I approached the shop once more, now with stones in my pannier. I knew enough to know that these were valuable, but not exactly how valuable. That was Anabeth’s department.

  The shopkeeper’s eyes glazed over the items with the practiced precision of someone who had smelled every ounce of aether in three counties. He prodded the Heart of Aether with his brass-tipped rod, then the other two items. “All told... roughly fourteen hundred seventy Kohns. But I am feeling generous today. One thousand five hundred Kohns, take it or leave it.”

  1500 Kohns? That sounded like 1700 Kohns to my ears. That would have been reasonable. Even 1750, if I pushed my luck.

  I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. Any attempt at haggling now would be... unwise. The thought of threatening to wrest the dagger from the shopkeeper’s hands flashed briefly in my mind, and I decided immediately against it.

  I glanced at Anabeth. Surely she wouldn’t intervene, would she? She sounded like she came from the sort of family that didn’t haggle over trifles, the sort who paid full price for everything without a second thought. And that made sense; why waste time when they could earn twice the money in that same amount of time?

  I braced myself to simply take the 1500 Kohns and move on. But then Anabeth leaned forward, just slightly, her hands folding gracefully in front of her, and spoke.

  “Ah, sir,” she said, smooth as polished marble. “You are a discerning dealer, of course. But might I suggest a reconsideration? These are not mere curiosities. Heart of Aether alone sustains minor thaumaturgic devices for weeks. Snailstride’s resonance is persistent and, as you have stated, rather uncommon. And this—this dagger,” she lifted the slick blade just enough to let its runes catch the light, “is not only intact, but possesses a sophistication I rarely encounter. Its value, with proper handling, far exceeds initial estimations. I wish to remind you that all these items have dormant properties that in the hands of the right Certified Attuner, might be unlocked, and conservatively, I would estimate a two to threefold increase in market value once their secondary matrices are stabilized.”

  My thoughts scrambled. She’s actually doing it. She’s negotiating. And she’s good at it. I didn’t even know there were people whose job is to awaken these dormant properties.

  The shopkeeper looked at the dagger, then back at Anabeth. He pursed his lips once more, clearly counting silently. I watched him, holding my breath. He could refuse, he could hold firm, but the way Anabeth had framed the argument, emphasizing rarity, utility, and irreplaceability... it was subtle, almost regal persuasion.

  The shopkeeper clicked his tongue softly. “All very eloquent,” he said, setting the dagger down with deliberate care. “But awakening is not free. A Certified Attuner of any reputation will demand no less than three hundred Kohns per item, and that is before reagents, containment seals, or the not-insignificant chance that nothing manifests at all. I am a dealer, not a gambler.”

  Anabeth inclined her head, as though conceding a minor point. “Naturally. Risk is inherent to all appraisal beyond surface valuation.” Her smile didn’t change. “But risk is not uniform, sir. It scales with complexity.” She gestured toward the dagger again. “Crude enchantments collapse into mundanity more often than not. This does not. The rune layering here is intentional, interdependent. Such sophistication is not employed unless the underlying effect justifies the effort. In cases like this, the probability of a valuable dormant manifestation rises considerably.”

  The shopkeeper stared at her for a long time and finally asked, “Why is a knowledgeable lady like you selling loot of this caliber?”

  Anabeth smiled, just a fraction wider. “Because, sir,” she said, “knowledge does not obligate ownership. I simply only own these items, and today, liquid currency is more useful to me than unrealized potential.”

  By the Saints. If I could examine her Silver Tongue skill, it might in fact be at a higher level than mine.

  The shopkeeper sighed. “Perhaps you have a point... but 1500 Kohns is already generous. I’d be stretching.”

  Anabeth tilted her head, eyes steady. “Then allow me to frame it differently, sir. Items of this nature do not circulate openly. Slime dens produce quantity, not quality. Intact runic work such as this appears only rarely, even after dozens of clears, and rarer still without fractures, contamination, or amateur tampering. What reaches the open market is usually what has already disappointed someone else. Today, you are offered first refusal—without competition, without intermediaries, and without questions asked. That convenience has value.”

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  “Hmm... well, perhaps 1600? That’s pushing it.”

  I perked up. See? He’s cracking already. I could barely believe it. My own heart raced a little.

  “1600,” Anabeth repeated, “is closer, but not quite sufficient for the rarity presented. I propose 1900 Kohns. It reflects their true value and spares us all future inconvenience.”

  The man rubbed his jaw. “1900? That’s far more than I usually pay for anything like this. You drive a hard bargain, lady.”

  “I assure you, sir, I am only advocating for fair compensation,” she said. “Surely we both prefer an equitable transaction.” She lifted the Heart of Aether just enough for the shopkeeper to see, tracing her fingertip along one of its etched runes. “Note the microfracture near the central glyph. Most would see it as a flaw, but in reality, it has stabilized naturally in the aetheric structure. This grants the crystal a resonance stability uncommon even among rare Heart of Aether specimens. Its energy storage is not only preserved, but enhanced. When you sell it to your prospective buyer, you can repeat the same point I have made, and surely you can sell it for a small fortune to those who see its value.”

  I stared at her, utterly floored. She actually did it. The calm precision, the way she highlighted the dagger and Heart of Aether—if I were selling something I had any real knowledge of, I would have said the exact same thing.

  He hesitated a moment longer, then finally, with a resigned grunt, pushed the pouch toward us. “Fine. Nineteen hundred Kohns. Final.”

  Anabeth gave a satisfied nod. “Very well, sir. We are most grateful for your fairness.”

  I watched as she deftly lifted the pouch, counting the coins with precise motions before tucking it securely into my pannier. The weight of the gold felt satisfying, but it was nothing compared to the quiet triumph of the negotiation itself.

  “Shall we be on our way?” she said, turning gracefully.

  I slung my pannier over my shoulder, still marveling at how effortlessly she had handled the whole affair. Nineteen hundred was a phenomenal outcome. With someone like Anabeth by my side, I could avoid a lot of the needless talking until I learned how to control this godforsaken power of mine.

  When it came time to acquire the Aetheric Profile Mapping Matrix, Anabeth worked the same magic. The initial price—over 2200 Kohns—was chipped down to 1600 Kohns, leaving us with a comfortable 300 Kohns still in the pouch.

  Back at Anabeth’s place, the Matrix sat on her polished table, deceptively simple in its physical form. To my untrained eye, it was little more than a brass-and-glass contraption, somewhat like a heavy, ornate cube with knobs and dials that promised function but gave nothing away.

  But then Anabeth began. She extended her fingers over the device, and the aether responded, curling and flowing like a river of light. Slowly, the Matrix began to pulse, and the faint lines etched into its brass panels lit up with internal radiance.

  Through her touch, the Matrix transformed: the runes shone as lines of energy inside it connected into an intricate network of the aetheric patterns. Each intersection and connection seemed to be illustrating some sort of flow that I couldn’t quite grasp.

  Anabeth’s eyes gleamed as she turned to me, posture straight and unyielding. “Ser,” she said, “now you shall see why this device is worth every Kohn, and more. Even if you possess only a single ounce of aether, it will detect and map your profile to each of the elements displayed here.” She gestured to the Matrix. “Observe,” she said, pointing to one of the brighter intersections, “this corresponds to Water—easily comprehensible, yes? And here, Fire. Air. Earth.”

  As she moved across the patterns, thirty-four distinct branches stretched across the network. Some of the symbols floated clearly, familiar enough to grasp immediately like fire and lightning. Others were indecipherable, foreign and exotic, twisting in ways that made my mind stumble.

  Anabeth leaned slightly closer as she peered at me with that genuine, almost childlike grin of hers. “Go on, Ser. Channel your aether. Even if you try to obfuscate your talent, the Matrix will detect it. There has never been a failure. You might as well go all out.” She hummed. “I thought I only resonated with seven elements, but the Matrix pointed me to Glass too. I hadn’t even realized!”

  Eight? That sounded absurd. I had one AP before today. Which would probably mean I had one magical element; maybe two if I was lucky. And the first would almost certainly be something predictable, boring, basic, like Fire.

  Anabeth extended her hand gracefully toward the Matrix, then pointed to one of the brass panels. “Place your hand here, Ser. Let your aether flow into it. Gently at first, just enough for the device to sense you.”

  I rested my palm on the metal. The Matrix pulsed at my touch.

  “Now, your aether would follow the trace to the elements it corresponds to.” She continued, “I have seen an Archmagus resonate with eighteen elements simultaneously. Perhaps... someone of your potential could surpass—” She stopped speaking.

  I stopped listening. We both stared at the Matrix.

  The glow was spreading to every single branch. All thirty-four of them.