The goblin innkeeper watched Su Li's back disappear around the stairwell corner. His two short legs went completely limp, and he dropped onto the floor.
He looked down at the mechanical bird parts scattered across the table, then at the crystal tube on the wall, its red line still hanging high.
Damn it. That bird had been issued by the association. If it was broken, he would have to pay for it himself.
Heart aching at the cost, he picked up the shattered pieces one by one and carefully stuffed them into a drawer.
Forget it. A big shot like that was someone he couldn't afford to provoke.
Wisely, the goblin innkeeper loosened the brass base behind the crystal tube by half a turn. The red mercury slowly fell back to the lowest mark.
Out of sight, out of mind.
He slumped back over the counter and continued tallying his running accounts.
What he did not know was that if ether fluctuations of that level could be detected by the alchemical instruments in his shabby inn, they could naturally be sensed elsewhere as well.
Three streets east of Ginkgo Alley stood an understated three-story building of white stone.
Silverleaf vines crawled across its outer walls, and a wooden sign hung over the entrance, bearing four Elven words—"Silverleaf Residence."
This was Silver Crown City's only inn that accepted elves and half-elves alone.
In a room on the third floor, a young woman with pointed ears sat cross-legged on a low couch by the window.
Before her sat something completely different from the goblin's equipment.
Not a mercury tube, but a basin of water.
The silvery-white surface was perfectly still, without even the faintest ripple.
This was standard equipment for the Elven Merchant Association—the "Spirit Pool."
Its principles were similar to