The sun began its descent when they stepped out of the Tower. A cotton candy sky of pink clouds stretched over blue fields.

The first silver lines appeared on the horizon to chart the draining light. The first silver organs wafted in the shade. Climbers went home.

He shuffled to the side to clear the path but there was no rush. The plaza was far less crowded than it had been in the morning. People were leaving or openly tended to their wounds on the grass. Some hung out here.

He saw a group smile and drink a crate of beer together, their equipment littered on the grass. It was a small detail among the rest, but it reframed the scene. An afternoon in the park.

Seven o’clock. After a day’s work in the brave new Tower of combat and exploration, they were content and hanging out on the green.

He could have kept going if he’d had to, despite the aches in his limbs, the sting of his scrapes and scratches, the bruises, and the weighty loot dragging him down. Two more days maybe, like their exams, and he would have been pooped for at least a week.

How long could he keep that up? He was excited to find out, because he was young and had things to do—rest was not for meant for him, a self-starter—but he understood why full-time climbers had to pace themselves. Like many hazardous occupations, they needed downtimes for rest and recuperation. Training, studies, side work—life and life plans for retirement.

[Gardeners] were popular for another reason, he supposed, despite [Harvesters] being more efficient at gathering the food that was already available up there.

Self-sufficiency.

The thoughts made his mind wander out into the rest of the city and wonder, what would it have been like, to grow up in Hadica proper? With a parent or two as climbers—his had done it for a short while. His mom was a [Ranger], his dad a [Warrior].

They would work overtime for two-thirds of the month, then constantly be around for the rest … unless they didn’t come home at all.

Would that be him, someday? Two-thirds of his life this feeling, this day, and all those other days he had nightmares about, the fire, river, river of fire he’d swum up, and afterward coming home to …

Friends? Family? A laboratory and studying for his license as his ‘side gig’, his plan for retirement?

He struggled to imagine it, but he struggled to imagine it would be bad, either. That may have been because he was in such a weird mood.

Maybe I am pooped after all. He did have to poop.

“Micah,” Anne called. “Where are you going?”

“Huh?”

He spun, and the heavy bag of watermelons pulled him into a stumble. The one full of cut stone shoots dug into his side like spears and he winced. His team had stopped at a crossroads between fields, their feet pointing away.

“Loot tent?” He pointed.

“This way.” She pointed and glanced at Navid as he stepped past her.

“No.” He shook his head. “No, no, no, no. Please, tell me you are not a customer of the Bluth tent.”

“Uhm.”

“Why?”

“I— I don’t—?” He looked to Lisa for help but she shrugged, leaving him hanging. “A friend recommended we go there once and uhm, we’ve been going ever since …? I mean, I’ve only been there a few times at all so—”

Navid spun on Lisa. “You knew about this?”

“Is this an actual issue for you?” She looked amused now.

“No, but we cannot go to the Bluth tent. Can you imagine? ‘Navid Madin went to the Bluths over his own family’. If someone saw me, I would never hear the end of it.”

“Oh? So that’s the only reason why someone shouldn’t go there, then. Got it.”

“No. Our service is far better as well. You know that. We have more business and we still manage to serve the crowds better. We’re also closer to the portals in almost all of our locations, and we are far more efficient—”

He went on, and Micah fell in line with the others as Navid led the way. They sighed but let him rant.

“Hey, maybe we’ll get a good deal out of him being here,” Ryan muttered. “He won’t have been completely useless after all.”

“Ryan,” Anne hissed with a smile.

Micah skipped a step with his leaping heart. He wanted that, forever.

They passed under the decorated mouth into the sounds and smells of a vibrant slaughterhouse. Fruit and carcasses, broken stones and metal, herbs, spices, and glowing potions or crystals—more.

The essences alone looked like a festival. It was invigorating. Reinvigorating.

The Madin tent looked different. For one thing, it was larger. For another, it had color from the ground up instead of being slapped onto a clean canvas.

Micah stared as he shambled forward.

The fabric of the tent itself was earthier and there were decorations—banners, art of monsters and climbers or their equipment, skeletons wrapped around pillars or hanging from corners, guiding arrows on the ground, archways, colored curtains, more.

Instead of the sterile, surgical metal of the Bluth tent, there was wood, stone, towers of crates, baskets, even horse-drawn carts.

He saw food stands, as if this were a little city, and his stomach growled. Yeah, he could see why climbers might want to buy food after they left the Tower.

A mix of colorful lantern light and crystal light illuminated the paths while the stations used a jarring white light. They were like beacons in the chaos.

And there was chaos. Aside from the loot and climbers, at a glance, he could see boisterous figures standing out, calling to people, having conversations—supervisors, he assumed, whose personalities lent to their individual stalls. It wasn’t as uniform.

But that seemed almost intentional. Or maybe ‘artificial’ was the word he was looking for …?

No?

It took Micah a moment, but then he realized what he was thinking of: The Bazaar.

The Bazaar if it had been streamlined, organized, given a little more room to breathe, in a giant tent of all places, and cleaned up around the edges while everyone worked under one banner—though probably also competing with one another.

Romanticized.

That was the word. Like a painting rather than the real deal. It was nice. Welcoming. But in places, also artificial.

He wondered if the Bazaar had existed first, or if this tent had. Which one was the copycat?

A [Greeter] came to welcome them with a clipboard and smile, and Micah thought of the themed restaurants he walked past in the city, and stared at, and their hosts.

“Mr. Madin,” the young man said and bowed fractionally. “It’s a welcome surprise to see you here, sir. How may we help you this evening?”

A few of the other greeters looked over. People turned in passing. Navid grinned, already in his element once more. His hand settled on the hilt of his sword—the cane was in his backpack again. “The school year ended yesterday.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Oh, did you have a lot of students coming through, then?”

“There was a rush,” he admitted, “but it was not unexpected or unwelcome. More shifts, more hands, other preparations—we handled it well, sir. Some of us may even level in the morning if that’s not too much to ask, so soon after the last time.”

“Eh, nothing wrong with being a little greedy, I say. Or ambitious. If not tomorrow, maybe in a week when we students drive you up the walls, right?”

The greeter’s smile widened. “What did you need, sir?”

“We just came back from a day of adventure, my classmates and I.” He turned to gesture. “We only need the standard process, guidance.”

“Of course.”

There was a hint of relief in his voice. For a second, Micah suspected his fake smile turned real. A crack in the facade or whatever Skill he was using, because it had to have been a long day dealing with exhausted, cranky, wounded, or overexcited teenagers in addition to the standard climbers who might have been extra cranky or exhausted because of those teenagers.

At the end of the day, would he really want to deal with a scion of his employers?

But he simply greeted the rest of them and put his facade back on in time for Navid to turn back to him.

“We did a deep tour of Folly at the Root and wounded one of Morgana’s minions.” He held the scale up like a prize. The [Greeter’s] eyes widened appropriately. “We have vines, lots of herbs, watermelons, stone shoots …?” He glanced at Micah. ”Dead cats and moles, a stone crab, a large spider-fox. A bit of everything. A lantern we might want to sell.”

“Then you will want to head to the common herbal section first,” he said and turned to point.

Micah pushed up onto his toes to follow his finger. The square lit up in his vision as if its outline had been illuminated in his mind’s eye. A bit like his [Aimed Shot] actually. Except, the traffic around it started to make more sense as well.

“Head around the discovery section for any curios you found as well as that mole you mentioned, then head over to produce, and use the eastern exit. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’ve had to make some rearrangements—”

“Oh, I’m well aware. My father sat us down to study the new layout months ago—”

“These were recent, sir. Two weeks ago in preparation for the summer? We opened up the entrances more and removed some of the installments—”

Navid frowned. “Terry is gone.”

“His skeleton was too large. We’re looking into ways we can hang him back up, but the good news is the company finalized our processing plans for most common loot from the lower floors, the ones students are most likely to frequent, so we reopened those stations—”

“Uhm! Excuse me, sir?” Micah cut in before he could stop himself. “You have processing plans?”

Those detailed monster parts’ values by way of their ubiquity, edibility, dangers, and most importantly, their uses. In other words, it could be invaluable for someone like him to get his hands on.

“Do you have copies for climbers? Do you sell them?”

The man gave him a wary look and glanced at Navid. “I’m sure the uh, various powers that be will have issued their own reports on the subject. Our plans are finalized with the help of in-house advisors, as far as I am aware. It’s the originals you would want to seek out.”

“In other words,” Navid said, “he has no idea what you’re talking about and if he did, there is a good chance it would be a company secret. Sorry, Micah.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, sir. Go on?”

He blinked. “It’s not a problem. I was nearly finished. Just know, the newly reopened stations were moved closer to the eastern exit for your convenience.”

“Got it. Thank you …” Navid said and checked his name tag, “Bryce. Have a nice night.”

“Thank you. You too, sir,” he said and inclined his head as they walked by, “as well as you.”

They expressed their gratitude and picked up the pace as they joined the stream of people, following the man’s advice to head closer to the back where a few catch-all stations had been set up in what had been dubbed the ‘discovery section’.

It was a positive spin on ‘we don’t know what this is yet, but we’re going to figure out as soon as possible so we’ll buy it cheap just in case,’ and one Micah could appreciate in his rising curiosity.

The whole tent called to him like a siren’s song, but … other topics demanded his attention.

As they walked through the stations, Ryan and Anne’s heads turned left and right, up and down—almost in concert—as they took in the other climbers, their equipment, loot, or the hints of personality the workers had brought to the tent, the decor, themes, even signs of magic.

Ryan stared at a hanging skeleton of what might have been a winged horse once.

Anne waved to someone she knew.

They looked like they were in love with the fantasy of it all, the theme of the themed restaurant, the monsters before they got dressed and cut into unrecognizable meat.

He was more interested in the rest, but he could have watched them for ages as they tried to be subtle about it. Well, Ryan tried.

Anne was pretty obvious.

“Are you uhm, a customer of the Madins,” he awkwardly asked as he shambled up to her side. “Do you prefer them over the Bluths?”

“Mm? Kind of. The Madin tents are closer. Whether or not they are always faster is up to debate—”

Navid shot her a look.

“It is! But I do like it here. It has … personality. Honestly, I would prefer the mystery and haggling of the Bazaar even more, but that’s just not feasible.”

“It’s not?”

She shook her head. “It’s too time-consuming.”

Shala elaborated, “You have to be immersed in the inner workings, have it be on your way to and from the Tower, have some sort of Skills to help, or contacts. We’re too young for the last one yet, so it’s not an option.”

“Not even the shops?” Ryan spoke up.

“It depends on the shop. Some curate to a specific clientele. Those can be targeted based on reputation, advertisements, or relationships, but it’s best if they have middlemen services like the Guild. [Brokers] and the likes.”

Ryan turned away from the conversation to look at Lisa and him. “That reminds me, we have to hurry so I can stop by the Guild after this. If they’re still open.”

“Why?”

“I want to look up some magic item options.”

“Really?!” Micah said. “Oh, we could brave the Bazaar on our way back. Lisa would probably want to buy stuff, too? Right?”

“I would?”

Ryan shook his head. “They’re right. It might take too long and there’s no guarantee I would find what I’m looking for. Besides, I don’t want to buy anything before I get back.”

“If you want to hurry,” Navid glanced at him, “you better know what loot you want to keep beforehand, Micah. The same goes for the rest of you.”

Right. He swung his pack around to get a sense of their haul. There was a short line, which thankfully could have given him more time to consider, but he wasted it gawking at the contents on the counters behind the scenes, where [Herbalists] washed, dried, and sorted a myriad of plant life.

It was a good thing he didn’t come here regularly, because seeing it was torture. He wanted to hop the counter like a [Thief] and scoop them all up, poisonous barbs and laws be damned.

One of the workers came to serve them and he was stuck with his apple mint, half of the stone shoots, some flowers, colorful tree bark and fruit he had harvested from the top of one of the plateaus, and some of the poisonous plants. They sold the rest.

Well, most of it. Some of the mundane herbs that some might call poisonous weeds, they wouldn’t buy. They were weeds anyone could grow in a crack in the road.

He should have seen that coming. Still, it was good to know for sure.

“Uhm, excuse me, ma’am? Could you tell us how much we could have gotten from these herbs as well? We want to keep them but—”

“Mhm,” she said and snatched his collection box away. He wasn’t quite sure she had understood what he wanted but nobody else seemed concerned.

He kept quiet. In a few minutes, she came back with a chit and a note with his box, and he sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem. Have a nice day.” She gave him a brief smile, turned to the line, and yelled, “NEXT?!”

They headed further into the discovery section, past a yard where golems were being dismantled, past an area that bordered it where magic items were appraised, to a relatively small counter in front of what looked like a yard of stacked boxes and piles of junk—objects which consumed marbles, dismantled traps, things that had been found in abandoned ruins, and more.

The collector’s scale went here apparently. Not quite a golem and not quite a magic item. Somewhere in-between, possibly a material like spellwood, but more likely to be scrap metal.

Maybe an [Artificer] would find some use for it?

When they said where they had gotten the scale from, the eyes of the woman at the counter went wide. She took one worn glove off, wiped her hand, and inspected the rusted metal.

She offered them a fair price, and it was probably more than what they might have gotten without Navid being there but …

Still, it wasn’t enough, and when Micah voiced his doubts, Lisa voiced her own. She might want to take it home …?

“Uhm,” the worker said and glanced at Navid, “this isn’t really a place to be haggling, sir …?”

“No, they’re serious. They’re sentimental like that.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a more enticing offer, then. Come back if you have a change of heart?”

“Will do, thank you!”

They got rid of their carcasses for expediency’s sake and doubled back to get rid of the rest of their produce.

“How many watermelons will we need?” Anne asked. “I can probably take one or two and they’ll be eaten by someone. Someone will steal probably them before I get a piece.”

“I know what that is like,” Micah grumbled. Prisha would steal his festival candy with her friends when they were kids, then ask if he was sure he hadn’t eaten it and forgotten, or forgotten it someplace in his stupidity?

They would always ask with a hint of a mean smile, too, because they knew he was powerless to do anything about it.

“We’re good,” Navid said, “our [Chefs] can order whatever they need. Though, Sion, do you think your siblings might want some?”

“No.”

“I’ll take one for my sister. I doubt she can sell them. Maybe the rest of the workshop people might want some, uhm … so eleven then?”

Ryan asked. “Eleven?”

“Two for Anne, three for me, Lisa could probably eat two on her own but Garen might want some if he’s home …?”

“He’s not getting any.”

“Then two for Lisa and— Oh.” Micah slowed down. Ryan’s family was gone. “Nine?”

“Nine,” he grumbled.

“Sorry.”

Ryan hesitated. “Maybe we can bring them some when we visit.”

Micah smiled.

Navid helped them handpick the best ones, and Micah asked if they could double-check to make sure that there wasn’t anything off about his. If a monster popped out of Lisa’s food, she might consider it a bonus snack. His sister would freak out.

Thankfully, checking for pests and parasites was one of the main things the workers here did, and the end result was much easier to carry, though the moment his body got a break, it demanded to know why it had to keep moving at all. His legs demanded a place to sit.

They sold almost all their crystals, and most everything else they’d found, but weren’t sure what to do with the lantern they had found.

“I thought one of you might want it,” Micah said, “since you seemed impressed. If not, I might take it? I could use a lantern.”

Unlike Ryan, he wasn’t learning a light spell and the basic light potions he made were kind of a hassle, just because of time concerns.

Ryan frowned. “Are you sure? You also bought some of the loot we found during our exam.”

“I know, I know. I mean, maybe we can find out its value first, and then I could decide if I want it?”

For all of his talk about needing money, Micah was spending a lot, especially after Ms. Denner had told him about his chance at a sponsorship. He knew he needed to slow down but he also needed good equipment.

He also still needed real armor again … Ugh.

“Sure, I could do that if you like? The guild tends to sell climbers short on item prices, but I know some people who could appraise it,” Navid said and changed directions, leading them toward the nearest register instead. “You’ll see Sion Monday, I believe? For your dance lessons?”

“Yes!”

And he would finally get to practice the choreography with Anne.

They almost launched into a conversation about that when Ryan noticed, “You aren’t coming with us tomorrow, Madin?”

“I had other arrangements … Why, are you going to back into the Tower already?”

“Obviously.”

“You really should take a break after stressful days like today,” Anne told him. “It’s like when you eat too quickly and don’t notice you’re full, but with exhaustion. Or injury.”

“You’re not going, Anne?” Micah asked.

“No. Sorry, I have lessons on Sundays.”

“Aw.”

“I’ve also got lessons,” Shala said.

So that left Ryan and Lisa, but that was also a good thing. Micah never had to worry about pushing them too hard, they had far more stamina than he.

“Uhm, what do you guys learn?”

“Combat training, family lessons—though they’re casual nowadays—and I have to write an essay for my tutor, then I have music in the afternoon. Although, my teacher might cancel on me again. He’s going through some stuff right now.”

“Same,” Shala said, “although Mrs. Odom would never miss a lesson. If she were to die, I would assume she has a phylactery lying around somewhere.”

Micah had so many questions. What kind of combat training? Did she have lessons with Garen still? They played instruments? Or was it singing lessons? Music history?

The questions distracted him from how little he did, in comparison to them, and suddenly his body wasn’t so tired after all. Their pace slowed as they talked and with a sigh, groan, and roll of the eyes, the three others physically dragged them to hurry them along.

They traded in their chits and got sweet, sweet coins as their reward. That shut them up.

Navid compared their earnings to their notes and divided it six ways. Micah’s share took a significant hit when they deducted the ingredients, crystals, and extra watermelons he had kept for himself.

He knew he was getting those at a significant discount; he could use the ingredients to make anything he wanted now, compared to how restricted he had been during the school year, but it was still a bummer to accept a smaller stack with a lot less silver than Lisa before him.

The money he earned, he could spend in a day or two. It was probably less than a day worker made, and he needed to buy a new climbing shirt after that acid attack.

Anne spoke up when Navid held her stack of coins out, “I’m good, Navid. I don’t need a share.”

“Huh?” They looked at her.

“What do you mean?” Micah asked, though part of him already knew.

“I mean, uh—”

“Anne,” Ryan spoke up. “Don’t.” He sounded more serious than angry, though there was a definitive tone of anger there.

For once, Micah didn’t admonish him.

She took the coins and mumbled, “Sorry.”

An awkward silence hung over them as they walked toward the exit. He understood she meant well, but it still hurt and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

He wondered what he should say. If he should address it at all, or try to tell her it was no big deal— That would be a lie. Should he change the topic?

Lisa took it out of his hands, “We’re coming back tomorrow anyway. Don’t be jealous when you see us walking around with awesome gear we found on the ninth floor.”

“I doubt I would be jealous.”

“Envious, then. Imagine we find something like that bat they found, Clay.”

“I— Mm.” Anne squinted.

“Ha!”

“And uhm,” Micah smiled intentionally, “I can finally make a proper stone skin potion, so you guys better find time to hang out again. We can try it out.”

“Stone skin can be fun,” Navid said.

“You can make it with just the shoots?” Shala asked. “Do you have a recipe, or have you made the potion before?”

“Well, no. I’ll have to buy one or two other ingredients, but I have some leftovers and it doesn’t take many Tower ingredients. Oh, and then I could wrestle with monsters! Ryan, do you think we could take on a boar? You wouldn’t have to wear all your layers of armor in the heat.”

“I— Huh?”

“Stoneskin potion. Do you want to go wrestle monsters next week? I’ll probably need a day or two to research and buy the ingredients—”

“Yes!” he said and seemed to push back his excitement. “I mean uh, sure. Sounds fun.”

Micah’s smile turned real and he grew excited again, even as they stepped out of the loot tent, which meant they were headed home.

The crowd thinned, as did the sounds, smells, and sights. The evening heat rose and his grimy skin began to sweat—probably because they’d crossed some invisible threshold of a Skill.

He didn’t mind. He enjoyed the heat, air, and even his itching skin as it reminded him of something else.

“Oh, and I bet I could make something to help me get a stone affinity, like a salve to simulate a super mud bath or—”

“Nope,” Lisa said. “One affinity at a time. Finish wind first.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m mostly done with my recipes for that, though.”

“Like what?” Anne joined the conversation again.

“Well, I made this mouthwash for my lungs, and I’m working on these modified breath and stamina potions— Oh, stamina as in the stat, not the resource. Although, I am trying to make them more of a resource for my body to digest, so I guess that blurs the lines …?”

Shala leaned in to stare at them in the draining light. His boots brushed by the rising hands of the plaza. “Elaborate?”

Micah smiled. Gladly.

For some reason, he hesitated though, and considered. “I’m trying to use alchemy to learn wind magic faster. That’s all. Chugging wind magic potions, cleaning my lungs, and so on.”

Short and simple.

Shala nodded. “Ah, so like primers and meal plans?”

“Exactly.”

They were on the same page. Hell, much of what he knew was thanks to someone like Shala—Lisa. Navid and Anne were likely the same, so of course, they were on the same page.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

It was easy to forget that sometimes, people could understand him if he just talked to them.

“It must be nice, being in charge of that yourself.”

“You’re not?”

Anne explained, “When you start a training program, you can hire someone to plan your meals for you, who knows about that sort of stuff on a deeper level than physical health alone.”

“Or rather, our parents do it,” Shala grumbled, “and the worst part is, they know when you cheat. Imagine honing your Path just to know when a kid buys a snack or skips a meal.”

“Do you get in trouble?”

“Like a kid who ate too much candy?” Ryan added.

Lisa scoffed. “‘Eating too much candy.’”

“They’re strict.”

Navid chuckled. “So? I do it anyway. It’s their job to make me eat right, not mine.”

“You can get away with it.”

“The whole point is not getting away with it, and shrugging off their displeasure.”

“I hate to admit it,” Lisa said, “but he’s right.”

“Please!” Anne said. “You would do everything your family told you, Lisa.”

“Who said anything about family? These are strangers hired.”

“Touché.”

They dallied on the way to the Guild after all, and it cut their goodbye short as they had to hurry if they wanted to get to the brokers before closing time. They also had to get home before late and get some sleep for tomorrow.

Micah hated that. There were too few hours in the day, in his opinion.

“See you Monday, then?” he said as they walked toward the giant doors.

“Yep.”

“Monday,” Shala echoed him.

“And we can go climbing sometime next week? Tuesday? I’ll have the stone skin by then. Or Wednesday?”

“We can figure it out then?” Anne said.

“Right. On Monday. But you will have time next week?”

“Yes! I definitely want to spend a lot of time in the Towers this summer. See you later, Micah.”

“See you.”

“Micah,” Lisa said as the others echoed their goodbyes or waved. He hadn’t stopped walking.

Reluctantly, he followed her away and walked backward until he was the only doing it. After a few steps, he turned back around, and yelled again, “Bye!”

“Good-BYE!” Navid yelled back and chuckled, and they left through the doors of the guild.

The lamps were on inside, and the street lamps shone in through the large windows that covered the walls. There were a surprising number of people outside.

Ryan led them westward in the marble halls, through a set of large doors, and up a flight of stairs to a second floor. It was still a public area, so it was far more spacious than the cramped maze of office spaces.

“What do you need?” Lisa asked. “I assume it’s something specific since they have a service fee.”

“I know, I need uh …” Ryan hesitated and glanced back. His voice was small. “Magic pants.”

“Hm?”

“Magic pants,” he croaked. “Or underwear. Better the pants, since I could wear those more often.”

“Mhm, mhm.” Lisa nodded to herself and chuckled, “What?”

“Pants can be cool. I’d want magic ones, too,” Micah offered, though Ryan had lost him as well.

“Look, uh, remember that book you lent me about advanced meditation forms?”

“Yes?”

No?

Which book was that?

“I’m pretty good at it. And the book says the space you find yourself in is a mental construct, so you can shape it however you want. I tried exercises to do that, but they take time and patience, and uh— I looked it up. You know how we have like, dozens of different auras?”

“Yes!” This, Micah knew. “There’s mana essence decay, natural essence decay from our bodies, like odor and stuff, our mental fields, spiritual field, dominion field, our layered holistic field and its skins, like the tassel, sheen, and mantle, there’s the field of influence we extend from those fields and any magical resources you might have, like mana, auras you might get from Skills or develop artificially, uhm—”

He struggled to remember more examples. He distinctly remembered there being a few more in the chapters he had read.

Something to do with their interaction with items? Resonance?

They stopped in front of a window, and the other two looked at him. “Have you been reading up on this?” Lisa asked.

“Yes? Well, I noticed this one aura during the sports festival, and I wanted to know if I could use it. I sort of picked up the basics. But it’s an entire field of research, like biology.”

“Yes. It is.” She turned to Ryan. “And this field of research is related to magic pants how?”

“Because we also have different spiritual layers you can meditate on,” he said, “some are deeper, some more shallow. Some exist for a single Skill. Like, I used to picture a large tree standing alone when I thought of [Bird Singing]. Now I can meditate on that tree through another meditation technique with other Skills in the same space.”

“I can meditate on [Savagery] alone?” Micah offered. “I run through different combat memories in my mind.”

“Exactly.” He awkwardly looked at an open door in the distance. The office?

Micah noticed a clock on the wall, and how close the hand was to half-past. Weren’t they in a hurry?

“Ryan,” Lisa said, “get to the point.”

“Well, uh— I can meditate on this one layer in the book that I thought was mental at first? It’s definitely mental in nature, but I think it might be a spiritual layer that connects all of my other Skills. A hub, of sorts. Since my [Pack Aura] has to be linked to other Skills to have any noticeable effect, I have to go there if I want to include someone new. I sort of imagine them near a campfire and uh …” He sighed deeply. “I don’t wear pants. Inside the hub.”

“Huh? What do you mean, you don’t wear pants?”

“I mean, I’m naked. Mentally speaking.”

“Oh,” Micah said.

He had made such a big deal of this but … Lisa and he both kind of just looked at him.

She put it into words. One word. “So?”

Magic was weird. As an [Alchemist], he knew that better than anymore. He could see his body’s blueprints written out in fractal lines if he licked his hand. And he didn’t wear pants when he bathed or showered. He did that with Ryan all the time—well, less often than they used to since Ryan was shy for no reason. But that wasn’t private. Meditation almost always was.

What was the issue?

“So,” Ryan said, more forcefully this time, “when you asked me to include Anne in the aura …”

“Uhm …? Ah—Oh!” Now, Micah got it. “So that’s why—! OH!”

“You included me, didn’t you?” Lisa asked, still sounding like she thought it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was!

“You included Lisa!” Micah realized.

“No. No. When I first made the Skill, I didn’t have to walk around in it. It was almost instinctual—”

Micah thought back. “You included Lea!”

He winced. “That’s when I realized there was a problem. Listen, I already have two temporary solutions of my own, but they take time, and it would help if I had—”

“Magic pants. With a binding enchantment of their own because you don’t know how to bind to items,” Lisa said it for him and rolled her eyes.

She took him by the arm and led him into the office, lightly pushing him toward the counter. There was only one other customer, who looked about ready to leave with a receipt in hand.

Micah checked the sign. They would only be open for six more minutes. It was rude to show up this late, but the broker didn’t seem to mind when Ryan walked up, awkwardly smiling at her.

Magic pants. He almost chuckled and wasn’t sure what to think. It was inappropriate in a private way, but Ryan had told them about it, and they were here to for a fix, so he knew Ryan would do the proper thing.

Lisa and he waited near the door, and he glanced at the rapidly dimming windows, swaying a bit on his feet to some nonexistent tune. They were in the heart of their city and it seemed so quiet.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Was he? Yes, he was.

“Today was a good day, mostly.”

“Mostly,” she echoed. “Tomorrow, you’ll be aching. ‘Sure you want to rush right back into the Tower?”

He shrugged. “I’ll do another check-up before I wash-up, but I think I’ll sleep well.”

“There is medicine for relieving sore muscles and bruises, you know. Even potions to let you work out nonstop instead of just relieving pain.”

“I know, but thank you. I still have some of our slime salve lying around somewhere, I think.”

“‘Our’?”

“Mason’s and I. He made the base recipe. I modified it to my needs. It’s muscle rub.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you want some for tomorrow morning, for your sore muscles?”

“I won’t have any sore muscles.”

“Sure,” he said, like he believed that. “You kept up all day, too, even if you didn’t get hit, even if you have your magic strength.”

“Micah.” She looked at him. “Trust me. I won’t have any sore muscles.”

“Okay.”

He believed her.

The broker chuckled at something Ryan said, and she waved him off when he tried to explain, but he was smiling, too. Even better than Micah, Ryan was in a good mood, despite having had to spend a day with Anne and the others. Maybe because of it.

The way he could instantly charm someone he’d just met made him think of the way Anne had charmed the guild workers by the end of their interaction.

He thought of the way their heads had moved in concert inside the loot tent …

“I knew it,” he whispered.

“What?”

“They’re so similar. I always thought, if they just talked to each other and hung out a bit more …”

“Ryan and Anne?”

“Yeah, they have so much in common. They both love the Towers, adventures, and stories. They both love their families, from what I’ve heard, and they’re super awesome at sports and school and stuff. They’re both good, you know? And they’re fans of Garen.”

“For different reasons. Anne didn’t just seek Garen out because he helped execute a dragon.”

“She didn’t?”

“She saw something in him and then heard all of his other stories. She looks up to him, despite how much of a goofball he is.”

Micah chuckled. He’d never heard her call him that, and he wondered where Lisa had gotten the word from, but it kind of fit.

“She really does love adventure, doesn’t she?” he wondered out loud.

“Yes.”

“Oh!” he realized, “I should have offered her some of the muscle rub. Hopefully, her combat training won’t suck because of today. She had that fall?”

“Her family will take care of her, Micah. I wouldn’t worry about it. Besides, maybe she will level or something and be happy about that. Don’t you people always look forward to that after a day of excitement? Levels?”

“‘You people’,” he mocked her and poked her midriff. “You have levels now, too, Lisa. But maybe, if she wants to level, I hope she will in … Wait, is she an [Adventurer]?”

“No.”

He hadn’t thought so, but he kept on finding new stuff out about her. He hadn’t been sure anymore. “Oh. But it would suit her?”

“She did want to be one when she was younger,” Lisa said, “but her family forbade it.”

Micah blinked. “Huh?”

“They gave her a list of options. She chose [Paladin] because it was closest to what she wanted. Besides, [Paladin] is flexible like [Cleric]. Their Skills differ from faith to faith so she can shape it however she likes.”

“Wait, but why would they forbid her from becoming an [Adventurer]?” She had never once said a single bad word about her family. They weren’t supposed to be like his at their worst.

Lisa gave him a look. “Micah, you know why.”

“No?”

“Come on—”

“That’s stupid. Why wouldn’t they let her be who she wants to be?”

“For the same reason why Navid is only allowed to take backup Classes as a Backup Son, or why Sion is slotted to join the Madin’s private security force by his twenties,” she told him. “The type of families they grow up in? That means something.”

“What? You can’t just force someone not to get a Class. How would that even work? If they want a Class, especially as climbers, they’ll—”

“They don’t want it. Or at least, they don’t think about wanting things they shouldn’t.”

He froze. That was horrible.

“So if ask her—?”

“Micah,” Ryan said in a tired tone, suddenly there with a receipt in hand, “don’t bother Anne about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not your place—”

“I’m her friend.”

“And she’s yours, but when she refused her share of the loot, how did you feel? This is the same thing—”

“That’s different,” he insisted at the same time.

Lisa led them out of the office, and he argued, “I mean, don’t you agree? How would you feel if you were forced to have a Class you didn’t want?”

Ryan sighed and set his jaw, looking ahead. “Do whatever you want, Micah, like you always do, but take my advice? Don’t be thoughtless when you mess in other people’s lives, whether it be a simple gesture like refusing your share of the loot, or giving someone false hope by digging up something that had better been left buried.”

He sounded exhausted and kept on walking, as if he wasn’t invested in this at all.

Micah turned to Lisa, ready to argue semantics with her like she always did, but she just glanced at him and shrugged.

He was alone.

“So are you two headed back to school?” Lisa asked on the plaza outside the guild’s entrance.

“Yeah, to drop off his supplies and some other stuff, and get the— uh, your spellbook. Thank you for that again. We’re headed to the bathhouse after. Want to come? Food and a wash.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

A few meters above, a silver cloud mimicked the gesture with a replica of his hand, its detached palm splitting into a sharp, toothy grin.

Micah stared at it, expressionless. The mouth lost the staring contest and hung its shoulders like a sad dog as it floated away.

“I have to head home. Drop off Anne’s gear, check on things. The grounds are empty a lot of the time and we don’t have the luxury of Mave’s protections now. We had a solicitor knock on our door a few days ago, if you can believe it.”

He smiled. “Really? What for?”

“I don’t know. They had a pamphlet or something. I told them to leave and slammed the door. Ugh, it’s going to be annoying when people stop ignoring the house, or if young impressionable fans start showing up. You know the type, those young adults who are still invested in children’s plays, or who ask people for their autographs—”

He shoved her. “Ha-ha. I get it. See you tomorrow, then? Maybe a little earlier so we can find out where to go.”

“Sure. Half an hour, maybe?”

He nodded. “Good night.”

“‘Night.”

“‘Night …” Micah mumbled and shambled off.

Saturday night, the city was busy. They weren’t the only people of their age who were out and about, and a lot looked like they were getting drunk at the nearby taverns and bars.

Celebrating freedom?

It would be another year before he could drink beer, and who knew, he might have a Skill that made it impossible for him to get drunk by then.

Would he be the same as he was now, an outsider who couldn’t join in?

After a few more minutes, Ryan ducked back into the building by a side exit and led them through the Maze—one of the nicknames for the interconnected offices, restaurants, hallways, buildings, and abandoned spaces that made up the ringed wall at the heart of their city.

It was an odd choice, but maybe he wanted to get away from the sounds and smells, or he thought this was a shortcut?

“You know, there are rumors about people squatting here,” Micah said, “in some of the abandoned buildings the church used to use, underground chambers, hidden passages, and blood-drenched altars from long-dead cults.”

“Somehow, I doubt the Guild would allow that.”

“Criminals use these places to meet up. Our teachers told us not to go wandering off at night.”

Well, technically they’d forbidden them from doing it because they might trespass on private property, but the implication had been there.

“Have you even asked her how she feels about her Class, Micah?”

“We might get ambushed; attacked by another two-faced asshole climber for no good reason, and have to break his leg in self-defense.”

“You’re grumpy. She seems happy about being a [Paladin], and Anne isn’t the type to lie.”

“People lie to themselves all the time, Ryan,” Micah snapped.

He sighed. “You know, I heard the Heswarens have different colors for different types of lies. If you tell a white lie, your tongue turns white. Or your teeth? Not sure. Whatever represents it. Teeth, smiling, good intentions …? Either way, it’s a short effect, but if you keep telling white lies, your teeth stay that way forever.”

“Yeah. So?”

He knew that, though Anne didn’t like to talk about it so he didn’t pry. People were lit up in different colors to them. Silver tongues, golden hearts, hazy eyes, bloody hands—they weren’t just metaphors to them.

“So, if she were lying to herself about liking her Class, don’t you think her parents would notice?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never met them. They might be two-faced assholes who don’t care about her.”

“Micah, sometimes it’s healthy to settle for ‘good enough’, but this seems more like a difference between ‘perfect’ and ‘great’. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Anne was supposed to be happy. She deserves to be. And I want to make sure she is.”

They walked in silence for a moment longer and he mumbled, “And I’m not sure how to do that … but I have to try?”

Ryan glanced at him and reached out to ruffle his hair. Micah tried to pull back, but he slung an arm over his shoulder and tapped him there. With another deep sigh, he said, “I know.”

The trip to school and all the way back home was long but eventually, they turned onto a familiar street under street lamps.

Micah wanted nothing more than to soak in a warm bath. He was tired enough that part of him would have even preferred taking a quick shower so he could get to bed sooner—blasphemous though the thought was—but when they got closer, he noticed a new sign over the door.

“Did your sister level up?” Ryan asked.

“Someone must have.”

The sign depicted a heart with pluses rising from it like steam, one of a few symbols that could be used and personalized by business owners within certain limits. It signified this bathhouse would have a health benefit for its visitors.

Behind a window, he spotted a more official plaque from the inspection agency in a thick frame.

Micah ducked inside, chucked his shoes off—his boots were in a sack with most of his dirty equipment—and glanced down the private hallway to the kitchen where the smells of hot food trailed like ribbons through the air.

He spotted one of the hired [Cooks]. No sister.

The dining area actually turned more crips in the darkness as he walked toward it, as it was cooler than the summer heat despite its occupants, and Micah misjudged the volume of the cutlery against dishes and gentle conversations: they didn’t grow louder when he went inside.

“Prisha!” he shouted over the conversations.

A few customers glared at him. Others, parents who were used to kids yelling about, kept on dining, some in comfortable bathrobes they offered.

He ducked his head down and reminded himself, Indoor voice.

They often had to yell to communicate in the Tower … not that his volume issues were recent.

But, it did get the job done. His sister ducked in from the far hallway and spotted him, an empty tray and a coin purse in hand. She waved him over. He jerked a thumb back. They split up, down two different routes to avoid bothering customers.

They met up in the large, central hallway that led to the outdoor areas and the central yard, and headed for the kitchen after all.

“Micah!”

“Prisha!”

“Just the brother I wanted to see.”

“Aw— Wait, what?” He squinted at her. “What do you want?” Not for a second did he believe she would rather see him over Aaron. Aaron was cool, and Aaron was absent.

“I leveled.”

“I saw!”

“You saw?”

“The sign?”

“Oh, that’s from Neil. He got an immunity booster for the water. Get this, it works for the baths, sauna, and a humidification spell this one inspector cast. Isn’t that great?”

“Eh.”

“What do you mean, ‘eh’?”

“It’s just, whenever you see a sign like that, you know a bunch of parents with their toddlers will be hanging around. Right, Ryan?”

“Please don’t drag me into this.”

"So what? What do you go to a bathhouse for, huh?! You pervert—"

He laughed and skipped away before she could swat him, a little too slow as her hand brushed past his hair, and stepped into the kitchen where the food was.

He wasn’t stupid enough to reach for one of the trays being prepared for customers, but he knew they kept snacks in the small pantry.

“Ah, ah, ah!” She dragged him back and pointed. “You’re filthy. Sit over there or stay in the other room.”

“So you leveled?” Ryan asked from the doorway. “Congratulations. It’s nice to see you, by the way.”

“Thank you, Ryan. It’s nice to see you, too. I got a new Skill, and I wanted to get your opinion on it, Micah.”

“Oh?” He perked up. She wanted his help? This was new. He would have to check his schedule, maybe update his rates, consider a family discount.

Ryan glanced at them, the far door, and walked out in the hallway, no doubt mapping around the kitchen rather than walking through it covered in grime.

She set two glasses down, one water and the other elderberry juice, and poured a bit of the latter into a cup. “Drink this.”

He was glad to, having run out of water ages ago. He knocked it back, sighed, and held the cup out for more.

She took it, poured the bare minimum in, and filled it a third of the way up with water, then said, “Now drink it.”

Micah could see where this was going—had she gotten some other health benefit for drinking water instead? He wasn’t really opposed to diluted juice, not like other teens, since the school cafeteria offered watery juice and he was used to drinking mainly water by now.

His eyebrows still shot up. “It tastes the same? Hey Ryan, try this!”

“[Tasteful Dilution],” she said, as Ryan knocked the cup back. “I was wondering if you could help me analyze it. You know, as an [Alchemist]?”

“Oh, good idea! Pour. Let me see.” He put his stuff aside and crouched down to be at eye level.

She repeated the steps and he kept an eye on the essences and patterns but when the two mixed, it was hard to keep track of the chaos.

“Do it with two different glasses, let me check both beforehand?”

“Mhm.”

Ryan knocked the other one back.

“The balance definitely shifted,” he mumbled as the fluids met. “The water essence thinned. The uhm, quote-unquote ‘elderberry essences’ increased. Are you waxing, waning, or converting though? The quantity of the pattern stays the same …

“Somehow, I doubt it’s Helanic. That reaches deep. Unless, is there a different kind of conversion other than near-border crossings?” He would have to ask Lisa, or think about it himself, but …

He shook his head. “Either way, it’s too little, too strong. That extra bit of elderberry essences is like shaving crumbs off a crystal. Something else is going on behind the scenes to make this work.”

“So?”

“So! Uhm. Uhhh …” Micah gave her an awkward look and lost his swagger. “I have no idea this works?”

“I didn’t ask you—”

“We would have to test it! Find ways to source and measure the shift, maybe I could try to borrow some glasses to see if it’s a type of essence I can’t see. If not natural, mana, or emotional, it might be conceptual, or some kind of influence you have, like an aura, or uhm …”

He trailed off, thinking of how Brent still insisted that ‘taste’ wasn’t the same thing as essences. What if there really were whole other types of lesser magic that he hadn’t thought of?

He didn’t want to dismiss the possibility of a different method of essence conversion either.

“I could ask a classmate if he could come by and check?”

“No, Micah. Listen: I didn’t really want to know how it works. I was wondering, uhm, if you could check whether or not it would work with fire potions …?”

“Huh?”

Why would she …?

Oh. She was trying to squeeze every bit of value out of the Skill that she could get, because Micah knew, his sister wasn’t really rich either.

Neil and his family had brought the bathhouse back from the brink of ruin, in spite of his father’s debts and other problems, and they were still struggling to pay off bills. Especially with new projects under way.

“Of course. Do you have any samples from the potions?”

“Yes! I prepared some—”

“Oh and uhm, does it only work with water or …?”

“It works with lots of stuff? Milk, oils, stocks—fluids. I’m still experimenting to get the measurements right when cooking or I mess everything up.”

“Maybe some olive oil, or whatever you have then.”

She left.

Ryan tapped his shoulder. “Give me your stuff. I’ll give you two some privacy, clean our equipment, then wash up and we can catch up for dinner?”

“You don’t have to leave, and I can clean my equipment myself.” He preferred doing it himself.

“It’s fine. You’re family, and this way I get to read the spellbook some. I wouldn’t have wanted to laze around in the baths for too long.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.” He handed him his leftover bags, aside from the watermelons.

Prisha came back with a few labeled jars of the different fire potions they used for the lamps, stove, and boiler, as well as a few greasy bottles of cooking oil, and they tried mixing and burning.

He kept an eye on the patterns for their input and output rates rather than focusing on the blurry flame or fire essences he couldn’t see.

There was definitely some kind of effect, but not the one she was looking for. She boosted aspects of the potion that would correspond to taste, he guessed.

He couldn’t see how, and only fragments of the effect, so that was an issue, but he didn’t have to know something existed to infer from its properties …

He shook his head.

She was diluting the pattern and pushing everything out of balance. The essences that corresponded to human taste didn’t automatically correspond to maintaining the function of a potion.

It was an issue he’d come across when experimenting with emotion essences fueling patterns, that things didn’t always work right—or at all. Sometimes, the best you could hope for was an alloy of sorts.

Prisha sighed. “No?”

“Uhm, you know how you sometimes add a bit of oil to lamps to make the dregs burn longer? You might be able to get more out of that than others but otherwise … No.”

“I guess it was too much to hope for. I had to ask.”

“I know.” Micah groaned as he got up on a bruised leg and sat on the chair closest to the door.

She took the other chair and poured him another cup.

“Thank you. If I had my books, the workshop, and a day with you, I could do the math and write you up some charts on how you’re affecting the intensity, heat, shape, and light of the flame, and qualities of the potion itself, if the imbalance creates any side-products which could harm the potion, or the container, or you, if they are hazardous, like phantom gases, but uhm …”

He drank as he gathered his thoughts. “Even then, I doubt it would be cost-effective? I could make you a recipe that made the most of it if you gave me a few more days of your time, but I wouldn’t have the time to make it, and if you custom ordered it …”

“It would cost more.”

The average [Alchemist] saved costs by making things in bulk. They had Skills to help.

At higher levels, some even had spells like [Mass Dissolve] and [Mass Dissettle] to use on large vats.

“It will still save us on beverage costs,” she said, “and cooking costs with a little more practice. We were thinking we could advertise it alongside Neil’s new Skill. A short description in our menus like, ‘Thanks to our Skilled [Cooks], our meals are healthy and savory at an affordable price!’” She smiled and waved it aside. “Or something. If we do it right, it won’t seem cheap. It could make us the place to think of when you think ‘healthy’ in the area.”

“That’s awesome?”

“It’s a gimmick,” Prisha brushed it off again, “everyone in the service industry has some, whether they tell you or not. If Neil hadn’t gotten his Skill, we probably would have bought fancy bottles to serve our beverages in so I could have used mine tastefully. It doesn’t even work that well with some things like sauces or milk because of consistency, you know?”

“Consistency … Oh, if you mix water and oil, or like, water and milk …?”

“Flavor-wise, it tastes the same,” she said, “but it’s still not something you might want to drink.”

“But uhm, won’t it take long for you to adjust all your recipes to a Skill? How long will it be until you can advertise that in your menus?”

She gave him a dry look. “I know how to cook, Micah. The Skill itself is fairly simple. I can plan it out on paper.”

“Oh! But what if—” He had an idea and put a foot up against his seat. “What if you didn’t have to? We could go to the Registry together and read up on your Skills! All of them! Some books even have these feat threads where they list ways in which people have found out how to use their abilities, tips and tricks and stuff. They might have something for you?”

“I, uhm— The Registry?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s in the Climber’s Guild, is it not? Directly next to the Tower?”

“Yeah, but they’re separate. And I have some free time on Monday because of dance lessons and shopping. I could show you around, and Neil if he wants to come.”

He saw the hesitation in her face and bent down to make sure she had to look him in the eyes as he begged, “Please? Think of it as my birthday trip.”

“Maybe. I’ll see if I can clear my schedule. If not, maybe we could do it some other time. That being said, we do have to talk about your birthday: What are we doing?”

“Oh. Uhm, I thought, we could have some cake and coffee here whenever you, and mom, and dad have time.”

“So you want them to come?”

He nodded. “But that’s all. One cake I’ll buy myself and some catching up. I don’t want to have anything big planned. Today was already most of the fun with my friends that I could want in a day, and I’ll get to do everything else this summer.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded more forcefully and tried to change the subject, “That reminds me!” He turned and lugged the heavy sack onto the table, then slowly rolled the watermelons out. One of them was cracked. He spun it so the damage wasn’t visible. “I brought gifts!”

“Watermelons? Did you buy these or—”

“Found them.” He grinned. “In the Tower. A whole garden. We had to fight a marble statue with glowing eyes and a bunch of spiky vines to earn them.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Not much. I’ll persevere. Uhm, I brought back three so we could share …? Lisa took two for herself. Anne took two for her family.”

He fished out the last one and checked the bag for anything he might have forgotten, then put it aside.

“Anne, huh? No wonder why you don’t want to spend your birthday here.”

“Shaddup. Take the watermelons! They’re free. Have you ever had one?”

“I have. They’re good, though they’re kind of messy. Did you want to eat them now, or …?”

“After I wash up, with Ryan, you, Neil, whoever else is around? I also wanted to ask you, uhm— I know you can’t sell Tower stuff, but is this alright?

“The watermelons?”

“This in general.” He waved over the table, though Ryan had taken their things so it was an empty gesture. “Like, how do we handle this? Can I bring gifts, fruit, meat, loot?”

“Loot?” she asked, and the word sounded strange coming from her, as though she had never said it before and the pronunciation was off, though it wasn’t.

“Magic items that might be useful? I found a kettle that boils water without fire! And I find all sorts of fruit and stuff, even in treasure chests.”

Micah gestured wildly as he spoke. When he finished, he waited.

She frowned and tapped her fingers on the table. “I don’t know, Micah. This and the occasional monster meat might be fine for us. I still want to cook something for Amaya, but … no. I’m sorry, but no magic items. We don’t need them. It’s better if you use or sell them for things you need.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. My classmates do it, bringing back items for their families. I just wanted to offer but it’s fine.”

She grimaced. “ … Also, maybe try not to be too obvious about it when you do bring things back?”

“Obvious?”

“Like, today was fine because teens are always covered in dirt, but please don’t show up in full climbing gear and sacks of ‘loot,’ then yell into the dining room. It might disturb our guests.”

“Oh … Oh yeah, of course! Sure,” he quickly assured her though he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

It had been his decision, to live his life like this. She was so supportive by helping him pay for his tuition and everything but …

He shoved the feelings aside. It was her life here that mattered, not his. “I can do subtle. You know me. I spent years barely saying a word to anyone.”

She smiled. “I don’t want you to go back to that, but thank you for asking me about it, Micah.”

“Thank you,” he said and shoved one of the green fruit in front of her, “for preparing these for me, because I have no idea how to do it. Is there a special way to eat them, do you have eat to them with something like salt or pepper or something?” He chuckled. “I have no idea.”

He hadn’t wanted to ask the others and look like even more of an idiot at the end of the day.

“No, you cut them into triangles and just eat … unless …” She rolled one closer and stood up, looking back to the kitchen. “You know, thanks to Neil’s new Skill, we can use Del’s ventilation Skill more freely. When she came by to adjust it, she noticed her [Cold Storage] had expanded. We have an extra drawer’s worth of space we could use to make popsicles? Oh, you learned those ice spells, did you not?”

“I did?”

“I can dilute them and they’ll taste the same. It’s just a frozen liquid after all. Do you want to make watermelon popsicles or ice cream?”

He shot up. “I do!” That sounded perfect. “Let me go ask Ryan. I’ll wash up and—”

“Ask your cousins first if they want to help,” Prisha told him and picked two of the fruit up.

“I’ll do it after?”

“Last time I asked them to do something, it took them an hour to start. Better now. If they’re late, it’s their fault.”

“Okay.” He got his bag and hesitated. “Uhm, where are they?” He hadn’t seen them on the street or the dining area. He was pretty sure he would have heard them if they were here.

She spoke over her shoulder. “I don’t know? Around, somewhere. Probably playing in the street or park. Go find them.”

He considered asking if she could do it, but she was technically still working and he knew he would lose the argument if he tried. He groaned. “Fine.”

“Oh, and ask their parents for permission first, if it’s alright with them if they eat Tower fruit!”

“And where are they?!”

“I don’t know? At home, or at work— Just go to Del’s and ask her for the rest! She’s closest.”

“Argh!” he groaned.

“Don’t complain. What are you, a baby?”

“I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

“I don’t see you moving?”

“I AM!”

“THEN GO!”

“I WILL!”

“HURRY UP!”

“SHUT UP!”

Stupid cousins. Stupid sister. Stupid detour. He grumbled as he put his shoes back on. The baths were right there. He could see the humidity in the air, and Ryan was probably alone.

Once, Micah had peeked over his shoulder while he read the spellbook. He wanted to do it again.

But no, he had to go back out into the dark and heat to go talk to … his family, whom he could still speak to.

He hesitated, turned, and went back inside, one hand on the door frame. “Hey, Prisha?”

“What?!” she said a little too loudly, still with that fake annoyance.

He’d dropped his. “I’m totally going to be rich and famous someday,” he said, “super successful, high level, smart, and all that, but uhm … if I’m not, you’d still want me around, right?”

They don’t love you anymore.

She looked back with a bemused face as if to say, What kind of question is that? “If you don’t annoy me too much, maybe.”

He chuckled … and lingered. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” she answered, exasperated.

Micah sighed. It had known Sion’s name, the same as Anne knowing the names of those workers. Part of him had thought maybe …

No.

Malevolent, he reminded himself. Malevolent. Just another type of trap, probably a spirit. A mean, old, stupid spirit like that dumbass fire spirit whom he had to play nice around.

Micah hadn’t been sure anyone loved him. It would have been sad to find out when it was already too late.

“Don’t just stand around there, move!” Prisha complained.

“I AM!” he yelled back with a smile and left to go spend time with his family.