White steam hissed against the curved iron rim of a small clay pot.
Mina Vance knelt beside the brazier in the corner of Booth Nine, stirring sweet lotus-seed soup with a polished bamboo spoon. The rich, earthy sweetness mingled with the scent of dried red dates and toasted barley.
Across the flagstones, Old Barnaby Holt poked the glowing coals with a bent iron rod.
At the heart of the brazier burned a tiny crimson ember the size of an apricot pit. It was Barnaby’s prized Tier 5 Earth-Heart Flame Seed, salvaged from the ruins of the Obsidian Furnaces.
The flame produced no smoke and made no sound, radiating a deep, penetrating heat that warmed the damp cellar to a comfortable dry heat.
“Careful with the heat, lass,” Barnaby grunted, leaning forward with his single hand on his knee. “Earth-Heart fire runs deep. If you boil the lotus seeds too fast, the skins split and the sweetness turns bitter.”
“I’m watching the bubbles, Brother Barnaby,” Mina said softly, her dark eyes shining in the orange firelight. “Mother always said lotus seeds require patient water.”
On the low cedar table beside the brazier sat a thick, dog-eared notebook bound in cracked brown leather.
