After the two parted ways, Ozahr walked among the shops, trying to locate the one Elidyr always used—”The White Cauldron.” Others began walking on the streets, wearing similar robes to Ozahr but none with a pointy hat—clearly not sorcerers. Most of them were students with the emblem of the Alchemist Academy stitched onto their robes.
A group of girls stopped Ozahr while he was looking around. They noticed his injuries and asked if he needed any help, but Ozahr reassured them he was fine.
“If I may ask, though,” he spoke to them, “do you happen to know where The White Cauldron is?”
They pointed him down the street, almost to the edge of town. Ozahr bid them farewell, bowing with his hat to his chest, and left them to giggle about whether or not he was the new teacher at the academy.
At the end of the path stood a small shop separated by all the others with a fenced-off garden. Moss was slowly climbing up its stone walls and vines wrapped around its chipped wooden sign. The shop did not advertise their products as aggressively as the rest of the shops in Erith. In fact, you couldn’t see far into the shop at all from its humble windows. Had it not been for the sign, the shop would’ve looked like someone’s residence.
A few bells lightly jingled when Ozahr opened the door. He was in a narrow, dark hallway with five steps leading up to what he assumed was the main shop. As soon as the floorboards creaked with his presence, a puff of green smoke erupted to his right, rising from a small, round pot standing on an ordinary looking dresser.
“Welcome! Welcome!” An old lady’s voice called from the tiny cauldron before the green smoke took the shape of her floating head. “What are you standing around for like an ash hag? Come in!” She beckoned him like a grandma who hasn’t seen her grandson in years and the smoke fell back into its little pot.
‘Ash hag…?’ Ozahr furrowed his brows but stepped forth towards the stairs nonetheless.
The shop itself wasn’t much brighter than the hallway. It was lit by candles burning in various colors atop shelves of glass bottles, containers, and heavy books. In the middle was a giant cauldron lightly bubbling and emitting a faint, white light. Various plants and herbs were hanging off the wooden support beams, drying out. Ozahr was just about to touch one of their dry leaves when someone popped from around the corner.
“How can I help you?” Asked a young man with a broom in his hand, adjusting his round glasses.
“Oh, uh…” Ozahr took a moment to gather his thoughts before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ugh, the list Elidyr gave me was in my suitcase. Uh—do you know if an old lady works here?”
“Further in and to the right—” he pointed behind him. The young man watched the customer as he passed by him from the corner of his glasses. His cheek was scratched up. The clothes under his robe, bloodied up. A pearl necklace, hanging off his pack. And of course, the cheap potions clipped to his belt. When the sorcerer looked back and tipped his hat in thanks, the young man averted his gaze and continued on with his duties. ‘Weirdo,’ he thought.
Ozahr looked between the bookcases until he spotted a ladder going up to the top shelf, and on it, a little old lady reaching for books with her cane.
“Excuse me,” Ozahr called softly as to not startle her.
“What is it, Solace?” She asked without turning around as she tittered on the edge of the ladder.
Ozahr raised his fingers in the air and nudged the book out of its spot with his magic into the lady’s hand. “The name’s actually—”
“Ozahr!” She said excitedly and finally turned around. “I’d know this magic anywhere. You’ve really improved since I last saw you.”
“Why, thank you,” said Ozahr with a satisfied smile. “When, uh… When’s the last time you saw me?” Ozahr was the one who opened his matches to the public, but he didn’t expect someone like this old little lady to attend.
“Ah, I wouldn’t expect you to remember. You were but a wee child,” said the grandma as she quickly slid off the ladder. She was barely half Ozahr’s size, but her little legs were quicker than they seemed. “Come with me,” she said.
Back at the main room, she approached the store shelves and pulled out from a drawer a small vial filled with a brilliant blue liquid that shimmered under the light. When she opened its cork, the smell of blackberries and plums wafted in the air. Ozahr could’ve sworn he smelled something else as well, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it was drawing his nose closer and closer.
“You were quite out of it when Elidyr called me,” said the old lady. “If you’d like to retrieve your memories from that time—” She offered him the potion, free of charge.
Ozahr looked at the vial. The smell was getting stronger, overcoming the dozens of hanging plants with its sweet scent. He blinked a couple times and held onto the lady’s hand to close the potion, and at once, the smell disappeared.
“I think I’m alright,” Ozahr said softly. “But thank you.” He no longer had a doubt about when the lady visited him, but nonetheless, he still couldn’t remember that day. “I came for Elidyr’s supplies, though I lost the list he gave me. I don’t suppose you know his regular order, do you?”
“Oh, of course, I have it all arranged in a basket. Let me find it for you,” she said as she started rummaging through the drawers behind the shop’s counter.
“And uh… Do you happen to have something for magic fatigue? And… bandages, perhaps?” Ozahr asked.
A hand reached to the counter and put down fresh bandages and a container of disinfectant salve. It was the shop’s helper who Ozahr talked to earlier.
“Solace, was it?” Ozahr smiled at him. “Thank you.”
“It burns less if you put the salve on the bandage first,” Solace said dryly before turning around to sweep the floor some more. “And there is no potion for magic fatigue. Whoever sold you that—” He looked at the half-empty potion on his belt, “lied to you.”
“Wha—lied?” Ozahr frowned like a puppy. “But I bought them here in Erith and all.”
“Unfortunately,” said Solace, “most of the alchemists in Erith are frauds, thanks to the Academy admitting every student with at least half a brain cell.”
“Ah, here we go!” The grandma put the little basket on the counter. She squinted at Ozahr for a moment before lifting his hat up with her cane. "Where did you get scratched up like that, child?"
She just now noticed? I was limping inside the store the entire time.' Ozahr smiled in reassurance. "I'm fine, really. Or, I hope. I might still have a glass shard or two stuck somewhere.”
"Oh, dearie!” The grandma gasped. “You’re walking around like this? No, no, no—Solace, take a look at him, would you?”
Solace furrowed his brows. You’re not paying me to be a doctor.
“Right this way,” he said unenthusiastically and took Ozahr to a back room where his personal lab was. It was full of plants, vials, and books, much like the shop. It looked like a very organized mess with every shelf and drawer stuffed to their full capacity, but nothing was scattered around haphazardly.
“I can put the bandages on myself,” Ozahr said as to not bother Solace with more work, but as soon as Solace closed the door, he put his hand on Ozahr’s chest and an orange light burst from his palm. Ozahr felt it very faintly—a warm glow seeping through his robes.
“You’re a…” Solace didn’t look much like a sorcerer. He was reserved, dressed like a scholar in a brown blazer, and of course, he didn’t wear a pointy hat over his impeccable, side-swept chestnut hair. To think one of the rarest magical abilities would belong to someone so ordinary looking…
“Healer?” Solace asked. “Somewhat. I mostly grow plants, but I acknowledge the history behind this type of magic. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to heal what you can walk off, especially as a sorcerer. Luckily for you, I didn’t feel any glass or other foreign objects lodged anywhere, so most of your injuries should heal within a couple days. Though…” Solace took a step closer to the tall sorcerer.
“Oh no, what is it doc?” Ozahr asked. “Am I going to die? Tell it to me straight.”
“Where did you get those scratch marks?” Solace looked at his cheek.
Ozahr pursed his lips. “About that… They were either from decorative metal claws, or from the real claws of a dragon. It was a bit hard to tell at the moment.”
Solace blinked a couple times. “Dragon?” He asked flatly.
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