After the windfall of selling two imbued glass implements of war, peddling a few odd household goods for low profit feels pointless. Nonetheless, we’ve already promised to set up shop. So, three days after we arrive in Halmuth, we find ourselves at the edge of town, near the formerly damaged main gate. No longer bent and twisted, the metal gleams in the light of the massive mana lamps that push back the darkness of the night. At first, we wanted to rush out and snag a more central spot in the marketplace, but Azariah convinced us that our unique glassware will earn us more upscale clientele. According to our guide, they’ll come to us once they get a taste of quality.

I’m more amenable to his suggestions now since he got us into the exclusive [Merchant] meeting. Maybe he really can find the best ways forward. If a high-level [Pathfinder] can divine more than physical paths, then he’s a far more important ally than I previously reckoned.

And potentially far more dangerous.

I can’t shake the unease I feel when he looks at my glass cores. He keeps frowning and muttering to himself whenever he examines them. Something has caught his eye, even if he’s not sure what they are or what they do yet. If he ever finds out, will he honor his contract, or try to take them?

That reminds me. I need to get Rakesh to look into Azariah’s past activities. Why did he get exiled? Is he a threat? Speaking of Rakesh, I’ll have to put him in charge of negotiations from now on. I’m certain I didn’t get as much of a cut as a regular auction-house would pay.

My mind’s racing while we hawk our wares. We keep up a brisk trade for about an hour, selling plates and cups, alongside a variety of vases, but after a while, the uniqueness of our offering no longer pulls in new customers. At the very least, I’m happy to work with glass again. I’m glad the demonstration in the warehouse was a success, but I can’t shake a realization I’ve had: my heart’s simply not in selling domestic, humdrum pieces.

Glass isn’t exactly an essential item in the Barrens. Most people don’t use windows; they shutter up their homes so that the dust can’t get inside. The real buyers are the upper crust of Halmuth, the ones rich enough to enjoy the creature comforts of home life, and it occurs to me that those luxury buyers already voted with their gold by attending the auction. My hope is that the buyers who were outbid will come find me, but it hasn’t materialized so far.

Once word gets out that the [Blacksmith] who fixed the gates is taking on commissions, however, the requests start rolling in for repairs. Mikko slept away nearly an entire day after he finished restoring the town gates to their original condition, but he’s awake and ready to work, if looking a bit subdued.

Seems like nearly half the town has something that needs fixing: a set of busted hinges, cracks in an old sled runner, or a dulled and chipped knife with flecks that look suspiciously like dried blood. The [Hunters] are particularly excited for Mikko’s presence, since they’ve watched his Skills in action for the last couple of days. They’re clustered around our makeshift studio and shop, asking Mikko to craft or replace spear blades, arrowheads, and gauntlets. Their armor is heavily dented, and their blades are almost universally bent or broken. A few questions later, we discover that’s from facing down the same monster that muscled through the repulsion of the mana barrier and attacked the gates.

That gets me thinking. Shouldn’t the [Hunters] be able to channel their Skills into their weapons more effectively? With their Class-given damage enhancement, they should be able to do piercing damage that bypasses the monster’s thick scales and armor. If Nicanor were here, no doubt he could use one of their basic spears just as well as the fancy enchanted spear that he stole from me.

Maybe the difference between the First and Second Threshold is greater than I realize. If that’s true, then perhaps I need to think outside the box. Back in the Old Keep, we stumbled on an enchantment that worked on principles of imbuing. Why can’t I invert the process, and use my imbuing to mimic enchantments? I don’t know how to do it yet, however, so I’ll have to talk it over with Melina and Rakesh later. For now, I’ve got something more straightforward I can offer.

I nudge Mikko. “Hey, I know you’re not an [Enchanter], but I can imbue sharpness into glass blades. Why don’t you make metal bindings to hold the glass to the shafts, and I’ll make the spearheads themselves? We can get Ava to cast [Strong as Stone] on them for durability.”

Mikko bangs his hammer on the side of his anvil to draw everyone’s attention. “Anyone want a glass blade imbued by my brother?”

A tall [Hunter] with a pelt wrapped around his shoulders pushes himself upright from the wall he’s been lounging on nearby. A bitter, short laugh rips out of him. “Trying to get us killed? Glass is delicate. I’ll take good, strong steel any day.”

Several of the [Hunters] loitering around, waiting for repairs, nod in agreement. One of them slaps the tall man on the shoulder. “Ha! You tell em, Irving!”

“You sure? Nuri is young, but he’s a Master craftsman,” Mikko reminds the surrounding [Hunters]. “Further along in his crafting career than I am, as much as it pains to admit.”

“Then what’s he doing in Halmuth?” someone yells, setting off a round of laughter.

The passerby who shouted out fades back into the crowd before I can get a good look, but something about his mana signatures is familiar. Was he at Totten’s auction?

“Probably cut his hand off in a broken glass accident,” Irving sneers. “Now he’s wanderin round the Barrens, looking for suckers he can scam. Anyone actually buy this whole ‘master of glass at twenty-one’ schtick, even though he’s missing a hand and selling cups for coppers?”

“Shut it,” Camryn growls at her colleagues as she stalks up. To my surprise, they listen, moving aside; she shoves past anyone too slow to scurry out of the way. I wonder if she’s a big shot among their group. Maybe I underestimated her importance in Halmuth.

She holds my gaze for a moment, and there’s a measured quality to her look that wasn’t there before. “Heard from Totten that you can back up your claim of mastery.”

I nod. “Sold two imbued works at Totten’s auction the other day. Want me to show you sharpness in action? Or you can ask Taj how it went. He saw what my arrows did to the rock he set up for target practice.”

“No need. Totten’s word is good in these parts. If he vouches for you, then I’m willing to give it a try.”

“Appreciate it!” I say, surprised at how grateful I am for her show of confidence, despite her frosty demeanor toward me. It’s about time something goes my way.

Camryn nods sharply, as though complimenting me makes her uncomfortable. I get the sense that she still doesn’t like me much. “I don’t blame the other [Hunters] for being skeptical. Glass isn’t exactly a path to power, unless you’re a Master. I’ve never seen anything like what you did with that window, though. This might be our best chance to take down the abyssal beast that bent the gates. Go on, then, [Mage], make me a new spear blade.”

She takes a ready stance in front of me, as though she’ll skewer me if I don’t begin work right away. I nod and motion for Lionel to bring over a gather of prepared glass. “Promise I’m not a [Mage],” I insist, but she gives me a withering look that says she’s not a fool, so I let it slide.

Instead, I spin up my [Greater Heat Manipulation], bringing the glass up to working temperature while shielding my hand and clothing from the intense heat. I decide that I’ll go with a folded blade design rather than knapping the glass, in fond memory of my first attempt at an imbued knife back when I was living on the road.

Twenty folds later, I shape the spear tip into an elongated diamond that should puncture armor. It’s not well-suited for slicing, though it will outperform mundane steel thanks to imbuing. An all purpose weapon isn’t my goal, anyway; I’m making a weapon to punch through monster scales. I fall back on familiar patterns of imbuing, creating a more efficient lattice-work frame to hold my mana than I used to be able to make. Simultaneously, I meditate on all of the secrets of sharpness I’ve uncovered during my travels over the last year: incisive action and cutting loose regrets.

With a rush of mana, I flatten and fold the glass blade a final time. The imbued concept takes to the vessel I’ve created with great enthusiasm, cutting through the air around me and leaving faint, pale tears in space that make the crowd gasp in shock. Most of them have never seen anything like it.

I gotta admit, I can’t resist showing off.

I let out a whoop of excitement. It’s one of the finest-quality imbuings I’ve produced yet, thanks to the high compatibility between the blade and the ideal. Once again, the shape is fairly plain, but I have a feeling the [Hunter] won’t mind.

Avelina puts down the glass sculpture she was working on and casts [Strong as Stone] right at the end of my working, just to ensure that the spear won’t shatter after one use. It’s more than an instrument to hunt monsters, after all—it’s a symbol that the [Hunters] of Halmuth can take the fight to the monsters in their own territory instead of hiding behind their walls in fear. They’re [Hunters], after all, not [Defenders].

“Come back later, when it’s finished annealing,” I instruct Camryn. “Then we’ll test it on anything you want. I’ll wager this can pierce through a stone wall without any trouble.”

Camryn loosens the ties on her money pouch. She steps up and plunks two gold bars onto the top of the anvil, each equivalent to a score of coins. “Is this enough?”

“As my first customer, I’ll give you a discount,” I announce in a conspiratorial whisper that’s plenty loud enough for the other [Hunters] to hear. “Future spears will be twice as much for the base model, and three times as much if we use [Strong as Stone] again during forging.”

“Three times that for a glass spear?” Irving shouts, practically sputtering in his outrage. “Absurd! That’s half a year’s salary for a good job. But I guess you gotta try some way to earn back whatever it cost you to pay off ole Totten.”

“Watch it, Irving,” Camryn barks.

“Oh, shove off, bootlicker,” Irving replies. He pulls his pelt closer around his lean body to ward off the chill of night, shifting the coat to reveal the polished bone hilt of a long knife at his hip. His arrogant posturing leaves no question he’s itching to use the knife. Violence seems to come easy to men like him.

Something inside me snaps.

“Hey! No fighting near hot glass unless you wanna get burned,” I yell, briefly releasing my grip on [Greater Heat Manipulation] and allowing the heat to swell in his direction. The raw thermal energy billows out toward Irving and makes him stumble back, covering his face as his skin blisters red.

Irving’s knife materializes in his hand. He warps forward, standing in front of me before I can blink. His tone is low and menacing. “Attack me again and I’ll gut you, ya little piece of—”

Camryn raps Irving across the left shoulder with the butt of her spear, staggering him to the side. “Threatening civilians is against the rules. You know that.”

“He attacked me!” Irving snarls.

“No, I warned you,” I correct him.

“Assaulting a [Hunter] is—”

“Shut it,” Camryn says, her voice like steel. “He didn’t assault you, and you’re making an unnecessary scene. You know Totten hates that.”

“Pfft! You’ve always been in his pocket.”

Camryn and Irving glare at each other for a moment, and the crowd grows quiet. Mana swirls between them in a menacing pattern, visible to my sight through my Domain’s vision. I’m worried that if I don’t intervene then they’re going to come to blows.

“Irving, was it? Trust me, if I can knock a hole in Halmuth’s mana barrier with nothing more than a thought, then I can disintegrate you where you stand,” I say, smiling as pleasantly as I can. “Now stop bothering my customer.”

That gets his attention. He may not respect my glass-making ability, but word’s gotten around that I almost knocked out Halmuth’s defenses. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to run the damage calculations: If I apply that kind of force to a human, rather than a municipal-grade mana barrier, he’ll turn to paste. Or, so I want Irving to believe. I can’t actually leverage my Domain like that.

Not yet.

“My colleague will anneal the spear. You can pick it up later,” I tell Camryn, intentionally turning my back on Irving. I watch him through my mana senses, ready to retaliate if he so much as twitches a muscle, but he stands down after my warning.

“That was an impressive display,” Camryn admits. She stands at attention, still with one eye on Irving, as though she’s just waiting for the opportunity to skewer him. “I’ve never seen a weapon so sharp it can cut reality itself.”

I chuckle at the over the top description. “Don’t get too excited. The tiny spatial tears are far from strong enough to harm reality. Think of it like quickly moving your hand in a river and displacing water. The water flows back into place a split second later. No actual damage.”

“Not a lot of water in the Barrens,” Camryn replies, a hint of wry amusement in her tone.

“Er, think of it like clapping. Air is forced out, exceeding the sound barrier, but it does no actual damage to the atmosphere around you.”

“I get your meaning,” Camryn says, her eyes glazing over. “Look, if you’re as good as I think you are, then I’ll cherish this weapon.”

I nod. “Good hunting, Camryn.”

She offers a tight-lipped approximation of a smile, ghosting away into the crowd. I know it’s a Skill at work, but it’s still mesmerizing how she disappears into the darkness. It reminds me of my old friend Mbuhke. My eyes slide to the side, as though watching her is physically difficult. No wonder [Hunters] are effective if they can hide from prey.

I take my time collecting the bars of gold and delivering it to Rakesh for safe keeping. He is the team’s treasurer. I need to remember to entrust finances to him and stop micromanaging every aspect of our little team.

Now that I’ve finished making the spearhead, it’s time for act two. I wave the onlookers closer. Time to pull out the shock and awe tactics. Let’s see if anyone bites.

Hopping up on top of Mikko’s anvil, I wave my hand above my head to draw the attention of the [Traders] still lingering near our studio. “Ho, fellow travelers of the Barrens! How many of you wish that you could march under the scorching sun with impunity, or perhaps carry with you the warmth of home and hearth to ward off the icy grip of Barren nights?”

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A few stragglers glance over, but after the dust-up with the [Hunters], no one seems all that willing to move closer. Unexpectedly, it’s Avelina who fixes the problem. She hops up next to me, unleashes a flurry of sparks that dance and twirl in the darkened sky, and smiles prettily at the crowd. The eye-catching display seems to tip the scales in our favor, and just like that, we have an audience.

I gesture toward Melina with an exaggerated flourish. “Mel, levitate over a big handful of molten glass. Make sure it’s hot enough to melt right through my skin and bones! Let’s show these discerning buyers how to make glass sing.”

She gives me a questioning look, as if to warn me not to cause more problems, but she complies anyway. The glass hovers in the air, moving in eerie silence as it floats toward me, and I smile at her gratefully. I’ve always liked that about Melina. She might judge me in her mind, but she’ll give me space to chase my dreams.

Enough space to prove her judgment right. She always gives me just enough rope to hang myself, I think with a rueful shake of my head. I should listen to her wise counsel. More often than not, she’s been right.

I’ve been mulling over the strange, disturbing enchantments in the Rift we cleared in the Old Keep. If enchanting can mimic principles of imbuing, then why not vice versa? I’m tired of cups and plates and bowls. They earn even less than the pittance I got from my share in the auction house—and, worse, they’re boring. An inexcusable deficiency, as far as I’m concerned.

Plucking the ball of glass from the air as though picking a fruit, I wink at the crowd. I toss the glowing globe of glass up and down a few times, unaffected by the high temperature thanks to my [Greater Heat Manipulation]. No one seems to react; handling hot glass is nothing more than the equivalent of a cheap parlor trick.

I stretch the glass, manipulating it with my bare fingers as I work with an invisible glove of thermal resistance wrapped around my hand. How I ever looked down on any form of [Heat Manipulation] is beyond me; it’s clearly the best Skill ever.

I need to capitalize on the multitude of watchers before they lose interest. To my great satisfaction, the glass seems to flow on its own, perfectly following my whims. Maybe someday I can earn [Glass Manipulation] to go along with [Heat Manipulation]. I’d like that.

Drawing deeply on my mana, I seek out the relaxed-yet-focused flow state that I always associate with my best imbuing. In my mind’s eye, I hold the image of resting by a great stone hearth on a bitter winter evening. The pleasant heat of the crackling fire and the warm mug of mulled cider bring bone-deep contentment.

Flaring my mana, I press onward, imagining staying cool and unaffected by the blistering blaze of the glory hole in the glass hot shop. A cool drink in the scorching heat of summer. The cool shade under All the while, I focus on the specific shape of the fractal runes in my [Greater Heat Manipulation] that control temperature. They blend together to form the framework of what I’m trying to accomplish. With a pulse of willpower, I implore the wild torrent of mana I’m feeding into the working to accept the dual natures I’m inviting it to embody.

My available mana drains at a frantic rate, but I sense the imbuing taking shape. Slower than I’d like, the concepts grind into place like gears frozen by rust. A knot of tension grows in the center of my forehead, just between my eyes, as I attempt to force more mana to—

Buzzing. Claws on a board of chalk. Curdled, milky light inexplicably coating the world in madness. Itching behind my teeth.

Pain hits me like a sledgehammer to the face. I shout, releasing the imagined world I’ve constructed, and the world slowly swims back into focus. No longer blinding now that I back off from the attempt to imbue the glass with two diametrically opposed concepts, the off-white light emissions of the mana feedback fades away.

With a crack!

the glass

shatters

And I am set adrift . . .

I lurch back from the dangerous explosion, turning my head to the side. A shard slices a thin line of searing pain under my right eye, and I hiss in annoyance. Thankfully, no one’s hurt. My pride stings worse than my cheek. Instead of a triumphant moment, I’ve undone my own credibility. Jeers from the crowd mixes in with harsh, mocking laughter from the [Hunters].

Irving struts forward. “Guess I wasn’t wrong about how he lost his hand!” Snickers and taunts from the crowd seem to embolden him. He preens in a circle, lifting his hands and urging them on. “You’re really gonna fall for this fraud? Some ‘Master’ he is. Peh! He probably faked the items he sold and arranged it with Totten to keep us all on our toes.”

I keep my smile steady and calm, despite my pounding heart, and ignore the [Hunter]’s yapping. Backlash can be devastating, depending on the imbuing. I could have died if I hadn’t released it in time. But I’m not about to give Irving the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

Running through a quick checklist before I start the imbuing project fresh leads me to an unfortunate realization: the inefficiency of my failed imbuing drained the rest of my mana. Just to be sure, I double-check my glass pseudo cores. Yep. I’m as dry as a skull left out in the Barrens for a week.

Shatter it, I’m not going out like this!

“I’m out, Mel! Can we swap?”

Melina tilts her head at me, an odd expression on her face. Her eyes widen momentarily, but she brings over her necklace of glass beads to my side of our mobile studio and sets them down. I wait until she’s retreated a few paces, and toss her my spent cores. She catches them with a deft application of [Object Manipulation], not even touching them as she backs up, and allows me to pick up her cores without interference.

I’ve been borrowing them a lot lately, which adds another line to my to-do list. I ought to create a backup pair of glass cores, maybe two, and find a stable way to store and carry them that won’t cause any resonance dangers.

Topped off with mana again, I keep working on my next imbued item. I push down a rush of frustration. It’s all right to fail; I didn’t hurt myself or anyone else with backlash. I’m still young. It’s not unusual that I can’t combine both heating and cooling into a single glass artifact.

Not yet.

Just like my dreams of using my Domain, I tell myself that pushing forward my imbuing mastery is only a matter of time. If Melidandri says it’s possible to hold opposing ideals, then I’ll keep on pushing forward, seeking to improve my craft as well as my understanding of the world. I’m not a [Mage], not truly, but the allure of magic has grown stronger lately. The possibility of earning a future Class upgrade is so tantalizing that I can taste it like nectar on my tongue.

“Blisters and broken glass,” I curse softly at the loss of the piece. I’m more embarrassed than truly hurt. Ironically, my failure only attracts a larger crowd, but they seem skeptical after I shattered the last piece. Tough to impress them after failing so spectacularly.

None of that. Focus, I remind myself sternly. With so many people watching, I need to work swiftly to win back their trust. They’ll rally to my side if they see me overcoming a bad break. Everyone loves cheering for people who get back up after a fall.

I call for another batch of glass and start shaping a helm again. This time, I let go of grand ideas, setting aside the first image I created. I can’t hold competing concepts like Melidandri demonstrated to me all those months ago. For all the strides I’ve made with imbuing, I still have to stick to only one thing at a time.

Fighting off the mounting headache—crafting two imbued pieces is exhausting—I mold the glass to my will. It’s a simple shape, and this time my mental image of a cool breeze and flavored shavings of ice on a hot summer’s day is more readily accepted by the mana. Twenty minutes later, I present a circlet, more tiara than helmet, which should keep the bearer cool.

Forcing myself to swagger a little bit, I hold up the annealing crown while Melina goes to work with her combined Skills. “Who wants to test the Helm of Frost? Should be ready within the hour. First come, first serve!”

Clamors and claims from the crowd make me grin. Everyone wants to see if I can back up my bragging. Good thing I’m telling the truth—out here, I’d worry about a lynch mob if I tried to pull a fast one and sell fake imbued items.

I direct any potential buyers toward Rakesh, who’s working as our sales representative, handling transactions and counting out change. In the meantime, I collect another mango-sized ball of glass. I should probably wait until I’ve recovered to make the next piece, but I’m on a roll and I want to capitalize on my momentum.

Even so, as I get to work, I take things slowly, more cautiously. I focus only on a sense of hearth and home as I go, recalling to mind the flood of emotions when I returned to Silaraon after my trying time on the road. All the while, I mold the last piece of glass into a tiny figurine of a man as tall as my hand. It reminds me a little of the elegant fairy I made for Iriye, back in the city of Barundu.

Oddly, I feel no pressure to perform anymore. I won’t get another chance until I have time and mana to use [Vitrification] again, but having my back up against the wall is old news by now. More importantly, the concepts of returning home, of finding my true belonging in the world after the volatility of fleeing—these emotions and ideas are potent and intimately familiar to me. Inwardly, there’s complete unity of purpose. I know this will work. Conviction runs deep.

I beckon over Avelina to help with the lampwork, since she’s more skilled at sculpture than I am. A little face soon takes shape, and then a small man emerges. I offer up my mana and intent to guide the imbued concept of comfort into the totem, and this time, the working is a complete success.

“This is a companion item to the Helm of Frost,” I declare in my best auctioneer voice as I try not to let them see me shaking with the effort of creating a third imbued item in a row. My vision wavers, but I force a cheerful smile for the sake of potential buyers. “They work best as a set, although I’m willing to sell them off individually—for a markup, of course!”

For once, Irving has nothing to say. He stares at me as though reconsidering his earlier estimation of, but it’s cold calculation I see in his gaze, not thoughtfulness.

“Young man! A word?”

I hop down from where I’ve been working and greet the middle-age man striding my way. His face is dark and weather-worn, lined with years of living in the Barrens, but there’s a spring in his step and his eyes are bright and lively.

“You’re a Master of the glass-craft? I’m Yuvaan, [Caravan Leader] and longtime veteran of the Barrens. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Nuri, Master [Glassworker],” I reply with a slight bow. “Are you interested in the set? I’m happy to demonstrate their efficiency before you buy.”

“Potentially. What kind of range might they possess? My crew won’t be happy if I walk in luxury while they sweat and freeze by turns.” Yuvaan’s impassive expression is unchanging as he speaks, but I sense a strange hitch in his mana flow when he glances at the circlet of glass. He’s far more excited than he lets on.

Another [Trader] edges closer, peeking over his shoulder. Instinctively, I rely on Viewing while the [Trader] scans the glass circlet, although I’m careful to only activate the portion of my [Arcane Domain] related to seeing things more clearly. I don’t want to collide against the mana barrier with my Domain again. While I can’t truly decipher the Skill the [Trader] fires off, I catch a glimpse of a Rune related to assessment. Aha. Probably a valuation Skill.

“Who wants to buy a lumpy glass doll?” one of the [Hunters] calls out, raising her shrill voice so that she’s heard above the crowd. “You’re falling for a swindler! A thief!”

“That scrawny, one-handed kid? Looks more like a [Beggar] than a thief,” another of the [Hunter] posse says, rolling his eyes at me. He pulls out a copper coin and tosses it over my way. “There! My alms for the year.”

“Still overpaid,” Irving quips. He spits at my feet. “Go run your scam somewhere else. If you’re really a Master, why’d you bother bartering for your stay at the [Hunter]’s Lodge by selling them a few glass cups? I got a cousin who works there. She said you were practically in tears at earning a few day’s stay.”

I scoff, shocked at the blatant lie.

A stout older [Hunter] with a scar bisecting his lips pushes his way forward. He frowns at me, transforming his face into a truly horrifying scowl. He lifts his voice so that everyone around can clearly hear him. “Forget all that. This man got arrested for violence against Halmuth. Why are we letting a criminal sell anything?”

Yuvaan startles. “Beg pardon?”

“It’s true,” Irving cuts in. “Punched a hole in the mana barrier. He’s working off his crimes. Totten’s gone soft; shoulda had him executed. Still might, if I get my way.”

Yuvaan exchanges glances with the [Trader]. They both go ashen and turn away. The [Trader] shuffles back, then ducks his head and tugs down his cowl as though to cover up his features. He jogs into the press of people and disappears into the night.

Only Yuvaan remains, and not for long. He meets my gaze, smiling at me apologetically. “Sorry, young Master Nuri. Not looking for trouble with the [Hunters]. Totten runs a tight town.” With a curt bow toward the grizzled [Hunter], Yuvaan edges away without an offer to purchase anything at all.

Before I can muster up a coherent response, Irving scoffs loudly and stalks away from our mobile studio. His movement is magnetic, dragging the rest of the [Hunters] away like iron shavings after a lodestone. Irving’s words and actions are like the breaking of a dam; when he leaves, so do the rest of the people, streaming away like a flood.

I frown, watching our dwindling chances at further sales disappear. The private sale to the traveling [Merchant] a few days prior dulls the sting, but I was still counting on pulling in far more money during our stay here. Halmuth is our best shot at building up our reserves before we reach Gilead.

According to Azariah, we’re heading to Loch LaMara next. The port on the inland sea isn’t as trade-oriented as Halmuth is from what I hear. I always thought that ports were the best places for buying and selling, but Loch LaMara is a shipping hub, not a trade center.

Our earnings won’t go very far in an expensive big city, not if Lionel is applying to study and I’m busy with investigations. That leaves Melina, Avelina, Rakesh, and Mikko to support six of us, which doesn’t seem like a good ratio. I don’t want to have to start over from scratch when we reach Gilead and work with the Menders.

After the [Hunters] depart, not many people stick around. No one wants to wait an hour for the helm and totem to anneal, not after Irving’s harsh words. For a while, the discussion flies fast and furious, as people argue over the worth and legitimacy of my imbued glass pieces. Yet, strangely, not a single bid follows in the wake of even the most effusive praise. The assembled crowd disperses without buying anything more than a few basic items, with more than a few fearful glances sent toward Totten’s tower.

Who is Irving, and what was he doing here? Must have a scary reputation, I muse as I watch my efforts fall apart. More important than who he is the question that won’t stop ringing in my mind: who sent him?

=+=

Azariah is waiting for me in the general room at the [Hunter]’s Lodge when I return. He peers at me, shaking his head, and gestures for me to join him at the bar. He slides a mug of his spiced wine my way, and we sit in silence until we drink up.

He leans back with a sigh when he finishes his mug. “Y’know, when you put down that glass necklace, my main survival Skill said ya were dead.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were watching. Since you told me that you always trust your Skills, when’s my funeral?”

“Har har. Listen. You’re hidin something,” Azariah says, jabbing his finger at me. “I got a right to know if you’re gonna travel with me.”

“Maybe your Skill’s defective.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Azariah says. He slips a flask out from his vest pocket and pours himself a new mug. “Funny thing, but whenever you claim you’ve run dry, outta mana, it’s been tellin me that you shouldn’t be alive, much less castin grand magic. Never figured out the connection before I watched ya craftin earlier, but I think I got it. You ain’t got any internal mana, do ya? That’s peculiar.”

“I need external mana. So what?”

He leans closer, genuine curiosity etched on his face. “Unusual for anyone to survive in that state. Never seen it before. What happened?”

“Core’s cracked,” I confirm quietly, since he’s clearly far more perceptive and personally invested than his gruff and standoffish personality lets on.

“Ah, that’s why you’re headin to the Menders. Not about yer missing hand at all,” Azariah says in between puffs on his pipe, nodding to himself. He squints at me and sends a thin tendril of flexible gray smoke to tap on my necklace of glass beads. “Bet they got better capacity than mana crystals. Rechargeable, too? I’d like to meet yer supplier.”

“They’re mine,” I reply testily.

“Ain’t gonna take em off ya, kid. But I know people who’ll pay in platinum for an artifact like that. Give me a hint and I’ll cut you in on the profits.”

“I already have a contract for an exclusive distributor,” I say, shrugging as though it’s out of my hand.

“Distributor, not supplier?” Azariah observes, sitting up straight and looking at me more sharply. “You claimin you made that yourself?”

Shatter it all. He’s found me out. I smile weakly, falling back on old tricks and deflection. “You’re entirely too perceptive, Azariah. Guess you finally figured out that I’m a [Glassworker].”

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t push the issue. Still, I can’t help but notice that he looks at my glass cores with intense satisfaction, as though he’s finally solved a complex puzzle that’s been eluding him. I hope that doesn’t cause me trouble down the road.

A plan starts to form in my mind. Despite my frustration at the poor sales, I’m not giving up yet. Since Azariah likes to poke his nose into things, maybe I can use that to my advantage.

“Hey, Azariah?”

“Changed your mind already, boy?”

I shrug, then hold out my mug for him to top me off with more of his wine. The spice is surprisingly savory and sweet, cut through perfectly with the subtle burn of the alcohol. “Could you get word to Totten that I’ve got an offer he’ll appreciate? I’ve got supplies for his [Hunters] that could really change the game.”

“Those trinkets really work?”

“Without a doubt,” I say, affronted.

“Keep hearin you’re a Master, but it doesn’t make sense. Too young. Can’t make heads or tails of you,” Azariah mutters. He takes his pipe out of his mouth, spinning it in his hands, and slowly nods. “I’ll do it. Give me a bit of time to talk to ole Totty, but I’ll do it.”

I salute him with the mug. “Thanks, Azariah. I had my doubts about this partnership at first, but you’ve been a good guide.”

His grin grows wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yep. Pleasure doin business with ya, Nuri. I got a feelin this is gonna work out real nice. Real nice indeed.”