him. He supposed he might get lonely without Sivan around, who never really felt lonely because people were always problematic. If only his cursed foundling could communicate with the sprites like Sivan could — he might befriend them, though they were simple. Sometimes they could be surprisingly clever, too.
He loaded the calamine that Jacun had left for him in the shaft furnace carefully with gloves and tongs. As he watched, the heat rose through the cylindrical shaft and the ore slowly, slowly, ever so slowly began to disappear. It started to melt but, like water, it evaporated. Heated things wanted to rise, and so he watched the metal vapor appear up past the flue where the heat allowed for glass fixtures, and in the condenser, something like snow began to collect. It seemed almost like white ash, but he was certain that this was not something left behind after a fire consumed wood. The heat from the dragonshard sublimated the ore. The gaseous metal mixed with the air and changed its form. Nothing was lost, except the impurities which he knew he would have to scour from the furnace on the morrow when it had cooled.
It wasn't snow in the glass globe. It was not ash. It was the philosopher's wool, which could be used for a variety of purposes — some magical, and some entirely mundane. Medicines and various materials could be created with it. Most notable to Sivan was how it could be cemented with copper to make brass. Golems and other automata were often made of more durable metals and alloys, but brass could be used for clockwork projects. It pleased him to no end when he could connect new things he learned to things he already knew, like adding a piece of the great puzzle of creation to the piecemeal view he had already.
But, all the same, he went through the list of uses that Jacun had told him, from pigments for artists to adhesive for bandages. It was good to know who might be interested in this thing he now knew how to make in case he needed to sell it. Coin could fund projects that did interest him, after all. Like improving IX. He didn't much care about turning lead into gold except that gold would fund other things. Things only really had relative value, he had found. Diamonds were beautiful, but he was more interested in the fact that one generally needed diamond-tipped tools to work with extremely hard substances.
They said a watched pot never boiled, and after a while, it seemed as though the sublimation of the ore wasn't going fast enough so he went about tidying things up — those things he was not forbidden from touching. If he was tempted by anything, he wasn't tempted enough to ruin the good thing he had going here. Finally, though, the process finished. The calamine was gone, though the interior of the furnace would require scouring. He turned down the heat on the magnificent thing, the magmatyte going dormant. It stopped producing heat, but it would take hours for the furnace to cool. It wouldn't take quite that long for the glass fixtures farther away from the heat source to cool, though, and then he could collect the philosopher's wool, and then go home to sleep.
But perhaps now that nothing was in danger of burning or being ruined, he would just rest his eyes for a moment. He fell asleep at his desk.
