Phony Potions

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The air was already losing heat as the sun had disappeared entirely behind the city walls. Its beams bouncing off the clouds kept Blythe visible, but the lantern lighters were hard at work in preparation for the fast approaching night. I didn't notice much of the city this trip, my attention being divided between staying balanced on Flatchert and having a hard time yanking my eyes away from the map Winsor had given me. An Enchanted map, if it hadn't been cast specifically for me, I could sell for a pretty bit of coin. I had never owned anything like it before. Even though it was inked with sauce and a careless rhyme by a bored, disenfranchised youth instead of fine parchment lovingly worked by a cartographer's quill, it was infinitely more valuable.

If I hadn't been staring at it, I would have never noticed how the map was growing slightly as I drew nearer to the destination. I wasn't marked on the map, but I realized that it was determining where the map itself was, and then only showing the distance between that spot and the destination, gradually increasing the details of the buildings, roads, and alleyways that lie as obstacles and shoving off the page any unnecessary information regarding areas outside my current concern. It was mesmerizing.

Yes, it would definitely pay off to make friends with this kid, even if Mallow and I only stayed the time it took to get the shoes and sell the second round of potions. I arrived at the Potionary and saw the nicely engraved sign hanging from brass loops outside the front door. I secured Flatchert.

I pushed open the door. It was heavy. As I closed it behind me, I noticed a triple bolt locking system, the metal glinting dully in the lantern light. The sunlight from the windows was cut by the heavy wooden beams spaced closely together, not quite resembling prison bars due to the designs on them, but definitely impossible to climb through.

"We're about to close, so please make your choice quickly," said a man behind the counter, peeking his head out to nod to me before resuming his duty tallying up the customers before him. I analyzed the wooden room and saw many Assistants, some with ingredients from the small wooden drawers that sat against the lower part of the wall, tidy labels affixed to the exterior. A lot of common ingredients there, the ones used in both potions and cooking, like sugar and saffron. More exotic labels were affixed to drawers. The nearer the counter where the store keeper could keep watch, the more precious the contents of the drawer.

Opening one, I saw dozens of tiny pearls nestled in cushioned velvet. My reflection was distorted by the milky swirls of their shining surfaces. Another I opened had a glass top that kept the contents from flittering away into the room. It took me a second to realize the storm of matter was gold flakes jostled by the drawer moving. They were the kind that crumbled off of illuminated pages or gilded jewelry. The bottom layer was powdered, but maybe that worked well for potion making? I tried the next drawer, this one painted black. It was locked.

"Oh, you need a sorcerer to get into that one." One of the Assistants told me as she gingerly picked up yellow-white slivers of something familiar but that I could not place. "That's spectral other being plasma. You don't want to get any on you and be consumed by madness because you can't cast any counter magic."

"No, of course not." I said, my hands immediately dropping from the latch. I backed up too quickly and bumped into another Assistant, but they graced me with only a huff of annoyance and scooted over. I kept exploring the shop.

On the shelves were potions. Potions. I jammed my hands onto my hips to keep from sweeping all of them off the shelf and running for it. I would be rich forever if only I could guarantee I wouldn't get caught. No one else was phased by them. I took deep breaths in and out in order to calm myself and rein in my impulse to steal the potions. If I stole them and sold them, they would be real potions and it'd be the first real potion I'd ever sold legitimately, and the second time I'd ever stolen. (The first was the single dose healing potion I still had tucked away in my sash). After one particularly deep, cleansing breath, I noticed the shelves had a freshly cut smell to them.