Barclay did not mean to spy, but Yasha’s Lore was mesmerizing. It was as though the fire behaved entirely how it wished, and all Yasha did was guide it through the air. Occasionally it changed into new shapes, like a rope or an arrow. Sometimes Yasha sent the embers skyward, where they fizzled out dozens of feet above.

“I’m never going to be able to use my Lore like that,” Barclay said miserably. Yasha had been an apprentice longer than Barclay, but only a year longer. Maybe because Yasha had grown up around Lore, he was already more advanced than Barclay would ever be.

Root placed his paw on Barclay’s leg and pushed, making Barclay stumble back.

“Hey! I mean it. The only reason I placed top in my Exhibition was luck. If fewer people had cheated on the first exam, if Tadg hadn’t given me the item I was missing in the scavenger hunt, then—”

Root barked at him, cutting him off. Then, apparently fed up with Barclay’s bout of self-pity, Root strutted back toward town.

Barclay sighed and trailed after him. He’d better spend the rest of his night studying The Nine Most Crucial Events of Lore Keeper History.

Twenty minutes later, they retraced their steps to Ansley’s shop. Barclay had been so tired last night and in such a rush this morning that he hadn’t noticed the building was an Apothecary store—the Planty Shanty, according to the sign. The bells above the door chimed as they entered. The place was a mess. Clay pots were scattered across the tables and shelves, none of them labeled. Tinctures bubbled in glass beakers, and plants grew wild from their pots. Even the sales desk wasn’t clear. It was piled high with craft supplies: balls of yarn, squid ink glitter pens, an embroidery hoop, and dozens of cutouts of the crosswords from the Keeper’s Khronicle.

Despite the chaos, Barclay instantly liked the shop. It smelled good in here, like earth.

By the windowsill, Ansley hunched over a large tank filled with green seaweed, all thin and tangled like a hair ball. She sprinkled some dust overtop it. The algae wiggled.

Ansley caught Barclay watching her. She was wearing an even fluffier cardigan than the night before, which Barclay guessed she’d knitted herself. “It’s called Siggykelp, very common—and useful for tonics that heal Gruignad rash. That’s the Gruignad, right over there. Helps cure Siggykelp blisters.”

She nodded down the table, where a spiderwebby black seaweed drifted on the water’s surface.

Curious, Root stood up on his hind legs to sniff one of the other tanks, this one filled with a curly yellow algae.

“Your Lufthund has good taste,” Ansley said. “Rippleweed is considered a delicacy here. Some people eat it as a snack. I personally like to dry it and use the flavored salt that it leaves behind.”