Amir did not break his routine on the following days. Mornings he spent either in the Academium’s libraries or desperately iterating on the dead end of his project and afternoons usually hard at work to supplement his income. Three days after Hawthorne left, he realized that he had run out of the month’s budget - scroll reagents were not cheap. That placed him two days away from next stipend. Not feeling close enough to a breakthrough to dip into his own savings, Amir suddenly found himself less busy. That day, he arrived at the Penitent’s street almost an hour before early lunch. He though that perhaps Gramma Rose would have some words to lift his spirits or such. Instead, he once again encountered a little goblin lass, squinting around a corner.

“Hey,” he greeted, making her turn around.

“Come,” she beckoned him with both hands, then turned around to leave. Amir hesitated for a moment. It was maybe not the best idea to follow someone he had met exactly once before… but then curiosity drew its axe and beheaded caution with practiced ease. He followed.

That being said, it was not that easy. The goblin was either suddenly in a hurry or trying to lose him despite the invitation: She kept well ahead of him, only ever waiting long enough to let him spot her for a few seconds at a time. Crowds were not as large an hour before lunch time, but that did not mean the streets were empty. Still, he somehow never truly lost his presumed guide, eventually making way into the poorer parts of the city. There he was finally led to a long alley in-between two buildings that seemingly came to a dead end.

“You, stupid,” was the first thing she said. They did not stop that far in, though still far enough to be reasonably out of sight.

“Not necessarily,” he coughed.

“Could rob you,” she pointed out. “Could have many gobs waiting.”

“The possibility has crossed my mind,” Amir admitted. “Will you?” he asked afterward, doing his best to hide the bit of nervousness he felt.

“Stupid,” she shook her head, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Why did you want me to follow you anyhow?” Amir redirected away from his own foolishness.

“Wanted to ask questions,” she said. “But tall-ears inside hear too much.”

“I always advocate for the sharing of knowledge,” Amir nodded. “But I would expect to be returned the favor.”

“You speak funny,” the goblin girl said.

“Sorry, ehm, bad habit,” he blushed slightly. “I can tone down the vocabulary.”

“Is fine,” she shrugged. “Just weird. Use big words for little things. More than other humans.”

“The point of words is to be used,” Amir argued.

“Yes, everyone has lot of words,” she nodded. “Manyword teach us to understand. But still weird.”

“Manyword?” Amir had to ask in wonder. “I presumed that is a name?”

“Is accurate,” she inclined her head.

“Are names chosen based on accuracy then? I have never known,” he admitted. “Is that true for all goblins?”

“Ye,” she nodded. “What the point of name if a lie?”

“To distinguish people from one another. For example, I am Amir.”

“What mean?” she frowned deeply. “Am ir? Ami, mir… make no sense?”

“It doesn’t really mean anything,” he chuckled at her expression. “Quite common in human names.”

“Dumb.”

“Then what would we do if our names did not fit?” Amir questioned.

“Name always fit. Otherwise, wrong name,” she did not seem to see the issue.

“Then what does a goblin do if their name is wrong?” Amir had to get to the bottom of it.

“Change it, duh,” she replied.

“Just… change it?” he paused.

“Ye,” she nodded. “If name wrong, take correct name.”

“Alright, alright,” Amir tried taking that revelation in. “Then when do goblins first get a name?”

“When someone need to call them,” she thought for a moment. “Sometimes Gob, Gobby, Little, or Snot, or close.”

“And they choose something more fitting when they grow up?” Amir asked, fascinated by the concept. “Even repeatedly if they change as people?”

“Sometime pick, sometime chosen by others,” she nodded.

“What if two goblins have the same name?” he had to ask.

“Compete for name,” she said. “Better fit means keep, otherwise, change. Sometimes not needed if from far away - is fine if one leave again soon.”

“This is all frankly baffling,” Amir admitted. “How have I never heard about this?”

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“Some people not like gobs,” she shrugged. “What humans do about names?”

“Humans - and most other species living around here - get names picked by their parents,” he explained. “Almost always at birth. We usually keep them our whole lives.”

“How can pick forever-name for baby?” she frowned again, even deeper than last time. Deeper than Amir would think facial muscles allowed. “You just met them. Not know them. How can guess? Bad chance.”

“I suppose it’s fine because we don’t ascribe our names deep meanings,” he nodded. “Amir doesn’t mean anything as I said. My parents just liked the sound of it. There are plenty of other Amirs around. Speaking of it, may I know your name?”

“Pebblethrow,” she offered.

“So you are… good at throwing pebbles?” he presumed.

“Best,” she said, chest puffing slightly in pride.

“Would you show me?” Amir requested.

“Can,” she nodded, then started looking around. The backstreet had plenty small chunks of stone lying around - mostly split off from the road, Amir would guess. She picked one up, experimentally tossed it in one hand, then pointed with the other. “See?”

“The crate?” Amir looked. At the far end of the back alley there was indeed a lone crate, seemingly forgotten by someone.

“No, on top. Bottle,” Pebblethrow corrected. Amir had to squint but he did indeed see it, black glass against a dark background. He could also tell it would be a ridiculous shot. The crate itself was already far enough he had doubts it was even possible to throw a rock all the way. Hitting with accuracy seemed improbable at best.

“Even without wind condi…” he started to say when he heard the shuffling of muscle as well as the slight whistle. Something flashed through his field of view, rising with all the velocity the tosser’s small body could offer. Then it began to descend on a precise curve. A moment later, Amir listened to the shattering glass with mute awe.

“Best,” Pebblethrow reiterated.

“I apologize for my doubts, you are impressive,” Amir gracefully surrendered the point. “How do you calculate the ballistic curve? What about air resistance and wind?”

“Stupid,” she just chuckled instead of answering.

“An answer would be preferred over insult.”

“Big words for simple thing again,” Pebblethrow shook her head. “Is just throwing pebble. Simple as that.”

“That sounds… improbable,” Amir frowned slightly. “Hitting things accurately over such distances usually involves much mathematics, physics, aerodynamics, accounting for shifting variable, and oftentimes even the precise weight of the projectile you wish to propel. It is far from my area of study but I am aware that many combat spells need such calculations done.”

“Is just throwing,” she laughed. “Throw until get good, then better, then best. Simple as.”

“I am… baffled,” Amir stared. Just estimating a ballistic curve on pure… instinct? Practiced muscle memory? Insane… and terribly fascinating.

“You mention spell?” Pebblethrow asked. “Can do spell?”

“Well, yes…” Amir answered hesitantly.

“Show,” she immediately approached with wide, almost puppy-like eyes.

“It is not quite that simple,” he cleared his throat lightly. “I am a Nera-scribe: Rather than manifest magic directly, I inscribe it onto an object that can then be used for the magic more easily.”

“Silly, writing not magic,” she said, though clearly hesitant.

“It is some magic,” he corrected.

“So can’t show?” she asked, her tone shifting into such tangible disappointment Amir felt a pang at his heart.

“Well…” he hesitated again. Technically he was not yet a full arcanist - though he was close. That meant he should not be doing any magic without permission or outside a certified workshop… but no one was around. It was not like he had to do something even remotely dangerous either. “Maybe I could show you something. Would you find me a good, round pebble?”

“Easy,” she nodded. It took her about three seconds to locate one which she quickly brought to Amir.

“Alright, but do not tell anyone,” he nodded. “I could get into trouble for it.”

“Promise,” she intently nodded.

So Amir spread the pebble on his hand, then he took out the Stylus from his bag. It looked much like a pen at first glance, though that was merely one of the many uses. He brought the tip to the pebble’s smooth-ish surface, then concentrated. Stone was simple material to work with - stable, unreactive, solid. That its magical conductivity was abysmal was another matter but that was fine for what he wanted.

Carefully, the Stylus altered the inside of the stone. Not quite cut but it was close enough. Amir left two Nera inside: A kinetic converter to power it and the effect itself - both carefully joined. Then he withdrew the Stylus, bits of stone slug falling away. The surface remained as smooth as before though, to the point no one would be able to tell it apart from the ordinary rock it had been just moments prior. For just a few seconds of work, it was a solid piece.

“Alright, now throw it,” Amir handed it over, pointing down the empty alley.

“Is a bit lighter,” Pebblethrow looked at it curiously.

“Very slightly,” Amir nodded. The minuscule amount of matter he had removed did weigh something. But so little should be basically imperceptible - but then, he was not the best rock tosser around, was he?

Pebblethrow looked at him one last time, then at the rock again, and finally threw it towards the end of the alley. The moment it left her hand it began glowing. Just slightly in the first moment, then more as it picked up speed through the air. It was by no means particularly bright - there was not enough power for that - nor particularly complex light. Just white with a very slight tint of orange. When the rock slowed, the light gradually lessened and ceased glowing a moment after the movement stopped. About .5 seconds after to be exact if Amir got it right.

“AMAZING!” Pebblethrow shouted, eyes wide.

“I am glad you like it,” the arcanist hid a smile.

“But flew wrong,” she said right after.

“Of course,” Amir nodded. “I turned speed to light. That means some of the speed was lost.”

“Possible to do otherwise?” she immediately inquired.

“Yes,” he shrugged. It was basically as simple as spells got. “Several ways, even. But it would be much more difficult. When something is fast, it is easiest to use its speed. When something is hot, it is easiest to use the heat.”

“Neat,” she nodded along. “Super neat. Spell neat.”

“Happy to hear it,” Amir accepted the praises, unsure how high they actually were.

“K. Thanks. Gotta go, already late,” Pebblethrow then excused herself.

“Didn’t you have a different question for me?” he inquired. That had been his initial read before they got… sidetracked.

“Ask next time,” she shrugged, as exaggerated as ever. “Will find again.”

“I suppose I will think of what to ask as well,” Amir smiled. She waved with both hands then disappeared into a nook in the wall he had never even noticed before then. All in all though, he felt rather positive about the entire interaction. Then a rather more troubling thought struck him.

“How am I even going to find my way back?”