I rolled my eyes. “Ask away, oh-ancient-one.”
She cackled. “Why are you bothering me in the middle of an experiment, child?”
“Well, I have a rather unique potion here, and I think you might be interested…”
“Potions are not unique, Corin. There are merely ones you haven’t grown familiar with yet. Now, be silent and watch, and I will inspect your precious ‘unique’ potion when I’m finished.”
As it turned out, she wasn’t merely monitoring the still. She reached over to an empty crystal container on the left side, opened her palm, and a sliver of solid crystal dropped into it.
Then she grabbed the flask, added a tube connecting it to the larger apparatus, placed a metallic holder below it, and opened her palm again.
A flame, near identical to the ones I’d seen from alchemical burners, emerged from her hand.
“Is that an Elementalist spell, or are you—”
“Quiet.”
I shut up.
I watched the glass. The crystal within shimmered…and changed.
I’d been guessing she was trying to evaporate it from a semi-solid state, like ice. I was wrong; the crystal changed, but not into vapor. It turned orange, glimmering brighter, and began to smoke.
“The compound that I’m brewing is colloquially referred to as dragon’s breath. This is nonsense, of course, because dragons are nonexistent. But it does burn quite impressively.”
I desperately wanted to ask more, but I waited patiently. After a few moments, she pulled her hand away, slipped a metal insert between the crystal chamber and the rest of the still, and then disconnected the flask from the rest of the apparatus.
With that, she whispered a word, and the metal insert wrapped around the top of the bottle, creating a complete seal. “The smoke is not terribly dangerous on its own, but it is best not to take the risk of breathing much of it. The smoke I released into the chamber now makes its way into the condensation chamber,” she motioned to a globe on the top of the apparatus, “where it mixes with other components, takes on a liquid state, and gradually drizzles into the destination flask.” She pointed at the metallic container I’d seen before.
“Mixing fire essence directly into the compound causes the herbs to combust, but the smoke, trapped within a primer of enhancement essence, can be slowly introduced into the rest of the compound without adverse effects. Except, of course, if it is exposed to air.”
I couldn’t help myself. “And if it is?”
“It combusts, naturally. There are a number of explosive alchemical compounds, but this is among my favorites. Can you guess why?”
Without knowing the other materials, I didn’t have a lot to go on… Except the name and her own personality. “It’s really, extraordinarily impressive looking?”
Vellum chuckled. “Quite so. I am using it as the basis for developing new fireworks for the winter ball.”
The ball. Vellum was going to the ball?
Vellum must have caught my expression. She set the flask down, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not too old to dance, child. Nor am I too old to collect a tidy profit from selling the patent for this particular formula to Eldritch Engineering.” She paused deliberately, “Your best bet in mana products, guaranteed.”
I stood frozen for a moment before doubling over with laughter.
“Okay, Vellum. You win. That was good.”
“Of course it was. I’m bloody brilliant. Now,” she waved at this flask. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
I waved at the apparatus. “Are you already done with that?”
“Not by a long stretch, but I can’t add the next ingredient for another hour. Now, answer my question.”
“Oh, right, questions three from ancient thee. Yeah, I found that in the tower. During my judgment. Just before getting my attunement.” I waved at it. “Because drinking that type of liquid is how I got my attunement.”
She shook her head once. “No, it’s not.”
I blinked. “Pretty sure it was.”
“Allow me to educate you.” She walked around the table, lifting up the potion. She glanced at the runes on the side. “Preservation glyphs? At least you have some sense, limited as it may be.”
That was the nicest thing she’d ever said to me.
“I do try to be somewhat prepared, at least.”
“Oh, yes, I know. Never quite in the right ways, but you certainly try.” She unstoppered the potion, sniffing at it, then swishing it around. “Not much left. I’ll run a simple test to confirm my suspicions, but it will only take a few drops.”
Her tone brooked no argument, so I just nodded.
She handed me the potion, then went and retrieved two tubes filled with clear liquids and set them up next to each other in a rack. Then, she retrieved a potions syringe — a needle-and-chamber tool specifically designed for extracting bits of potions — and drew a bit of liquid out of my potion.
She distributed one droplet into each of tubes on the rack, frowning as she observed.
Nothing happened.
After a few moments, I raised a tentative eyebrow, but nothing changed.
Vellum nodded to herself, lifted a hand, and a tiny spark of flame brushed up against one of the vials.
The liquid inside shimmered and turned crimson.
“Mm.” She moved her hand to the other vial, focused, and the glass began to freeze.
The water within shifted to a deep cerulean hue.
Vellum lifted one of the vials, inspecting it more closely. “It is, of course, what I expected.”
“Meaning…?”
She slipped the vial back into the rack. “Meaning what you have is an attunement primer solution.”
“And that is…?”
Vellum sighed. “Something you shouldn’t have. But, since you somehow managed to stumble upon it, now it’s merely something you shouldn’t use. An attunement primer is used to ready the body to receive an attunement. It does not carry an attunement itself — no potion does.”
“But then how—”
“Magic.” She waved at the vials. “Specifically, the primer reacts to magic. It’s the catalyst for a reaction that, when a proper spell is used, forms an attunement in the body.”
Vellum pointed at the crimson vial. “Expose the primer to flame, and the gray mana in the solution becomes flame mana, saturating your body. A proper attunement-granting spell contains the specific domi—, or, mana types necessary to form that particular attunement, as well as instructions for the mana to take the proper shape.”
She paused, mumbling, “More of a ritual, really, given the complexity and material components necessary…”
I folded my arms. “Wait. You’re saying someone casts a spell to create an attunement? I understand that artificial attunements might work that way, but…”
I don’t remember anyone casting a spell.
I remember drinking the fluid, then a vision…
Was that a hallucination?
Or did someone — or something — cast a spell on me?
The Voice…Tristan…had some kind of entity that was talking to me. Did he cast something on me? Or was it some kind of enchantment on the basin?
When he put that rusted sword in there, he pulled Selys-Lyann out. Maybe the sword was repaired by the water, or maybe he withdrew a completely different weapon — either way, the basin itself was enchanted. Could that be what the true source of my attunement was?