"I know the metal string is usually made of copper. The metal you spin is something we call a magnet. It can attract some other metals. I know we call some of the best metal for that neodymium it's really rare though. I think there's also a way to make iron into magnets. I'm not sure how though."

Terrance doesn't have much personal knowledge of metallurgy, but he can still ask a few clarifying questions. By the time those are sorted out, Margrave has returned, rolling a large barrel up the bridge and settling it in a little depression in the pagoda floor, clearly meant for holding just such a thing.

The next few moments are a practiced routine of securing the barrel in place, extending a flexible pipe from it over the pagoda railing for Terrance to drink from, and pouring a cup from a tap for Sapphire.

"We don't tend to have milk in our tea, here," Margrave apologizes. "But there is fresh lemon if you prefer it."

She takes a sip, "I like it as is, thank you."

Margrave nods to her and makes his way back down the bridge.

Terrance takes a rumbling sip through the straw.

"Ah! There's really nothing like tea," he remarks. "I'm glad you like it without lemon — I have nothing against lemon drinkers, but I feel it often overpowers the flavor of the tea itself."

"Thanks for sharing it with me." She sips quietly at her tea. Terrance has given her a lot to think about.

He's content to let the silence linger for a few minutes while they enjoy their tea.

A few minutes later, though, a silver fish as long as Sapphire's arm comes swimming up with an urgent request from the merchant's association, and Terrance sighs.

"Sapphire — It was truly a pleasure meeting you, and I do hope you'll come to visit again soon, but I'm afraid duty calls."

"Of course, it was good meeting you too. Thanks for your advice and sharing your knowledge."

Taking Terrance's advice instead of trying to go back to the library or otherwise explore she'll head back to her inn.

Not long before she makes it there, the trumpets blare to warn that Terrance is lying down for the night. The first tints of sunset color the sky as she reaches the door.

The innkeeper gives her a smile and a nod as she goes by.

She'll lie down with her physical body and turn her attention inwards. She conjures up a notebook that looks like The Notebook and a gel pen in a slightly wistful bit of fancy. And then she pauses sitting on the dock looking out at her little pond and thinking. She's not even sure what questions she should be trying to answer just yet.

After some thought she comes up with a few:

What do I want to do?

What powers do I want to keep secret?

Do I want to be a wizard?

None of these have easy answers though. She'll be thinking about it for a while.

The inn does an excellent job of muffling the sounds of the city as she thinks. Eventually, a soft chime from below portends dinner.

By the time she's startled by the dinner bell she's come to a few small conclusions. Her main goal at the moment is to learn more both about the people and magic here. Once she knows more she can choose other goals.

Her secondary goal is to make connections. Living in a world and not making any connections is antithetical to who she wants to be.

As for the question of what to keep hidden, she'll avoid revealing just how much pocket dimension can do and otherwise try not to be too showy with her more exotic abilities.

And finally she is going to become a wizard. It's both a useful cover for her other abilities and a part of her long term goal to have more leverage for when she goes home.

With a less troubled mind she makes her way down for dinner.

The proprietress cheerfully waves at her as she comes down the stairs.

"I just set out dinner in the dining room—"

At which she points.

A pair of tall men in dusty grey clothes push open the door of the inn, slow glances taking in the interior.

Her smile vanishes, and she nervously brushes down the front of her apron.

"—but I have to see to these gentlemen. Excuse me, please."

She smiles at the proprietress and then frowns. It looks like her innkeeper is being pressured by some sort of guild or organized crime group. She'll reserve judgement for the moment. 

Actually what does her relationship sense tell her about these men?

The man on the right would get along well with someone who shares his crude sense of humor. The man on the left would be good friends with someone who understood the importance of not mixing business and pleasure.

All she can do for the moment is watch and maybe try to overhear something without being obvious about it so that's what she does.

"You know, we're still willing to buy the place," one man remarks.

"Yeah — I know it's not as much as you might hope for, with the association fees, but it would be enough to get your name out of hock, set yourself up somewhere nice."

"Zamifer, Bert — I know you were Pa's friends, so I know you must realize why I can't sell. He sunk his life into this place—"

"And that doesn't mean you have to too," the second man interrupts. "I mean, doesn't it take its toll, running this place all alone?"

"There's an interview for next week! And I haven't needed to take that loan you keep offering. So I think I'm doing alright," the proprietress insists. "Look, I know you're just trying to help, but I can do this. I don't need to sell!"

Those don't seem like the words of friends. Still it won't help anyone for her to interrupt right now.