Chương 26: Chapter Twenty-Six

I was numb by the time we made it to the potion masters. Nine different seamstresses. Nine! Each one had to measure me. Have us pick out cloth. Had to be convinced that yes, I was eighteen. And no, I do not want cute bows and accessories appropriate for a ten-year-old. I was short, not juvenile! Mostly. So long as I didn't think about Gaven. But that's not the point. I didn't want to be a dress-up doll! There's no point to it. Only Mom said there was a point to it. And so, I played dress up.

Then we ordered custom clothes, and bought several sets that Mom loved on me. We ended up ordering three academy uniforms. Three! Why? Mom insisted that I needed them so she bought them. But she never explained why she bought me three instead of one. Or why she was paying for all this instead of me when I planned to sell eight potions for twelve-and-a-half gold each. She didn't even pay for it there, but had the tailors bill her so I have no idea how much I owe her.

And to top it all off, in a week and a half I would be going back to all of these seamstresses to have the clothes they made me fitted! More dress up! But now, we were about to step into the potion shop. The building was deep in the demon quarter, which I learned had no separation between shopping districts and living quarters. If someone bought a place and set up a shop, it was a shop. Though they probably lived in it too. If they didn't, it wasn't. It was actually a chaotically simple idea.

One that had me meeting dozens of people strolling to the nine shops we visited. Each one having a ten-minute conversation to catch up with Mom and introduce themselves to me. Which led to my next observation as I looked at the potion maker's shop, which looked for all intents and purposes like a small cottage complete with herb garden in the middle of the city. The sun was setting. We started right after breakfast. And the sun was setting. We visited nine seamstresses.

Mom opened the gate and started walking up to the shop. I was right on her heels. Finally getting to sell the potions I had been carrying all day burned away some of the numbness. Though I wasn't going to let him measure me!

"Mr. Altoroth is the best potion maker in the city. It's been his potion since he went through the academy. He sells potions to nobles and wealthy merchants, so he will always buy non-basic potions so he doesn't have to brew them himself and can work on ones he finds more interesting," Mom explained as she put her hand on the door and pushed. A wave of scent washed over me. I couldn't begin to comprehend the complex odors, even as I tried to identify some of the herbs I knew.

Mom pushed into the wave without stopping, and I followed her. Inside, it was closer to an open living area than a shop. Two long couches faced each other around a short table with stuffed chairs on either side. A rug broke up the monotonous wood floor, and small nooks were built into either side of that central feature. One looked to contain a table exclusively for some game with black and white pieces. There was a single door leading deeper into the building, but it was closed for the moment.

Mom walked over to the table and rang the bell that was on it.

"It usually takes him a minute," she admitted, sitting down. Feeling awkward, I sat next to her. I didn't want to dig into Mr. Altoroth's personal life by looking at the game, or the books he had laid out on the other side of the room. But I wanted to.

"Hello, hello!" came a cheerful greeting as the back door opened, bringing with it an even stronger scent of greenery, though how that was possible eluded me. My first glance at Mr. Altoroth had me thinking young. But Mom didn't talk about him as though he was young. Yet he was not much taller than me, with a furred tail with a spotted tan and black pattern and the pointed ears of a demon. Did I just make the same assumption about him that people make about me? My ears drooped. At least I didn't say it.

I nodded to myself, which caught Mom's eye. I wouldn't reference his age.

"Little Miranda! I heard you made it back to town. I bet your husband's still locked in the castle, isn't he?" He didn't wait for Mom to answer, just nodded to himself and kept going.

"Of course he is. Made a mess of things with the elves and all. The King probably won't let him leave the castle for the next month!" He sat down, and I finally noticed he was carrying a tea set with three cups on it. The pot was emitting a steam that was mostly purple, though a green glimmer appeared in the mist every so often.

"It needs a minute to steep." Mom nodded.

"So, what can I do for you? And who is the delight beside you?" he asked, looking at me.

"Mr. Altoroth, meet my daughter. Lyra. Lyra, this is Mr. Altoroth. He's the potion maker I spoke to you about…"

"The best potion maker she spoke to you about." He nudged.

"The only one she told me about," I quipped quickly before Mom could correct herself. Mr. Altoroth's eyes sparkled as he processed what I said.

"Well, well. That could be both a compliment and not. You should be happy I'm taking that as a compliment, kiddo." His gruff tone didn't match the happiness his eyes portrayed, and I was bristling.

"Who are you calling kiddo? You're what, a month older than me?" I was never promising myself not to reference someone's age again! Mr. Altoroth laughed, and completely dropped his gruff man voice.

"I like you, Lyra. Come by anytime. I could always use more of your cheek." My ears heated up and drooped lower. I grabbed onto the tips hiding what I could. Mom cleared her throat, though she was smiling.

"We're here for two reasons. One each. Which would you like to handle first?"

"Lyra's of course. Us old people have more patience. Kids needs come before adults. So, what can I do for you, little Miss Lyra?" he asked as he reached for the pot and started pouring three cups of tea. My ears shot up, the blush fading at his remark. I bit my cheek to keep from responding. He was probably old. Even Mom treated him like he was old. And he treated her like a slightly older kid. So, I could ignore him. I will ignore him. I will try.

"I have some healing potions to sell. Mom says they're good quality. I have eight of them I want to sell." I wasn't grimacing as I said this. I really wasn't. I was smiling. And the delighted look in Mr. Altoroth's eye meant he liked my smile. I put one of the potions on the table between us and picked up my tea cup. The liquid was purple and smelled earthy. I sipped it as he picked up my potion. The tea tasted like someone covered flowers with a berry topping.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. It was delicious. As I took a larger drink Mr. Altoroth hummed to himself.

"It's a favorite blend of mine. I don't usually sell it, but I will send you off with a tin today." He didn't take his eyes off the potion, even as Mom protested.

"You don't have to, Al."

"Of course not. But I want to so I will. Spoiling the young is a privilege of being old. You'll get there one day dear. Now, about the potion…" He trailed off as he popped the cork and measured a very precise drop on his finger before putting it to his mouth.

"Did you make this yourself? It's clearly a healing potion, not one of its lesser cousins. See how it retains your mana? Easy tell. The quality can be a bit trickier. A combination of how clear it is." He held it up to his eye and I could clearly see it through the cyan liquid.

"And the amount of healing properties you were able to coax out of the plant. That can only be determined a couple of ways. Tasting it is the easiest. But some use smell. It's a little different for everyone and just takes time to master." He corked the bottle and put it down.

"Miranda is right. This is a good quality potion. Did you brew it yourself?" he asked, looking at me. I nodded.

"I see. And is this the only one?" His face was doing something complicated as I pulled out the seven others.

"I made these while we were traveling here," I said as the last potion was laid out.

"I have four more, but I'm keeping them in case I need them." He nodded absently for a moment. Then asked a question that seemed irrelevant to me.

"You made these while traveling?"

"Yes," I reaffirmed. Really, why did it matter.

"Not in a lab or workshop?"

"In the back of a wagon," I reiterated, looking towards Mom, wondering if he always asked the same question more than once.

"You made a dozen true healing potions in the back of the wagon to waste time while traveling." He blinked a couple of times.

"Where did you learn to brew?"

"Oh, I had a teacher. Miss Evylynn. But she wasn't very good. She taught me about basic healing herbs though, and how to boil their paste to make herbal remedies. She had me focus on lesser-healing potions. But Miss Fenly sold me her old stuff, which had a basic potion making book in it," I explained. His eye twitched.

"You had a not-good teacher who taught you how to boil things, then got a book about basic potion making. Then you made a dozen good quality true-healing potions in the back of a moving wagon." I nodded.

"Do I need to say it again?" His other eye twitched and he turned to the potions. Then back to me. Finally he turned to Mom.

"Miranda. Can you explain this?" Mom hummed as she sipped her tea. I scowled. I was going to have to explain this again, wasn't I? I put my now empty tea cup down and he immediately moved to refill it. Maybe explaining it again wouldn't be so bad. I thought as the cup steamed.

"She's Lyra," Mom said in a tone that conveyed her complete seriousness. I hoped she never yelled at me in that tone. Not that she's ever yelled yet. But if she did, I don't know what I would do. Run? Maybe. Mr. Altoroth looked at my Mom with a dead expression as I started drinking my second cup of tea. I was going to make sure to sip this one slowly. That kettle couldn't have much more in it. And it was delicious!

"That's supposed to explain things?" Mom shrugged.

"If you're having this much trouble with a few healing potions, I might need to find someone else to handle my business," Mom said putting her own empty tea cup down. Interesting that he didn't move to refill it. He just looked at Mom with an expression somewhere between interest and annoyance? Maybe annoyance. I hoped I didn't look at Gaven that way.

"As interesting as they may be, I can only offer you twelve-and-a-half gold per potion. That would be a hundred gold for the lot. Acceptable?" He turned to me as I choked on the sip I had just taken and tried to set my cup down before I spilled it. Mom patted my back with way too much force as I coughed.

"Yes," I finally managed to croak out and Mom sighed loud enough for me to hear over my own misery.

"You didn't even try to haggle," Mom commented sadly. Mr. Altoroth was already looking at Mom.

"Now what did you bring me, little Miranda?" he asked. Mom sat down the potion she took from me. Still casting a strong cyan glow. Still bubbling.

"I need you to identify this," Mom said as Mr. Altoroth's eyes grew so large I thought they were going to pop out of his head. He didn't move. He didn't blink. I started to wonder if he was breathing. He just stared at the potion. Then, with the speed of a dying tortoise, he looked at my healing potions. The faint cyan tint of the healing potions seemed to dull beside the other potion. But it was still there if you looked. Then he looked back at the bubbling potion.

Which I had decided to name it at some point, and was going to stick with. He stood up, and with a murmured "I'll be right back," walked out of the room. I stared at his retreating back for a moment, then hastily picked up my cup of tea. I hope I hadn't let it get cold.

"He seems slow," I murmured to Mom as I took another sip, and relaxed as it was still warm enough that it was pleasant to drink. Any colder and… well… I would still drink it. But it would be cold. And that wouldn't be as good. Mom chuckled.

"He's not slow. You're just outside his expectations." I frowned.

"He's a potion maker. The potions shouldn't be outside his expectations. They're just potions." Mom shook her head and leaned into the sofa. She started to say something a couple of times, but abandoned whatever it was before the first word fully formed. Eventually she just shook her head and waited for Mr. Altoroth to return. When he did, he was carrying a very old looking tome about as thick as two of my fingers put together. So not very. But did I say it was old?

I worried that it would fall apart as he sat it down without much care. It landed on an empty area of the table, and he opened it, flipping it to one of the pages in the back. In the corner was a picture of a potion with what appeared to be bubbles inside it.

"Oh, that looks like my potion," I commented, putting my empty cup down again. When did I finish that? Mr. Altoroth looked at me blankly before going back to the book and reading. When he was done, he sat back in his own sofa.

"You brewed this, Lyra?" he asked, most of the emotion gone from his voice. I nodded before deciding to be clearer so he wouldn't ask another bunch of questions.

"Yes. While we traveled. In a wagon. Not a room or lab or whatever. We were moving." I nodded to myself thinking I didn't leave him any room for more questions.

"How?" I was wrong. I looked at him, tilting my head, not knowing what more he wanted.

"The ingredients for this potion are impossible to find. Not hypothetically. Impossible. How did you brew it?" he asked again.

"Oh, that." I tilted my head.

"You mean the ingredients?"

"Oh, that." He mimicked.

"Well, all those ingredients past the elfroot are just what elves need to use to make up for the poor mana quality. Demons can get away with using the basics to produce higher quality potions with an added imbuement step while the potion is steeping without bothering with those," I remembered the note Fenly had left in the margins of my book and her explanation. I remembered all her notes. They appealed to me more than a lot of the stuffy book did in fact. Mr. Altoroth was staring at me.

Frankly it was becoming uncomfortable.

"Mr. Altoroth…" Mom began but he raised his hand to cut her off.

"A moment, Miranda. I'm deciding if I should kick you out or not." I looked at Mom as we waited. Finally, he moved. He pointed at the healing potions.

"That explains the true healing potions," he said, his voice flat.

"It doesn't explain the true elixir." He pointed at the bubbling potion.

"Which requires scales from an abyssal drake, which hasn't been seen in this world since the Outsider War." My ears twitched as I thought about that. I still didn't know what the big deal was. I already explained to him how I did it. I should probably explain it to him again.

"If you imbue mana into the potion as you're mixing the slurry with water prior to boiling." I pointed at the true healing potions.

"Then, if you saturate the potion ensuring your mana is smooth and not clumped together while the potion is boiling." I pointed to the bubbling potion. A much better name than true elixir.

"You made this in the back of the wagon, with elfroot as the only ingredient, by using the two-step imbuement process most demons use to produce true healing potions. And expand the instructions only by saying 'don't let your mana clump and make sure it's saturated'?" I really tried not to look at him like I did with Gaven. But Mom's chuckle hinted that I was failing. No, I definitely wasn't.

"I thought that was implied." He blinked at me for several seconds. His cheek twitching. Eyebrow firmly raised.

"What are you?" he finally asked. And I huffed.

"I'm Lyra."

"Obviously," he remarked dryly.

"Does that mean you don't want to buy it?" I asked wanting to get on with my day. The moons might rise if this continued at Mr. Altoroth's pace.

"You want to sell it?" he asked hesitatingly.

"Of course. You're a potion maker who can buy high quality potions, right?" I looked at Mom.

"That's why we're here. Right?" Mom nodded, but remained silent. She was looking like she was enjoying herself, but I couldn't remember anything she did that would qualify as fun since we sat down. Mr. Altoroth grunted.

"It would need to be put up for auction," he said to himself, finally looking away from me, Mom, or the potions.

"I'll give you one mithril as a down payment. Then, when it sells, everything above two mithril will be split evenly between us." I looked at him. Then I looked at Mom.

"I don't know how much that is," I admitted. Mom smiled at me softly.

"It goes: copper, silver, gold, platinum, mithril, adamantium, orichalcum. Each one is worth one hundred of the previous." Mom just said multiple names that I had never heard of before. And the quantity…

"I can't even imagine that much," I murmured, looking at the floor as I tried to wrap my head around the number. Ten thousand gold… Mom nodded at Mr. Altoroth.

"She accepts," Mom said, not haggling herself as she patted my knee.

"You're now richer than most nobles, Lyra." She smiled. I felt sick.