Lamnotta{species} see also “slimes”: current taxonomy has difficulty classifying the lamnotta, as they are unique amongst the sapient races. “Individual” lamnotta are actually a colony of between 100,000 to 200,000 amebic creatures that are themselves not considered sapient. When joined together in a large enough colony however, a centralized intelligence develops that asserts its will upon the whole. Current research has not found where this intelligence first springs from, but the minimum threshold for its appearance is generally agreed to be around 80,000 individuals. Lamnotta are capable of parthenogenesis, as well as sexual reproduction both with other Lamnotta colonies as well as other sapient species. However, the offspring of a lamnotta will always be another lamnotta as they do not hybridize like other races.

  -Excerpt from “Quinoin’s Encyclopedia of The World”-

  “I’m sorry sir, but that’s just not how potions work,” Joe explained for what had to be the seventh time.

  “No, but see, the potions are water based right?” The young minataur in front of him hefted one of the three potions he’d brought up, a dumb grin on his face. Is his digestive system really my responsibility? Maybe shitting his brains out will teach him a lesson. Joe bit back the acidic comment he really wanted to say though. The customer was rarely right, and his reputation was too important to make an example of the boy. No, man. He’s a full grown adult. Just because he’s in his twenties doesn’t mean he’s a boy. I refuse to do the same thing I had to put up with from my older coworkers. Joe dipped back into his customer service training and answered the same questioin again.

  “Yes, the stamina potions I sell are water based. Howe-” the minataur cut him off excitedly before Joe could finish.

  “So you should be able to, like reduce them right? I’ve seen smaller potions before. If you can reduce them to a third their original volume, then pour it all together into one normal size bottle, that would make a legal grade 3 potion!” His grin ratcheted up a notch as a look of triumph plastered itself across his bovine features. Joe was at a loss. Rarely had he encountered a customer so, well, bull-headed as this one. They’d spent the last fifteen minutes going around like this. Joe couldn’t understand why the guy wanted something that strong anyway. A sudden hunch had Joe surpticiously looking down at the minataurs legs through his glasses.

  Micah Vandenburg

  Species: Minotaur

  Profession: Adventurer/Fighter

  PL: 1

  Ah yes, a college student, Joe thought looking up at the smiling face again. Old enough to be an adult, young enough to probably still think he’s invincible. After all, consiquences are for other people right? Out loud Joe sighed and said, “All you’re going to get if you do that is the most painful case of the shits you’ve ever experienced.” Joe hoped that throwing out professional decorum and subtlty might shock this Michah fellow into actually listening to him. “As I have said before, your system isn’t going to be able to handle that much concentrated mana in one go.” Joe tapped the label on the bottle Micah was holding. “Did you read the label? ‘No more than one potion every four hours’. That’s not a suggestion, it’s a warning.” Joe watched the bovine face of his customer fall.

  “I told you that’s not how they worked.” Up until that point Joe’s other customer had been content to brows on her own. She had been a suprise when she’d come in.

  Jill Gelentine

  Species: Lamnotta

  Profession: Adventurer/Mage

  PL:1.5

  Lamnotta sounded so much better than slime. Jill looked like a master sculpter had become bored with marble and diversified into lime Jello. Her features were perfectly sculpted in semi-transparent green gel. The only difference Joe could see was her black eyes. They sat in her head like a pair of faceted jet marbles. She wore a basic set of leather armor over a white linen dress. It sat in stark contrast to her companions choice of a loin cloth and a smile.

  “Might I suggest actual sleep Micah?” Jill’s tone was neutral, lacking any barb or recrimination, but Micah wilted regardless.

  “I’ve got that engineering test coming up Jill, you know that.” he whined. None the less he left off on asking Joe to boil the potions down and dug around for the required payment. Once he was out of the way Jill made her purchases which were a handfull of healing potinos and one of Joe’s experimental light rings. He’d been doing his best to learn enchanting without triggering the skill book. Through careful experimentation, Joe had found that he could reference “Beginners Guide to Enchanting” so long as he didn’t read from chapter one. It meant he lost out on a bit of basic information, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten fluent enough to not need it. While he appreciated the boon of knowledge “Practical Alchemy for the Modern Chemist” had given him. The hangover had been a killer and the knowledge it left behind felt weird in his mind. It wasn’t like normal memories or practiced skills. There was no muscle memory to it, and unless he prompted it, he couldn’t recall anything specific.

  All natural might have been a slower process then the skillbook, but Joe felt he’d be a better enchanter for it in the long run.

  “Shame these don’t taste better…” Micah mused as they walked out the door. “I’d buy twice as many if they tasted as good as Merrie Carrie’s drinks do.” Jill’s response was muffled as the door closed, leaving Joe to his own thoughts on the subject.

  <><><>

  When Joe made his way to Fairchild Foundry to pick up his special order, he encountered something that hadn’t been there the first time he’d visited. A small child of about five squatted on the sidewalk outside drawing with a chunk of soapstone. The pavers around her were already decorated in a mishmash of cartoon cats, flowers, and hearts. Joe ignored her and turned to see if anyone was in the open smithy. He didn’t do so out of any particular malice, it was just that you could write everything Joe knew about kids on the back of a teaspoon. Adding to that was the fact that he was pretty sure a stranger starting up a conversation with an unattended child could be easily misconstrued and it left him unwilling to talk to her. He ended up not having much of a choice however, as a second or two after he’d dismissed her from his mind a little voice piped up at his elbow.

  “My name is Sarah.” Joe briefly considered ignoring the little girl and hoping she’d go away, but felt in his bones that that would be rude. She may have been a child, but that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve some basic respect. He turned, putting on his gentlest customer service smile.

  “That’s a nice name,” Joe said, nodding his head. The little girl looked up at Joe with a smile of her own. Her eyes were a luminous yellow color with almond shaped pupils that gave the girl a disturbingly feral look. Her face had smudges of dirt and she wore a rumpled blue dress that bore the signs of hard playing. Some sort of fuzzy red ribbon was pinned to the back of her dress and swayed back and forth. It matched her fiery red hair which was cut into short spikes.

  “I’m six years old,” the apparent Sarah said, holding up seven fingers. Joe debated with himself for a moment before reaching out and putting down the childs left thumb.

  “That’s six.” He said, watching her stare at her hands for a moment.

  “Did you know my mom runs this place?” Whether ‘this place’ meant the foundry, the city, or the world, she gave no clarification.

  “Is that so?” Joe said, looking around for any sort of adult back up. He was saved by Moira decending the stairs, a worried look on her face. Said look morphed into one of annoyance when she spotted Sarah.

  “Sarah Fairchild what have I told you about wandering out here on your own?” Tufts in Sarah’s red hair seemed to flatten at the remark and the ribbon pinned to her back thrashed back and forth harder. What the hell? Joe thought, but Moira continued. “Come over here this instant and leave Mr.Alderbright alone,” Moira scolded the girl. As she ran back to her mother, Joe got a better look at the ‘ribbon’. It was a ginger cat tail.

  “It’s ok,” Joe said, dragging his eyes away from the thrashing tail. “She was just saying hello.” Moira gave him a curt smile.

  “That’s nice Mr. Alderbright, and if that was all she was in trouble for then that would be enough. But someone decided to wander off and play in the forge while I was getting her lunch ready. Which is something she knows not to do.” Moira put her hands on her hips and gave what Joe was coming to realize was her daughter a stern look. It hadn’t struck him at first, but now standing next to her mother, the girl had the same rounded face and fiery hair as her parent. She also seemed to have inherited her mothers strong will as well. The little cat girl stared unflinchingly, tail puffed up in challenge.

  “I wasn’t playing in the forge.” Sarah retorted, more defiant than chastised. “ I was out front drawing on the sidewalk.”

  “And you know full well you’re not allowed to come outside without me or Gretta. What do you think would happen to you if you wandered out in front of a brox? Or if someone decided to pick you up and take you away?” Whatever the cat girl’s response was, it was muttered too quietly for Joe to hear. Moira’s look hardened though into one of maternal sternness. She extended an arm and pointed one finger at the stairwell to the living space. “March,” her tone broached no argument, and this time the little one provided none.

  “I apologize for that.” Moira said, turning to Joe after her daughter had disappeared up the turn of the stairs. “She’s too much like her mother for her own good.” Joe gave a dismissive gesture, trying his best to put Moira at her ease.

  “Ah there’s nothing wrong with a strong will.” Joe said with a smile. His comment was met with a short bark of laughter from the smith.

  “Yeah, well you try raising one. I now know why my mother’s hair was so grey.” She waved him through into the workspace of the open air forge. “I’ve got your order all packed up and ready to go. You prepaid so there’s nothing else to do but get it home.” Moira led Joe to a medium sized wooden crate tucked against the back wall. To Joe it looked identical to the other two dozen or so crates around it. The thing was a rough wooden affair with more time and effort dedicated to the metal hinges and latch than the box itself. Someone had burned ‘FF’ on the side with a branding iron.

  “You brand your boxes? Have you had trouble with people stealing them in the past?” Joe undid the latch and peered inside.

  “Not really, but why not have some free advertising.” Moira shrugged coming over to stand next to him. “We make all the latches and hinges ourselves too. If they end up traveling around I’d hate to have shoddy work associated with my shop. Bring it back when you have a moment if you don’t mind.”

  The inside was packed with straw, keeping various glassware separated from each other. The distiller tube sat in the middle protected on all sides by the maximum amount of straw and space. This one looked substantially different from the one it was replacing. Carefully, Joe drew it out to have a look at the odd thing.

  The distiller tube that had shattered was essentially that; a tube. It had been blown so that a thin interior tube sat suspended in the middle of a larger tube that itself acted as a water reservoir to cool the vapors passing through the inner space. This new one looked more like a wicker hive for complicated bees. The body was a squat jar with a wide mouth for easy filling. It probably had four times the interior volume as the original distiller had had. In the center, a thin glass tube made lazy spirals up from the bottom and fitted into a doughnut shaped glass lid allowing access to the interior tube after the reservoir was sealed. Glass spokes radiated out from near the top of the inner tube to help support and guide it into the hole in the lid. The whole thing would need to sit on some sort of base to allow enough space under it to place a flask, as the outlet was flush with the bottom. That’s not a problem I can’t solve with a pair of bricks though, thought Joe as he turned the heavy bit of glassware around in his hands. Plus I’m not going to act like that’s a deal breaker for me. This thing is beautiful.

  “Wow this thing is more distiller tub than distiller tube!” Joe laughed as he carefully placed it back in its straw nest. Moira gave him a smile that made Joe’s heart flutter in a way he’d not felt in years.

  “Glad you like it. I put Gretta through her paces with that one. She’s been entirely too smug recently and needed a hard lesson in humility.”

  “Oh? What about?” Moira looked away and harrumphed, but didn’t answer. She didn’t turn fast enough however for Joe to miss the light blush that spread across her nose. An idea struck him. At first he pushed it away, not wanting to be forward. But it persisted and his resolve quickly crumbled. “So, uh. Did you finish making Sarah her lunch?” He asked, knowing full well how awkward he sounded. Moira heaved a sigh.

  “No, I’d just gotten the skillet heated when I realized it had gone entirely too quiet in the house.” Her eyes looked sad and distant for a moment as she stared at the empty staircase. Joe didn’t like seeing her sad.

  “Well, if you are ok with it, I’d like to treat the two of you to lunch as a thank you for getting my order done so fast.” Moira’s attention snapped back to the present with an almost audible pop. She gave him a suspicious look, her eyes narrowing as if she didn’t quite believe what he’d said. Joe almost back peddled, but held his own by the barest of margins. “I was going to offer it to you and Gretta, but it must be her day off.” He gave her what he fervently hoped was a friendly smile.

  “She has classes today.” Moira said distantly. Glancing at the stairwell again, she gave a quick nod. “That should be alright though. Give me a few minutes to get that miscreant cleaned and ready ok?”

  <><><>

  It took roughly twenty minutes for Moira to get the two of them ready and out the door. To Joe it felt like a small eternity. Every person walking by seemed like they were silently judging him, which was absurd. Not a single pedestrian even looked his way, but a little voice in him was still screaming that he was doing something wrong. When Moira and Sarah finally did come down, Joe had worked himself up into quite the dark mood. The sight of Moira descending the stairs however, banished the shadows in his mind. God she’s pretty he found himself thinking for the second time. Moira had clearly taken time to clean herself up as well as her daughter. Sarah was scrubbed down and in a new pink dress with a cream colored apron over the top. Her cheeks were still pink from how hard her mother had to work to get her clean. Moira herself had changed into a blue dress with yellow sunflowers embroidered on it. A leather corset belt held the dress against her waist, accenting her curves without doing anything to lessen her look of power. The dress lacked sleeves and had an open back that showed off the muscles of her shoulders and arms. She’d also discarded her sweat stained floral bandanna, allowing her short red hair to stick up in a pixie cut. Joe couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Mr.Alderbright?” Moira prompted with a raised eyebrow and a bit of a blush.

  “Yeah?” he responded dumbly.

  “Lunch?”

  “Oh? Oh!” Joe shook himself out of his stupor. “Is Merrie Carrie’s ok?”

  “Yay! Aunty’s!” Sarah cheered, hopping up and down.

  “Aunty’s?” Joe looked at Moira with a raised eyebrow.

  “I grew up next to Merrie and her family.” Moira explained as they started off. “She’s been a big help with raising Sarah. It’s just been the two of us since she was born so the extra pair of hands has helped.” Joe opened his mouth to ask what had happened to Sarah’s father, but felt that probably wasn’t good conversation material. Instead he just enjoyed the stroll to the cafe.

  <><><>

  Goober Le Gume, for that was what Bighound had decided to call him, regarded the door with mild contempt. Bighound had stopped him from going in, and this was right and proper. Goober knew the shop and its environs were Bighounds territory and as such he decided what happened within it, to a degree. But Goober could smell vermin on the other side of the door and Bighound was unwilling to deal with them himself. A swipe of Goober's paw knocked aside the chair wedged against the door. Booping the door with his snout resulted in nothing happening. Immediate results however had never stopped him in the past. Like most of his race, Goober lacked a certain amount of intelligence. Their heads having been bred more for durability than bandwidth. What his kind lacked in intelligence however, they made up for in a persistent, bull headed cunning that generally saw them through life. Goober switched to battering the door with his paw. Each subsequent strike caused the door to bounce slightly more in its frame. As Goober continued to bat at the door he built up a rhythm, eventually causing it reach a point where he could flick it the rest of the way open with his snout. Bighound may have been too busy to deal with the vermin down here, but Goober had nothing but time.

  As the sound of Goober's claws on stone faded into the darkness the door swung shut by itself with a soft click.

  <><><>

  Sarah bounded right up to Merrie Carrie and jumped into her fluffy embrace. The only warning the big lanoli got was a screeched “AUNTY!”. It was still just enough for her to drop her notepad and catch the cat girl midair, pinning her to her chest.

  “Well howdy there my pretty little kitty. You here to have some of Aunty’s cooking?” Sarah’s response was muffled in Merrie Carrie’s curly wool.

  “Hey Merrie” Moira called from the doorway. When the big lanoli looked up her eyes went wide.

  “Well ain’t this a pleasant surprise! I see ya had to break out the good dress to get our chemist out of his shop.” Moira glowered at her friend, but didn’t contradict her. For his part Joe just did his best to ignore the good natured needling of the boisterous woman.

  “Afternoon Merrie, do you think you’ve got room for three?” He said, giving her the best smile he could through his blush. Merrie Carrie must have noticed it though, because her own smile ratcheted up an extra notch and a little more croone entered her voice.

  “For three of my favorite customers? You just try to stop me.”

  “Favorite eh? What will everyone else think?” Moira groused good naturedly. Merrie Carrie spread her arms wide, encompassing the entirety of her tiny queendom.

  “Sis, anyone who wants to give me their hard earned money’s my favorite.”

  “Flirt”

  “Ain't nothing wrong with that Sis,” Merrie Carrie gave her a huge wink. “Maybe you should try it some time.” There was a subtext to her words that went over Joe’s head, but the message seemed to be received by Moira who blushed harder and glared at her friend. The lunch rush being in full swing meant a table for three proved impossible to find, even for the vivacious lanoli. She solved the problem for them by tucking Joe and Moira into a two person table by the window and squirreling Sarah behind the counter next to her where she kept the little cat girl occupied with drawing and tidbits of food.

  An awkward silence descended over the two adults who now found themselves alone in each other's company. “So,” Moira said eventually, “what brought you to Acadameyway?”

  “Oh, uh, a new start.” Joe stammered, finding that for some reason his tongue just wouldn’t work right. “I got tired of working at the bank I was at and just wanted something quieter.” Moira perked up at that.

  “A bank? Is that how you could afford to buy the chemistry shop outright? I’ll admit, the other merchants and I are more than a little jealous. All our properties are leased from the Bacarti family.” Joe raised an eyebrow.

  “Never heard of them, I had an intermediary do all the paperwork for me.” He thought quickly and added, “I sank everything I had into the shop and pulled every last favor I had to get here so here’s hoping it all works out.”

  “Sounds like you were trying to get away from something.” Moira teased, a playful smile crossing her face. “Not running away from a debt collector are you? Or maybe a jilted lover?” Joe was about to give her another half truth response when he remembered her moment of candor earlier, and decided she deserved the same honesty.

  “Nothing that dramatic, I just needed a change.” he said, not quite believing he was about to tell an almost complete stranger this. “My wife passed away a few years ago and I’d gotten myself stuck in a rut of just surviving.” It was more honesty than he’d intended, but it was out there now. Moira gave him a genuinely sad look.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.” Joe waved the apology away. Talking about it felt less ardouse when it was Moira.

  “There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn't know and if it bothered me I wouldn’t have mentioned it.” Moira opened her mouth, looking for all the world like she was going to apologize again. Before she could though their food showed up. Grilled cheese had apparently been removed from the menu, so this time Joe ordered the soup of the day. This turned out to be a potato like variety that smelled of savory herbs and was thick enough to mortar walls. It had come with a fresh crusty bread the size of his fists balled together and a knob of butter. Joe mixed the butter into the soup to add some creaminess to the savory flavors. Moira had gone with a literally plate sized steak Joe was sure hadn’t been on the menu. The steak had been seared rare and smothered in herbed butter. They tucked in in silence for a time, Moira clearly still embarrassed about her perceived faux pas earlier. Come on Joe you idiot, figure something out to talk to her about. You are blowing this hard. Lacking the brain power to think of anything better, Joe lobbed a version of her own question back at her. “So how long have you been running Fairchild Foundry for?”

  Of course he’d inadvertently timed his question to the exact moment Moira took a bite, leaving the poor woman to sign frantically to wait while she masticated her mouthful and swallowed. “About nine years now, I inherited it from my parents when I was in my late twenties when they retired to the big city. I had to split the charters though to keep it all up and running as is.” Knowing better than to ask outright, Joe tried to guess how old that made her. Alright, if she inherited in her late twenties and ran it for nine years now. That would put her around, what? Thirty seven? Thirty eight? Something in Joe’s face must have given the game away though because Moira chuckled and answered it. “I’m thirty eight now.”

  “What a coincidence,” Joe said, trying to plaster over what could have been an awkward topic, “I’m thirty eight as well.” Moira gave another laugh before something seemed to cross her mind that stole her happiness away. No, don’t look like that Joe thought to himself, his own face falling to match Moira’s.

  “Something up?” He asked. Moira shook her head and took refuge in another bite. “I don’t mind, it’s ok to ask.” Joe thought for a moment before hazarding a guess. “You’re…curious if me and my wife had any children?” From the wince on Moira’s face he knew he’d gotten it in one.

  “You don’t have to-”

  “No, it’s ok, and the answer is no. We were both professional people dedicated to our work. Family was always something we assumed we’d have time for later.” Joe gave a shrug. He felt the old sting of lost opportunities again, but this time it felt duller than it had before. “Honestly I’m not sure how good of a dad I would have been. I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

  “Does anyone?” Moira asked with a chuckle. “I sure as hell didn’t know what I was getting into when I had Sarah.” She leaned sideways so she could see past Joe and check on said daughter. She scowled at something Joe couldn’t see, her eyes promising violence in their depths. The change was so sudden that it shocked Joe into turning around and looking behind him. Whatever it was that had set Moira off seemed to have resolved itself however, as all he could see was Merrie Carrie buffing the counter in front of her while Sarah chewed her way through a pastry.

  “Something the matter?” Joe asked, turning back around. Moira shook her head, but the glare hadn’t quite left her eyes.

  “No it’s fine. I’ll talk with her later.” Moira answered. She looked back at him and her bright green eyes softened. Joe couldn’t help but marvel at their brilliance. She really is just, vibrant. From her hair to her eyes, to her personality. There’s not a single dull thing about her. So lost in thought was he that it took Moira waving her hand in front of his face before he realized she’d asked him a question.

  “Sorry, miles away there. What did you say?” He spluttered, coming back to himself. Joe looked down and realized it’d been awhile since he’d touched his food. He tore off some bread and dunked it into the soup for something to do. It actually took a good amount of pushing to get the bread under the surface.

  “I said I managed to find those true square molds.” Moira repeated, cutting another large chunk from her dwindling steak. “I can get them to you for three iron per two if you want standard glass and three iron each if you want high temperature.” The shift in the conversation had Joe’s mental gears grinding together as he struggled to change topics.

  “I doubt I’ll need high temp for these. They’re just going to be general merchandise bottles.” He popped the soup soaked bread into his mouth and chewed, giving himself a chance to do some mental math. Once he’d swallowed he continued. “I’ve gone through about a crate a week. Could I get about four crates of them?” Moira gave a low whistle.

  “That many? Just for shampoo combo sets?”

  “Well I’m planning on doing more than that, but yes.” Joe took a moment to eat before continuing. “That will let me play with some other combination sets as well as get some stock out there in the neighborhood. I’m thinking of doing a store credit program for returned bottles.” Moira gave a wince and shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The gnolls won’t be happy you’re trying to cut them out.” Joe blinked. He didn’t have to voice the question on his lips however because Moira continued. “Anything meant for the garbage they see as their property. My suggestion is to go to them directly and tell them you’ll purchase back any clean-washed bottles that they bring in. If you give them an example of what to look out for they’ll even sort those for an extra fee.”

  “‘Clean-washed’?” Joe asked. Moira made a vague gesture with her fork.

  “It’s one of their private grading standards. Technically it’s the highest, most expensive grade.” Her eyes took on a faraway expression of deep recall. “It goes; ‘as -is’ which is just as they found it, ‘cleaned’ where they basically give it a quick wipe down with a rag. Then there’s ‘washed’ where it’s washed in warm soapy water, and finally ‘clean-washed’ where it’s hot soapy water followed by purifying magic.”

  Joe leaned back from the onslaught of information. “Wow, that’s quite the complex system.” Moira shrugged before popping the last bit of her steak in her mouth and chewing. Once she was done she went on.

  “When you make income by the iron you tend to split hairs.” She said by way of an explanation. It was at that moment that Merrie Carrie popped up with a cheshire grin and a single large dessert. The monstrosity of a thing took up a shallow sided bowl as wide as a plate. It reminded Joe of the biggest ice cream sundae he’d ever seen.

  “Thought you two lovebirds would like some’n sweeter than each other.” Merrie Carrie crooned before retreating back to her counter. Moira gave a little strangling noise and looked about ready to throw her plate at the departing lanoli. She settled down when Joe gave a bark of laughter.

  “Wow, she really doesn’t have a filter does she?” Joe chuckled. He hoped the irreverent comment would help calm Moira down. Truth be told, Merrie’s comment had rattled him more than a little. It had come out of left field and he wanted to reassure Moira as much as himself that this was just a casual lunch.

  “Sorry about her,” Moira relaxed back into her seat with a visible effort. “She might look like a lamb, but she acts like a bull.” She kept her eyes on the slowly melting confection between them, apparently unwilling to look at Joe right then. “She’s been gunning to find me someone ever since Minsk disappeared.”

  “Minsk being Sarah’s father.” Joe guessed.

  “Yeah, I don’t really want to talk about him though.” Moira’s eyes went hard, like the dessert had personally offended her. Joe couldn’t help but notice Merrie Carrie had only given them one spoon.

  “Then don’t, you don’t owe me an explanation of anything. Although, if you ever need someone to talk to I’m more than willing to listen.” Joe took a moment to clean his own spoon before sampling their treat. It turned out to be ice cream, or the closest fantasy equivalent available. I don’t want to know what cow analog they used for this. Please by whatever gods exist in this world let it not have been a brox. Joe smiled when Moira looked up and caught his eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to let a free dessert go to waste.” Joe wasn’t sure if the dessert was free or not, but since he planned on being the one to buy lunch anyway it was going to be free for Moira regardless. Either way the comment got a small smile from the embarrassed blacksmith, who started tucking in on her side. Joe steered the conversation away from personal topics and onto more neutral ground.

  They spent the rest of the meal discussing consignment ideas for Joe to try out at Swiftly’s, as well as a possible collaboration with Merrie Carrie. The conversation with his minotaur customer earlier in the day had gotten Joe thinking about the fruity drinks coffee shops had started selling around the boardwalk back in his old world. They’d all relied on the sour tasting energy drinks to offset the sweetness of the fruit flavors, which wouldn’t quite work for his own potions. Even if Micah had been wrong about reducing potions, he’d been dead on about the flavor. They were frankly appalling, with a chalky aftertaste like an antacid. Eventually the dessert dwindled and the conversation wound down. Plucking Sarah away from her aunt, Joe was not surprised at all when Merrie Carrie refused to let them pay for the meal.

  <><><>

  Moira bid Mr.Alderbright goodbye at the door to Merrie’s place. He’d looked a little disappointed, but she just couldn’t justify him walking them all the way back to her shop only to turn around and basically retrace his steps all while carrying his crate of glassware. While Moira was sure Merrie would let him store it there until he got back, she didn’t want to put him to any more trouble.

  Thoughts of lunch circled themselves around her head as she watched Sarah skip from stone to stone on the sidewalk. The little cat girl’s tail flicked back and forth as a counterbalance while her nimble feet danced around the cracks in the sandstone. Mr.Alderbright had been an interesting man to talk to. She hadn’t needed Merrie’s pantomimed fishing and mouthed “snag him” to pique her interest in the new chemist. He’d shown genuine interest in her business, and had been aware enough to know when not to push about Minsk.

  The name set a spark of annoyance off in her that quickly built into a towering rage. Damnit Minsk, you better hope to the gods you died out there. If I ever find out you abandoned your daughter to go chasing dreams of glory I’ll skin you for a new set of bellows. At least then all your hot air will be worth something.

  In front of her Sarah skipped into a backwards handspring that should have been too advanced for her age. Not for the first time Moira marveled at her daughter’s inherited dexterity. Her fathers physique and my personality. Although I can’t complain, better that than her getting her father’s brains. Sarah did three more handsprings before landing facing backwards looking at her mother. Moira scooped her daughter up in her arms and gave her a full strength hug that left the girl squeaking like a dog toy. “What did you think of Mr.Alderbright?” Moira asked.

  <><><>

  That night Joe was in a complicated mood as he stood having his evening smoke. On the one hand the lunch with Moira and Sarah had been nice, even with the prickly topics they’d accidentally got mired in a few times. He was ultimately glad that he’d asked them to lunch. On the other hand the old sadness and guilt that had kept him locked away from everyone for years hurt worse than it had for a long time. He felt disloyal, like he was betraying everything he’d stood before the altar and swore to while he stared into the eyes of the person he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. That’s daft though, you know there was the ‘till death do you part’ bit. Even Mary's family wouldn’t begrudge you finding someone new. But Joe knew he could remind himself of that as many times as he liked, deep down his heart still screamed that she’d been his one and only. He took his pipe out of his mouth and stared it in one jasper eye.

  “Mary,” Joe’s voice was thin and strained as it tried to hold itself together. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m sorry my love but I tried, I really did. I tried so hard to have you stay my one and only. But I’m so tired of being alone. I can’t do this anymore. Please, forgive me. I need to see where this will go with Moira.” Joe squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took another steadying breath. “I know I just met her, but no one else has made me feel this way since you left, please.” He looked up at the night sky, the edges of his vision blurry with unshed tears. If this was a story, Joe thought to himself, then there would be some sign. Something to let me know Mary heard and was ok with this. Joe waited for a minute or two as he finished his pipe. When nothing happened he knocked it out and went in for the night.