Several months into his journey, Syryn was on a cart headed for a city built out of marble. He felt a scorching hot burn over his arm where the mark of a goddess was singed into his skin. The burning sensation then died down as quickly as it had started.

"Here we are, Marvel, a city of marble."

The cart was parked outside a gate where a guard was checking the contents of the goods that were being allowed inside.

"Just potatoes for the evening market," the old owner of the cart informed the guard.

"That one doesn't look like a potato."

Syryn retrieved his papers from his satchel and held them out to the guard. "I'm a potato from Sigil."

After examining the paper, the guard looked back up at his face. "Seems you are what you say." He returned the papers to Syryn and waved the cart into the gate.

___

It had taken a very long time for Syryn to find the man who had given him the pretty necklace. Salem had told him that it was a gift from Altaire, a very famous alchemist who he had met while journeying to Nua.

As he walked through the city carved out of white and pink marble, Syryn wished he could enjoy the sights without all the stress he was carrying.

"Excuse me, can you point me towards Bing's armoury?"

"You're standing under it, fool!" A short bearded man shouted from the inside of the armoury. "What do you want?"

Syryn crumpled up the crudely drawn map he was holding. "I'm looking for Altaire."

"So is everyone else. What business do you have with him?"

Syryn reached under his shirt and removed the necklace that he was wearing. "He asked me to look for him when I needed to." The alchemist held up the necklace to the man whose tune changed when he saw it.

"Are you Syryn?"

The alchemist nodded. "How did you know?"

"Master Altaire has been waiting for you. He heard rumours about a young fella called Syryn who was looking for him."

"How?" Syryn was shocked. "Does he have spies everywhere?"

"Not answering that. Head inside and take the stairs." The man jabbed his thumb behind him. "Master Altaire will be preparing his evening draught right now. You'll find him easily."

"Thank you," he told the man.

Syryn then gingerly stepped through the mess of weapons that littered the floor. He reached the stairs and was dumbfounded by what he was seeing. The building was hollow save for the circular staircase that went up all the way to the top of the building. From the outside, it looked normal but from the inside it was abnormal.

The alchemist made his way to the top of the staircase where he was met by a thick black metal door. A lion-headed door knocker stared at him till he reached out and knocked twice.

"Syryn, you've arrived later than I anticipated."

A tall man stood at the opened doorway. He wore a mask and had silky dark hair that reached his waist.

"Altaire?" He asked the masked man. Salem had neglected to tell him that Altaire often wore a mask when in the company of others.

"Do you not recognize me?" Altaire sounded more curious than disappointed.

"No. It's a long story."

______

Altaire's lodging was nearly as empty as the building he was staying in. Syryn could only see the barest of furnishings in what he guessed was the kitchen.

"Amnesia. How interesting," Altaire said in his deep voice. "What do you know of your condition?"

Syryn feared that Altaire would think him senile if he told him everything.

"Do you believe in rebirth?" He asked the mysterious man. Why did he want to tell him his life's story? Because Syryn was grabbing at connections that kept disappointing him. What was another person betraying or lying to him? He was tired of it all.

"Rebirth? I don't."

"Okay. It happened to me. Now, do you still want to hear my story?"

The masked man nodded. "You've whetted my curiosity."

"Right. So it all begins on a ship that was attacked by mermen."

____

Evening light dazzled Syryn's eyes from behind the man who had remained mostly silent as he listened to the mage's strange tale.

"So I asked my housemate about the necklace and he told me it was a gift from you. And that's how I came to be here."

Altaire's cup of liquid had grown cold. He had been so rivetted by Syryn's fantastic tale that he'd forgotten to drink his evening draught.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"As absurd as it is, I almost believe you," Altaire responded. "I take it that you are withholding parts of the story from me."

"For good reason," Syryn replied. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing those parts."

Altaire was thoughtful as he looked at the young alchemist through languidly blinking eyes.

"If you want my protection then you have it, but, we can't stay here. I'll take your word for how powerful Rowan is. It's surprising though that not much is known about him by the people of the Pond." At Syryn's confused look, Altaire explained it to him. "It's a place where secrets gather."

"Like an organisation?"

"Yes, but no. Think of it as a network of people exchanging information for the right price."

"I see. Are you part of it?"

Altaire emptied the cold draught into a tall bin. "I sometimes listen in to the chatter."

Syryn watched as the senior alchemist began to collect the ingredients for a new draught.

"Why are you helping me?" Syryn asked Altaire.

"Why shouldn't I? You asked for it."

"And if I ask you to take off your mask, would you?"

The senior alchemist crushed a few dried seeds in a pristine mortar. Syryn could immediately smell the spicy scent that it released.

"You have but to ask."

"You're a strange man, Altaire," Syryn told him. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"No. Nobody ever talks to me with the carefreeness that comes so easily to you, Syryn.. You are just as strange as I am."