Mushroom soil. Serib was restless in the now dim Club, having lost a card game or few too many.

“It’s not very fair.” She frowned.

“Why?” Woid smirked, taking another sip of something strong The Dam’e had ‘lying around’.

Serib snatched a card from his deck and read: “When your opponent has less life than you, their next turn is yours unless countered.”

“What’s unfair about that? You’ll get the tang of it. You have the same card.” He showed her.

∞

“It’s a waste, we should be out there finding Lay’d Payn or fighting with Shay. The monks outside will find their way in eventually.”

“There’s a trap door and false floor too many.” Woid stood and stretched. “Too many decoy rooms that fill with gas or worse… and tunnels leading nowhere. Nowhere good, anyway.”

“But Time is murdered.” Serib pressed. “It works in our favour and against it.”

“Those don’t sound like your words.” Woid looked around at familiar things, hands in his pockets. Serib hadn’t noticed when he had changed into a fancier outfit. “Another riddle from Lay’d Payn?” he asked.

“I think so, it’s hard to remember. There was a strange tea we would drink, helping me remember some things and forget others.”

Woid’s face curled up, impressed. “The things we do.” He muttered.

∞

“Your eyes are looking funny, without the ha-ha.” Woid examined Serib shortly after, whom with a snap replied:

“Your eyes are worse.”

“Is there a mirror around… here.”

Around a leafy pillar strewn with little bulbs that will never again glow, a mirror yawned reflections from ceiling to floor. Underneath the hood of Serib’s lightning robes, her eyes were alight with sporadic electricity, zapping across her cheeks and forehead.

“Told you.” Woid wondered what it was all about, but Serib was interested in other things as one of the tenders dressed in Grey poured a glass of water for a wounded Shadow.

∞

She stared at the jug.

“Thirsty?” Woid asked or offered.

“My master could heal the world with that water.” She looked down at her little hands. “Water doesn’t speak to me yet. Only Earth and its lightning.”

“Shay mentioned your water helped clean where she’d been shot… you’re doing fine.” Woid winked. “Hopefully we can all stick around each other after this.”

Serib smiled, unable to find the words to explain the water boiled without her meaning it to, that she had the power to conjure but not control. Unlikely he would be interested, but maybe you will be?

"Do you mean that?" she asked with focus. "Sticking around."

"Why not? Might be the Timelessness talking, but I think you've known me and Shay far longer than this." Woid glanced out of the windows, to the fire beyond their smear and gleam. "You know what you're up to."

Serib nodded: “If Lay’d Payn’s plan works, we won’t need to worry about anything ever again. What will you wish for?”

∞

“That’s what this Lay’d Payn is doing, granting wishes?” He scoffed at first but Woid did think about it, offering Serib to play another game, appearing in this place and that place to gather up the cards her frustration had thrown away.

“Is there any way to make tea, here?” she could little contain her energy, in no mood for another game.

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“The Dam’e’ll have a fine collection, should be upstairs.” he finished with a gulp the stronger stuff he had been drinking.

Serib was only half listening, opening a drawer in The Dam’e’s desk to look, finding it full of props rolling towards her; fake eyes and the like, all similar to what Shay had at her shop. A roll of tight gauze. Documents.

“Is that skin?” Serib picked up a sheet of bloody goo.

“It’s supposed to look like burnt skin… definitely does. Fine work.” Woid thumbed around as well in the drawer.

“Does that mean… who were we speaking with?” Serib asked.

“Looked like The Dam’e to my eyes, sounded like her to my ears.” Woid shrugged, one hand rummaging the other drawers and one hand in his pocket.

A nearby tender overheard them or thought they did: “Tea?” They pointed Serib and Woid towards a double-spiralling staircase, weirdly leading both up and down simultaneously.

“Less souls fall up or down it than you’d think.” Woid was already sitting on the bottom step while Serib was still walking over to it. “Try not to overthink as you walk up the weird thing.”

∞

Serib walked past him, and by her head passed the plodding heads of upside-down Shadows, walking on the ‘other’ stairs. Them and Woid were greeting one another cheerily, their cordial exchanges befitting his fancy outfit, but not their more murderous garbs. Serib was distracted by the confusing stairs and fell over.

“What did I say? Don’t overthink it.” Woid laughed. “Fruity?” he called down after, and Serib could hear the creaking of cupboards.

“Smoky, or bitter.” Finally reaching the top of the confusing steps she saw a glass-through pantry dedicated solely to tea, and parlours of now-dusty chairs and tables.

“Me and Shay come here for cake and a drink after most jobs. I always thought it was downstairs, not up? Why did I say upstairs...”

∞

Woid waited for the flavours to brew fully and played a breathy meanwhile-tune on his pipe. Serib crouched pitifully behind a railing as a light beamed in from the window. There was a trawling searchship staring their bulbs at her, then roaming past her unaware.

“Relax, we’ll look like a cliff-side to them, or whatever illusion The Dam’e has put up.”

∞

Having settled from her fright, Serib noticed the tea pantry reminded her of Shay’s shop, with the ladders rolling from one set of shelves to another.

“Do you think she’s safe?” the young shaman asked.

Woid clicked a few quiet buttons on a machine, and steamy vapour gushed out of it. He wafted his hand and spluttered:

“I’ll have to try again… difficult to know the temperature to ask for. No numbers, right? Ha! I know it’s higher than eight. Too cold for iced tea in here; fancying something piping.”

Serib smiled. Finally, he replied:

“Shay’s safe but she isn’t - what I mean is the situation won’t be, but she’ll figure her way out of anything.”

∞

Serib brushed the dust off a suitable table. After some experimenting, Woid had managed to get some hot water going.

“Looks fine to me.” He was most pleased.

Serib sniffed what he had made. “You found far-bark?”

“You make tea with it, where you’re from!”

“No, mostly we crush it over soup or chew it in Spring.”

“Umm…” Woid held the tray helplessly, fading from his previous excitement.

“I’ll try it.” She grinned.

∞

Woid added as a garnish some sort of fruit for Serib’s pot and cup. His own was an entirely fruity affair of infusions. Afterward, he brought a tray of fine pastries.

“First thing I’d go for in a crisis is cake.” He chomped away. “Fancy leaving these behind!”

Serib’s far-bark tea, with other additions, came out spicy and smoky. She sat very contently, with both hands cupping the large mug.

“More a mug of tea than a cup of tea, I thought.” He sipped his fruity heat from a dainty, almost regal cup.

Serib nodded happily in agreement until she announced:

“We’re leaving after this.”