Sechen nodded and waved goodbye, unfurling the map before her and barely getting a look before Metea/Irric snatched it from her. “So you’re a navigator now?”

“Like you are.” Metea/Irric snorted.

“Did you manage to forget I traveled all over the world piece with Revel?” Sechen plucked the map out of Metea/Irric’s hands. “While you were screwing around in the glacier, I was screwing around outside of the glacier. So let me deal with the map, alright?”

“Fine.” Metea/Irric huffed, crossing her arms while she walked.

Sechen looked around to try and find a landmark, then sighed in annoyance as she turned back to look at the statue that had grown small in the distance. Metea/Irric kept sneaking glances over her shoulder, and Sechen ignored her the best she could. Her friend was still in there somewhere, behind this facade, and snapping at her now wouldn’t do anything.

Sechen looked up at a sign dangling from a tall pole, then down at her map, and confirmed the two matched with a nod. “Looks like this is the first place he wants us to check.”

“Novia’s Naturals.” Metea/Irric tilted her head. “What’s he looking for here?”

“Let me… oh, come on.” Sechen grumbled. “He did something to the list. I can’t read any of this.”

“Give it here. Whoah, yeah, there’s enough Issi on this thing to fill two of you.” Metea/Irric whisted in appreciation. “And by that I mean weak practitioners. Enough Issi to fill two weak practitioner’s containers.”

“Aw, thanks for spelling it out for me.” Sechen said sarcastically, snatching the paper from Metea/Irric and pushing open the heavy door made from gold-tinted wood. “Hopefully he made it so other people can read this… huh. Something’s uncensored now.”

“Really?” Metea/Irric hovered over Sechen’s shoulder, a little too close for comfort. “Look at all the purple around those words. He enchanted the crap out of this list.”

Metea/Irric wasn’t wrong; the intricate linework now visible under what had been a blur of Issi was like an abstract work of art. Shapes flowed into lines flowed into curves, surrounding individual parts of the words and letters in ways Sechen didn’t understand, revealing one item on what now looked like a fairly short list.

A set of chest high wooden gates swung open behind the counter, a short man with greying black hair and a rust-coloured beard wiping off his hands as he acknowledged Sechen and Metea/Irric with a nod. He lifted a pair of goggles with thick glass lenses away from his eyes, revealing that they burned like candle flames in glass marbles.“What can I do for you ladies?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have stuff out on display?” Metea/Irric asked, gesturing at the tiny, mostly empty room they were in.

“Eh.” The man shrugged. “I’ve made enough coin to last five lifetimes. I’m only here because I love the city life. If you’re only here to browse, go down to Megrid’s Mechanics instead. They’ve got stuff that’s almost as good as mine, but they do walk-ins.”

“No, we know what we’re here for.” Sechen said, stepping forward and handing the man the list. He looked down at it with a raised eyebrow, shook his head, and handed it back to Sechen. “Is that a no?”

“Technically, it should be. I haven’t sold any of that in close to a century.” The man stroked his beard, sparks flying from his fingertips as his fingers ran through the rust-coloured mass. “Who’re you buying this for?”

Sechen hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much she was allowed to say about Elach’s condition, but Metea/Irric didn’t seem to have the same concerns.

“Our friend is in bad shape, and this is part of what we need to fix him.” She gestured at the list. “So can you sell it to us or not?”

The shopkeep narrowed his eyes at Metea/Irric. “You rub me the wrong way, young lady, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. I’ve dealt with people far ruder than you, people that tried to kill and rob me, and not necessarily in that order, and even a few who tried to seduce my wares out of me. They still can’t understand how that didn’t work.” He chuckled heartily. “But you? Something in your eyes just makes me want to gouge them out and make them into trinkets.”

“The feeling’s mutual, old man.” Metea/Irric growled. “So we’re at an impasse. You selling or are we leaving?”

“HA!” The shopkeep barked out a short laugh, Issi flaring off of him like a burning hearth. If Sechen hadn’t felt Prisoner’s power, this man would have been the strongest bonded practitioner she’d ever met. “You know what, girl, I changed my mind. Follow me.”

The shopkeep gestured at a space behind the counter where Sechen and Metea/Irric could get in, one which Metea/Irric ignored completely by vaulting the stone-capped wooden counter with grace that reminded Sechen of the person Metea/Irric was supposed to be. The shopkeep shook his head and muttered something about already having second thoughts, but pushed aside the doors he’d come through anyway.

The back room was far too large to fit inside the medium-sized building that was Novia’s Naturals. It was also boiling, both literally and figuratively. Large cauldrons sat atop flames burning in a myriad of colours and shapes, suspended by two long metal supports on either side that looked like they could rotate to dispense whatever liquids were inside. As she took in the cauldrons above, Sechen felt her foot catch on something under her, stumbling forward a step and letting out a stifled curse.

Long tracks had been carved into the metal floor, absolutely riddled with markings that looked like a simple fire that had been struck through with a single, jagged slash. Metea/Irric beat Sechen to the punch, speaking what she had been thinking. “What’s the point of the tripping hazards, old man?”

“The crucibles have to empty out somewhere, don’t they?” The shopkeep chuckled. “Their metals aren’t useful to me in that state, and if my workshop was always this hot, I’d run my Issi dry by lunch every day keeping the heat away. No, better to melt and store the materials out here and pipe them away where they’ll be useful.”

Metea/Irric nodded as she stepped closer to a crucible that was sky blue, shot through with cracks and splinters that looked like shattered wood. The fire under it bubbled and swirled like a whirlpool, waterspouts of sickly green jumping up and striking the bottom of the crucible every couple of seconds. “How’d you harness sickflame like that? I could never get it to burn right.”

“The girl fancies herself a craftsman, does she? Sorry, girl, but my methods are the one thing nobody can afford.” The shopkeep put a hand over his heart and shook his head. “Hoalt can rent my services, but he’ll never know how I do what I do.”

“I can respect that.” Metea/Irric said with longing in her voice. “So where’s the powder we’re looking for?”

“In my workshop. Powdering the metal you’re looking for is a long and arduous process, and one that I don’t do for just anyone. But the Issi on that note?” The shopkeeper shivered, but he was smiling wide under his beard. “That scares me. And I haven’t been scared in a long, long time. Not since Hoalt came looking for me.”

“So you’re doing this out of fear?” Sechen asked confusedly. “That doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” The shopkeep shook his head vigorously as he denied Sechen’s accusation. “That fear’s what made me even consider giving you two this stuff. But right now, I’m doing it out of interest for what comes next. Hoalt’s been calling me one of his ‘constants’ in meetings lately, building me up to be some sort of big shot, but nothing happens anymore. I’m bored, he’s pissed that the others aren’t even up for some competition between cities any more, and the others all have their gripes too. So seeing something new for once?” The shopkeep stopped right before a metal wall that marked the end of the hall of crucibles. “I can’t resist the opportunity. I do have one condition, though, and that’s after I’ve looked through what you’ve got in that Issi catalogue you’ve got for trade; I want to meet whoever’s Issi that is.”

“After we don’t have a time limit, sure.” Metea/Irric said. “But we have to prioritize our friend’s safety over your curiosity.”

“As long as I eventually meet them, I don't care how long it takes. All I’ve got is time.” The shopkeep chuckled as he pressed his hand to the wall, the metal heating up so quickly and brightly that Sechen had to look away. “Name’s Novia Kruss, by the way. You’ve never heard of me.”

“Was that a question?” Sechen asked.

“No, it was a statement. And if you want your powder, you’ll make sure my reputation stays perfectly whelming.” Novia pulled his hand off the wall, and it cooled immediately. There was now a rather large hole in it, liquid metal pooled in the floor below as the last few drips of it solidified before Sechen’s eyes, leaving long strings connected to the top of the hole. “Watch your step. The metal won’t burn you, and you can push aside the strands, but you don’t want to get any of it on your shoes. It’s a real pain to get out unless you’ve got the right Issi.”

“So that powder you’re looking for.” Novia stepped over to a worktable in the middle of the room, devices and storage placed around the room to some pattern Sechen couldn’t make out. “I’ve got an itty bit of the metals needed for it here, but if you need more than that, I’ll have to go buy more. I won’t charge extra for that, since it’s my own damn fault I haven’t kept up with my inventory. So, how much do you need?”

Sechen looked over to Metea/Irric, finding the woman in a giddy trance as she stared in wonder at everything in the room. She couldn’t help but smile; this was evidence that Metea/Irric she knew was still in there somewhere, under whatever was screwing with her. She checked the list and frowned. “It doesn’t say how much we need.”

“Well, what’re you using it for? If I know what you’re making, I could make an educated guess on how much I need to make.” Novia offered.

Sechen sighed in frustration. “I don’t know that either. Pri… the person who told us to get everything on this list won’t tell us anything aside from… wait.” Sechen locked eyes with Metea/Irric, then snapped her fingers to get her attention. “He showed you the list once before, right? Were there any measurements on it? Or maybe, like, a title or something?”

“A Tetherbrand.” Metea/Irric said almost dreamily, her eyes taking on a faraway gaze as she spoke. “And the Austroferric Powder…” She clicked her tongue in thought. “Two grams of powder for every fourty-five pounds the person weighs, and Elach weighs around two hundred and fifty pounds, so we’ll need eleven grams. Twelve if we want to be safe.”

“Tetherbrand? Haven’t heard that name in… huh. I haven’t heard that name. Interesting.” Novia chuckled. “If you have enough time, bring that thing here before you use it. I’ll outfit you in whatever you want, under a certain price point, in return. Right now, though, I’ll take a good look in that crystal of yours.”

“Right.” Sechen reached into her bag and pulled out the crystal. “Anything you see in there’s open for trade.”

“Gotcha.” Novia nodded, his gaze lingering on Sechen for a moment with a raised eyebrow. “Do I know you from somewhere, girl? Now that we’ve got some better light, I feel like I recognize you for some reason.”