There’s no time to fight off the predator and the thugs at once, so I pick my battle. If I can’t convince the predator from the outside, maybe I can direct it from within.

We sidestep the dryad as they rush toward us. Void snakes out from the bottom of our coat and grabs their leg as they pass. They trip with a cry, and go crashing to the ground.

Their friends laugh. “What was that! The idiot can’t even hit a stationary target.”

We carefully funnel more void out from our sleeves, engulfing the glasswork in a protective cocoon of shadow. We remind ourself to make sure the stone doesn’t get damaged. Annoying. But a challenge sounds fun.

We stalk after the first one, still picking themself up. They reach for their weapon, and we slam a boot down on their hand. Their howl of pain fills us with satisfaction. Shifting the bowl to one arm, we lean down, reaching out a hand. Claws of shadows poke through the illusion of human fingers.

A door slams open three shops down, shaking the whole alley. A blue dracid steps out, head swiveling in our direction, eyes narrowed. She’s bigger than any dracid we’ve ever seen. All muscle and callus. She’s carrying what looks like an enormously oversized pair of tweezers, and as she stomps our way, she wields it like a sword.

A thrill of excitement goes through us. A worthy opponent. We flex our claws.

“What have I told you kids about hanging around my shop?” she roars.

My prey scrambles out from under me, but not in time. The dracid is on them, smacking the dryad with their tweezers like a whip. They yelp, throwing their hands over their head as they stumble back toward their friends. She storms right past us, as if we’re nothing more than another piece of trash that litters the alley. The kids scatter. She takes another swing at them, managing to hit the elf on his rear, before they’re gone, racing down the alley and out of sight.

The dracid turns back to us with a huff. She puts a hand on her hip and looks us up and down. “They didn’t nab anything from you, did they?”

She’s not a threat; she was trying to save us. We find that funny. We retract our claws.

“Well?” she asks after a moment.

We still haven’t responded. We quickly try to pull our mind away—and feel a faint pain at the suddenness of it. Alarm sparks through us. Careful. We have to separate carefully. Please, let us go. It’s not night yet, and the danger has passed.

Reluctantly, grumpily, the predator relents.

“Sorry,” I stammer, still pulling my mind away. The predator is only making a half-hearted effort to extract itself from my mind; it’s like trying to separate tar from glue. “I’m, ah, a little shaken.”

The woman snorts. “If those kids are enough to get to you, you probably shouldn’t be wandering around the back alley like a lost kitten.”

Okay, I’m mildly offended by that.

“I was trying to deliver something.” I retract the void that had been cradling the bowl, and hold it up for her to see. Hopefully she didn’t notice the shifting shadows. “I was trying to get into the glass shop, but no one answered the front door.”

“That’s because I was in the middle of something.”

“Oh,” I say. “You’re the owner of Glasswork and Repairs?”

Instead of answering, she starts to head back to the door she’d burst out of, and gestures for me to follow. “Hot glass doesn’t give two shits about anyone else’s schedule. So what have you got for me?”

I give her a Check.

[Caecius: Level 43 Dracid Lava Crafter. Owner of Glasswork and Repairs.]

Wow. Twice my level. And lava crafting sure sounds interesting. “Yes, I have a package from Molli Mosswood. She needed a tureen repaired.”

Caecius pauses at her back door to look critically at the bowl in my hands. Then she grunts and heads inside. I take that as an invitation to follow her.

The backdoor opens into a workshop. There’s an open chimney on the outer wall, several large stone chests sprinkled throughout, and a shelf of completed glasswork on the opposite side of the room. Caecius hangs up the oversized tweezers on a rack alongside a dozen other tools, then takes a seat at a bench next to what I’d guess to be an inert forge. She looks at me expectantly, then pats the low work table in front of her.

“Put it here.”

I gently set the tureen down, then stand back, hesitating nearby. Caecius ignores me.

The dracid carefully lifts the lid from the bowl, pausing to examine the design on the top, then sits it aside. She lifts the bowl next, her talons faintly tinking against the glass. She turns it over, then her hands glow with a faint blue light.

“Is that glass magic?” I ask, excitedly leaning in.

She glances at me skeptically. “No.” She goes back to focusing on the bowl.

Seeing as she won’t be giving me answers, I Inspect the spell myself.

[Low grade stone spell related to structural identification,] Echo says.

So her Affinity must be stone or something similar, which glass would fall under. And given her class of Lava Crafter, I can hazard a guess what that might entail.

Caecius grunts, sets the tureen back down, then swipes a hand across the surface of the nearby forge. Runes and spell circles carved into its surface light up blue. She moves the bowl over to forge, then pulls on a pair of thick gloves.

I quietly hover nearby. She hasn’t dismissed me, but she also hasn’t indicated when she’ll be done, and until I have that information, there’s no point in leaving. Besides, I’m interested to see her work. I’ve never witnessed anyone other than myself use glass magic—or stone magic, I suppose—and I don’t intend to pass up this opportunity to try to learn something.

Though there’s no apparent flame, the air above the spell circles begins to waver. Caecius crooks her gloved hand over the bowl, like fingers on a stringed instrument.

I fire off a couple more Inspects. “The spell circle is for glass manipulation?” I gather. “And that other one is for heat. Why heat it up if you already have a spell for mending the glass?”

Caecius shoots me an irritated glance. “You a mage?”

“I suppose so,” I say.

“Mages ask too many questions.”

I skeptically take in all the spell circles, runes, and the magical glow around her hand. “Aren’t you a mage?”

“No,” she says. “Now shut up.”

I shut up, and instead switch over to more Checks and Inspects to try to figure out what she’s doing. Still maintaining my human disguise and unable to surreptitiously float my glass over to the other side of the table, I lean over to Check a small spell circle just outside of my line of sight.

“Careful,” Caecius snaps. “You’ll singe your clothes.”

“Oh!” I lean back. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t look up from her work as she flicks a hand at her forge. One spell circle extinguishes, while two new ones light up. “You’re too close. And all bundled up. Heat doesn’t bother you?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Oh. I hadn’t even realized it was hot. I can feel a faint warmth, but that’s about it. My glass isn’t very good at sensing temperature unless it’s toward an extreme. “I have nerve damage. Don’t feel a lot of things.” I hope that’s how nerve damage actually works.

She grunts again, switching more circles on and off. “Go open the annealer for me.”

“The what?” I ask.

She jerks her head toward one of the stone chests. “The annealer! Open it.” She picks up the bowl with both her gloved hands.

“Er, right.” I head toward the one she indicated and pull the hatch open. There’s more runes inside this one as well, and when I check them, I’m surprised to find they’re also for heating.

“What’s the point of moving it from one hot area to another?” I ask.

She sets the bowl in the chest, then quickly closes it. “Different levels of heat. Cools it down slower. Keeps the glass from cracking.” She takes her gloves off and gives me a critical look. After a moment I bow my head a little, hoping she didn’t stare too long at the unblinking eyes of my illusion. She heads back over to her workstation to drop off her gloves.

“Why all the interest?” she asks. She’s already heading through a door toward the front half of the building, and since she asked me a question as she did so, I’m guessing that’s an invitation to follow.

“My affinity is glass,” I say, stepping through. This room looks more like a storefront than a workshop, with shelves of items on display. I peruse these so I don’t have to look at her and potentially expose my cover while I talk. “I’ve been wanting to learn more. I’ve tried sculpting some on my own, but it all ends up pretty fragile. I know there must be a way to make them more robust, I’m just not sure how.”

“What kind of stuff do you make?” she asks.

My mind briefly short circuits from what should have been an obvious question. I’m certainly not going to tell her ‘parts of my homunculus body.’ “Mugs,” I say, repeating the first thing I happen to be looking at. “Plates. Those sorts of things.”

“Uh, huh.” She sounds skeptical, but she doesn’t follow it up with any questions of her own. “The tureen will be ready in a day. You can tell Molli and come back for it then.”

“Do you need to do anything else with it?” I ask.

“No. It just needs to cool.”

“And that takes a whole day?”

Caecius looks at me flatly. “You questioning my work?”

“No!” I object. “I just didn’t realize it took so long.”

She looks back down at the book she’s jotting notes in. “You’re pretty new to glasswork.”

“Yes,” I admit.

“New affinity?”

“I suppose so.”

“Derived from a parent affinity?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I admit.

“Stone,” she says. “Earth. Sand. Common starting points for developing a secondary affinity. My specialty came from merging stone and fire affinities.”

“Oh,” I say. “No. It’s just glass.”

“Hmph.” She sets her quill down and looks at me. “A little old to be developing your first affinity.”

I don’t have anything to say to that, so I say nothing.

She waves a dismissive hand at me. “Tomorrow. Noon. You can retrieve it then.”

“Oh.” I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t able to get anything else out of her. “Alright. I’ll be on my way, then. Say, do you happen to know of other glass shops around here?” She gives me a blank stare. “I mean, anyone looking to take on an apprentice? Or perhaps classes, or a thorough book—”

“Noon,” she repeats, returning to her ledgers. “You can tell her it’ll cost a crescent and two silvers.”

Ah, well. It was worth a shot at least. I leave, through the front door this time, and head back to Molli to deliver the cost and timetable. The old woman once again invites me in for some tea, and I once again decline.

That evening, as we’re discussing our days over stew, beer, and crusty bread, Zyneth helps me charge the illusion ring back up to full capacity. There’s no word from Vardi yet. Rezira is spending her time practicing and exchanging techniques with a local healer’s guild, while Noli appears to simply be enjoying herself: shopping, exploring, and making friends with the local hunters.

I give Zyneth the coppers I received from Molli to examine. “Well it’s not entirely archaic,” he admits. “Some places will accept it. You could also get them exchanged at the Merchant’s Guild for a cost, but it’s probably not worth it. These could buy you maybe… half the meal we have here.” He gestures to the table.

“A day’s worth of work for half a meal.” At least it was for a good cause. “Ah well. Guess I’ll try something different tomorrow.”

“Let me know if you need any assistance,” Zyneth says.

“I will.” I recline in my seat, leaning against his shoulder. “Same goes for you. Let me know as soon as Vardi shows back up.”

“Of course.” He takes my hand and places the coins back in them, folding my fingers around them. He doesn’t let go after that, and I don’t pull away. The closeness fills me with warmth.

Noli loudly slurps at her drink, looking at us over the brim of her mug.

“Okay, yes, Noli,” I sign, one handed. “We’re together.”

Noli excitedly gasps, immediately choking on her drink. Rezira thumps her back as Noli coughs and splutters, still managing to sign, “I knew it!”

“Who asked who?” Rezira asks.

We look at each other. “I suppose it was a mutual conversation,” I say.

“But who started the conversation?” Noli asks.

“I don’t recall,” Zyneth admits.

“Are you sure?” Rezira presses.

If I had eyes, I’d be narrowing them. “Why does it matter?” Noli glances guiltily away. “Did you guys place bets or something?”

“No!” Noli cries, at the same time Rezira signs, “Yes.” Noli lunges for her wife’s hands.

Zyneth chuckles. “At least it’s not a party.”

“Oh!” Noli brightens. “We should throw a party!”

----------------------------------------

The next morning I show back up at Glasswork and Repairs. It’s a bit before noon, but I had nothing better to do and figure I can at least kill some time looking around Caecius’s shop. No one bothers me this time, though I’m also in my human disguise. When I knock on the front door, she opens it.

“You’re early.”

“I’m aware.”

She turns away, leaving the door open, which I suppose means I’m allowed inside. Caecius heads back into the shop, so I stay in the front, examining glasswork and trying to figure out how it’s done.

“Ready,” she says in another ten minutes, gesturing me back. “Bring the payment after lunch.”

“Actually, I’ve already got it,” I say, withdrawing a pouch as I follow her toward the annealer. “Stopped by Molli’s this morning.” I hold it out.

Caecius snatches up the pouch, glances inside, then tosses it on her work bench. “Come back after lunch. I’ve another job.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “Delivery? I’m actually not sure if that’s the best use of my—”

“I’m working on a larger piece.” She opens the annealer and gestures for me to take the tureen. “Could use an extra hand.”

I take the bowl out and tip my head. “With glasswork?”

“No, with wiping my ass.” Caecius snaps the doors closed. “Now go on. I’m busy. Be back here at a hand after noon.”

Somewhat baffled, I leave as instructed. Molli is delighted to receive her bowl back in perfect shape and, no, I can’t stay for lunch. After a quick tag up with Zyneth, I head back to Caecius’s shop.

She’s in the back, her forge lit with magic, holding what appears to be a giant glass vase stuck to the end of a metal pole. She looks up when she sees me.

“Good. Hold this.” She hands the stick over to me.

“Er, alright.”

Caecius puts on her gloves and grabs the pair of giant tweezers. She sits at her station and gestures me over. “Hold the glass here and rotate the rod.” I oblige, needing to tuck the end of the rod beneath my arm to keep from dropping it. With all the glass at the end, it’s heavy. “Faster,” Caecius commands. “Good. Don’t stop.”

She puts the prongs of the giant tweezers inside of the vase and opens them, gently pulling the end of the glass wider.

“What are those called?” I ask. “Those big tweezers.”

She doesn’t spare me a glance. “Tweezers.”

“Oh.” I’m silent for a moment. “I was sort of expecting a fancier term.”

Caecius works for another couple minutes in silence, then sets the tweezers aside and grabs some burnt up rag looking thing next, running it over the outside of the glass.

“Glass isn’t solid,” she abruptly says. “Not like other stone. But it’s not a liquid either. Something in between, like cold taffy. Its structure doesn’t really want to stay in one shape—it’s just slow at moving. That’s why heat is good for shaping it.”

Caecius nods to one of the spell circles. “I don’t got glass affinity, but I make do with fire and stone. It gets me close enough. Can you read runes?”

“A handful,” I say. “I’m still learning.”

“Move it over here. Stop spinning.” Caecius points off to the side of the forge. I swing the pole where she’s indicating. The dracid puts one of her gloves beneath the vase and abruptly raps a hammer against the pole I’m holding: the vase breaks off the end and falls into her hand. “Now open the annealer. Quick!”

Still trying to follow her abrupt changes in topic, I open the hatch, and she puts the vase in. After it’s closed, she heads back over to her forge, running a hand over the symbols. The lights go out.

“This one is for structural manipulation,” she says, pointing out a circle. “You Attune glass to manipulate it, yes?”

“I do.”

She nods. “This spell, like an Attunement, can manipulate the structure of any glass in its area. But that’s not enough to make it strong; you need a deeper understanding for that. Material composition, shape, and internal structure. Without an understanding of composition, you start with subpar material. Without applying knowledge and intent, the structure will be weak.” She taps her forge with a claw. “I will teach you.”

I brighten. “Thank you. That would be great! What can I—”

“Sit.” She points to a bench near her work table.

I sit.

“Watch.”

I watch.

“No questions. First: listen.” Caecius brings out several jars of ground up glass, and several more jars of something that doesn’t appear to be glass at all. She sets them down and lays out several tools. Then she begins to explain. I listen.