The shop was hardly larger than a closet. Dimly lit by candlelight, I could see at first nothing but the multicolored light of reflected vials, the contents of each a different and off-putting shade. Many were in bottles of irregular shapes, and I couldn’t imagine why - why some were tall and thin like test tubes, and why others were fat and asymmetrical.

As my eyes adjusted, the shelves holding these concoctions resolved themselves, and then gradually the rest of the small room. There was hardly enough floorspace for the four of us to stand packed in like sardines in front of the counter, behind which a middle-aged man, hair starting to gray, sat, yawning. Behind him was a torn curtain hanging in shreds over an open doorway, through the gaps of which I could see what looked like medieval studio apartment, an unmade bed in one corner and what I assumed was some sort of alchemical equipment in the other. The bedroom looked practically cavernous compared to the cramped front of the store.

It smelled nice in there. Enough to make an impression - a slight chemical smell, but sweet, like some sort of perfume.

“A new customer,” the man said as if to himself, stifling his yawn. He was wearing circular glasses which seemed about to slide off of his squashed nose. “You can always tell the new ones. They stand there blinking like idiots for so long, then jump when they finally realize that yes, there is someone inside of the store, who would have guessed.”

“My good sir,” Cadoc said. “We are in need of a potion,”

“I don’t recall asking,” the man responded. He took off his glasses and proceeded to wipe them with a rag - which looked dirtier than the glasses. “And I could have assumed that, don’t you think? Not many come here for the food.”

“Or the hospitality,” I muttered.

“No,” the man said. “Certainly not.” He replaced the glasses on his face, and then finally turned to look at us, hands folded on the counter before him, staring with a look that asked “so?”

Amaia simply lifted her arm. It must have been hidden in the shadows of the store before, but the light caught it once she held it up. The blackness had begun to reach down her palm towards her fingers. The shopkeeper adjusted his glasses and squinted.

“Ah,” the man said, shaking his head. “Bad luck, that. A thladem bite, I take it?”

Amaia shrugged.

“We don’t know what that is,” I said.

“Not from here then,” the man said. “Of course, I could have guessed that by the smell. Most alchemists have the good sense to lose their sense of smell, burn it away, overwhelm it until it flees. Not me. I can smell you. Not like fish, that awful miasma that had sunken into my very skin by now, I’m sure - but a smell not much better. A foreign and unpleasant smell. Like rodents. You aren’t turning, are you? Not hiding a tail in your rags?”

I didn’t know what he meant by “turning,” except that it immediately brought to mind what Cadoc had told me in the past about people who live near dungeons being slowly corrupted. Was there a dungeon nearby?

Naomi answered before I could gather my thoughts, taking a step forward - which was all she could take. “No no no,” she said. “We are, like, fully human, y’know?” She spread her arms wide, presumably to prove it.

“Yes,” the man said, now looking shamelessly at Naomi - in fact, I half expected him to insult her appearance. He was scowling. “I can see that.”

“We can pay,” Naomi said, dropping her hands back to her sides. “We just need a potion for our friend.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t take service in kind for goods,” the man said. He suddenly looked at me. “No matter who you offer me. Is she your girl, then?”

We really need to get her some new clothes, I thought. But I didn’t say anything. Let her be shamed, what did I care? “Would you take gold?”

“Gold? Why yes, I suppose I would take gold. Have you met many shopkeepers who wouldn’t? Gold will do fine.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I expected him to go and grab a potion off of the shelf at that point. Instead, he only stared at me expectantly.

I sighed, took off my backpack, and rummaged around inside. There was a small pile of what I’d been able to grab while fleeing the crumbling dungeon, and from it I grabbed a golden cup - more like a golden shot glass in size - and offered it to the shopkeeper.

He snatched it, and then held it up to the light, squinting at it. He bit the edge of it, nodded, then pocketed the cup. Then, still silent, he rose, grabbed one of the test tube-like vials from a shelf behind him, and laid it on the counter. It rolled a bit before settling.

It was not much bigger than the finger of a large man. The liquid inside was red like blood. It was stopped up by what looked like cork.

“I am sorry to inform you,” he said, sounding not at all sorry, “That I cannot cure that condition. But this will stop the spread, at least. For today. Drink it, now.”

Amaia looked sideways at Cadoc and I. I shrugged, although I was somewhat upset at the idea of a temporary bandaid for the problem, and Cadoc asked what was the worst that could happen. So Amaia grabbed it, pried to cork loose, and swallowed the drink in one gulp.

“Tastes like urine,” she said.

“I wouldn’t know,” the shopkeeper said. “And I will not ask why you do. You aren’t paying for the taste, anyway.”

“We’re aren’t paying for one vial of something that doesn’t even cure the disease, either,” I said. “And it only lasts a day? How many does that gold buy us?”

The shopkeeper stared at me for awhile before answering. “Seven,” he said.

“Ten.”

“Fine.” He reached under the counter, grabbed a small bag, and laid it on the table. The vials inside clinked together when the bag moved.

“And,” Naomi interrupted, leaning forward, “You, like, tell us who can get us the cure. There must be someone nearby who has it, right?”

The shopkeeper squinted at her. “Why do you say that?

Naomi stammered. “Well, like, y’know, you live next to the, uh, thladem, right? So does everyone who gets bit, just, like, die?”

“Yes,” the man said. “Eventually.”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “There not another alchemist we can go to?”

The man shook his head. “The townspeople here simply continue buying my potions to keep the poison at bay. It’s better than dying, as long as they have the money.”

I started to protest, but Naomi held up a hand telling me to stop talking. Instead, she pointed to the equipment behind the shopkeeper.

“That yours?” she asked.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“You make all of the potions here yourself?”

The man squinted again, suspicion clear on his face. “Suppose I do.”

“Suppose I, like, didn’t believe you.”

The man smirked, the first smile I’d seen on his face so far. “Suppose I ask why.”

Naomi smiled back. “Suppose I know that equipment like that couldn’t make half of the potions in here.”

The smirk turned to a frown. “Suppose I ask how the hell you’d know something like that. You an alchemist?”

“Doesn’t take a cook to taste a bad meal,” she said. “Or, uh, I mean, suppose I said- oh nevermind. You know what I’m saying.”

“I do,” the man said. “Yes, alright, I import some of this. Seems you already know that.”

“Do you mind if I ask where from?”

“From Coernet,” he said. “Where else? And so what if I do charge a little more than they charge there. It’s convenience, OK? No one here wants to take the trip, and no one who isn’t turning wants to live in Coernet these days. I’m doing the people here a service by allowing them to avoid that place, and I don’t need you coming in here telling me I’m ripping anyone off.”

“Who in Coernet?” Naomi asked.

“And why the hell does that matter?”

“Can they cure a thladem bite?”

The man fell silent again. After a long time, he said that they probably could.

“And you weren’t going to tell us that!” I shouted. “You were just going let us keep buying your potions?”

Cadoc drew his sword. “To arms, Miles. There is a rogue here who requires justice.”

But Amaia put a blackened hand on Cadoc’s sword arm. Cadoc turned to face her.

“Let him tell us where to go, first,” Amaia said.

“Put your sword away, you fool,” the shopkeeper said. “You think an alchemist doesn’t surround himself with poisons? I have a vial in my pocket at all times which releases a noxious gas when exposed to common air. All I have to do it crush it, and you’re all dead. But I have imbibed small amounts of it all of my life, and can breathe it with no effect. So stop your meaningless threats.”

“Suppose I burn the store down,” I retorted. “You have a potion for that as well?”

Naomi interjected again. “Sir,” she said. “Things here have gotten out of hand. I apologize for my companions. We only wish to, like, speak with your supplier, you know? Where can we find them? We will leave right away and leave you alone forever.”

“Coernet,” the man said. “Like I said. Ask anyone there for the biggest alchemist in town, and you’ll find them. Or if you’re feeling brave, just look for that obnoxious manor they’ve built themselves. It looms over the city. I don’t think there’s anywhere within the walls where you can’t see it.”

Naomi leaned close again. “What is their name?”

“Why does that matter? Better you don’t mention the name to anyone. Just ask for the-” and here he spit, “Greatest alchemist around. Best not to make people think you’re looking for them in particular.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Better you don’t know,” the shopkeeper said. “Probably nothing, anyway. I still work with them, don’t I? Despite- well, nevermind.”

Naomi stared at him for awhile, clearly mulling over some question in her mind, deliberating on something - but what it was, I had no idea.

Until a thought came to me.

“Do you think it’s your parents he’s talking about?” I asked. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

Naomi froze, and a streak of red blushed her face.

The shopkeeper, on the other hand, grew pale. His eyes went wide and buggish, and he was making a sound in his throat like he was choking.

“You,” he said, finally. “You’re a, a- you’re one of them?”

Naomi tried to interrupt, but he continued stammering. “I didn’t see it before, I- I’m so sorry, madam. I apologize sincerely for what I said. The spitting, and the, I mean, I don’t think the manor is really obnoxious, and, I mean, I just didn’t know, I was just joking, you know?” Here he begun to laugh nervously. “A joke between business partners, yes? I hadn’t met you before, didn’t know you were, but I mean, I don’t normally withhold customers! Of course not. And I was going to tell you to go to Coernet, of course I was. I only wished to sell more of your potions first, you see? Try to sell a whole ton of them, and then tell you to go to Coernet, you understand? So that we both make more money, so that-“

I heard nothing more after that, though I assume he continued blustering for a long time. Naomi hurriedly pushed us out of the store, cursing at me, and soon we were all outside. Cadoc was smart enough to grab the bag of vials on the way out.