By the time Wicham had made a fourth set of glassware, William had found the biggest sucker willing to pay, and the sailors had spent all their money at the brothels, the experiment with its excessive pyrotechnics and sound effects had finally made some progress.
"Easy, slower." Kraft pressed down on the priest's hand, moving the flame farther from the clear glass. This set of equipment had been made with the latest batch of white glass, allowing them to observe what was happening inside much more clearly.
They had also switched to an alcohol lamp for heating. The flame was still less than ideal because of the wick material, but it was much better than a candle.
Thanks to the return of vitriol oil and a high rate of experimental losses, the equipment had been upgraded three times in two weeks, from oddly shaped retorts made of murky glass to a white-glass, three-necked flask with a tube.
A glassworker who had once served the Church had handmade the tube. A senior priest with more than a decade of service to the Lord had blessed and consecrated it beneath the colored light cast by the church's rose window. The occult elements were off the charts.
Combined with someone's barely passable knowledge of high school chemistry and the few times he'd ever actually done an experiment, it proved that occultism wasn't worth half a copper coin when faced with objective practice.
After putting in the time, getting a feel for it, and relying on a little luck and the odds built up through repeated attempts, this early amateur laboratory had temporarily said goodbye to explosions and found a delicate balance.
A tiny amount of light, clear liquid gathered in the dark, translucent glass bottle.
"Move it farther away. The outer flame is