Returning to glass always feels restorative. There’s something about molding the world to fit my creative vision that’s equal parts nostalgic and therapeutic. Showing off in front of a crowd of new customers makes it even better.

  I surreptitiously draw from my pseudo-cores while I’m waiting for my mana to fill back up. Excavating the basement took more out of me than I anticipated, but it’s exciting to push my limits. I’m eager to see how far I’ve grown.

  Faces blur by as customers put in rapid-fire orders: while no one else asks for the helms of frost, almost every query that comes in is for figurines once people see me absently shaping a desert cat with elongated ears. I don’t animate any of the little creatures I make, but they’re still cute enough that connections form between the buyers and their new furry friends.

  Whenever kids show up, I give away a small animal for free. Adding to the beauty of the world is its own reward.

  “May I have a cup that refills itself with water? Gettin tired of rushing out to the well every time I want a drink,” a harried young woman with freckles peppered across her face asks me. She adjusts her green and white striped head scarf, sighing heavily, and leans against the stall’s counter.

  “I don’t know any water magic,” I say, shrugging. All the same, I pull more glass out of the makeshift crucible I set up and spin a hot, glowing ball in the air. I shape it into a short, fat goblet with a sturdy stem. The bowl bulges out in the middle before narrowing to a modest-sized rim.

  She scrunches her nose and tosses her head to the side, revealing a flash of bangle earrings underneath her scarf. “Thought you were supposed to be a master. What makes your cups any better than regular?”

  My left fist instantly clenches at my side—not because I find her dismissive attitude a bit annoying, but because I’m disappointed in myself for giving up so easily. “Hm. I suppose I can make the cup cold enough that water condensates. Leave it out overnight and it should do the trick by morning.”

  I don’t exactly need the sensitivity of my upgraded Domain to interpret my customer’s low opinion about how long the water will take to accrue. Chuckling at the ill-disguised outrage, I apply my mind to the problem at hand, calling on innovation and sharpness to enhance my thoughts.

  Snapping my fingers in excitement, everything comes together. An idea comes to me like a bolt of lightning. I’ll use my burgeoning insights into the runes related to time I uncovered in [Quick Cool] to accelerate the condensation process.

  Attempting to imbue the glass won’t work; I don’t have a clear enough grasp of time to incorporate the higher-order concept into my craft yet. I’ll get there eventually, but not yet.

  Admitting defeat after the first path forward is closed off to me feels bad, so I grit my teeth and consider my options to integrate the runes. Giving up isn’t in my blood.

  First, I need more upgraded source material. My awareness expands outward, swiftly locating the Linas. Connected to my glass falcon, it’s trivial to swoop down and watch the pair stroll. The sisters are wandering the market arm in arm, chatting as they casually examine the wares and enjoy some down time after our hard run the last few weeks.

  Performing a long-distance Viewing Melina’s internal runes through my falcon’s senses takes a bit of practice, but before long the shape of her Skill structures come into sharp focus.

  I still don’t understand everything I see—not the half of it—but that doesn’t matter right now. Forget about comprehension. I can simply copy what I see when Viewing her, and it should work as long as the runes are actually time-related. Assuming I don’t include anything else that counteracts the ability.

  I scratch my beard, consider what else the cup needs to function. I don’t want the user to sink mana into it each time to activate my makeshift enchantment.

  Extravagance it is!

  I transmute a tiny pebble into a bead of glass and hum the song of home and belonging, calling on the energy of the world to inhabit the miniature mana pseudo-core I created. Selling these at scale would be too expensive, but I’m willing to eat the material and mana cost while working on a prototype. Lionel’s gifted Skill comes in handy there.

  A quick hot join fuses the little mana core to the bottom of the cup, hiding it in the thick base of glass under the cup. I scour the glass base with my Domain to replicate sandblasting, which soon leaves it opaque, hiding the core. There. That should power it for a long time.

  Compressing my [Arcane Domain] until it’s a razor-thin edge of intent, I cut a channel of pure mana between the core and the inside of the cup. Energy will flow between them like a mana channel now.

  It occurs to me that this may end up becoming the highest-grade cup I’ve ever made. I’ll sell it for far less than it’s worth. The value doesn’t matter right now. I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

  Etching the shape of the runic array into the inside of the cup is straightforward after that, though I go slowly and take pains to precisely recreate only the runic structures that exist in both [Quick Cool] and [In the Blink of an Eye]. Avoiding extraneous shapes and focusing only on the overlap seems safe, though I’m not certain that the effect will work the way I hope.

  Only one way to find out.

  “That’s a long time for one cup,” the freckled woman pipes up, loudly enough that the rest of the crowd hears her. She doesn’t seem hostile, but there’s an undercurrent of cunning in the complex weave of her emotions, as well as a few connections that stretch back toward the center of the marketplace.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Greatness takes time,” I retort.

  “Sun’s getting hot. I could get a dozen clay cups without the uncomfortable wait,” she complains, making a show of fanning herself. “Cheaper, too.”

  Like that, the puzzle pieces click together. She must be another vendor, or working with a [Merchant] group, come to scout out the new competition. Casting aspersions on my business sounds like a low-effort way to steer wayward customers back toward the center of the market.

  If it’s a trade war she wants . . .

  Grinning wolfishly, I spread my arms wide and appeal to the assembled crowd. “Anyone else too hot?”

  Only a few people agree with her assessment, since the day is pleasant, not oppressive. Even so, a few are overdressed, wearing long cloaks or extra layers, and I sense sweat building up due to their poor choice in clothing.

  “I’ll cool down the hot glass while I cool the crowd,” I declare. A pulse of [Greater Heat Manipulation] cools the area, leading to a ripple of chuckles and tepid applause.

  Deftly calling on [Quick Cool] while I have their attention, I spin the goblet in the air so it catches the light, and anneal the glass as quickly as I can while gesturing for more rounds of applause. Even if no one knows what annealing is, they can sense the gathering swell of excitement.

  I’m tip-toeing a fine line. Any faster, and the rapid cooling will cause the glass to shatter in my hands, no matter how advanced my mastery of magical manipulation. Years of practice pays off, though, and I don’t break the goblet.

  All in all, the process takes a few minutes longer than I’d like, but my grin turns sharper than ever as I complete the last curlicue in the experimental runic inscription. I bring the glass down to a safe temperature and flip the goblet over with an exaggerated flourish.

  “Handle with care. It’s still hot, but the cold inscriptions are strong enough that it might cause frostbite,” I warn her before the skeptical “customer” in front of me grabs the goblet.

  She reaches for the cup but hesitates before her fingers brush the smooth surface. “So, is the glass hot or cold? I’m confused.”

  “Blistering. Freezing momentarily.”

  She frowns. “A cup I can’t touch? Helpful!”

  I hold her disapproving gaze for a moment, then shrug one shoulder. “You want it or not? Look, there’s already water pooling in the center.”

  She leans forward, squinting down at the glass, and lets out a soft gasp—perhaps her first genuine action of the day.

  Immediately, she jumps back into the role of a heckling customer, her face smoothing into indifference. She mirrors my shrug, managing to look even more nonchalant. “Seems like a lot of drawbacks. But I guess I’ll take it. If it works.”

  “It’s already working,” I point out cheerfully.

  Grumbling about the cost I quote her, she nonetheless wraps the edge of her sky-blue tunic around the glass and carries it off in her cloth-covered grasp, disappearing through the crowd and slipping away to make room for the next customer.

  On a whim, I follow her with my falcon despite the line waiting for me. To my complete lack of surprise, she doesn’t leave the market at all. Three streets over, she glances around surreptitiously, as though ensuring she’s alone, and doubles back to make her way toward a cluster of vendors in the center of the market, following the tendrils of connection I noticed earlier.

  All the while, moisture never stops condensing against the side of the glass, beading and dripping down into the cup even faster than I anticipated. Soon, the chilled water overflows the rim of the cup as more and more droplets form.

  Unfortunately, it seems like I overshot my estimation of how cold the glass needed to be.

  With one eye on the next customer in line and the other on the scene unfolding through my falcon’s Domain-enhanced aerial sight, I watch in equal parts horror and amusement as frost creeps across the cup and solidifies more quickly than should be possible.

  The woman yelps and leaps back as she finally notices the ice forming around the fabric in her hand. Shaking her hand in a vain attempt to dislodge the growing ball of ice, she takes off running, heading toward the [Merchants] I picked out early.

  Despite her efforts to detach the frozen cup, it’s fused to her tunic, held fast in place. The effect is rapidly spiraling out of control.

  Dare I say, it’s snowballing?

  Snickering to myself at my own joke, I take pity on the poor woman, even though she’s likely an industrial spy, and target the tiny ball of mana powering the magic. With a flex of my will, I sever the mana connection to the inscription, killing the temporal acceleration.

  Of course, that does nothing for the frozen block already locking her hand in place, but she deserves some trouble for hassling me. Let her suffer for a little bit.

  The chunk of ice will thaw in time without any ill effects, so I chuckle and let her make her panicked escape, sure she won’t be injured. Maybe she’ll think twice before bothering me next time.

  Her breathing accelerates, and wild eyes dart around as she screams for help. She runs faster now, careening off people in her frantic rush to get rid of the hunk of ice encasing her entire hand.

  I sigh, about to cave in and melt the ice with a long-range application of [Greater Heat Manipulation], when she abruptly clenches her jaw and changes directions.

  What in the abyss is she up to?

  I track her as she moves, grateful that my expanded Domain makes controlling falcon the second an effortless task.

  She sprints north, and I peek ahead, trying to guess her destination as I spare a sliver of focus to finish a matched set of platters the next customer ordered.

  Ah! The Mender outpost.

  Moments later, I’m proven correct as she approaches the large, ostentatious building where the traveling Mender is almost done tending to Nicanor’s bodyguard, fully repairing the damage I caused.

  I resist rolling my eyes as she bursts through the front door, breaking the line of sight view from my falcon. I know for a fact that she doesn’t have frostbite through all the layers of her tunic wrapped around her right hand, but she’s acting like she needs emergency triage.

  I chuckle again and turn back to the work at hand. A young girl skips up to the stall and asks me to make another glass cat.

  “You bet! Pointy ears? A curly tail? Droopy expression because another cat ate its mouse for dinner?”

  “Make my cat fat and sleepy,” she asks, smiling shyly as I wiggle my ears at her.

  “Coming right up!” I holler, making her giggle. I wink and shape the glass with my magic, putting the spy out of my mind. Toys for children are infinitely more important, as far as I’m concerned.

  Even so, I’ll have to get the story later. My only regret is that I can’t see the sparks that are about to fly. After all, Nicanor isn’t likely to take kindly to her sudden interruption.