“Translator first,” Zyneth decides before I can ask him what the hell all that was about. Rival gangs? Gillow’s creepy obsession with Zyneth’s mom? I know he’s tied up in some shady shit, but this is just weird.

“Ideally we can find you something suitable before we visit the library,” he continues. “Being able to speak for yourself instead of using me as your proxy would make interactions significantly easier.”

“Is it dangerous?” I ask. “Revealing I can speak. Gillow—they—were suspicious.” I stumble over spelling Gillow’s name before realizing Zyneth wouldn’t understand the signs anyway, and settle for hoping he just gets the picture.

“Dangerous for you to talk?” he repeats, gleaning most of my intent. “Perhaps. Truly I don’t know how most of the world would react. Those that don’t know much about homunculi might just assume you’re some newer, more complex spell. Those who are more familiar with the magic might understand the implications. I expect many would be fascinated—even delighted. I don’t believe most would wish you ill will. Outside of organizations like the one Gillow belongs to.”

And you, I think, but deem it best to not voice that part aloud.

“Although,” Zyneth adds, “if you’re worried, we don’t need to look for a translator.”

“No!” I hastily sign. “I do want a…” I stop when I realize Zyneth is chuckling. “You ass.”

“I don’t believe Noli would approve of that language.”

I show him another sign she wouldn’t like.

“Come,” he says, laughing. “The marketplace is not far.”

Not far ends up being another hour’s walk away, though in that time I’m relieved to see the streets go back to… normal. I don’t know if that’s the right word. But despite nothing really looking any different, the sense of unease I’d felt around Gillow’s shop dissolves back into the carefree, bustling atmosphere I’ve come to expect.

“Boots,” I sign to Zyneth as he begins to peruse the stalls. He gives my sign a perplexed look, and I point to my feet. “I could also use some shoes.”

“Ah,” he says, noticing my bare feet. “Yes, I see. My, you’ll look quite strange in just boots and a tattered cloak, won’t you?”

Yeah, thanks for rubbing it in. “You could buy me a nicer cloak, too.” I’m too annoyed to feel bad about asking Zyneth to spend even more money on me.

“Perhaps the essentials first,” he says. “But if you see anything that could accommodate your, ah, unique anatomy, feel free to point it out.”

The bazaar is a fascinating scene. It feels like a farmer’s market, an art festival, and a Cryptid Hunter convention all got slammed together in half the space. Merchants of every shape, size, and species shout their prices over the crowds, while shoppers swarm the street and duck under colorful swaths of fabric to hunt down the best deals and escape the morning sun. It is getting hot, I distantly realize, noticing a sheen of sweat on the brows of some passersby. I still feel the heat—a little, like the faint warmth of a fire several feet away—but clearly not as much as everyone else here.

I keep close to Zyneth as he carves a path through the crowd, my alarm mounting with every occasional elbow which jostles against me. “Careful!” I sign once, before remembering that no one is likely to understand. No one is intentionally running into me, but they also don’t seem to be particularly bothered to avoid bumps and jostles. My anxiety ratchets higher and higher the longer we remain in the press of people, and instead of paying attention to the clothes of nearby stalls, I become hyper fixated on sticking close to Zyneth and trying not to think about getting knocked to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.

“Here we are,” Zyneth finally says, stepping to the side of the road and out of the thick of the crowd. I sag with relief as I escape the throng without losing any limbs, and look up at the shop as Zyneth steps inside. It’s plainly labeled Red’s Enchantment Stock and features a simple drawing of an interlocked amulet and ring.

I follow him in to find myself inside what looks like a steam-punk gift shop. Clockwork contraptions line the walls, and display-cases crammed full of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and circlets are pressed up against the front windows and back counter. Even on top of the display cases there’s more trinkets, while bins of metal junk and tubs of loose stones are shoved into every available crevice. I amend my initial impression: the room looks like a steam-punk gift shop owned by a hoarder. Although that might just be redundant.

Red, as Echo identifies, is a wooden-skinned daisy-haired dryad, and level 31 Enchantments Artificer, too busy snapping several extra layers of lenses over his glasses as he hunches over a watch-face to notice us entering. I have Echo Check some of the display cases and bins of junk as Zyneth approaches Red with a greeting.

[Ring for enhanced endurance. Amulet of healing: 2/10 uses remaining. Bracelet for poisoning immunity. Ring for fire resistance. Necklace for underwater breathing. Necklace for quicker reflexes. Primed garnet. Primed moonstone. Primed quartz. Simple brass ring. Simple brass chain. Simple brass anklet…]

Seems like all the items in the display cases are the enchanted goods, while the buckets of stones and scrap metal are the unenchanted supplies used to make the expensive stuff. Interesting.

“Red?” Zyneth says, calling to the shopkeep a second time. “My friend, you have company.”

The dryad looks up at us through bug-eye lenses. “Zyneth? Oh!” He beams. “Good! Good, yes, please, come inside.”

We are already inside.

“Need new weapons?” Red asks, his magnified eyes blinking rapidly through his glasses. “Lose a sword, did you? You’re always losing swords. How someone can be so careless with swords, I don’t understand. Must be a barrel of enchanted swords out there with your name on it.”

The man is twitchy, still hunched over the device he’d been working on, and I’m suddenly struck with the image of a nervous squirrel huddled over a nut.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“No, not more swords,” Zyneth says, beckoning me over. “I have a bit of a special request.”

“All your requests are special,” Red says. “Never a straightforward ask. That’s why you’re my favorite. Special requests are fun. And also pay better. What’s this, what’s this?”

He squints at me as I approach the counter. “Uh, hi,” I sign, glancing back at Zyneth. I’m not sure if he’s expecting me to explain everything.

Red’s gaze darts from my hands, to my head, to my chest.

“A homunculus?” he asks. “Glass? I’ve not seen this before. You want me to harvest its core? I don’t know, I don’t know—homunculi are not my specialty.”

Alarmed, I instinctively place a hand over my chest. Like fuck is he going to harvest me!

“No!” Zyneth jumps in first. “That’s not why we’re here. And he’s not actually a homunculus—at least, not exactly.”

“He?” Red repeats, watching my hand. Or rather, he’s watching me guarding my core. His eyes go wide. “It understands us?”

“He,” Zyneth again stresses, “is called Kanin, and yes, he does understand. There’s a human soul trapped in the core. Which is why we need your help. He can hear us, but has no way to speak aloud. We are looking for a translator compatible with his… unique circumstances.”

Red leans forward, wide eyed, fingers twitching excitedly. “That cannot be. No, Zyneth, no, you mustn’t understand. A homunculus spell cannot trap a soul no more than a sieve can catch water. There must be some other explanation. Necrotic magic may trap a soul, for instance.” He reaches out for my chest and I take a hasty step back.

“You can politely tell this guy to fuck off,” I sign to Zyneth.

“Please, both of you,” Zyneth says. “Be respectful.”

“I said it politely,” I sign, still keeping out of Red’s reach.

“Red, he is a person, as I’ve previously stated,” Zyneth says. “I doubt you would appreciate someone grabbing you uninvited.”

Red snaps his hand back. “No, no, I wouldn’t like that.”

The more I’m around this guy, the more nervous he’s making me. Not in a scheming Gillow kind of way, but it’s hard for me to pin the guy down. I don’t know what he’s going to do at any given moment.

Or maybe I just don’t take kindly to people trying to pluck my soul out of my chest.

Zyneth looks at me next. “Would you allow me to tell him about your magic? It might help with finding a translator that works. We should be as open and honest as we can.”

Red is not exactly an individual I’m excited to spill my guts to. The contents of his shop and his twitchy fingers tells me he’s just as likely to dissect my body and sell it to the highest bidder as he is to help us. “Can we trust him?”

“Completely,” Zyneth says. “I wouldn’t have taken you here otherwise. There are perhaps a dozen shops in the city that specialize in enchanted accessories, but this is the only one I frequent.”

Red smiles at that. “That is because many enchantments you ask for are not legal.”

Zyneth gave Red an exasperated look. “We’re getting off track.”

“No,” I sign, interest piqued. “Let him talk.”

Zyneth sighs. “Please, both of you.”

I wave him off. “Alright, alright. Tell him whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Zyneth says, though by his tone, he seems a bit exasperated. “Red, whatever translation tools you have at your disposal, bring them out for us to try. Kanin’s affinities are glass—obviously—and void. His primary language will not be in any enchantment index you have at your disposal.”

“Void?” Red asks, eyebrows shooting up. “As an attunement? Not possible. Too unstable.” He excitedly leans over the counter toward me. “Show me!”

I hope Zyneth can feel the glare I’m unable to send his way. Reluctantly, I hold out a hand and call the void from the joints around my torso and arms to form a tiny pool of black over my palm. I leave all the void in place that’s being used to support my legs—I’m pretty sure I’d fall over if I took them away now.

Red’s eyes go wide. “It is, it is! So concentrated. Never seen undiluted void before. Never so pure. Hmmm, yes, it might be possible for this type of null arcana to trap a soul—the glue of reality, isn’t it? Fascinating. Fascinating.” He dives beneath his counter and begins snatching up odds and ends.

So glad I can be this guy’s source of entertainment for the day.

Another thought occurs to me, though. “How much does this guy know about Between?” I ask Zyneth. Lowering my hand, the void zips back to my joints.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. More than me, at least.”

“Would he know anything about how to retrieve my body?”

“What?” Red says, popping back up with an armful of jewelry and strange metal contraptions. “What?”

“Kanin was asking if you’d know anything about the nature of his spell,” Zyneth says. “His soul came from another dimension, where his body still remains, and he wants to know if it’s possible to access it again.”

Red thoughtlessly drops the armful of loot on the counter, and Zyneth winces. “A different dimension? I don’t know. Summoning spells require null arcanum—but the summoned object must already be targeted in some way: previously marked by null arcanum, usually. But null arcana is a summoner’s specialty. Not me. Ask the wizard who cast the original spell, hm?”

“He’s dead,” I sign.

Zyneth grimaces.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I add. Then pause. “I mean. Not directly.”

Red picks up a bracelet and shoves it toward me. “This first.”

“Um.” I carefully pluck it from his fingers, looking between Red and Zyneth helplessly. “What—”

“Never mind.” Red snatches it back. He hands me a ring. “Try this.”

“How?” I ask. I decide to give it a quick Check before sticking an enchanted ring on my finger all willy-nilly. I’m not stupid.

[Ring of Translation: allows the wearer to speak Common.]

Doesn’t hurt to be careful. I put the ring on. Nothing happens. “I’m not sure these are going to work without a mouth,” I tell Zyneth.

Red makes a rapid grabby motion with his hand, and I pull the ring off and give it back to him.

“Kanin’s right,” Zyneth says to Red. “We don’t just need translation, but something that can produce the sound.”

“Tricky, tricky,” Red mutters, digging through the pile. “But, hm, yes. Okay. One moment.”

He sifts through a bucket of jewels, grabbing them by the handfuls like a bunch of marbles, mumbling to himself as he tosses the gems back one by one. Eventually he settles on a black stone, then moves back to his tangle of knick-knacks he’d dumped on the counter. He pulls a necklace from the pile—shaking it off for a moment to dislodge an earring, which flings across the room—and strings the stone onto the chain, going abruptly still. I don’t think I’ve seen this guy sit still for more than two seconds the entire time I’ve been in here. A red light glows from his fingers.

A few seconds later, he blinks, then hands the necklace to me. “This next.”

I Check it.

[Amulet of Speech: Fashioned from a Necklace of Projection and Stone of Translation, this amulet is designed to interpret and project the non-vocal speech of species such as merpeople, sprites, and other-worldly souls inadvertently bound to a homunculus core.]

Is it just me or is Echo getting cheekier?

“Does it matter how I wear it?” I ask. I try looping the chain a few times around my wrist.

“I do not have a neck so I cannot wear it the traditional way.”

I jerk back, looking at the amulet. Those words had come from the amulet. They were my thoughts. And I heard them—out loud.

Zyneth’s face splits into a grin. “Was that you?”

“Oh gods. It is really working,” I think, and the amulet says.

Well, they aren’t exactly my thoughts. I don’t worship multiple deities, and the translator seems to have an aversion to contractions. Not to mention there’s a strangely auto-tuned quality to the words. The voice sounds like the bastard child of C3-PO and Daft Punk.

But dammit. I can talk.

“This is amazing,” I say, a giddy joy flooding through me. I can’t believe it. Finally. After all these months. I’m really speaking! “Thank you,” I say to Red. “Thank you so Expletive much.”

Zyneth raises an eyebrow. I look down at the amulet.

Red snickers. “The translator, ah, may take some liberties with its interpretations.”

It takes a moment for Red’s words to sink in.

Fuck, I think, and the amulet says, “Expletive.”