Perfume...or Poison?

[Vanari]

Nolan's tirade was alarming...at first. Until, that is, his initial reaction of outrage trickled down into one of rationality, and all of a sudden the prospect of transforming their little perfume experiment into that of a candle seemed far less daunting. As he continued to ramble to himself about the various steps they might have to undertake, Vanari stood still as a statue, letting him remain lost in his thought process. She was unwilling to trigger any more wrath from the poisoner. Bad enough she had set him off as many times as she had in a single day--though the Vantha was beginning to suspect such episodes were as naturally infused with his personality as those toxins in his blood--she really ought to tread more carefully now, especially with the sudden change in plans. She felt a bit like a hare caught before an eagle who had an opportune itch to be scratched, keeping her muscles frozen in hopes the feathery predator might somehow forget her presence. Unfortunately, this meant she was equally as blind to the drying rose hips, which had went from its signature, sweet fragrance to a sticky, burnt smell that all but screamed "unusable." Verennia was waving her hands about, scolding the poisoner for having used all of the hips. For a moment, Vanari was afraid Nolan would explode. And he did, in his way, before his mind kicked back into rational-mode, churning away at various possibilities and explanations. Verennia had retreated to the Vantha's side in the face of his threats of paddling her little backside and whatnot, but from the look on her face Vanari guessed the child was far from cowed. She must have endured far worse than threats of being paddled only days before; it was no wonder Nolan's angry words did little to break her spirit. The girl did, however, remain silent, allowing the poisoner to work things out for himself. Nolan then spoke of triggers, and Vanari found her interest piqued. Stomach acid? Placing toxic things in cuts? No wonder this man was as volatile and prickly as he was. She would be too, if she had to all this knowledge of "ingestion" poisons and how useless blood poison would be if digested. With yet another question directed at Verennia, the girl nodded in confirmation and was rewarded not much longer with a wink. And, just like that, things seemed to be smoothed down to civility once more. Nolan then spoke of something called intellect mist giving pronounced mental focus, going so far as to offer a sample. Vanari narrowed her eyes. Was this some kind of trick? It certainly would be convenient if he made her breathe in something as awful and deadly as those vines, dispose of her body somewhere in the canals, and call it a day. She folded her arms, sniffed, and replied in an even tone, "Okay, I'll try it. But only if you do, too."

[Inoadar]

Inoadar looked surprised for a moment, then laughed. "Very well. It's probably just the thing we need to get ourselves on the right track." He walked over to a shelf and pulled a rubber bladder with a narrow spout on it. "Now this is already processed to be simply inhaled. What I have in mind will be kept back one process to still be in liquid form."

He cut the sealed nib on the end of the spout and placed it under his nose, giving it a small squeeze, and sniffing. His eyes widened and he handed the thing to Ari. "Don't overdo it if you've never used it before. Just a little squeeze and you'll see." He walked back over to the table, his speech picking up speed. He didn't wait to see if Ari partook of it.

"Now, as I recall, Baltisce can be used to create a stimulant, which will probably be similar to the effect of this Intellect Mist, though this is a bit more cerebral and less physical. it could be a fantastic combination for an overall pick-up..." he paused a moment, then grinned. "Oh yes, I am having no trouble remembering what I've heard of this things now. Kiv has a slightly intoxicating quality and would be self-defeating to combine with either Baltisce or this Intellect Mist, unless you're not trying to achieve any embellishment of one's state of mind, and only going for the bouquet."

As he spoke, he checked on the cinnamon and sage, "Coming along nicely..." He lifted the bowl with the burnt rose hip fluids and scrubbed it in a basin as he continued. "Now the Baltisce has a rather..."woodland" smell to it, and might conflict with the floral quality of either the Kiv or Aletrid. Another reason why I think it would go well with Intellect Mist, which has no scent at all to speak of. I would think that Kiv and Aletrid would be a nice relaxing diversion at the end of a long day."

He set the bowl in a rack with several others and considered the two drying herbs. "I think what would be best would be to place a small pinch of each, the cinnamon the sage, the Baltisce, the Aletrid and the Kiv in seperate vials and then select a round-robin of combinations to smell together to find the best ones. But I would not use any that combine Baltisce and Kiv, due to the contradictory enhancements."

He turned back to face Ari, still holding the rubber bladder. He did not know if she had tried it, but Verennia looked decidedly curious about it. "I hope you're not in too much of a hurry, because I will still have to process the Aletrid, Kiv and Baltisce. Then we'll have to do our aroma testing, then even when we reach a decision, I still have to take the components to Black Tar's...he's the ones that makes the candles...well, the "special" ones anyway...and place the commission for him to craft them into "dispersion" types. it will take the rest of tonight, then tomorrow to decide on combinations and deliver the goods. Then a further two or three days for the job to be finished. But for now I can get the wicks soaking in Intellect Mist if you like that idea."

[Vanari]

She blinked. Well, that was easy... Taking his lack of hesitance and guile as an auspiciously good sign, Vanari breathed a sigh of relief as Nolan went to fetch a strange looking container with a spout. He cut the nib of the spout and, placing it under his nose, gave the thing a small squeeze before sniffing it. The results seemed instantaneous. One moment he was perfectly calm, the next his eyes went wide as he passed the bladder-like container to her, warning not to overdo it. She accepted it gingerly, holding it out before her like it might suddenly sprout legs and wiggle out of her hands. What the gods was inside of this thing? And how the petch would she know how much too much was? She looked over to Nolan, but he was already busying away, yammering about things and tinkering with his equipment faster than Vanari had yet to witness. She looked down at the nib of the spout and shrugged. Might as well get it over with. Bringing it slowly up to her nose, she gave the tiniest of squeezes and watched as blueish vapors rose into the air. The Vantha gave the smallest of sniffs, intending to only breathe in a fraction of the amount she released, but the coldness of the vapors surprised her and she gasped a little, inhaling everything that had escaped the spout. For a moment, it seemed like nothing was going to happen. And then all at once she could feel the cool vapors shoot straight into her head. They tingled the whole way and it felt as though she was being jolted awake. Suddenly, everything looked a little bit brighter; colors were a tad more vibrant, sounds slightly louder and sharper than they were before. She was more aware, more sensitive. She could feel it. To the side, Verennia was watching with rapt attention, a sort of longing in her dark eyes to try the Intellect Mist. Something tugged at Vanari's conscience, urging her to let the child try some, but she pushed it out of her mind. The girl was too young. Who knew what kind of side effects there were on children? And what if Verennia grew too ambitious one day? It certainly wasn't a stretch to believe so, given her fiery spirit and the potential role model she might be stuck with. Vanari looked up at Nolan, who was still talking about the various herbs and their properties. He was going through the various relationships scent-wise they might have together, Baltisce being more "woodland" and the others being more floral. The Vantha struggled to concentrate, but thoughts of Verennia kept pulling her back. If this --all this frantic working, all the different possibilities these tocins and herbs presented--was what the girl's future was to be filled with, Vanari worried if it would consume her. Would she want to be just like Nolan, working furiously away, devoting her whole life to a single craft? The Vantha didn't doubt it. The girl certainly had what it takes to live such a life. She didn't seem to have any family or other interests anyway, so what would be holding her back? Vanari looked down at the bladder in her hand again, her mind racing far ahead of the present. She could let Verennia try this mist, get her excited, impassioned maybe, even, about the wonders of such a craft. It would likely capture the girl right then and there, flare her interest so high it might never come down. But where would that lead her? Would she go too far? What if it became an addiction of sorts? The Vantha had seen her share of lost souls wallowing in the haze of drug-induced bliss, their bodies forgotten, their realities abandoned. Ah, but why was she drilling so deep into the issue? Certainly, Mister Nolan here couldn't look more sober if he tried. Perhaps it wouldn't be a problem after all if he knew how to handle his own limits, if he could teach Verennia the same.... Great Morwen. Vanari blinked rapidly several times and sucked in a breath, looking around her like she'd just woken from a dream. It was at that moment that Nolan turned to face her again, looking curiously at the bladder in her hands. She followed his gaze and flinched a little in surprise, having all but forgotten what she was still holding, and set it hastily onto an empty spot on a nearby table. He chose not to comment on whether she had tried the Intellect Mist and instead went on to explain the steps they still had to undertake. "Umm...yes," she replied rather lamely. "I mean, I'm fine with waiting. What exactly needs to be done in the meantime?"

[Inoadar]

"Well, just this..." he said as he retrieved a small lab dish with deep sides. The top had been sealed with a rubber cover that sunk down as if all the air had been pumped out of the container below it, which it had. The cover had come with an attached rubber tube. The air had been pumped out through this rubber tube, which was then melted closed to seal the tube and maintain the vacuum within the container.

"This is the eel mucus I mentioned. I need to soak the wicks in it, and...I...oh shyke!" for a moment, he suffered a twinge of embarrassment that he had spoken a vulgarity in front of a child, but he let it pass, feeling the child had best start getting used to it, if she was not already. Not to mention they were probably both more concerned about what had provoked it. "I don't have any wicks...hmmm....I have some string, but I don't know if plain string is a viable option."

He looked around at all that he was in the middle of, and what still needed doing, and made a snap assessment. "Okay look, I need to talk to the man there anyway, to set up the job order, so I'll see about getting some wick material. I'm going to be gone for a couple bells. Check the cinnamon and sage every ten chimes or so. I expect the sage will be done quicker. As soon as something is dry enough to crumble, remove it and place one of these two..." he indicated the Aletrid and the Baltisce, "...in it's place. Do not put the Kiv there, I think it needs to be pressed."

He looked the question at Verennia, just in case she had seen the fat man process it before. But she only shrugged and looked slightly disappointed. Inoadar shrugged as well, "Then it shall be a learning process for us both. I think you can just pluck the leaves off of the Aletrid, I seriously doubt the viney runners carry much of the scent." He looked around and was amused to see that it was Verennia more than Ari who seemed to be acting as the one he'd been giving the instructions to.

"Well, I best be getting gone. I have no idea if they're busy down at Black Tar's. I'll be back as soon as I can..." he headed to the door, his back to the two females, when a mischievous thought struck him. "Be sure and do as she says." he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped out. He'd be amused to see which of the two felt he was placing in charge.

[Vanari]

Vanari looked down at the girl, who was watching her with equal intensity. They stayed that way for a while as Nolan gave them a basic set of duties and instructions, prepared himself for a trip to this candle fellow he kept mentioning, and eventually slammed the door shut behind him. The door rattled a little bit in its frame from the force, then there was nothing but silence. The Vantha folded her arms slowly. Verennia did the same. Vanari cocked her head to one side. So did the girl. One unfolded her arms to place her hands on her hips. The other was a flawless, albeit miniature, mirror image. They stared at each other, crooked postures and all, for a bit longer, each narrowing their eyes until they were nothing more than slits. Then they both burst into action and belted "He meant me!" at the exact same time. "Well he obviously meant me because I know more about herbs," Verennia gushed hotly. "Who in their right mind," Vanari countered with unwavering conviction, "would leave a ten year old chi--"" "Eleven!" the girl shouted indignantly. ""Ten, Eleven, whatever! Point is either way, who would leave a child behind to watch over the sum of his entire livelihood? I'm older, therefore I win. End of story." Verennia pouted for a moment, the effort of retaliating with a good excuse written clear across her dark features. Then, sudden as the break of Syna's rays through a storm, the consternation cleared and she was smiling. "What if we just split the duties and be in charge together? That way no one is...above the other." She said the last few words with some hesitance, but the Vantha picked up her meaning straight away. The girl simply didn't want to be bossed around anymore than she already had been. That much was understandable. "Alright then, that sounds fair. So you do what you're good at, which is knowing when the herbs are done drying, I'll do what I'm less terrible at, which is making sure no maniacs come trying to rob the shop as I pluck off these little leafy things like Nolan said to. Deal?" Verennia nodded eagerly and went straight away to watch over the drying herbs with utmost diligence. Meanwhile, Vanari dangled the Aletrid before her and sighed. Best get this over with. As she began plucking the leaves off, she snuck a glance over at the girl and wondered for the hundredth time that night how Verennia had come into slavery. Was she born into? Had she been sold? Where were her parents, her family? It had to be a sad story--there were no other viable options the Vantha could imagine--and though it didn't seem the best of times to pop the question, Vanari figured it never would be anyhow. "Hey, Verennia..." "You can call me Vera," the girl replied casually. "That's what they used to call me back home." Vanari blinked, swallowed, and still could not find the right words to say. She was taken by surprise at how jaded the girl sounded in speaking of her past. It meant she had one, which also meant it had to be that much more painful to be torn away from. Didn't it? She tried to imagine being kidnapped or sold from her own family, her mother weeping as strange, burly men came to take her away. She imagined not knowing where she was going and not knowing what her future was to be like: terrible, or really, really, petching terrible. She imagined having to leave everything and everyone behind, as well as her dreams, her hopes, her home... "What...was your home like?" Vera shifted a little on the balls of her feet, then answered evenly, "It was hell." Vanari gaped in shock for a moment, then closed her mouth as the girl continued. "We were always hungry. There was never enough to eat. Or wear, play with, anything at all, for that matter. I had six brothers, five older ones and one baby. He was my favorite, baby Reyis. He was the only one who didn't make things a hundred times harder for me." She rubbed an eye, then went on to say, "but I never complain about how my brothers treated me. It wasn't that they hated me or anything, they just were who they were. And they didn't want to see me get hurt by other people, so they treated me a little tougher, and little rougher, hoping I could be strong like them." Vanari nodded. "And what else did you have to deal with?"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar reached 'Black Tar's Alchemical Services' in a little less than a bell. he approached the dull-gray building, knowing it would look closed. But he'd been there often enough to know that this was just a ploy to weed out the browsers from the serious customers.

He stepped inside, reassured by the myriad aromas of incense, pipe-weeds, colognes, passion oils and the gods knew what else. He would not have thought to put candles on the list, but realized now that this was an oversight on his part. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the illumination in the shop was accomplished by glowing globes with no visible source of their emanating light. It wouldn't seem to endorse the necessity to purchase such mundane sources as candles.

But the glass cases lining the walls contained many non magical items. And if candles were to be had here, they most likely were tasked to give off more than light. 'They probably come with protective masks.' Inoadar mused to himself.

The beaded curtain in back veiled the source of the usual rasping voice which greeted visitors. "Looking for something are you? Please look but be careful with the touch. Everything is labeled. If you wish to buy, do so and place the coins in the bronze dish to your side. Be careful of opening the cases and handling the contents. There are worse things than death in this world."

"I would like to place an order for a service, more than a product, if I may." Inoadar said, speaking to the air around him. He paused a moment, expecting some sort of permission to continue. When none was forthcoming, he went on. "I wish to have candles made from wicks soaked in 'Intellect Mist', but first I need to buy the wicks. I assume they are not just simple string."

"No, they are not." responded the voice. "We have three types, all based on the core substance, wire, wood and cotton strand. There are others, but they are meant for lamps. I do not carry wicks separately. I suspect that since you intend to use 'Intellect Mist', that I am speaking with that 'Mr. Parnell' that goes by the name, 'Trovelle'? How many candles did you wish to have made?"

Inoadar winced at the demonstration of how his attempt to conceal his identity had failed. He wondered if the owner even knew that 'Parnell' was not his name. Well, there was nothing he could do about it. It appeared that the mysterious voice was willing to accept 'Parnell' as a name. It also appeared that he recalled the deal they had made in the past. They did referrals for each other in exchange for an exchange of professional courtesies. Part of that deal was Inoadar providing the owner with the secret of Intellect Mist. He did not know why the drug had never appeared on the shelves here, but he was not complaining.

"Until I get the wicks and begin soaking them, I will not be able to provide a reasonable estimate, as I have no prior experience in this." He stalled, preferring to make counter-offers more than proposals when he had no experience. He knew that his competitors first offer would be lopsided, so he wished to have a beginning point that he could relate to.

"Then I will be glad to offer you two completed candles for every soaked wick you leave here. For this consideration, I will continue to withhold 'Intellect Mist' from my product list." the voice offered, knowing that the monopoly on a product was the larger part of the offer than the ratio of give and take.

But Inoadar was not to be cowed. The fact that this offer was even ventured suggested that there was some reason why the owner did not wish to pursue the manufacture of 'Intellect Mist'. "I expect you should be glad with such an arrangement, considering the difficulty of milking the mucus from the glands of the eel. They do not simply give it up on command. In exchange for bypassing this costly and unpleasant procedure, I will offer you one wick for every six dispersion candles."

There was no outrage in the voice that responded after a sort pause. Both sides knew that this counter offer was as lopsided as the initial proposal. "I then offer you one for three, you respond with one for five...It seems we have agreed on one soaked wick in exchange for four completed candles. Is this correct?"

"It is, IF it is also understood that I will do the soaking at my shop." Inoadar said, fully aware that he was suggesting that the owner of Black Tar might "misrepresent" the true amount of wicks he obtained from the amount of mucus provided.

Again there was no outrage in the voice. Business was business. "Agreed. You will find the wicks you need on the top shelf on the right cabinet, leftmost wall." Clearly, the owner knew there was no longer any point in delaying the fair deal with the continued charade that he had no wicks in the shop.

Since the payments were made from completed stock only, there was no present payment to be made. Inoadar grabbed twenty wire cored wicks, knowing it would be more than enough, and returned to 'Ino Vations', to finish with the herbs and start soaking wicks.

[Vanari]

Vera was still staring intently at the burners, as though any moment now the precious herbs would burst into flames. When she spoke, however, she was calm. Detached, even, which Vanari found rather unsettling. "We lived in an orphanage, all seven of us. My parents died in the Djed Storm, or so my brothers tell me; I don't remember much of that year. It was a very good orphanage compared to most others. I know because we were in a different one before and it was awful. Geris, my oldest brother, helped us escape and we ended up with Mama Ona." Now that she had gotten started, Vera seemed hard pressed to stop. The words tumbled more and more freely and descriptively from her lips, though her tone never faltered, not even for a tick. "She was nice--nicer than anyone we had met--but niceness couldn't feed us, or clothe us. She tried her best, though. Mama Ona always did. She made us learn our letters, numbers, manners, anything that could be useful. We were also taught things like gutting fish and washing linens and scrubbing floors, but most of us knew those things before anyhow." Vanari plucked slower, her thoughts churning as she listened. So that would explain why she spoke as well as she did, and why she insisted on referring to her elders as "Mister" Nolan and "Miss" Ari. Most slaves or street rats her age were cruder and dirtier than the back end of a beggar's bowl, but Vera was different. She stood up straighter, spoke clearer, and learned things with lightning speed. A good memory too, the Vantha noted, slightly envious that she herself had not been quite so prodigious at such an age. It was unsettling to think on how much one's fortunes seemed to be based solely on luck. Vanari had been born lucky, in her own way; Verennia had not. How different would they be now, should things have been reversed? "Well it wasn't long before we got used to things," the girl continued, as somber as ever, "and my brothers grew less cautious. Then one day, while we were hanging to linens to dry, a slaver came and caught Reyis." She hesitated for a moment. "There was no one to call for help. Even if there was, these things happened all the time. No one would give a fig. So, I threw a rock at the scumbag's face and told my brother to run. He did, but I got caught instead." Silence. Vanari had stopped plucking the leaves entirely, staring instead at her own olive, calloused hands. How could she have been so stupid? She should have never asked Vera to explain her past. Never even hinted it. The girl's chin was trembling now, for all the good her bravado did. It wasn't worth it, for once, to know this bit of truth. Not at the cost of reopening a child's deepest wounds. "My favorite color is orange." the Vantha blurted. "What's yours?" It wasn't the smoothest of transitions, but it was a way out all the same. The girl didn't miss a beat; she picked up immediately and replied, "Violet." For the next bell or so, Vanari listened to Vera ramble on, asking questions now and then to keep her going. Why Violet? What was her favorite food? How many things in this world scared her? She learned that the girl had always shown interest in plants and that her mother's favorite flowers had been violets. That she liked sugary sweets, was deathly afraid of being made to dance or sing, could memorize almost anything after seeing or hearing it only once, and was thoroughly tired of traveling. Also, that Vera loved the sound of lutes, of geese honking, and of men chuckling good naturedly. Vanari thought the last one deserved a guffaw of laughter, much not to the girl's amusement. By the time Nolan returned, everything had been plucked, dried, and crumbled, just as he had instructed. They'd even gotten around to sweeping the floors after Vanari had accidentally dropped a bit of crushed herbs and scattered bread crumbs when she broke a roll she had saved from breakfast to share with the girl. Having been exhausted beyond her limits, Vera was now deep in slumber on the Vantha's lap, a cloak draped over her frail form. As soon as Nolan stepped through the door, Vanari held a finger up to her lips, pointed down at the sleeping girl, then gently slid herself out from under Vera's mass of dark locks. She tucked her spare shirt underneath as a makeshift pillow and straightened to face her accomplice. "All's done, just like you asked. You got everything you needed?"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar froze as he saw the homey scene. Something called to a deep, avoided place in his soul. He could not let himself get caught up in such sentimentality. "Yes." he said simply as he turned brusquely away, taking care, nonetheless, to be quiet as he removed the wicks from the bag.

He scanned the room quickly, noting the unexpected cleanliness, with another instinctive rejection of warmth. 'It's only as it should be.' he told himself, 'They did nothing more than they were told.' for a moment, spite nearly provoked him to hurl some clutter to the floor to erase the indication of their effort, but he stopped himself, citing only the inefficiency of such a move, not the fact that he'd have been an ass to do it.

He divided both the Aletrid and the Baltisce into halves and set half of the Aletrid into a pot of water, covered with the distillation apparatus. As this set to boil, he set out the wicks and retrieved his purified eel mucus. He spread this in a tray and took his time to roll each wick by hand in the thick liquid. There were twelve remaining wicks when the mucus was used up from the tray. Two more he placed within groups of already soaked wicks and rolled them around together to soak them as well. This left ten more wicks available for use.

Before he was done with the wicks, it was becoming obvious that the distillation process was not working on the Aletrid. The formerly pleasant smell was taking on a metallic tang and no sort of residue was forming in the coils of the device.

He gave a sour look in Vanari's direction, warring internally with himself to decide whether to have her scrub the pot or not, knowing it might wake Verennia for the Vanthan woman to pick her up. He had no experience with children to speak of. He sighed heavily. "Do you suppose it would be possible for you to scrub this thing out without waking her up? I don't need her pointing out that I've just ruined half your Aletrid. I need to see if the Baltisce responds to liquid solvency any better."

He got a grinder from his kit and reset the friction ratio to near-maximum, replacing the grit wheel with a much finer one. "And when you're done with that, you can start pushing the crumbled herbs through this top opening. let me know when you are finished with all of one of them. It will need to be thoroughly cleaned before we go on to the next. I will do THAT cleaning. I hope I made clear that we would be all night doing these things."

[Vanari]

Nolan was, as usual, all work and no play. The man's consistent, Vanari muttered in her own head, I'll give him that much. He took a cursory glance around the room, wore a strange, slightly constipated expression for about half a tick, then went straight to business without so much as a good job or you're both idiots, who said anything about breaks? Honestly, the Vantha's imagination had been leaning more towards the latter, but now that things had played out the way they did, she was forced to admit silence was definitely not a bad outcome. Vanari watched as he busied himself straightaway, dividing the herbs and setting out the wicks. She wondered silently if, should she ever possess the power to grant a person eight arms and did so for Nolan, the poisoner would be grateful. He certainly looked as though he could, what with all the things he was doing nearly at the same time. It was starting to make her head spin a little. The air took on a sudden, metallic tang. And, not so coincidentally, at that very moment, Nolan also gave her a look sour enough to curdle milk. "What? What did I do? I didn't touch it," the Vantha hissed, careful not to raise her voice, then pointed a finger at the sleeping girl. "We split the chores. She was in charge of the boiling thingies, not me." The man ignored her excuse entirely, suggesting in the most prickly way possible if she could scrub a petching pot. She was almost, almost, tempted to bang the pot silly and announce to a startled, half-awake Vera that they ought to congratulate Nolan for wasting only half of a whole supply of herbs instead of all of it this time. But, she didn't. Instead, Vanari heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, and grabbed the pot from his hands. She whirled around to head for the basin again, but stopped mid step as Nolan issued forth a second set of commands. Pushing herbs? Top opening? What... She turned back around in time to see him tinkering with his equipment again. "Oookay, that top opening thingy. One at a time. All night. Gotcha." The Vantha gave a stilted smile, which transformed seamlessly into a full blown grimace as she turned and strode over to where the cleaning supplies were. Blowing a few hairs out of her face, she got down and prepared for the long, arduous task of--silently--scrubbing the pot squeaky clean. She picked up the scrubbery looking object, hesitated for a moment, and then put it back down again. Vanari set down the pot and snuck quietly to Vera's side. She scooped up the sleeping child as gently as she could, then carried her over to a dimmer and farther corner of the shop, careful to bring both the cloak and shirt along with them. The girl mumbled a little in her arms, but otherwise stayed dead asleep in the way it seemed only children could achieve. As the Vantha set Vera down and tucked her in as best she could, she ran her fingers through the girl's hair sighed over its chaotic, unseemly state. It had the potential for beauty, with its thickness and subtle waves, but it was dusty, tangled, and chopped cruder than a...well, actually, she couldn't think of anything cut more atrociously than this poor girl's hair. Something would have to be done about it. Hmm, yes, something indeed... Paranoia crawled up her neck. She whipped her head around, but Nolan was busy working, not scowling at her in annoyance that she had been dawdling around rather than scrubbing that pot. Gods, this was going to be more trying than she'd thought. Vanari stood up, patted her tunic straight, then strode back over to her abandoned pot. As she passed by the poisoner, she said in a hushed voice, "She said we could call her Vera, and that her favorite color is violet. She likes lutes, has a sweet tooth, and a killer memory. Oh, and she's an orphan." She wasn't entirely sure why she had blurted out as much as she did, but the Vantha chose not to dwell on it and began scrubbing away. Besides, it would probably all go right over the man's head anyhow.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar made some notes on a sheet of paper as he continued processing herbs and plants. He finally narrowed down the cinnamon, sage and aletrid as all needing only to be dried and ground to various consistencies. The cinnamon ground the finest, the sage a little more coarse and the aletrid merely chopped, as every "process" he tried seemed to ruin it. Whereas simply leaving it in a potpourri chop maintained the scent. There was less than a quarter of it left by the time he realized this, but what was left was quite fragrant, and seemed to mask some of the more clinical smells still lingering.

He had greater success with the Baltisce. It was still trial and error to achieve the best result, but he was able to boil down and filter out the pulpy remains of virtually every part of the plant but the actual wood to produce a resin that had a surprisingly energizing quality to it.

He took a small dose of it and smeared it on some tobacco, which he kept on hand for use with the eel mucus that yielded "Intellect Mist". He lit it up and found that the effect, while noticeably reduced, was still pleasantly uplifting. "Excellent. This is exactly what I was hoping for. This Baltisce makes a nice compliment to the mental surge from the "Mist". And I think I have enough to treat half the wicks, so they'll possess both bonuses. Would you like to distribute it within the candles also, or just keep it in a vial? I warn you though, it's much stronger in its resin form."

He gestured to the Kiv, which he had not yet done anything with. "There is still the Kiv to render down, and it has more of a relaxing property to it. It should not be combined with either the Intellect Mist or the Baltisce. So we've got ten wicks with Mist, enough Baltisce resin for five, and hopefully we'll get at least that much from the Kiv." His eagerness replaced his earlier sour mood now, and a stab of quickly repressed warmth caught him off guard as his eyes took in the endearing sight of Verennia, curled up in the cloak.

He walked over to his notepad and tried to remember what Ari had said about Verennia's preferences. He wrote down "Vera", "color - violet", "Lutes", "Sweets" and "Orphanage". He looked up to see if Ari was watching him. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she might have looked away right as he looked up. He closed the notepad, laying one of the untreated wicks across to keep his place. "Look, I don't know what you want to do. I'm very tired and am going to catch a nap in the chair in here. If you want to try to sleep in the other chair out in front, feel free. Otherwise, I can finish this up with the Kiv in the morning. You may want to get some sleep before you decide how you want to distribute this among the remaining wicks."

He gave her a direct look. "Here is the deal I'm proposing. I have to give one of every five wicks to the guy at Black Tar. So, if we end up with fifteen, we keep twelve. If it's ten we keep eight, and so on. The vine you...surrendered...finally...to me..." he made a face that had just a bit of a grin in it. "...is worth enough that I only want one out of each remaining four. So out of every five to begin with, you'll get three, I'll get one, and Black tar will get one. This is after they are made into candles, of course. Does this sound fair?"

He headed to the chair as he said this, figuring if Ari wanted to haggle over it, they could do so in the morning. He just wanted to sit down and sleep. He didn't feel like walking back to his room at Tarsin's.