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bones, sparkling eyes, and a tumble of auburn hair transcended the outer coating of grime, but that wasn't what caught the apothaker's attention. She sensed in this young waif an inner fire, a talent not unlike her own but fiercer and stronger, far stronger. It seemed a tragedy that such a girl was destined to end up running with a street gang and embroiled in petty crime, or, more likely, whoring, as happened to so many in the City Below where there were far more people than there would ever be decent jobs, or even half-decent ones.
      Following some extended bartering with the girl's mother – an old shrew with a keen eye for a profit – the apothaker secured the girl's services as her apprentice. In effect, she bought her. Yet she never once begrudged doing so, considering every coin to have been well spent. The girl was a revelation, her raw talent beyond anything the apothaker had seen before.
      Kara rarely mentioned her father and when she did it was generally to the effect that he was drunk much of the time. These comments were invariably expressed in such an uncomfortable manner that the old woman suspected the man had abused her in some way.
      With great patience she began to tutor her young protégée, teaching her to harness her emerging talent. Kara proved to be a willing pupil and took to the disciplines as if born to them, so that she was soon able to draw out the potential of distillations, powders and elixirs far more effectively than the woman herself could ever have done.
      They had been together now for nearly two years, during which time the girl had entered her teens. Clearly destined to be a great beauty, she was already drawing attention from men who ought to have known better and boys who had yet to learn to. With the onset of puberty her abilities blossomed and their partnership went from strength to strength; the old apothaker with her knowledge of chemistry and scientific process, brought with her from the City Above, the girl with her raw talent to manipulate and set potentials. The old woman's flickering abilities helped to guide the younger's burgeoning skills.
      In addition, Kara loved her stories, loved to hear all she could of life in the City Above. If the old apothaker's experiences had been predominantly mundane in the living, they grew to be so much more than that in the telling. To a young girl condemned to live out her life in the slums of the City Below, these tales provided treasured glimpses of a magic kingdom forever beyond her reach, and she lapped up every syllable.
      What could she tell the girl this eve? In truth, she'd long since run out of stories about her own life, even the heavily embellished ones, and had all but exhausted the gossip she remembered from friends and acquaintances of those days. She was having to rely increasingly on pure invention and sensed that even Kara was starting to doubt some of the more outlandish claims; she resolved to be less flamboyant this time around.
      They prepared the evening meal and ate in comfortable silence for the most part – cold meat, day-old bread and watered ale all slipped down a treat. This standard fare was then supplemented with a pickled egg each from the jar that Sander had brought as a gift. These proved less successful.
      "Thaiss, that's disgusting!" Kara said, screwing up her face at the sharpness.
      "Yet they're considered a great delicacy up-City," the apothaker lied. She'd been able to taste nothing but vinegar when she bit into her own egg and could well understand why Sander was reduced to giving these revolting things away.
      "Really?" The girl examined hers with obvious suspicion.
      "Yes, really; an acquired taste, perhaps, but delicious when your palate is accustomed to them." The old woman nibbled daintily at the pallid ovoid. They couldn't afford not to eat everything that came their way, and she was hanged if she was going to be left with an entire jar of the wretched eggs to