Torvel looked at both of them with the kind of expression I’ve started recognizing. He had both containers in his hands already.
"We have sothing for the sewers residue."
He said it the sa way he quoted fares. The sa even delivery. Just... information. Like gravity. You don’t argue with it, you just deal with it.
Brenne’s eyes shifted from the containers to him. "What kind of residue."
"The compound in that sewers isn’t standard drainage. It’s what happens when dinsional runoff mixes with active Abyss material in an integrated dungeon environnt. Standard water doesn’t fully clean it." He indicated the two containers. "These do."
Brenne looked at her feathers. They hadn’t dried right. They were sitting wrong, like fabric that had been folded badly and decided to stay that way. Then she looked at the container he’d ant for her.
"Where did you source that," she said.
"The Exchange’s transit research division. We’ve been working the channel routes for several weeks. The residue compound ca up in the first survey pass." He set the amber one slightly closer to Vassara’s side. "Standard testing. Full docuntation on request."
"How long does the docuntation take," Brenne said.
"A week, approximately."
She looked at the grey container. Then back at her feathers. The lower fold was doing sothing subtle and wrong, and I could tell even from across the room that if it stayed like that, it would stay like that permanently. Feathers seed like the kind of thing you didn’t want to get wrong once.
"I have concerns," she said, "about what counts as standard testing for a research division working across six dinsions."
"The concerns are noted," Torvel said. "They’re in our catalog for first-ti accounts."
"You have a catalog?"
"We keep records on all account relationships. It’s standard practice."
Brenne looked at him. He looked back. Neither of them said anything for a mont.
"What does it sll like," she said.
"Cedar and old stone. It works well for celestial beings. We’ve tested it. If you’d prefer sothing different, there’s a selection process for established accounts, but for first orders it’s the standard blend."
"That’s fine," she said. There was a pause. "I still have concerns."
"I know," he said.
She picked up the container anyway.
Vassara had been watching all of this without moving. The kind of stillness that ant she wasn’t reacting yet. She was inspecting it. Her amber eyes shifted from Torvel to the amber container to her entourage.
"What is that one," Vassara said.
"Coat material," Torvel said. "The sewers residue bonds differently to treated leather. Standard cleaning strips the surface layer without reaching the compound underneath, which ans it looks addressed and isn’t." He indicated the container. "The formula goes through both layers. For the Vaskareth extended curing process specifically, it should work with the hide’s treatnt rather than against it."
There was a very small pause there. The kind that ant sothing had just landed.
"You know the Vaskareth curing process," Vassara said.
"The Exchange keeps sourcing records."
Of course they did. That was starting to sound less like a business and more like inevitability.
She looked at the container. Then at her coat. The coat was holding itself together with the dignity of sothing that had survived a few centuries and wasn’t about to fail now. Unfortunately, it had not planned for sewer-Abyss residue.
"The price," she said.
Torvel nad it.
Neither of them moved. It wasn’t hesitation. It was... positioning.
One of Vassara’s entourage, the man near the guild bench side, reached for the amber container. He stopped when Vassara picked it up first.
"Both," she said.
"One per account," Torvel said. "The calibrations are separate."
"One for . One for each of my three." She indicated her entourage.
Torvel looked at her. Then at the coats her entourage were wearing. Sa treatnt. Sa problem. Sa centuries-old dignity currently under attack.
"Four units," he said.
"Four units," she confird.
One of his associates turned a page. The other hadn’t stopped writing at all. I wasn’t sure they blinked.
Brenne looked at her two. Her two looked at their feathers. Sa issue. Sa not-drying-right situation.
"Three units," Brenne said.
"Cedar and old stone for all three," Torvel said.
"Yes."
The transactions completed. Both accounts established. Torvel put everything back where it belonged with the kind of efficiency that suggested this had been decided ten minutes ago and we were just catching up.
Vassara was already looking at the corridor door.
"The north bath," she said.
"Through the corridor entrance, down a flight," I said from behind the stove. "The door’s unlocked now. Towels are on the shelf."
"Longer ones from the back for the feathers," I added, because I’d written that down earlier and hadn’t actually brought them out yet. "I’ll have them there before you get out."
Brenne turned toward the corridor. One of her two had already adjusted her fold automatically, one hand moving without her even looking at it. That seed like muscle mory. Or instinct. Or both.
"The mapping," Vassara said to Brenne, already moving. "For the record."
"The mapping was yours," Brenne said. "For the record."
They went through the corridor entrance together. Vassara first, without checking if anyone followed. Brenne right behind her, because she was always where things were happening. That didn’t seem like sothing she turned off.
Their voices carried through the door for about four seconds. Then the lower level swallowed the sound.
Bram watched the door.
He reached down, picked up his jug, and lifted it without looking away.
"Before," he said, "this was a hallway."
"It was a locked door next to a hallway," I said.
"Aye."
He picked up the key ring from the hook. The one with the blue cord. Third from the left. The one that opened the door to the baths maintenance room
He looked at it for a second.
"I’m goin’ down," he said.
"I’ll be here."
He went through the corridor entrance. His footsteps went down the stairs, the sound shifting as he hit the lower level’s boards. Then it went quiet.
I grabbed the longer towels from the back shelf, took them down to the female bath door, knocked twice, set them on the ledge, and ca back up.
The common room was running like it usually did. Cart comrce ongoing. Torvel was back at the east wall with his associates, both still writing. The twenty-five were spread across the room, fog gathered neatly near the ceiling. A few were busy with whatever they’d bought earlier. The Walker was on its stool. The Entity of Note was at table six.
I tasted the broth.
The lighter base had finally done what I’d been trying to get it to do for weeks. The herbs were inside it now instead of buried under it. The sll had been reaching the room before the taste all afternoon, which was exactly what the first version hadn’t managed.
That one had been good. Actually good. And the bowls had still co back mostly full.
That had been the problem.
Too much reduction. It had covered everything else. This one didn’t. Less covering. More actual broth.
Whether that mattered, the bowls would tell .
The Walker had co up to the counter at so point while I was working. It was standing there with its hands folded neatly on the edge, fog arranged like a proper coat, looking at the second chalkboard where I’d been aning to add the broth.
I picked up the chalk.
"Second batch," I said, writing it out. "Lighter base. Different approach to the reduction."
"The previous version," the Walker said.
"Ca back mostly full. Yes."
"The sll of the previous version."
"Was an issue," I said. "Or I think it was. I haven’t confird it yet."
It looked at the board.
"The current version slls different from across the room," it said.
"That’s the idea," I said.
I finished writing, set the chalk down, and turned for the bowls.
"You’ll tell if it works," I said.
"We will tell you," it said.
I believed it. That seed like the kind of promise it would keep. Even if it couldn’t taste it properly.
Bram ca back up about twenty minutes later while the broth was still going out. He hung the key ring back on the hook, walked over, and picked up his jug.
He looked at the stove. Then at .
"Plumbin’s old," he said. "Very not standard. I need to go back with th’right tools."
"Blue cord key," I said. "You know the drill."
"Aye."
He looked at his jug. Then at the bowl I’d already set near his spot on the counter. He’d been here all day and hadn’t eaten. That seed like sothing worth fixing.
He picked up the bowl.
Tasted it.
Set it down.
"Good broth," he said.
"That’s what I was hoping," I said.
He drank from the jug and went back to watching the cart.
[SYSTEM LOG]
Torvel: transaction complete. Sewers residue compound, seven units total. Vassara account, four units. Brenne account, three units.
Female Bath: occupied. Towels delivered.
Broth second batch: service complete. Walker confird different sll profile from previous version. Veracity pending.
Structural note, lower level: Bram reports non-standard plumbing. Assessnt ongoing.
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