She steps into a long-abandoned supermarket, Swedish going by the surviving signs, mold and wet and decay having made considerable progress recolonizing it. The food on the shelves are vague clumps of rot and stain. Nonperishable goods look a bit less damaged on the far wall. Many of the shelves are collapsing in rust, and a support beam has fallen along with a big chunk of roof. It smells like rain, and is a bit chilly.

Oh dear. 

She carefully steps over to the far wall, and looks for anything intact in the nonperishable goods section. From the looks of it, she's going to be stuck here on a minimum of food for quite a while.

Among various ruined objects there are reasonably intact examples of duct tape, some metal tools and cookware, a crank flashlight, some plastic fuel jugs, some umbrellas, bicycle helmets, thick rubber gloves, a plastic tent (the sleeping bags all have holes), some power cords and Ethernet cables that could be used as rope, a radio that looks intact-ish but without power. And... Several crates of gas mask filters, still in the box, with scrawled instructions in faded Sharpie to distribute them for free.

...The 'Employees Only' door has some ominous bloodstains near it. They seem old.

Something in the air, then. This body should be proof against it, but...

She takes the radio and the crank flashlight, and puts them in her pack. Then she draws her pistol and looks around for a way out. Is there any other way than the bloodstained employees only door?

The front of the store is wide glass, with the sliding doors long having fallen off. The parking lot has some rusting hulks of cars and trucks, as well as some lump-shaped objects of various sizes that seem to have been quite thoroughly burned.

That's. Concerning. 

She'll continue out into the street and look both ways. Anything alive out here?

Well. Nothing's... Moving in the old city, full of faded concrete, crumbling asphalt, and dark glass. But the balconies on that three-story apartment tower down the way have bulging, pustulent red lumps crowding over them. And there's the messily eviscerated corpse of a deer over in the other direction.

Oh lovely. 

She needs to get out of this ruin. Anything could be here; the wilderness would be safer. 

She goes down the street in the direction that's away from the deer.

This takes her closer to the pustules on the apartment building. They're not moving, but there's a very faint sort of wet scratching sound coming from them. They don't seem to react to her.

After a few blocks, a series of drops and stairs down reveal a railroad track in a long trench. The road ends in a collapsed bridge, but the track and trench are clear of debris even right below the downed bridge, the concrete ties seem less worn, and the rails are not rusty at all.

Finally, a sign of living civilization. 

She'll fly down and start walking parallel to the tracks. Her hackles are definitely still up. 

The sun is low in the sky. It's close to dusk, and the railway trench is in shadow.

After half an hour, the tracks thrum a low vibration, a sure sign of a train running on them. A few minutes later, a low rumble enters the air - the train is coming from behind her. It's not quite visible yet.

Something is moving. On the high balcony of that apartment tower, inside one of the apartments. It stretches an inhuman form, and peers out to the north, avoiding the sunlight but clearly paying attention.

She peers up at the inhuman form. 

It is definitely too much to hope that that could be friendly. 

She keeps walking quickly, giving the tracks more room. She wants to fly, but the train will pass soon and she doesn't want to be caught flying in front of it. So she keeps her gun drawn and she moves. 

The train is a monstrosity of heavy, armored steel, with multiple vicious looking saws across the front and top. Blood stains the saws and the metal near them. It thunders as it rumbles past her at highway speeds, with all the noise of hundreds of tons of metal surging forward.

The inhuman form skitters down the side of the building with a roar, a grotesque, six-limbed thing with a snake-like neck and far too many teeth. Similar roars echo all around from the city, all disturbed by the thundering train.

She probably wants to be somewhere else.

She goes up. Safest direction to be unless those things can really leap. She can't stay up forever, eventually she needs to sleep, but in the meantime she can follow that train.

The monsters all converge on the train tracks, a couple dozen of them. Most of them arrive too late to catch it. A couple of them glide from high perches and try to land on the train, getting shredded by suddenly-activating saws for their trouble when they actually manage it. One glider aims for her, but it's far too heavy to stay in the air for long. Another ground-bound one spits at her, but misses. The various screaming monstrosities fight each other - sometimes fleeing to save themselves - if they directly encounter each other, but their target is definitely Thorn and the train. The train is just one highly elongated car/engine combo, perhaps a hundred feet long. 

The concentration of monsters thins rapidly once the train leaves city limits and goes back into the countryside. The train slows down a bit, too.

She was going to try and land on the train earlier but now she is quickly reconsidering that idea. She follows, flying, and hopes this train will lead her somewhere safer before she has to sleep.

It continues through the night, passing through several tunnels and several more towns and ruined cities.

It seems to be going quite a long distance. When the sun rises, it's still going with no sign of a stop or destination.

She's beginning to feel tired. 

Should she sustain flight or prepare to camp? Out here in the wilderness is likely safer than any city, and if she sleeps in the daylight she'll be awake when those things aren't... But there's still a lot of daylight ahead, and if she loses this train she might not get it back. 

She keeps flying.

It's another four hours before the train slows down as it approaches a large offshore platform with a narrow rail bridge connecting it to the mainland, and a raised drawbridge leading further south. That seems to be the end of the line. Two ships a couple hundred of feet long are sailing in the water around the platform. They point searchlights and a pair of small deck guns each at her.

Well, she's been spotted. Best to not antagonize. She's also starting to get into serious tiredness territory. So...

She lands at the end of the rail bridge and looks around for any people.

A team a dozen strong in all-covering hazmat suits with rifles and flamethrowers approaches her across the bridge. They stop a good hundred feet away, spread out and fairly professional, men and women both.

A leader shouts, "Foreign mage, explain yourself! Where are you from? Why come to Øresund?"

Well this is sure to be a fun first contact. Does she go with the full truth or a half-truth? 

"I'm not your kind of mage, I'm a dimension-hopper!" she calls. "Originally from a Canada, but I don't know if Canada even exists here. I was just looking for any signs of life. Found some train tracks in good repair, followed them, found you!" 

"There's no Canada in the known world! Maybe it's part of the Silent World! You showed up in an uncleansed area! You could be a troll mage for all we know! What's a dimension anyway!"

("Jonge," someone says more quietly. "Don't look her in the eyes. Pass the word. I heard the Kade gets you through the eyes."

"Isn't that just for mages? None of us are mages, and we're all immune anyway..."

"How should I know? It's a Finnish thing. Precautions save lives!")

"I'm as human as you are! The rest is complicated! I can't promise I'm not infected, but I'll submit to quarantine! And you can search my things if you want!" 

"You definitely need to submit to quarantine at minimum! It's two weeks for most cases! Maybe more for you! Four weeks for people who've been in the Silent World!"

"Four weeks at least then! Am I going to have to camp at the end of this bridge, or is there somewhere you can bring me?"

"We're waiting to hear from our superiors! They're worried that you have mage-like abilities we don't understand! They'll probably clear out a ship with quarantine facilities and put you there!"

"Sounds fair! For now I'll camp out here! I'm running on 16 hours of heavy magic use with no sleep!"

"We do weekly perimeter checks out to two kilometers! Shouldn't be any trolls in the area! Someone will be watching you the whole time though! Will you let one of our mages examine you!"

"That's fine! I'll let your mages examine me, and I'm willing to demonstrate more of my magic if you want me to!"

He talks into a briefcase-sized radio set for a while.

"Okay! You may as well go to sleep now! Don't wander! Welcome to Øresund, the southernmost point of the known world!"

Then most of the hazmat-suited soldiers turn and head back down the bridge after a brief discussion.

"Thank you!"

She gets her tent and bedroll out from her pack, and sets up camp on the nearest bit of flat ground. She sleeps almost as soon as her head hits the bedrest.

A couple hours after dawn the next morning a different, female voice shouts at her. "Hey, weird mage! We're gonna send a cleanser to look at you, and then a mage if you don't suddenly turn out to have been a troll the whole time! And they've got a quarantine ship set up for you but it's a bit of a hike!"

The cleanser approaches in a hazmat suit, holding a cat that's wearing a colored sash with a badge on it. At a word from the handler, the cat sniffs Thorn a few times and lets out a bored "Mjao."

"Suusi didn't react, so you're probably not infected, miss! They're going to make you quarantine anyway, though. And me too. They're being really, really paranoid. Are you ready for a mage to come visit?" (He isn't meeting her eyes.)

She gets out of her tent and lets the cleanser inspect her. "I don't mind it being a bit of a hike! I'm ready for a mage to come visit!"

"Okay! I'm not supposed to talk to you unnecessarily or I would have so many questions."

The mage comes a bit later, an old lady with long, braided greying-red hair. She paces in circles, drawing a complicated seal on the ground with a giant brush and black ink.

"Step inside this."

"Sorry to hear that."

She steps into the seal. 

The mage recites a poem invoking Baldr, to shine upon the earth and reveal the truth, to burn away corruption and lies.

A ray of light suddenly opens up between one of the clouds in the overcast sky, shining directly on Thorn. 

The mage makes a pleased noise. "Not infected. Still have to quarantine. Where the devil are you from, lass?"

"The universe next door, and that's not a joke. A place where this plague never happened. Foreign mage, yes? Very foreign."

"Hmf. I take it you don't mean you're from the dream world. Or some part of the Silent World. If you have strange dreams, lass, don't go anywhere. You're mostly safe if you don't wander. If something tries to spook you, it's because it wants you to run."

"No, I don't. Thank you for the warnings. I'll stay put."

"Be a shame to see the first interesting thing to happen around me since I retired get her soul eaten. You know, I think they were lying and they only sent me because I'm old and not so valuable these days. Danes are so ungrateful. Come on, let's get you to quarantine. There's a path down the cliff over yonder."

"I'll follow where you lead."

She leaves her tent and bedroll behind; presumably she won't need them, and she's got her beacon in her pack. No sense in delaying the process unnecessarily.

"Not going to get your things? Looks like good gear. They'll just burn it, you know."

"Might as well pack up if you can afford me a few minutes." She unstakes the tent, collapses it down and puts it in her pack, quickly followed by her rolled-up bedroll. She zips up her pack and hops back onto her feet, pulling it back on. 

"Alright, lead on."

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

She starts a brisk walk into the sparse woods. "There's a path down the cliffs over here. How do you speak both Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian if you're so foreign?"

She follows.

"I cheat. Translation magic inscribed under my tongue, lets me understand and speak just about anything. It's a pair to the tattoos that let me fly and so on."

"Huh. Sounds useful. I suppose it's expected that foreign mages would be weird. You can't draw a seal on a person. Or well, not and expect it to not do anything funny. And Odin only knows how the Finnish mages work when hardly any of them know how to speak what the rest of us do."

"My magic definitely doesn't work like yours," she says. "Comparison is interesting but I doubt it's particularly useful."

"Why're you here, then? You're here at the military base 'cause you wanted to get away from all the beasts and trolls in the uncleansed area, right, but if you're some kind of world hopper, why this sorry one? A place where the Old World never fell would probably be safer, and more interesting."

"You overestimate the degree to which I'm able to see what's in a world before I step through to it. I'm able to get a general impression of the technology, magic and habitability of a world, but not much more "at range." And any habitability better than zero is good, there are a lot of barren rocks out there. As for what I'm here for... I'm a scout for a multiversal trading company. You have magic we don't know, which might be worth quite a bit. And even if you haven't got much worth buying, you could be a market to sell to."

"Hell, I'll do blessings and seals for people if it pays. I hate retirement. Got a cure for the infection? How about Old World stuff, like flying-planes - they can make 'em but it's too expensive even for the military. Or teevees, whatever those are Grandpa complained about missing 'em."

"Old World stuff we can do. A cure for the infection might require samples of it but it should be possible. We also have magic of our own, as you've seen, which you might be willing to buy. Better weapons - my pistol's enchanted, I don't know if you can do that here. A vaccine if we can't find a cure for the infected. Things like that."

"Not really, as far as weapons go. It's a pain in the ass to paint a seal on a bullet and it doesn't actually do much, since bullets kill trolls already. Military mages, Icelandic mages anyway, make seals and put them up around fortifications and campsites, mostly. It's very much not just a flu. It infects the spirit and traps the soul. They've been trying to make a vaccine for decades, no progress. If you had silent guns, or really nice survival gear, or sealed armor suits like one I saw in one of Valdur's old comics, they'd love that shit."

"Sounds like a vaccine could take some serious work then, but it ought to still be poasible. I don't know about really good survival gear - mine's decent but not exceptional. Sealed armor suits are a standard catalog item." 

They come to a steep, switchbacky path down. A rowboat is waiting at a little pier on a small beach at the bottom of the cliffs.

"Got a copy of this catalog for the bigshots to poke through?"

"I'd have to pull it from the world I came from. Possible, but not while I'm in quarantine."

She makes towards the boat.

"Ah. Well, that's quarantine for you. They're going to make me sit in there for two weeks too, you know."

The old mage quiets down and helps row, pointing towards the quarantine boat. They're shown into two glass-walled rooms sharing a wall by people in more hazmat suits - the restrooms are private, at least. A calendar on each room's door marks the quarantine time.

"Don't suppose you play chess?"

"Never been very good at it, but I can learn. Not much else to do in here."

"There's cards. And Battleship."

They play chess on a board stuck to the wall, with magnetic pieces adhering through the glass. The nurses would like a bit of Thorn's blood for immunity testing.

She tries them all pretty aggressively. Thorns don't take well to boredom.

Thorn is perfectly happy to offer some of her blood. 

They're pretty thorough about quarantine measures when they take the blood. They say it'll take two weeks to confirm immunity.

On the fourth day of quarantine, Marit Idasdattir has a dream. In her dream-domain, the same rocky clearing as always, a place of warm sunlight and gentle breezes.

A regal-looking reindeer, with fine clean fur of excellent gloss and color and horns as solid as oak, walks near her and bows.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Have you fared well?"

The reindeer opens its mouth as if speaking, but no sound can be heard.

"<.....>"

"I'm glad."

"<.....>"

"Oh, is that so?"

The reindeer nods.

"I suppose it was going to happen eventually... I'm not ready, you know. I'll never be."

"<.....>"

"I know. I'm sorry."

The reindeer nuzzles her for a moment.

"<.....>"

"How disappointingly mundane. A stroke. And just when something interesting was going to happen."

The antlers exaggerate the reindeer's gentle head-tilt.

"<.....>"

Marit startles. "-What?!"

"<.....>"

"Freyja guide me. Magecraft to restore youth."

"<.....>"

"So I must ask her for a small token, shaped as a heart?"

Another slow nod. 

"Why ask me to linger here? Not that I'm objecting. I always thought that if my time was up, I would be taken whether or not I am ready."

"<.....>"

"...So you think she speaks truth. That there are yet more worlds beyond this one and the afterlife."

"<.....>"

"Ah, thank you for the compliment. I shall do my best. Shall Odin send me guidance?"

A headshake from the reindeer this time.

"<.....>"

"On my own judgement then. As you say, kjære. Goodbye, and thank you for visiting."

The reindeer runs away through the clearing, turning pale and translucent and then into a shapeless blue mist, and vanishes. Marit spends the rest of her dream in quiet contemplation.

Thorn sleeps, and does not dream. 

"I," Marit announces the next day over breakfast, "Have just received a vision. Hm. I suppose you wouldn't know how visions work, exactly. But- I must ask something of you, though I do not expect anything for free."

"Oh?" She asks. "Go on. I'm willing to do things for you so long as you give me good reasons to."

"...I will die before the quarantine ends unless I receive from you a small token, shaped as a heart, which is the manifestation of - magic to restore youth. Something I would have trouble believing is real had my fylgja not spoken to me of it. He bid me ask you for this miracle and stay here, for the fate of many turns upon you."

Oh. 

Well, she can't possibly have known about Ka before this. So that suggests her vision is true...

She stands up, and makes a plucking motion above her heart. The pink, heart-shaped Ka crystal jumps from her chest and into her hand. 

"You're going to need to physically break this, which means we're going to need to get it through the glass. I can put a neat hole through and close it once I've transferred the Ka; the issue is, will the guards let me?"

She laughs. "They don't necessarily have to notice. Do it behind the Battleship set from their perspective. Quarantine guards get bored and complacent. I could do something similar by painting on the walls, but yours sounds stealthier. Mm, honestly, they wouldn't let you, but if we managed it anyway and they noticed too late to object, they'd extend my quarantine to match yours at four weeks and I'd get a lecture I'm too old for. I'm willing to take that risk."

"Alright. I'll wait for my moment, you be ready."

When next the guards aren't looking, Thorn pulls her athame and quickly inscribes a palm's width circle behind the battleship set.

Levitate. With all her magical strength, Thorn pulls on the inscribed circle, and the glass cracks as she forces it out into her hand. 

She quickly passes the Ka crystal through, letting it fall on the floor if need be; then she passes her hand over the two pieces of glass, and Make Whole seals it back to good as new.

Marit catches it. Then breaks it, then flexes her hand several times. The skin grew less pale, less boney, at the moment of breakage. Her head is clearer. The ache in her back has gotten a bit less distracting.

"...B3 is a hit. My, my. What do you want in return, I wonder?"

"Nothing. I've got a store of a thousand years in this body; five isn't much to me. Twenty isn't much to me - we'll see about getting you a few more of those crystals once we're out of here." 

"I'm not the only one who wants or needs this. Can we get enough for everyone, you think?"

"Yes, but that won't be free. No doubt I'll end up negotiating it with someone."

"We'd pay a lot for it. Same with sealed armor, for safer troll-killing. Population's still declining, anything that saves people is big. At least in Norway there's generous child support tax cuts, maternity leave, free healthcare, they'll outright give you money if you use the gamete donation program to have an immune kid..."

"Yeah, places with a mostly-human population are big importers of Ka, especially early on. Introducing advanced medical technologies can give similar results over the long run for cheaper, though, especially when you're talking about whole populations." 

She runs a hand through her hair. "Silent weapons we'd also have. I don't want to assure you that we can cure or vaccinate for it, but... the chances are very good, with the technology we have."

"With all the miracles you're touting, I almost wonder if there's a way to reverse it... But it's a mercy, really, to send trolls to wherever they go next. Even the ones that retain something like a mind are... Twisted and hurting."

"Even if we could do it, who's going to pay for it? The trolls are a menace and they don't have any money. The economics are not on the side of a reversal there."

"They used to be people. Billions of them."

"I understand that. But now they aren't meaningfully people any more. Whether you save them or not, wether it can be reversed or not, is up to you and not them."

She lets her head thump against the glass wall. "Well. I'm sure a few groups would want to help a few - historians, if nothing else. I... I don't know. Maybe not. The idea that trolls can be anything other than hateful monsters is one I have only come to because the spiritually sensitive can hear them, and I know the history."

"Well... I wouldn't give up hope just yet. If you can do it for a few, it'll snowball. The ones you save will want to save more, and so on. At least, at my guess. The issue is the first attempt."

"Should I try to tell you what we might be able to offer?"

"If you do, I can tell you what we might be interested in buying."

"Well, there's the usual trappings of civilization, food and timber and handcrafts and boats and the like. Some of the more boisterous hunter clans would probably be happy to go to otherworlds and exterminate interesting new monsters there. Mages like me work magic through runes and seals painted onto things. Paper seals to ward off wild animals, or keep livestock from wandering too far, sell well in farm villages. The ones that work for trolls might work on other nasties, perhaps. We can give minor blessings that last for a few weeks - diligence, craft, love, health, crops, herds."

"There are worlds that could use the anti-troll charms, and blessings of the kind you name are rare enough to be worth selling. There are definitely worlds with dangers not unlike yours. I'd like to meet one of your hunter clans; they seem likely to be the same kind of people as me."

"Good thing there are a fair amount of mages, by the grace of the old gods. Makes us more able to afford things, at least on a population level, if we have useful skills. I can introduce you to the Eide clan when we get out of here. It's getting to autumn, and summer's the busy season for them, so convenient timing. They hunt trolls and beasts on land only, unlike others who hunt sea-beasts, and they're some of the best. Perhaps four hundred of them all told, all a grand family, with two hundred active hunters and scouts who form an independent military company. I hunted with them for six years, oh, must have been three or four decades ago. Norwegians like me make the best troll-hunters. Now Swedes, they're more about technology and fire. Just look at that train you followed in. Danes are obsessed with the Old World, if anyone wants to cure a troll and ask it questions it'd be a Dane. Icelanders are the best off out of all of us, if a bit soft. They managed to keep that island of theirs totally troll-free, and kept up more technology than anyone but the Swedes. As for Finns, I don't know. They've got a reputation for being insular, isolationist, and having a lot of mages of a strange type. I'm not sure what-all Finnish mages can do."

"In one of my past lives I was an adventuring mage, one of the best. Reckless, jaunty, powerful enough that I survived the first two. Had more spells than the ones I'm carrying now in the tattoos. I was affiliated with a guild, I can barely remember their name now. But I had good comrades to fight with me, and the life was as exciting as it was dangerous. It suited me well. Scouting's not so bad after that. If it weren't for quarantine."

"You get particular 'spells'? Ours is more freeform. Quarantine is a fact of life. Keeps everyone alive, just like grade-B cats hunting vermin-beasts. You won't have to sit through nearly as many if you get paperwork that says 'immune', though. Just to enter Iceland or if you go back into the Silent World, I think."

"I understand the neccessity, I just hope you can be brought to a place where it's no longer necessary. Perhaps with transfers of immunity, or simply by wiping out all the trolls anywhere near the border. If that would be enough. This body is probably immune; it's built to exacting specifications. I do get individualized spells; I have exactly five right now, of which you know three. The fourth is this -" she holds up her palms and makes a spark dance across them - "and the fifth takes an hourlong ritual." 

"There's not really much of a border, just a few isolated spots of safety. Slowly expanding over the years with the Cleansers' hard work. They burn and demolish everything, let the winter kill, and then come for another thorough pass in the spring, and it's still not considered 'safe'. Maybe eventually. -Oh! The cats! If you don't have trolls you wouldn't need them, but our cats are a little bit blessed. They're immune, and almost all very good at sniffing out the infection, with a natural drive to exterminate vermin-beasts like rats that could sneak past a wall and spread it otherwise. Grade-B cats are trained to patrol for rat-beasts and alert humans to the presence of trolls and beasts, and grade-A cats are bred and trained for military jobs - lookouts for hunters and scouts, looking for buried trolls with the cleansers. Sometimes they seem almost prescient. They recognize military insignia and report to the highest ranking person first, too."

"Hey!" She asks the guard. "Can you fetch a map for us to look at? Tape it to the wall or something?"

"A map?"

"Of the known world."

"Probably, sure. I'll ask when my shift's up." The guard shrugs.

"My first reaction is to wonder if your cats are people. My second reaction is - I absolutely know people who'd want one, especially a Grade-A one."

"I'm familiar with what your world might have looked like before the collapse, but a map of what it looks like now would be helpful, thank you."

"I don't think the cats are people. They don't have fylgja and they still act... Catty. Worth checking, I suppose. Mind talking about what kind of magic you used to have? And I'm wondering how you lost it. I can imagine that happening to one of us but I don't know anyone it's happened to."

"I used to have real combat magic. Now the best I can do is fling heavy things using Levitate. Or use my pistol, of course. It's enchanted, so it's a decent second-best, but..." She frowns. 

"As for how I lost it... It's more like I refined it and stripped it down to reach something that was entirely part of me and would work anywhere."

"Our magic comes from the gods. Freyja and Odin most of all. If yours is innate to your own soul, that is impressive."

"There were gods where I came from too. They gave power to their chosen followers, when they prayed to them and lead their lives in their service. Then there were the people like me, with sorcery inborn, and the ones who earned it the hard way, also me. I had an edge, but I drove it as far as I could. One of my great-grandparents is a dragon. Still drops in sometimes at family gatherings, human-shaped of course. She is so pleased with my particular bit of the family tree."

"I think I'd like to meet a dragon. Maybe once I have a few more of those Ka and sharpen myself up troll-hunting a bit again."

"I hear the words 'I'd like to hunt a dragon' going carefully unsaid there. Some are decent people. Others are right bastards. I ended up hunting one once. Seasoned team of seven, three died, one had their soul trapped and lost. I was lucky. And skilled, I guess. But mostly lucky. We did kill him, though."

She glares, but it's a light thing. "If they're not corrupting and hateful things, that's not actually what I mean. I end trolls' suffering. And giants are the worst sort of trolls. A dragon would definitely qualify. Smart giants are even rarer, thank the gods. I'd rather not fight one. I really did mean meet."

"Some of them deserve 'corrupting and hateful', but I hear you on meaning meet. I could maybe arrange that with my great-grandmother sometime once all the formalities are dealt with."  

"Seems like there's a lot to see out there. Folks here will want to see new places. Are ordinary products of civilization liable to be worth much? Books, tools, clothes, trains, incendiary devices? Unskilled labor? Or skilled in low-tech sorts of things, at any rate. I suppose if you buy grade-A cats for kroner instead of negotiating something else with the academy, you'd have to get the kroner from someone."

"Most unskilled labour is of little interest to the OTC, but it's always seeking more volunteers to bear the costs of sacrificial magics. Pain, most commonly. As for material goods - most things that aren't highly exotic are extremely cheap for the OTC to make."

"Well, at least we have something to offer... Art?"

"Art is generally worth something. It's more unique, per-world."

Marit asks about other worlds and things the OTC sells for a while longer. She asks about Takkarash and predicts it won't be especially popular or unpopular compared to other human worlds. She asks if they'll buy a stack of seals for various purposes off her as samples.

With dinner, arrives a map*. The guard tapes it up to the outside of the quarantine room along with their tracking calendar.

*Author's note: The population figures on the map are altered for this canon. Double Icelandic and Danish numbers and triple all other numbers.

"My," says Thorn. "You really have been beaten back into little corners. So much is lost. It reminds me of the Shadowling campaign." 

She looks up from her reverie. "Ah. And the seals. Yes, I'll buy some. I don't know what a fair price would be, but let's call it 25 OTC each for the first stack? And then once we have a better idea regarding how useful and in demand they are we can negotiate something more equitable."

"It was nothing less than the fall of civilization. Nobody knew what to do until it was too late. And it's not like either of us knows what a fair price is at the moment, so very well."

"Deal. I'd shake your hand, but..." She shrugs. "And no matter how much you've lost, at least you're still around, hey? And now things might get better."

"They just might."

Their conversation winds down soon after that. The remainder of quarantine is still fairly boring, but they'll get Thorn a few more books or board games if she asks. Marit tells scattered stories of her friends and family and travels and solicits the same. Marit carefully scribes about two dozen seals, then stops, saying any more would just be pointlessly subtle variations on ones she's already covered.

They do indeed make Marit wait out the full four weeks of quarantine - she complains about it enough to get the Captain of the military base to come visit in his own biohazard suit; They have a shouting match that shakes out to 'the actual Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian parliaments all said four weeks but I can get you some more money'.

Eighteen days into quarantine, a nurse informs Thorn that her blood test came back as 'immune'. She's not a citizen of any of the five nations which makes the paperwork a bit confusing but they've made an ID card that says "Nationality: N/A" which will confuse bureaucrats but is better than nothing.

Twenty two days into quarantine, a letter from a newspaper journalist arrives with lots of poorly informed questions for her and a request to meet him when the quarantine ends.

And then the quarantine is over and the nurses let them both out.

Does she want to go for a broad-spectrum approach and found an office here, or does she want to start from the top? 

Either way, she would rather have the true story published than a compendium of rumor and hearsay. She writes back, emphasizing the limited footprint the OTC has here right now. 

She goes and meets the reporter. Hopefully no-one chooses to stop her.

Marit gives Thorn a meeting place for after the reporter, then wanders off stack of seals in hand. The reporter has a small office in an out of the way spot - this seems to be a trading hub as well as a military base, with lots of offices and dockyards and cranes and warehouses. Nobody stops her, though several look at her curiously and mutter.

"Hello! I'm Heribor Ivarsson with Sweden Tomorrow newspaper. It is a pleasure to meet you! I still have many questions even after you kindly answered my first set, and an in-person interview is much more convenient. Thank you for coming!"

"Thorn, of course. It's a mononym. It's no trouble coming to meet with you, though I do hope you're not risking any trouble of your own by doing this, what with my being a foreigner and all. But the people of Sweden need to know, yes? I have a lot to say, and perhaps a few demonstrations to give."

"Oh, you've passed quarantine now so the only trouble is the travel fare and lodging. I understand that you represent the Oifeli Trade Company - do I have that spelled right? - That you are a highly trained mage-scout, that we may have exciting technology purchases to make, but that your company largely trades in magic?"

"Consortium, not company. You have it spelled right. I am not only highly trained but somewhat built to purpose - this is why I have immunity paperwork from your government, my body is built to a higher standard than the products of nature are. As for your last two items - the line between magic and technology is blurry for us, because there are many magical products that can be used by non-mages, much like the seals your mages are capable of making. We primarily trade in magic because magic is rare in the multiverse and much more likely to be a "local product", like your Finnish mages."

"Are non-magical things worth anything at all? Sweden does not have many mages and it would sting to be put aside in favor of the Norwegians and Icelanders and Finns, though of course they could use the help more than we. Unless it is terribly difficult to go from world to world I would think opening markets as far as possible would benefit everyone. However, I also think my nation's interest is going to be in purchasing education and manufacturing infrastructure for things. Robotics and computers and all the other infrastructure we lost in the Fall. We are very interested in self-reliance."

"We can offer that at reasonable prices, though you must understand that the only interdimensional link on this entire plane resides in my backpack at the moment; it will take time to build the infrastructure to build the infrastructure to etc. While the technologies you have are centuries out of date compared to ours, there is still some value in crafts practiced well - the invention of the knife as a sharp thing with a handle dates almost to the dawn of humanity, and I carry something that is, for all intents and purposes, a knife. As I do a pistol and a set of camping gear. Much of it is magically improved, but the materials and manufacturing methods are not incomprehensible to you. It's just that mine were in all likelihood assembled in a nanoforge - that is, by a very large number of very small robots. So you have to compete with that, an assembly technology that's better than yours by centuries. It's possible, but very difficult. 

More significant are the opportunities for skilled and unskilled labor, both magical and non-magical. There will be jobs in logistics getting transfers of magical and technological goods sorted out. There will be educational opportunities for people seeking to implement new technologies. There will be hiring offers for the OTC itself as it establishes a transition and liaison team, positions which come with agelessness as part of the standard health package. And I would encourage just about anyone to apply."

The notion of lots of tiny robots is a fascinating one and he asks more about it! And he says Sweden is a good place to find conscientious, diligent, creative, education-seeking people. The transition and liaison team would interact with the government to determine how OTC stands according to local law, it sounds like? Any relevant taxes, border controls, and safety laws or what have you.

One of his Swedish readers wishes to know if trains are common in other worlds, or if they are an impractical form of transit. A Danish reader - they are great students of history - is concerned with the Old World pattern of colonialism and exploitation. Can she offer any reassurances on that front? An Icelandic reader wants to know what gods, if any, she follows, and what the faiths of other worlds are like. A Norwegian reader asks if you can get Takarrash out of pain you were going to experience anyway, like if you got stabbed by a Troll. A Finnish reader asks... He has to read it twice, but, 'Do you properly respect the spirits of animals you eat'? They probably couldn't find many Finns to get a better question, but the Reader Questions bit is a Sweden Tomorrow tradition.

If you have enough tiny robots you can assemble things using microblocks of preassembled atoms such that you have precise control over the complex atomic structure, leading to materials like carbon nanotubes at the most basic end and complex metamaterials like her bones at the more advanced. The same technology also allows for extremely rapid assembly because of scale effects - many millions of machines working in parallel at a very small scale where the distances needed to move things are almost zero. 

They have no intention of majorly flouting local law, though they will of course lobby for their services to be made available to as many people as possible.  

Trains are common in many other worlds of similar technology level to this one. Highly advanced "bullet trains" persist for some time into the future as one of the better long-distance travel technologies. 

The OTC is generally noninterventionist in the greater sense. Clearly there will be some disruption as they connect to the multiversal economy, but so long as they aren't secretly condoning slavery somewhere the OTC will have no intent to majorly intervene. 

There are worlds where the gods are real and tangible things; there are also worlds where they are mostly comforting hopes against an uncaring universe. Some gods are kind and just; others are right bastards. They're not much different from people with power. If she believes in anything, she believes in herself, and in the magic she's cultivated from her own soul. That's her opinion on gods. 

You have to be able to dedicate the pain to takkarash-making, so a certain degree of intent is necessary. It's possible to dedicate the pain of getting a new tattoo, less so to dedicate a chronic pain you've been having for years. You have to be meaningfully making a sacrifice, choosing pain you could have avoided.

She's aware of many druidic traditions regarding the spirits of animals, but see her answer regarding gods; she's not certain any given way is best. So she respects them, in a kind of vague, general way - she does her best to use all of what she kills if she's forced to hunt - but she doesn't follow any specific tradition.Taking the opportunity to ask that question on a public stage shows Druidic potential, though; she has a friend that the reader might like to meet if she's interested in hiring on with the OTC.

The closest thing to government-sponsored slavery that exists as far as he knows is the ångra program, which allows nonviolent criminals to serve as Cleansers instead of being jailed and is slightly controversial. 

He has a few questions about the kinds of things they sell and how Ka works and what things tend to cost and then thanks her for her time!

One of the soldiers who confronted her when she first arrived is leaning against the wall and reading a book when she comes out. "Oh, hey. The Captain sent me to offer you a room and an appointment. He wants to buy guns and armor."

The OTC will likely be in favor of phasing out the ångra program, but shouldn't massively object. They're more likely to lobby for it than send agents. 

She has a sample catalog of items in her head that she can list things from with prices; she stresses that this is a limited selection compared to the full OTC catalog. Ka magically adjusts potential lifespan, usually by treating cellular degeneration and reinforcing the body with charms for health and longevity. 

Thank you for your time too, Heribor. 

She smiles at the soldier. "That sounds lovely. Tell him I'm happy to pay rent in arms and armor and I'd love to haggle for the best accommodations he can offer." 

He snorts. "If you want the Captain's cabin you'll have to bid pretty high. Or make a good impression I suppose. He's Danish, if that helps. If you're good with fancy trader rooms those are probably more accessible. He said to send you to his office as your leisure but you were going to do something with Marit first I think? She sent a bunch of letters out, probably about you."

"Ah yes, Marit did give me a meeting place for after the interview. I'll go talk to her. Where's the captain's office, though?"

"In the biggest building up on the top deck. Secretary'll show you where. Sooner would be better, I figure. I'm gonna let the higher ups figure this stuff out before selling pain or whatever, instead of insisting on poking my nose in, I'll catch up on it later and stop bothering you, so have a good one." He jauntily waves the book and bumps off the wall to walk off.

She goes off to see Marit, following the instructions she left her.

Marit is in a sort of conference room, with a window looking over the docks and a big table that seats four and a snack cart. She has her seals splayed out on the table.

"Hello again. I'm curious to see how you'll get... Home? Want me to explain what they do?"

"I have home in my pack right here." She jerks a thumb at her backpack. "I could make a gate right now, but I figure that would be unkind to your captain who's waiting on me. Go ahead and show me the seals."

She does. Three versions of troll repellent - passive, temporary but stronger, one for vermin-beasts specifically. She could probably tailor troll-repellent to work on many other monsters with the chance to study said other monsters. A boat-improving seal. Explosive trap seals, force themed and fire themed. A notice-me-not. A seal meant to keep ghosts in place, and one to repel them. One to make lying harder. A silent alarm that will wake whoever placed it even from deep sleep if tripped. And a dozen different farm type seals, for corralling livestock or dealing with weather or what have you.

A good selection. The boat-improving enchantment she hasn't seen a good equivalent to. How large a boat are we talking about, here? And improved how?

"It's real good at preventing leaks. Makes it take waves better, keeps the rocking down, the currents and wind will tend to be convenient, makes rowing or engines need to do a bit less work, staves off rot a bit. It calls Bylgia's protection, so sea-beasts are less likely to attack, too. It's really meant for rowboats or little barges, but a few big ones on a proper ship can help. I'd want to find someone more specialized for proper ship runes."

"Sounds like a good overall enchantment. More thorough than anything we've got, I think; we'd have to layer enchantments to get the same effect. I think it's likely to sell well, especially if you can make ones for larger vessels."

"I have to wonder if seals and runes will work in other worlds at all, to be honest, though. They invoke the gods. Perhaps in the making only, but perhaps ongoingly."

"I've seen it work before with other gods. It really depends on how far the gods can reach and how much of their blessing is their control and how much is merely their power."

"The gods are very much not human, that is true. Hmm. I would like to visit your home and see if I can draw runes there."

"I have a meeting scheduled with the Captain, but I'd like to see that too. Perhaps you could come to my rooms?"

She snorts. "Good luck with Olsen, the old goat. And, sure, when? I want to buy a few more of those 'ka'."

"As soon as the Captain gets done with me, I don't have anything else lined up for afterwards. I have some negotiations to do for housing, but those shouldn't take too too long. I can meet you back here if you don't mind waiting?"

"Sure. I'll just go ahead and work on more boat-runes then, shall I?"

"Sounds like a plan to me!"

"See you soon."

The Captain's office is at the highest point of the largest building. It's very big, with huge windows, and contains a great many trophies. The Captain himself is a broad man with a voluminous beard tied into two braids.

He doesn't appear to have an 'inside voice'.

When she comes in he shouts, "SO, I HEAR YOU ARE SOME KIND OF SCOUT! ALWAYS GOOD TO MEET SOMEONE WITH A GO-GETTING MINDSET! I HAVE HIGH HOPES WE'LL FINALLY GET WHAT WE NEED TO TAKE BACK THE PLAINS FROM THE INFECTION THANKS TO YOU!"

She blinks, mildly frazzled, but quickly recovers. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Captain! Thank you for your offer of acommodations! I'd like to discuss rent paid in arms and armor for your squad!"

"HAHAHA! GOOD VOICE ON YOU! IF YOU'RE WITH A TRADING COMPANY YOU'RE IN THE RIGHT PLACE! MY LOVELY BASE IS TRAGICALLY INFESTED WITH ICELANDIC AND SWEDISH MERCHANTS. WHILE I LAMENT THE RELATIVE LACK OF MILITARY ACTIVITY, YOU COULD RENT AN ENTIRE OFFICE AND GET A LOT OF TRAFFIC!"

"That sounds like just the ticket captain! I can pay in gold, OTC credits, or arms directly! Unfortunately I have none of your currency yet, but I expect you want gear in any case! Hopefully it'll be that easy for paying my staff!"

"I'LL WANT SAMPLES OF A VARIETY OF THINGS FOR EVALUATION! I DON'T KNOW WHAT ALL YOU HAVE YET BESIDES SILENT GUNS AND ARMOR SUITS, BUT I SURELY WANT MORE TO EVALUATE. RADIOS! SCOUT EQUIPMENT. MEDICAL GEAR. VEHICLES! AN INITIAL PACKAGE OF EQUIPMENT, EVEN SIMPLY LEASED FOR EVALUATION, IN EXCHANGE FOR A YEAR'S RENT AND A FEW MILLION KRONER TO PAY PEOPLE WITH IS WHAT I WAS THINKING, WHAT SAY YOU?"

"I'll have to look at what in whole you need! I might not be able to supply everything up front if you're making a large purchase; currently I'm confined to things that fit through a doorway - that means I'd have to import and build production facilities in order to make vehicles, not that they're off the table! I have carapace armor, sending stones, and healing potions in my convenient catalog and can bring them through right now! For silent guns you could purchase laspistols or you could have your current arms enchanted! I can't swear to a lasgun's effectiveness on trolls, having never seen one used, so if you are conservative you might prefer the enchantments on the arms your men are familiar with! Subject to all that, your offer is broadly sound! It gets us the foothold we need here to begin running real operations!"

"EXCELLENT! JUST AS LONG AS YOU UNDERSTAND THAT THE BASE IS UNDER JOINT SWEDISH-DANISH-NORWEGIAN MILITARY AUTHORITY AND ANY NONSENSE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED! I'M PLANNING ON FORMING DOUBLE-SQUADS WITH A FULL SET OF NEW GEAR AND OLD SO WE CAN GET A PROPER COMPARISON WITHOUT TOO MUCH RISK! I'LL BE BRINGING IN SOME OF MY SUBORDINATES FOR CONSULTATION ON THE NEW GEAR AS WELL! LET ME INTRODUCE THEM AND SHOW YOU THE OFFICES AND WE CAN HAVE A PROPER MEETING TO WORK OUT A CONTRACT TOMORROW!"

"I have every intention of abiding by local law, sir! I would love to see your officers and offices!"

So Captain Olsen gives a tour and introductions. The offices for rent are a bit clinical with the mostly-metal construction of the base, but pre-furnished with desk space for eight, a storefront-like area, plus attached living quarters and warehouse space. There's a company that does janitorial and temp staffing services down on the first level if she wants to talk to them.

The officers introduced include a radio tech who is dubious about the sending stones and would prefer, uh, radios, a scout captain who in addition to tales of other worlds wants detection, movement, and all-weather gear, a hunter captain who wants to buy lots and lots and lots of ka and distribute them to soldiers as a new benefit, a logistics officer who frets excessively about maintenance and replacement parts, and a bored-looking naval captain who asks a lot of questions about computers and other high-tech gear.

The sending stones are modifiable to work with their existing radio sets and should provide reception over arbitrary distances in all weather conditions. They can provide radios cheaply but sending stones are actually better, she's used them in the field. She hasn't got anything for detection immediately in her catalogs except for contact lenses that grant perfect night vision, but she knows that items of Clairvoyance can be made. There's also the option of using robotic drones or even nanobots to scout, those are on offer but would take some training or a lot of cash. Farstrider boots and better vehicles for movement, layered enchantments for all-weather gear. Endure Elements is cheap and a lifesaver in the field for people who still need that kind of thing. She assures the logistics officer that they intend to stay and that all their offerings are extremely reliable. As for the naval captain, he can get a brief lecture on what life is like on Oifilei's refuge and trade worlds, where bodies are replaceable and lifespans are indefinite. That technology base will eventually be brought here, as this is a new-minted trade world; it's just a matter of how fast.

The radio tech is still kind of dubious but will wait and see. The naval captain wants to accelerate tech import however they can. (He's Swedish.) The hunter asks about futuristic flamethrowers and explosives. The logistics officer is coming around to the idea of lasguns and asks if they can get things that work off physical principles and either production licenses or the tech base to develop their own versions. The scout captain wants to know if emergency 'get the fuck out right NOW' teleports are a thing?

She has directed plasma weapons that are stable and sane, they just seemed like overkill and they're not as silent as las weapons. Rings of Fireball exist, as does good old-fashioned C4. They can arrange educational programs to build the technological items and they're willing to sell manufacturing technologies so long as they're reasonably well-assured they will be used for the intended purpose. She also takes a moment to plug the company's mercenary services, though she doubts they'll go for it; they're somewhat irregular by most worlds' standards. Emergency teleportation is possible but expensive, she has an hourlong ritual for that because the magic is technically demanding. It's less so in artificial demiplanes, which makes the OTC's internal logistics much easier, but for sale it'll cost. Might be worth it to prevent deaths though. Oh by the way, ressurrection magic exists. It's easier with an anchor like her necklace but still possible without one. Unfortunately demand far outstrips supply, but for the right price...

In the longer term, the OTC would almost certainly like to buy some good large chunks of the Silent World, sweep and clear them of trolls, and settle refugees on them. Most likely from worlds where slavery is endemic; they are really quite serious about their philosophical commitment to freedom of employment because it's hard enough for them to find multiverse-class people without them being involved in bad systems that damage their ability to do anything. 

"SELLING OFF BITS OF THE SILENT WORLD IS SOMETHING WELL ABOVE MY PAY GRADE!" Captain Olsen bellows. "DENMARK IS CERTAINLY OURS, AND PERHAPS PARTS OF GERMANY OR GREAT BRITAIN, ONCE WE SUCESSFULLY RECLAIM IT! THE REST OF IT, THAT IS UP FOR THE POLITICIANS TO DECIDE. WE'D PROBABLY WELCOME SOME REFUGEES IF THEY CAN MINIMALLY FUNCTION IN SOCIETY! WE NEED MORE PEOPLE REALLY."

The topic of resurrection makes the two Danish officers pretty uncomfortable. They manufacture plastic explosives themselves already but perhaps OTC's is cheaper. They'd like a few samples of directed plasma weapons. Fire is the most efficient method of troll-killing. They might want to hire mercenaries for specific short-term operations sometimes? And perhaps they could sell mercenary services too, they're entirely unsuited to fighting people but very efficient at exterminating beasts.

It's probably about time to actually start writing up a contract.

She draws up a basic contract. Two squads of the Captain's men will be issued Mars Pattern Lasrifles, Storm Carapace armor, rings of Fireball, Sending Stones hooked into the radio grid, Photo-Contacts, and raincoats and tents enchanted with Endure Elements, a total of ten of each item in all; additionally, two directed-plasma weapons will be loaned for one year. In exchange, the OTC will recieve a one-year lease of the office she toured, and three million kroner. This establishes a rough Kroner-to-OTC exchange rate of something in the range of 300 Kroner per Oifilei Trade Credit. She doesn't know what the true value of a Kroner is, but that sounds broadly reasonable to her; no doubt the price will fluctuate as she brings in more goods from offworld.

"Where and when do you want this delivered, Captain? I could set down my beacon right now and start hauling sets of armor through, but I'd rather put them where you actually want them."

They'd like to exchange half the fireball rings, photo-contacts, coats and tents, and sending stones for Ka instead. Otherwise that sounds reasonable.

The logistics officer finds a warehouse unit and has someone organize a 24/7 guard on it.

She's fine with giving them that much in Ka instead, which will come to twenty eight point three five Ka which is one hundred and forty one and three quarter years of lifespan. 

She can haul goods into the warehouse as soon as the contract's signed.

Captain Olsen signs it and fishes out stacks of 5000 kroner notes from a payroll safe and sends everyone off to an office to officiate the year's rent! Utilities are included. Damage must be compensated for, if any occurs.

She signs and accepts her kroner.

She intends this as a recruiting and liasion office, not a research facility. Damage is not expected. 

She's itching to get her beacon off her back. Warehouse next?

Warehouse next! With Captain Olsen loudly speculating on the bright future of cleansing efforts if the equipment proves up to the task! It's a large, empty room with shelves.

She drops her beacon and punches in the keycode that will make it signal home, and a door appears. 

She opens it and walks through to Eva's office.

"Thorn! You're finally back. What's new?" 

"I've got an order. Ten storm carapace, ten lasguns - just look at the list I've got in my head, alright?"

"Alright." There's a flicker of light from the quartz crystal that hangs from Thorn's neck. "I see. I might have pushed for more, but you're the eyes on the ground. I'll pull the delivery together for you."

Pallets of arms and armor appear, carried low to the ground by little servitor robots. There's a number of them, but not nearly enough to fill a warehouse. 

"The bots are slaved to your necklace and will follow where you lead or point. Make sure to send them all back, I don't want to have to expense one."

"Alright!"

She marches her little robots back out into the warehouse and neatly arranges the crates on the warehouse floor.

Everyone is very excited. Are there manuals? Does she need anything else before she starts setting up her newly rented offices?

She goes back and brings in a crate of manuals. After that? No, there's nothing more she needs. She has business to attend to with Marit, and after that she'll see to her new office.

Marit has completed two more boat-improving seals and is working on a third in that same conference room.

"Olsen is very loud, isn't he?" She comments with a smile.

"Yes," she says, rubbing her head. "I'm glad I don't get headaches, he certainly tried to give me one. So, what are you looking to buy?"

"Ka. Some impossible colors to experiment with. A Rod of Freedom. Trolls can't make me obey them but it's... A strain. Something to keep me from looking too young right away despite the ka? Maybe some other things. I haven't actually added it all up or looked through the catalog that thoroughly."

She nods. "I can do the Rod of Freedom as a tattoo at the nape of the neck if you want it permanently." She shows her arms. "It wouldn't be too different from these. As for Ka and so on, that's very doable, depending on how many seals you have for me."

"24 individual seals of different kinds, as we discussed earlier, plus two extra boat-enhancement seals. It takes about an hour to do one proper, I can't just slap ink on paper and have it work if it's going to last."

"That comes to six hundred and fifty OTC, then, at twenty-five each as we agreed. Which would be... thirty-seven years of anti-aging. Fourteen if you buy a Rod of Freedom as well. If you wanted a glamour etcetera without dinging your Ka too much, I'm willing to advance you a week's work on boat seals at the same rate - forty seals for twenty-five OTC each comes to a thousand more OTC to spend. I can also pay you in Kronor now at a rate of about three hundred Kronor to the OTC - that means I'd be paying you seven thousand five hundred Kronor a seal, which I expect is better than market rate by a long shot." 

"Much better." She shakes her head. "Guess I've found my new job, painting Bylgia's seals all day. I'm, what, ninety two now instead of ninety seven, so a couple of days of that work could get me back to the prime of my youth?"

"Each seal you do is worth about a year and a half of lifespan; to get back to twenty years old would take you sixty-four seals. I don't know how fast you can do these, but even if it takes you an hour per seal, that's not much more than a week's work."

"About two weeks to make that many. We pray and channel to do it right, you see, and it's a bit draining. The one I tested you with back before quarantine, that took ten minutes and it was fine, because it was only going to be used once. I imagine you want the ones you sell to last? The traps and alarm are single-use, and the others will burn out trying to fulfill their function if something, mm, opposes it enough. Boat getting cut up on rocks will ruin the boat-seal, it'd burn itself out trying to soften the damage."

She nods. "I may be underpaying you if they're reasonably reusable - we have charms of a similar type running fifty-five OTC per. Something of yours might end up being hardier than our other enchantments and end up going for that price. We'll have to see how it goes." 

"We'll have to see. Do you want an introduction to some other mages, perhaps? I sent a letter to the Eide hunter-clan, I'm expecting to hear back in a week that they'd be thrilled to have you visit."

"I would love introductions to some other mages. Scaling up production is something we're interested in, and it'll give us inroads towards more integration with your world."

"Honestly, just put out a newspaper ad that you can come to Oresund and scribe seals for a few weeks and be made younger or get otherworldly magic and you'll probably get swamped. Most mages are Icelandic and not immune, though. You'll want an office there to really 'scale up' the number of seals you can get out of us."

She nods. "I want to have the infrastructure to handle getting swamped in place first, so that I'm not doing business in odd corners and actually have some secretarial staff and so on. I'm going to be working with fewer people than I really want because the OTC is understaffed - too many new worlds making contact, not enough multiverse-class people. Hopefully I can get to Iceland soon enough."

"What makes someone multiverse-class? Ability to roll with the weirdness?"

"Ability to roll with the weirdness on many levels. Also just direct talent. Smart, capable people have never stopped being a scarce and valuable resource, even on worlds with billions of people to pick from. We want the best. I'm basically the bottom rung of talent - I'm mostly a grunt. My great-aunt, Director Grey..."

"I want to say maybe I'm one of those people, but realistically, I'm probably not. I'm just a grumpy old mage who was conveniently nearby when they needed someone disposable to go poke you. They'd object to that description. Rightfully so. See: Grumpy, old. And I could have refused. But still."

"You have a chance, which is all anyone gets. I can recommend you for the crash course where you learn about things like morphological freedom and the deep weirdness of all the conflicting magic systems and how they interface and technology through 3,000 A.D. and how it varies between worlds. You'd have a better chance than some, I think."

"Morphological freedom, huh? I was a fox and a seagull in dreams, sometimes..." She sounds wistful.

"That recommends you more strongly. There's shapeshifting magic and technology you might take to; the necessary attitude is that your body is like... a project car. Even that doesn't quite capture the mixture of practicality and sentimentality. Naturally it's a very intimate thing, your own body, but it's still ultimately replaceable. Finding that balance can be hard for people."

"Oh, I'm familiar with that concept. I'm not my body, I'm my soul. I've never had the chance to do much about it, but I was vaguely looking forward to being whatever I wanted in the afterlife, even if most of me was - afraid of it. Like a pair of boots that's close to being worn out- Good boots are a soldier's best friend- I might want a new pair, tougher, more comfortable, but ultimately pretty similar to the old pair. And it'll take adjusting, breaking in. If I'm going somewhere especially weird, perhaps I want snowshoes instead of normal boots. It's not a perfect metaphor."

"It's not, but it sounds like the right attitude. I'd really encourage you to apply once we get a recruiting office set up; I can't examine you for multiverse-class talent, but you have the right attitudes and background - that eliminates a good two thirds of the candidate pool. Even if we don't accept you right away, I'm fairly sure you'd qualify for some of the advanced educational programs we offer. You would probably be able to afford them too, given that you're earning a few thousand OTC a month."

"Are you going to hire recruiters without a recruiting office? Or import some? I'm sure we can supply some secretaries who can follow written instructions and file paperwork without trouble." She smiles.

"The easy winnowing can start with simple forms and secretaries, yes; I'd expect to hire people from here for that. The actual examinations would require a few Lilies for the early rounds, and probably a Morning-Glory as the final examiner. The Morning-Glory would likely stay on Oifilei, they're generally too valuable to risk in halftamed worlds."

"Someone you know?"

"Lilies are my elder sisters, a Morning-glory would be more like my aunt. The OTC found a very talented woman by the name of Evangeline, and now she's a Director and a good third of the staff as well. I'm one of her; so are the Morning-glories and the Lilies. Evas shift a lot in new environments. I could aspire to become a Lily or a Morning-Glory, given a few centuries; Thorns are young."

"Huh. I'll have to think about that for a while before I know what to make of it. I have a daughter, and grandchildren, but they're not me even slightly."

"We have - attachments - but rarely families in the true sense. We're kind of married to our jobs except for the Hannahs. They go off and be their own people, in the way that someone exactly like you can still go off and become their own person - there are still some commonalities, and that's why we're a bit like a family, you're stuck being one of us when you start as us."

"I would have been boring if I'd stayed on the farm. But I would still be interested to meet me. Is it something like that?"

"A bit like that, yes. More like there's a bunch of you that stay on the farm and are content with that, a bunch of you who go into troll-hunting, a bunch of you who go into trading... and you can kind of tell what kind of person each kind of thing produces from the original you making that choice. Thorns are almost blank slates; we're quite close to the 'original' us."

"Hmmm. Must be a strange existence. Well, the ring of nine lives would be nice too. And exotic foods or spices that are less dire than that fudge or the alarming-sounding drink. Do you have anything like a bottomless ink-pot? Or like the bag of holding, but for ink, perhaps."

"I think that would be fairly simple to arrange with some conjuration magic. I'd have to talk to an Eva about pricing, but it ought not to cost excessively."

"I'm not keeping you from your other yous, am I?"

"You're more interesting to me than them. You're new; they're very old. I like new things."

"That was a hint that I want to get my ka already." She smiles. "Tired of aches and pains."

"Ah, well. Let's get a move on, then."

She puts down her beacon and gets the process underway.

Marit peers at it and says it looks like something the Swedes would make.

"It's mostly technology with a little magic."

Eva and her office appear. Thorn ducks in, gets the requested items, and exchanges for the seals. She is a little loose about "change" and rounds up the last Ka to a full Ka. 

"Do you mind if I come in and pray? To see if Freyja's blessing extends beyond this earth. It's a considerable factor in whether I wish to travel."

"Go ahead," calls Evangeline from behind her desk.

Marit bows politely to her. "You must meet the most fascinating people, hm? A substitute for seeing the most fantastical places, perhaps. Can we close the portal for a moment, to make a proper test, miss Thorn?"

"Alright!" 

Thorn closes the portal.

Eva nods. "I'm too important to be allowed out from behind a desk, unfortunately. This is the closest I can get to the front lines."

Marit nods. "I'm familiar with the concept. Good old Captain Olsen the Loud faces the same thing!"

And then she clears her throat intones a poem about the glory of storms and the power of nature in a high, clear voice, almost a song, with her arm passing through various gestures.

A breeze picks up and there is a faint smell of ozone.

"Oh, excellent! I'd give much better odds that the seals will work properly in other worlds now. Do either of you want a quick blessing? We can do luck-blessings in addition to seals, but they're more temporary. A few weeks, I'd say."

"I'll take a blessing."

"As will I. Thank you very much!"

She bows dramatically. "Ahem. Blessings comes in a few different flavors, each calling for a different benefit from the gods. The effects can be subtle, and will not significantly oppose a... Strong fate, is how I would put it. Several of them are farm-flavored. My apologies. Peace and safety, weather and plants, disease and animals, love and friendships, learning and craft, and... Fulfillment, contentment, I suppose? The last one is the most variable and general."

"Learning and craft, please."

"Love and friendships for me," says Thorn.

Giving a blessing involves walking in a circle around them while reciting another prayer/poem, and touching their hands. There's no obvious sign it worked, but Marit seems satisfied.

"I'm told I should ask about morphological freedom and a crash course in all the everything?"

"With Thorn's recommendation I can put you on the waiting list. It might take a few weeks for you to see an instructor/examiner; they'll contact you when your turn comes up in line."

"Well, I am certainly interested. Is there a book about it I could read, perhaps?"

"Certainly!" 

A heavy manual appears on her desk, entitled "OTC Basic Training." There's a hex pattern all across the front page and little fingertabs cut into the pages marking sections.

"You'll want the morph guide, section six. It's a listing of all forms in common use by the OTC. I particularly like the Scylla for when I'm not doing interface work; having extra limbs I can tuck away when I don't need them is a tremendous benefit. You'll also want the atlas of known planes, section four, particularly the subsection on Trade planes." 

She opens the portal again. "Anything else you need?" 

Marit starts breaking Ka, and sighs, satisfied. "Not now, I think. I'll have more shopping to do later. What a wonderful thing this is. It's even getting past my naturally grumpy disposition."

Eva smiles. "We ought to have an office set up for that by the time you want to shop again. I'm glad we could brighten your day."

"I'm going to have great fun looking like my same old baggy self but outlifting my grandson. Just picture it. Old lady performing feats of physical prowess. Fare thee well!"

She hefts the book and heads out the re-opened portal.

Did she have another appointment after this one? No, just the office setup. 

She follows Marit out of the portal with a wave over her shoulder, and goes and relocates the beacon to her new offices. Then she goes in and starts getting to work. 

There are half a dozen letters in the office's mailbox by the day's end. An ad from the cleaning service, a letter from that naval captain asking about a robot cheaper than the Sundowner, two people offering to buy Ka for Kroner at very high rates, one from some random soldier gushing about the cool armor, and someone named Jonar Bjerre offering to quit the army and work for her if he gets to read books from other worlds. He's a train driver now but he was a secretary, cleanser, and waiter at various other times and his address is such-and-such!

Later that night, a slight woman carrying a tablet directs a fleet of small robots into the office. They carry a large, chunky piece of statuary that looks like the smaller beacon writ large, a flat-pack full of holocomps, a heavy chest full of Ka crystals, and another two bigger-on-the-inside chests full of basic stock. 

Lily watches as the robots set up the room properly, tapping away on her holocomp. "And you want me to stand guard over this for the night with the robots to back me up?" 

"Yeah, at least until I can get ahold of Jonar Bjerre and a few others like him. I've placed an ad in the paper for receptionists and security guards with some fairly generous terms - since they'd be OTC employees the standard healthcare plan applies, which is better than anything they can get in this world. We'll need a Clematis here to examine the new hires once they come in, but..."

"That's getting ahead of ourselves."

"Exactly." 

Thorn gets an actual bed moved in and sleeps in the office overnight. She'll look for replies to her ad in the morning.

There are two more applications! Lindis Ingrasdottir has decided she HATES boats with a passion after coming here and has been living on Oresund base for a while and would appreciate steady employment. She's been working odd jobs and knows many of the usual merchants by now! Irene Hedström has sent a professional-looking resume advertising her accounting and management experience and saying she is excited to be part of a new venture with such great potential.

Also, someone is asleep leaning on the wall outside the office. He has white hair despite looking young, is wearing furs and has a bulky travel bag in his lap, and seems unwashed.

She'll wake him gently and press a Dyne into his hands.

"Twist the sphere in your hands and it should dissipate. It'll give you your alertness back. You seem to have come a long way; what's your name?"

He twists it, blinks, jumps up. "Uh! Call me Hawk?" He's speaking Finnish. "Don't like my name. Hello! I'm here cause the newspaper man said something about being a druid? It sounded important."

"Oh, I see! You're the one who asked the question about honoring the spirits of animals we eat, yes?"

Nod, nod. "Animals have souls just like people do. No senseless killing. There are... Rituals. Even trolls and beasts need proper funerals to go to their rest. It's important."

"Let me just pop into my private office and get a book for you."

She returns swiftly with a heavy tome in her arms; "The Ryte & Calling of the Druid." 

"A rare edition not written in Druidic, kept under strict contracts with the OTC. Hold out your hand please; I need to key this copy to you so you're the only one who can read it." 

Frown. "...Is it in Finnish?"

"No. It has an enchantment on it that will make it readable to you once I key you to it. And then you can learn about the sacred arts of the druids of the worlds I came from and perhaps gather some power from their study in the service of nature."

"What if I can't read? Not very fast anyway. I was going to bring it to my sister..."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you there." 

"You don't need much reading in a little village on Saimaa," he says, slightly annoyed. He sighs. "...I'll be back for it. Later."

"Alright then. Good luck on your journeys."

"Yeah. Goes to show ma was right. I really oughta learn to read. You'll be welcome in Inouppakouri if you end up in Saimaa. Mostly immune population. We have good fishing and a nice sauna." He nods his head, and turns around and walks away.

Alas, basic literacy. 

She goes back into her office, puts the book back, and writes replies to her candidates; all three get an interview, having been lucky and/or resourceful enough to get in on the ground floor. Interviews at their earliest convenience at this office, first come first served. 

Lindis shows up not twenty minutes later in a subdued work uniform. She smiles politely. "Good morning. Lindis Ingrasdottir. Thank you for your consideration. Many people aren't sure what to make of the news that other worlds exist, but I feel very lucky to be here at the moment."

Thorn smiles. "You're the first. You're applying for a cashier position, yes? Or would you prefer night security? Starting pay for a cashier is 10 OTC per hour, we can give you the equivalent in kronor if you prefer, health plan is 1/5 of a Ka per year plus quarterly castings of Remove Disease or Cure Serious Wounds. We'll be bringing in a house doctor for that. You'll need introduction to how things work around here, we use technology that's more modern than yours."

"Anywhere you would have me! I could work either positon but I would have some questions about being a night guard. I read through the catalog you handed out to the officers yesterday. Do you use computers for sales and inventory? I presume the magic spells do what they say?"

"We'll likely take you as a cashier then. We use holocomps, which are like computers but have holographic displays that let you interact with them in more ways. The magic spells do what they say they do. There are bins of holding by each desk filled with stock, you can just reach in intending to grab what you want and it'll be there. We'll be accepting kronor at the current exchange rate; we still need to interface with that properly so unfortunately you're likely to have to deal with piles of cash. We accept cheques; we had a company bank account set up for us by the captain as part of his payment for our earlier deliveries. Have cheques made out to the Oifilei Trade Consortium. I am regrettably required to inform you that all the stock is trackable by us and we'll persecute theft. If you or someone close to you needs Ka or other medical attention urgently and you can't afford it, come to us and we'll send our house doctor to attend to it. That is a privilege and not a right; people have tried to monetize it in the past and we have always caught them and persecuted them for fraud. Sorry for the warnings, it's just that local staff often get overwhelmed by the vast wealth they're responsible for handling here. Hence the hiring for night guards and so on. The central portal is used to bring in new stock when necessary. Don't be too startled by the 'vwoosh' sound, that is entirely normal. Am I going too fast for you?" 

...Headshake. "There are definitely people who would try to 'lose' a couple of small things. It is tempting. But I have no trouble believing that you will catch anyone who attempts it. Thank you for the warning. I think Ka and Dyne will be very popular. Will I be able to generate or look up prices for things that aren't in the catalog? Would it be possible to get a commission if I can arrange a particularly special sale?"

"If someone wants something that's not in the catalog ask your manager, who is right over there. She can price and source it custom, she has portal access and the overrides for the computers." She points at Lily, who is in the corner reading a book. "She's your manager for right now. Eventually we'll have local personnel trained for that role but right now you get another genuine OTC agent. As for commission, we've been known to have commission of up to ten percent on sufficiently large orders, particularly if you put in significant legwork to make the sale."

Lily raises her head and gives a little wave.

"Hello, miss." She nods back. "I was thinking I know many people and could do better for you that way than as a simple cashier, perhaps. But I must learn how you do things first, yes? I'll send some telegrams when we're done today, maybe. Is training on the holocomp next?"

"Yes." And she leads her through an introduction to how the holocomps work. 

She has never interacted with a computer that has a user interface before but it's not too hard to figure out. Do they have customer service guidelines beyond 'generally courteous and helpful'?

She can manifest a training manual but it's mostly captured by "generally courteous and helpful" and the rest is generally strange special case stuff. Would she like a manual anyway?

"May as well!"

She glances at the door. She checks the time and says she's not sure if it's just too early or if people aren't able to find the place - it won't be on any of the base maps - she overheard a fair amount of interest earlier. Some big signs would not be amiss.

She has questions about lunch break and her working hours- She's fine to work right away and on eccentric schedules but would rather not work more than 50 hours a week and wants to know the schedules in advance if at all possible. She checks if there are otherworldly books, fiction and non, in the store's stock and suggests them if not. Or perhaps computer-type things with books loaded into them?

They'll do big signs once they actually have some staff, they're afraid to be swamped. The standard shift is nine to five with a hour's lunch break; there are internal regulations in place against using Dyne to offer the opportunity to work double shifts, alas. Lily will be organizing the shifts as more workers come in but she can expect to work nine to five weekdays for the foreseeable future; if she wants an unusual schedule she is free to ask for it and they'll do their best to accommodate. There are no otherwordly books in stock according to the computers, but Lily comes over and keys in a code that fixes that and then goes through the big portal and pulls out another stock bin. 

"Thank you for the suggestion," she says. "Anything else you'd like to say before we hire you?"

"Any restrictions on making purchases or exchanging currency for myself?"

"So long as it doesn't distract you during work hours and you pay the sticker price, no restrictions. We don't do employee discounting, sorry. You'll be enrolled in our employee rewards program though, which has fun prizes even by our standards."

"I didn't expect an employee discount. It's hardly like your products will go bad at the end of the day, like restaurants. And even for food, it creates certain incentives. How should I respond to customers acting dangerous? Is anything I'll be touching particularly delicate? Do you dock wages for any reason? What's that rewards program like?"

"Safety and proper handling is a whole other lecture. We'll have security for you to call on irate customers. We pay you so long as you show up and work; if you break it, you bought it, but expect us to be gentle about that. The rewards program is points-based and allows you to save towards multiversal vacations, a selection of OTC products, and even at the highest tiers some of our real magic. Things like your own personal planet."

Nodnodnod. "No further questions. Eager to get started, just tell me what's next."

What's next is that safety briefing. Starting with the Esoterics like the Thirteenth Hour, which can leave you trapped in a pocket dimension full of your own nightmares, the Panacea, which can give you brain damage or turn you into a kind of mage if you try to study it, or Worry Beads, which can 'wake up' and become people if you use too many of them. All of these are perfectly safe for consumer use so long as the requirements are met; Thirteenth Hour, for instance, is sold only to people who don't sleep, because for them it's an entirely safe extra pocket dimension with a time dilation feature and has no risk of nightmare worlds being created. Panacea is safe to handle and use so long as nobody does illicit research on it. Worry beads are safe so long as an "only three per customer" rule is respected. These and other dangers of spell discharge, dire fudge and so on are laid out for her. There isn't much that needs explicit warnings, but the items that do need them are hair-raising. She is assured that the OTC has experience dealing with even the worst industrial accidents and the safety of its employees is paramount; if something really bad happens, the professionals will come save her. 

Well, it's good to hear that she'll be safe. She stayed out of the military for a reason. Cashiering feels safe, at least.

She writes all the warnings in shorthand form into a little notebook as the briefing progresses, looking a bit subdued.

"There, that's all. You're qualifed to work here, and you can start your first shift now. Feel free to read one of the bookstore's books while we wait for customers; I don't expect much of anyone today, but in case there are you can help out."

"I think I'll read through the catalog and try to imagine people who would want each item at first, get off to a strong start."

A young girl, perhaps fourteen, pokes her head in a few minutes later. "Telegram from Jonar Bjerre for 'Thorn'!"

"That's me!" She extends her hand for the telegram.

She marches in and hands it over. "He paid for a return message!"

Very interested in employment with OTC particularly as guard given the details you sent. Currently on rotation as a train driver so I am not immediately available. Will return in 2 days, then free for 2 days. Expected arrival Thursday 14:30. An interview then would be convenient. I may require a few more days to separate from the military after that. Thank you for your consideration. Please reply with convenient interview times.

Jonar Bjerre.

She replies. "We can schedule your interview conveniently for you; Thursday 14:30 or thereabouts. Thank you for applying. dash OTC." 

She diligently writes this down. "Say, is this the place where you can buy eternal youth and laser guns?"

"Yep! That's the place. I'm afraid it's pretty expensive, but we do have those things on offer!"

"I heard you can sell time-when-you-need-it? I'm pretty little, I bet that'd be like, being late for class or dropping something and not catching it or not getting out of the way of someone fast enough, no biggie. Not like soldiers being too slow to spot a troll. Is that how it works?"

"That is how it works, though you still run the risk of being hit by a car or something like that. If you're willing to take the chance then we can mint some time from you and you can shop."

"Only mega rich people use cars to get around. I guess I could drown, maybe..." She frowns and taps her foot. "Is it obvious when you've paid up?"

"Yes, you can feel it when the Chron debt is expended. It's quite identifiable. You're quite certain you want to mint a Chron?"

"Just a couple. It's like ten seconds? Doesn't seem too terrible to me and you've got cool stuff and I don't do risky things generally, so..."

"Five and a quarter seconds. Give me your hand?"

The kid reaches out, frowning a bit but not hesitating.

She taps the kid's hand and a Chron falls out. An eight-sided invisible cage of force, containing a bright golden spark. 

"And you want me to cash this for you, right?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna spend it! I want the storm cloak for me and a youth crystal for my grandpa's birthday and a book about how to make robots for my brother and some kind of exotic food for my dad!"

"That ought to cover it. I'll ring you up."

After a little haggling over what kind of exotic food and what level of robot assembly their brother could handle, she goes and fishes the relevant items out of a bin. She gives change in kroner.

Showing perhaps a bit too much risk-tolerance for someone who just minted a Chron, she flies around outside a bit before zooming off back to the telegraph office, giggling like a loon.

The next customer brings their paycheck, worth about 30 OTC, and would like a partial-ka if they can do that, please. The one after that buys a bunch of books and mints a ka to pay for them, dramatically declaring that years off her life is worth entering a whole new branch of study! And she can get them back later, anyway. Their new-hired cashier handles both of these just fine. 

The customer after that wonders if they will buy a boatful of fresh-caught fish. Or possibly a boat. He's not very liquid but would very much like to send a ring of nine lives to his wife, who is a sea-hunter.

A partial-ka is handed out.

"I'm afraid we don't trade in most commodities, but we do installment plans on large purchases. If you could estimate the value of your catch?"

"I would estimate the catch at... A hundred fifty thousand kroner. Frozen, unprocessed, two tons. I could get a loan from Kromstadt if you give me a few weeks before the second payment."

"We can do that and even do the loan for you. Sign here." She holds up the glass tablet and indicates the dotted line.

He squints suspiciously and reads the contract thoroughly, but ultimately decides not to take the loan, since OTC has not talked to the united council about... Anything, finance laws included. He can pay 40 OTC's worth of kroner right now, can he just pay the rest in monthly installments? Also how do their penalties work, OTC hasn't signed on to the customer protection laws or anything have they? Maybe he should just come back with all the money, he thinks the whole thing is sketchy now.

That's fine. They haven't yet signed on with the local agencies; they'll take all the money when he comes back with it. Thank you have a nice day.

Half a dozen more miscellaneous customers, mostly wanting ka or books. One of them asks about their employment terms and would like to interview once they're explained!

Lindis the cashier is totally stuck when a Finn comes in and wants to buy something, and turns to Thorn or Lily to ask how they're speaking all these languages anyway.

Lily interviews the applicant and does the safety lectures. 

Thorn explains that they have translation magic that they're currently employing and you too can have it with a charm of Tongues available for a very reasonable price. 

He is a boat worker and he is ready to jump ship for the chance to get paid in MAGIC, he is a bit excitable but will totally be a cashier if they'll have him.

"I don't think I can learn Finnish on my own in a reasonable time frame. I'm already unusual for knowing Swedish, Danish, and Icelandic - and being able to muddle along in Norwegian because of that. I think the use of such an item during work hours would qualify as necessary job equipment, if we leave it here when we're done?"

Lily hires him and gives him another cashier position. She'll be here in person for a while to watch him.

They're willing to provide amulets for the duration of work so long as they're signed in and out appropriately. 

By lunchtime they're getting a steady stream of people coming to the store. There's a short argument between a Dane and a Swede that Lindis breaks up diplomatically before it advances to yelling. Five more people ask about work - two guards, one cashier, two 'any'. Half of them want to know if part-time is acceptable- Quitting the military burns a lot of seniority and benefits, but they can move to reserves.

Irene Hedström shows up just after noon, wearing a professional-looking outfit that isn't quite a suit, and is pleasant if formal, and interviews well, talking about her previous managerial and accounting experience and often taking on strange side-projects for her bosses. She's sharp. She's happy to start wherever they need her but is definitely aiming for some sort of supervisory or otherwise higher-up position as soon as possible.

They hire both guards (and arm them with nonlethal stunners) and three more cashiers. Part-time is acceptable. 

Irene Hedström can have a managerial position reporting directly to Lily. She is in charge of the cashiers and only the cashiers, the night guards are separate. She can start now. She gets better access to the benefits for employees because she is in a higher tier, and can expect a vacation at the Rose Bowers or comparable within the year. She is given access codes for the large portal so that she can bring on more stock; it opens to an OTC warehouse, liase with the warehouse staff and they'll teleport in a bin with the items she requests. 

As the day continues Irene gets to know her new staff without interrupting them overmuch and learns as much as she can about how the OTC operates from Thorn and Lily. They are very much in 'swamped' territory by late afternoon, though, often by people asking a lot of questions and not buying very quickly. Many of the customers carry guns with them, and none of her new employees bat an eye. This is a military base. (Their night guards would like to know if they are allowed to carry a real gun in addition to the stunner just in case.) Irene discovers the boat guy's good handwriting has him write up a small posterboard with an FAQ in permanent marker. She works a register herself when necessary.

People are still showing up at 4:45; Irene asks what procedures for closing are like, should they shut the doors at 5 and turn people away until tomorrow, or what?

They should shut the doors at 5 and turn people away until tomorrow, there's no scarcity of customers but there is a scarcity of employees. 

The nightguards may carry real guns as well as stunners, and it will soon be their job to disperse the crowd and send them home. Lily and Thorn will stand by to help in case there are problems.

People disperse without much fuss.

Except for Captain Olsen, who bellows his way to the front door and stands there, asking to speak to Thorn about 'this flying nonsense'.

Thorn comes to the front door. "Captain Olsen. What would you like to discuss?"

"I CAN'T HAVE PEOPLE FLYING AROUND ON MY BASE WITH THAT STORMWALKER RAIMENT! YOU NEED TO TELL THEM SO WHEN SELLING IT. I HAVE SECURITY CONCERNS ABOUT THE FORGOTTEN SONG AND PSYCHIC PAPER AS WELL! EITHER DON'T SELL IT OR WE WORK OUT SOME SORT OF COUNTERMEASURE FIRST!"

She nods along. "I understand your concerns; we'll suspend those items from sale. Also the skylime. Anything else you have concerns about?"

"YOU CAN SELL THE RAIMENT AS LONG AS IT IS CLEAR THAT FLYING OVER THE BASE IS NOT PERMITTED! NO TRIBBLES, WE DON'T NEED INVASIVE SPECIES! BE CAREFUL SELLING GUNS TO CIVILIANS. AT LEAST MAKE SURE THEY KNOW THEIR GUN SAFETY, AND HAVE PARENTAL PERMISSION FOR TEENS. THE TASP IS BLASTED STRANGE BUT I SUPPOSE NOT ANY MORE CONCERNING THAN A SLUGTHROWER. AND I RECIEVED A MESSAGE TODAY THAT THE INTERNATIONAL TRADE COUNCIL IS SENDING SOMEONE DOWN HERE TO TALK, PROBABLY ABOUT TAXES OR SOMETHING. IT'LL BE A COUPLE OF DAYS. THEY'RE COMING BY BOAT BECAUSE THE TRAIN IS NOT 'SAFE ENOUGH' FOR THEM. BAH."

"All of that is entirely reasonable and we'll get up-to-date with your regulations on firearm safety and so on as soon as we hear from the appropriate regulators; for now we'll simply not sell them. We'll stand by for the trade council people."

"LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE DOING WELL FOR YOURSELF! IF YOU STAY HERE I THINK WE'LL FINALLY GET A BANK, I'VE HAD AT LEAST FIFTY PEOPLE ASK FOR ADVANCES ON THEIR SALARY! WE'VE SELECTED UNITS FOR THE EQUIPMENT TRIAL AND THEY'RE DOING FAMILIARIZATION EXERCISES FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS, THEN THEY'LL GO ON A PROPER EXCURSION. NOTHING ELSE URGENT FOR YOU. ANYTHING I SHOULD BE AWARE OF?"

"Is our current security setup with stunners and guns acceptable? And can we offer a professional instructor to help with the familiarization exercises?"

"YOU'RE ALLOWED ARMED SECURITY BUT LIABLE IF THEY START MAKING A NUISANCE OF THEMSELVES. WE CAN PROVIDE RADIOS TO CONTACT BASE SECURITY. WE'D ACCEPT THE ASSISTANCE OF AN INSTRUCTOR BUT WON'T PAY FOR IT, IF YOU WANT TO SEND ONE ANYWAY AND BET WE'LL LIKE YOUR GEAR BETTER IF WE ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO USE IT GO AHEAD!"

"We'd appreciate radios tuned to base security, we just want to have our own security specifically trained on how to deal with misuse of our products. Speaking of which, we'll ship you some dispelling charms along with our instructor to aid you in managing magical mishaps. Enough antimagic thrown at a difficult problem usually resolves it."

That seems fine to Olsen. He jokes about one of the new night guards 'jumping ship' to the OTC, laughs too loud, then sends someone down with the radios half an hour later.

She has the night guards clip radios to their belts in case they need backup, hands out the dispelling charms she didn't have in stock earlier in the day, and goes to sleep. Lily can handle the night shift.

Lily, unlike Thorn, doesn't need to sleep. This doesn't mean she doesn't get bored. So she starts setting up an increasingly complex alarm and countermeasure perimeter. All of it is quite sound and sensible, it just covers altogether too many weird one-off cases to not seem overly paranoid.

One of the new guards is fascinated by the exotic security measures. The other sticks to diligently doing his patrols and checking in. Nobody tries to break in overnight, though people do start lining up well before 9 AM.

Thorn wakes after her customary four hours of sleep and goes to the door to hand out free samples of hard candies and jellies in colors not native to this world. Everyone in line this early gets a handful as Thorn thanks them for their patience and their interest. 

Lily, meanwhile, is waiting impatiently for the staff to show.

The staff all show up around half an hour early, dressed nicely. Lindis earliest of all. (She buys a Dyne). One of them tries to get in the back and trips a security measure, and says they just felt awkward walking past so many people waiting.

Lily keys off her silent alarm and gives the errant staff-member a raised eyebrow, but nothing much more happens than a mental note they're not good around crowds. She lets her manager manage and hangs around to troubleshoot special cases.

Thorn, meanwhile, goes back through the portal and fetches a Clematis.

Clematis comes through with four holstered wands at her side and a satchel of Ka, wearing a white uniform with a blue Rod of Asclepius on the shoulder. 

"Hello, everyone! I'm Clematis, the staff doctor. Before we begin this shift I'm going to very quickly examine and treat everyone, one minute per person. This onboarding treatment is part of OTC policy and will not count against your casts for the year. Everyone please line up!"

The procedure is simple: A cast of Diagnosis followed by Cure Disease for infectious diseases, Neutralize Poison for environmental toxins, or Cure Serious Wounds for current injuries (including ulcers and so on) as needed. Diseases caused by aging are treated with enough Ka to put them into remission. Genetic diseases are unfortunately not covered under this level of the OTC healthplan. 

Her manager seems to have the cashiers well in hand. Though she does casually mention that she'd like to pop her head in for further cashier interviews.

Lindis the commission-seeking cashier also mentions that she has a line on someone in Reykjavik who would like to buy multiple thousands of ka and intends to hire mages to make seals en masse to pay for it. Can she get more information on which seals are worth how much, presuming the seals perform acceptably?

The staff line up obediently and are mostly uninjured and not sick. One of them turns out to have an early stage of cancer. One has an old bullet wound that's been bothering them, friendly fire accident, can he cut out his scar and then get healed? None of them have genetic disorders.

Lindis's ka prospect is also interested in pricing genetic therapy to apply immunity to the infection, what would Clematis or Thorn need to figure that out?

Lily is fine with allowing her manager to outright make hiring decisions for cashier positions, with simple signoff from her. Her manager knows the people here better. 

Lindis is informed that most seals are likely worth on the order of fifty OTC and the boat or ship seals in particular are likely closer to seventy-five. 

The one with the battle scar can have it healed away directly with a little personal attention from Clematis, no knife need be involved. 

For immunity genefixing Clematis would need, best to worst, an isolated sample of the immunity gene, a fully mapped genome from someone who's immune, or a blood sample from someone with known immunity. Gene treatment would then cost significantly but it would be possible. 

She knows they do medical research in Iceland and will look into whether they have the gene isolated or at least a fully mapped genome! Blood from an immune person won't be hard to get in the worst case; She's immune.

The rush is a little less rush-y today, but they get a few larger orders. Two journalists show up throughout the day as well, one from Iceland and one from the little island that is all Denmark has left of itself.

Thorn entertains the journalists while Lily focusses on handling the large orders. Clematis takes a blood sample from Lindis if she'll give permission for it. She makes it clear that for the sample she's acting as a representative of an interworld charity organization and not directly for the OTC. Whether Lindis gives permission or not, Clematis vanishes through the portal quite quickly afterwards. 

Lily passes information about the trade council representative up the chain and is informed that a Morning-Glory will come speak to them when they arrive. She sets aside an office to be a conference room and another for secure lodgings for the Morning-Glory while she's in this world.

Lindis would honestly rather not. But one of the other cashiers is also immune, and willing, and glares at her slightly.

Marit comes back with a small stack of boat-improving seals in the afternoon. She spots Lily and asks, "Oh, are you another one of Thorn's not-quite-hers?"

She nods and smiles. "Just so. We can run a good-sized branch all on our own, us Stars. You're here to sell some more seals, I see; I've been instructed to offer you sixty OTC per as a closer guess at the final price." 

"Oh, quite nice. OTC is doing some testing to see how well they hold up, or some such, I presume? I've made a couple of small variations, see, it's not like wizardry, they're not stable spells that only work the exact same way each time. Would appreciate feedback and to know the design considerations if you're the right person for that. -I'm reading the basic training manual, Thorn and an Eva got it for me, but I'm not all through it yet."

"I'm told we offered a test batch of duplicate seals for sale on a particularly storm-tossed world and all of them were snapped up at a price of seventy-five OTC per. I'd have to connect you with someone in particular from there to get you design specifications, which is unfortunately above my pay grade - interplanar connections require the authorization of at least a Morning-Glory, though some of us have been known to bend the rules from time to time. Usually for people you could call "family" though. I'm glad to hear someone reads the manual; someone quite like me wrote it." 

"Well, I suppose you must make a profit. These will work better on wooden-hulled ships, and even better if I can work them direct onto a hull." She separates them into three stacks. "Small variations, losing about a fifth of everything else to bump one aspect about a third. Storm-handling, hull strength and resistance to wear, protection from attack by sea-beasts. It's starting to sound like the OTC is mostly composed of- Stars."

"If you're interested in painting sigils directly onto boats for better effect, you could do that and get to see another world in the process by signing on as a contractor with us. We'd provide transport to the other world and translate your pay in local currency into OTC or Kroner minus a five percent cut. You'd probably be paid better, too.

Speaking of well paid, Storm-handling and  protection from attack from sea-beasts are likely to sell extremely well. Specialize some sigils to those and you could make a hundred per sigil or more.

As for us, we're about a fifth of all staff, and one of us sits on the board of directors. We're particularly thickly spaced in Acquisitions, we practically own the department."

"A fifth... It sounds like it'd be a good way to dip my toes into this. I'm not a boat expert, though. Should get some lessons from someone who is before I do that, I think."

"Yes, it's quite the number. We're very prolific, and good at our jobs. I agree further training might help you get the most out of contracting; that decision's up to you."

"Mmh. For these I want a needlessly large rod to bribe a Finn I know, then. I think they'll get some use out of it, though I don't know how exactly Finnish mages work. And some ka and takkarash with the rest, I suppose. I'll be heading off to look for that training soon. I really like what a few ka has done to my life, though."

"Antiaging magic is one of our best exports and it's so cheap. It's rare to find a world where five years doesn't matter; I'm glad we have enough outliers to pay for all this though." 

She pulls the needlessly large rod out of a bin that could probably not contain a staff that tall, and offers it along with the rest of Marit's purchase.

Marit thanks her and leaves. There's someone later trying to figure out if a few purchases of spiderglass could stabilize the badly neglected bridge to the Old World. And one person wants a return/refund because they misunderstood what the Eternal Pipe was for. Other than that, not much of interest happens over the next two days.

By the time the train-driver guy who wanted a security job shows up, they're pretty well stocked up on security guards. Lindis develops her lead on a many-thousand-ka sale with an expensive live radio call to Iceland, and discreetly inquires into what her commission percentage will look like. She also finds out that they have a pretty good idea which genes mark immunity but don't have it narrowed down to one in particular, and gets appropriate medical information sent over and then forwarded to Clematis.

The representative from the trade council arrives on Sunday, five days after they opened, and sends a letter asking for a two-hour meeting block.

Spiderglass would certainly help stabilize the bridge to the old world; no guarantees or warranties to its safety, however. The eternal pipe is refunded without comment. 

The train-driver will be hired as additional security for an important meeting, and in any case they are likely to expand to additional offices soon. 

Lindis is doing a fantastic job and if she closes this deal she'll be promoted to sales team. She'll also earn a commission of ten percent on the deal. 

Morning-glory writes back in person to accept the meeting.

The trade council representative is Vinjar Jörvason. He looks about sixty, he's wearing the same almost-a-suit that function as formal clothes here, neatly shaved beard and slightly pinched face and short greying hair and rectangular glasses calculated to make him look sharp and diligent. He brings two assistants with him to the meeting also in not-quite-suits and looking a fair bit younger and somewhat nervous, and introduces everyone formally.

"Good afternoon, miss Morning-Glory. I represent the Known World Trade Council, which is mandated to oversee and enforce international trade and monetary policy while keeping all five nations' interests in mind. I'm also acting as a representative of Iceland to an extent, though my official capacity is as a delegate from the trade council. I'm here to discuss the future. Given the uneventful quarantine and activity so far with no issues, we're not concerned about infection at this time, but I'm sure you can imagine that is far from the only concern one might have with an interdimensional organization after thinking we were alone in the universe and surrounded on all sides for decades. We have copies of the organization's charter and the most relevant laws we foresee possible issues with, here, if you would like to peruse them."

Morning-Glory, wearing an immaculate actual suit, takes her due time reviewing the documents. Lily sits at her right hand and stays silent. 

"I am a Morning-Glory formally, Mr. Jorvason, but you may call me December, which is my chosen name. I am pleased to see that the majority of your regulations are common-sense measures common to many worlds, and the rest are largely attributable to your current situation. There are one or two items I would wish to discuss, but they are minor points. My concern is to secure regulatory and physical safety for the Oifilei Trade Consortium in this world, and I will be negotiating to that end."

"I think we have a lot to work through. I take it you have done similar negotiations before?" He fails to quite hide a grimace.

"I am one of twelve department heads under Director Saivon, Head of Acquisitions and Demiplane Management. As the OTC is constantly contacting more worlds, negotiations like these are routine. I hope to strike fair terms for both of us that respect your sovereignty as well as the rights and freedoms of all your people. Those rights and freedoms, of course, include the rights to health and life, freedom of employment, and freedom of expression. For all that we come from strange and far-flung places, Mr. Jorvason, our goals are largely the same. You will likely find us more amenable to your laws than you expect."

"It is easy to say such things."

He lets the meeting move on to details, trying to keep a level tone.

They have a unified currency and would like OTC to not counterfeit and have no idea how to set an exchange rate because it hasn't been a concern in living memory. They have a 3.2% sales tax for international commerce which they expect OTC to pay and they reserve the right to adjust the rate slowly in accordance with their charter.

They think OTC's employees sourced from this world should still count as citizens of their respective nations and pay their scaling income tax, as long as they're still living here. There are programs where the employer can take on their employees' income tax as a benefit to the employee, and then get tax credits for providing employee benefits such as healthcare and vacations, and they see no reason OTC can't join that, here are the regulations for it.

They think the various governments may wish to institute an explicit payroll tax if people living on other worlds but working for OTC in this one becomes a common practice. The taxes all fund public efforts, of course, with public safety and the military being the number one expense.

They have reasonable consumer product safety laws but think some of the products are a bit hair-raising and should be restricted or banned. Here are their gun safety regulations - essentially just a minimal training certification. They have reasonable fraud protection laws, and reasonable protections for businesses against frivolous suits and such.

They have lendee-friendly financial regulations, and strong restrictions about getting people to pay up on loans and installment plans, strong enough that it stifles the private lending market a fair bit, in fact. They are not interested in comrpomising on this.

And this last part isn't strictly in the domain of the Trade Council, but the Icelandic government at least is concerned about how OTC would pursue and punish thieves, and in ensuring that law enforcement is equipped to respond to crimes committed with OTC products.

They are entirely willing to pay a 3.2% sales tax.

OTC will take on their employees' income tax as they expect their current programs for employee health and benefits to provide a significant tax break.

They are willing to restrict items reasonably. They give up Thirteenth Hour and Worry Beads to the banned pile without much of a fight, but Morning-Glory argues that the ability of Panacea to cure genetic diseases that casts cannot and the very limited circumstances under which it is dangerous mean it should be restricted only. Forgotten Song can be banned. Flight-granting items can be restricted or banned. On the whole the OTC is largely willing to abide by any restrictions so long as it won't kill people like outright-banning Panacea would. 

Morning-Glory negotiates to have laser rifles and stunners classified as firearms and regulated the same way. 

OTC will cease offering loans and installment plans in this world. 

In the event of theft the OTC would contact the local police force, tell them the exact location of the stolen item, and send an agent like Thorn with them to retrieve the stolen property. The agent would likely only become majorly involved if the stolen property was something like a Forgotten Song that the local police were unequipped to handle, and would of course use nonlethal methods first defaulting to dispel and stunner. 

He'll start the process for assessing just how much of a tax break the benefits plan earns them.

The concern with panacea is twofold - assurance that it is actually as reliable and side-effect-free as advertised, and the statistical near-certainty that someone will eventually be desperate or stupid or greedy enough to attempt to analyze one and suffer the consequences. If the panacea is only permitted for sale with a doctor's approval or for clear emergencies like the non-immune contracting the Infection, that limits it a lot and they can probably allow it.

Laser weapons and stunners and tasps can count as firearms, they're agreed on that.

They absolutely cannot have OTC arresting people, or stealing back property without getting local authority involved. If there's some kind of dispute about whether the item is in fact stolen, it'll have to go to a court. He doubts the government will approve of forcing thieves to mint back any of the magical currency they've stolen and used, especially takkarash or ka, though they can probably be made to pay restitution fines or have their wages or savings garnished. Sometimes the police are busy and can't move on something right away. He doubts 'the OTC says it's there' suffices as sufficient evidence to get a search warrant. Video surveillance showing the theft would suffice, though. Of course, hopefully such things will come up very rarely.

The OTC welcomes the Trade Council's assessors. 

They will agree to sale of Panacea as a prescription drug. It is safe and reliable in all cases they have encountered across many hundred worlds. It is regrettable that someone will eventually cause harm to themselves with the product, but the lives it can save far outweigh the costs. 

They have no intent to steal back property without involving local police. They can argue about the validity of OTC tracking capabilities as probable cause for a search warrant later, the point is not a significant one to the OTC. Like all large companies it factors in a shrinkage percentage. 

Vinjar seems a little uncertain, as if wondering what the catch is. But all they've worked out seems agreeable. He can't officially agree to the terms they've worked out on his own but he doesn't foresee the people at home wanting any changes that go beyond minor quibbles about wording and can come back with signature-ready copies in a week or so. He thanks her for the productive meeting and says he hopes contact with other worlds benefits the people of Iceland and all the Nordic nations.

Morning-Glory echoes his happiness with the meeting and his hope that the people of Iceland and the Nordic nations can benefit from the OTC's influence on their lives. She'll be happy to sign the papers as a representative of this branch of the OTC as soon as they cross her desk.

He says that OTC will probably receive invitations to appear before legislatures soon-ish and it would be a good idea to accept, then leaves without buying anything.

That's fine, that's what Morning-Glories are about.

Morning-Glory goes back through the portal. (It's an unacceptable security risk for them to linger unnecessarily.)

Business is brisk, but the craze of individuals rushing the store dies down after the first few days and traffic is mostly limited to those who visit by boat, which is still substantial - a few hundred a day, sometimes up to a thousand if a big passenger liner arrives.

Irene proves to be a very capable and motivating manager, rearranging the stock, adroitly managing her people's schedules and preferences, creating displays, successfully talking one of the cashiers out of trying to steal something, and getting to know the customers. She's a little disappointed OTC can't offer loans here, and starts grooming one of the cashiers for supervisor and itching for special projects once the storefront is running smoothly.

Lindis closes her massive sale with the delivery of two entire pallets of magical seals on thick, durable paper and two curious mages who came along for the ride. The man who bought all that ka has hired his own private security and private boat and is a bit fidgety, triple-checking everything. Lindis is smiling like a cat, soothing him and arranging the counting and delivery, and imagining what she's going to buy with the commission.

Marit comes back after a week or so, and presents Thorn with an invitation to visit the Eide Hunter-Clan. The letter's handwriting is poor but says they're really excited to hear about an adventurer from another world with cool combat toys to sell, and to see Marit again after so long too.

They take on staff as necessary to handle demand and otherwise don't worry much about it.

Lily starts grooming Irene to take over the rest of her duties at the branch. She's reliable and competent and with a trustworthy second to run the night guards she'll be able to manage the place on her own. 

Lindis gets a substantial payout and a meeting with Lily, at which she is promoted to sales team for the world with benefits comparable to Irene's. She's instructed to quit her cashier position and start hunting leads full-time. 

Thorn accepts the invitation, of course. She doesn't really belong with Lily in a bustling shop. She's supposed to be scouting.

Can Lindis afford with some combination of benefits and commission something so she can travel despite being terrified of boats? Given the generous 10% commission and the huge quantity of ka moved, she has just over 55000 OTC now. Body enhancements and magic therapy, one of the death insurance policies, or something?

"We have a boat to catch, then. Come on, she ships off in two hours and the next one's tomorrow."

She can't afford death insurance, unfortunately. But flawless magic therapy is available at that price and if she spends her benefits for this year she can get one complex modification done simultaneously. 

Thorn throws a few things in her pack and follows Marit to the ship. 

(Lindis is not sure she wants to stop being afraid unless she can also get something to make her safe in case of the worst. It's a fairly rational fear; Boat losses to sea-beasts are rare but do happen. What about a reasonably quick emergency teleport thing, or a panic-shield-bubble similar to the storm carapace and an OTC grade search and rescue service subscription, can she afford that?)

The ship proves to be a wooden-hulled thing aping a Viking longship, though it does have nods to modernity such as an engine in addition to sails and oars, and it's much bigger than true longships. The Norwegian crew is loud and friendly and shows them both to adjacent (small) cabins as they busy themselves manhandling crates and barrels aboard. The captain is named Olaf and has a beard at least 30% as magnificent as Captain Olsen's. Marit makes introductions and gives the ship and some of the crew a ritualistic blessing of luck. "That's how I paid for the tickets."

She can afford an emergency teleport back to a set-point in her own property but they'll have to negotiate the existence of such things in this universe with the Trade Council. The same for OTC search-and-rescue operations. They're pretty sure the case comes under "danger to life and limb" and thus will fall under the same set of exceptions as Panacea, but they can't be sure yet. Thank you for bringing it to their attention, Morning-Glory herself will hear about this. Likely she'll have to wait at least a few weeks before she has an answer. 

Thorn settles into her cabin, looking forwards to the journey. Marit is good company, the kind she used to have back in Sigil, and she can't wait to meet the hunter-clan Marit fought with back in the day.

(Lindis will continue her sales work confined to Oresund for now then.)

Marit brings her back above deck after a little while to put her things away. They're still in dock, but the pile of crates to tuck away is mostly gone. "Have you ever gone sailing?" Marit smiles at her. "Want to help with the rigging? Olaf says it's alright, and I figured it's something you might enjoy."

"I've been on boats, but I've never crewed one. I'd love to learn how it works." says Thorn. 

"I need to learn too, if I'm going to be a contractor. We're ready, cap'n!"

Olaf summons over another young lady, tall, brunette, sharp-faced. "Hiya! I'm Rona, and I'm here to show you the ropes. Literally!" She whips out two lengths of rope. "You hafta know your knots before you go up."

Thorn knows overhand knots and figure-eight knots and reef knots and bowlines and the half hitch and the highwayman's hitch and a few others. She doesn't have anything heavily specialized but she knows the basics along with a few odd one-offs.

Marit has been tying knots for a while, though naval ones are new. They are quickly pronounced sufficiently skilled. Marit, still wearing her 'old' glamour (though she's letting herself slowly look younger) gets some hemming and hawing but she lifts a barrel over her head and this convinces Rona to let up.

The ship is being pulled away from the trade station by a tug now. When they're set loose from the tug, the two of them can ascend into the rigging with Rona and three others and learn how to let out the sails! It's surprisingly complicated. There's a happy atmosphere and shouted instructions and physical work on the swaying ropes.

Thorn enjoys it thoroughly and makes few mistakes. She takes it carefully and methodically and works the faster for it.

And then they can have dinner on deck. Bread, mutton, cabbage, sweet jam, alcohol (only for those going off duty). Sea-shanties about sailing swift and smooth to keep ahead of the monsters below.

Marit asks what being an OTC contractor is like, really. She's reading through the manual but it's a bit dry.

Thorn eats, but doesn't drink. (No sense in putting together a finely tuned body only to wreck the thing with ethanol. And she wants to stay on-shift anyway.) 

"I work Acquisitions so for me it's two things. First, wilderness survival in extremely hostile and surprising conditions - imagine being dropped into the middle of the Silent World not knowing anything at all about trolls. Second, being able to blend and interface with whatever culture I come across and make a good first impression. For people in Services like you'd be it's a lot safer - there can be local hazards you have to watch for, just like anyone we bring here is going to have to follow quarantine procedures while travelling, but in general OTC routes contractors like you to Trade or Halftamed worlds, not areas that are actively under threat. You'd meet strange people, quite possibly nonhuman people. You'd be expected to be courteous to them. You would probably be assigned to a particular plane for a few days or weeks at a time, maybe a month at the outside. There would be a lot of travel, and you'd probably crash either at home or in an OTC-owned hotel somewhere in-between contracts. I've never heard a serious complaint about OTC-provided accommodations."

"I doubt I'll develop a taste for diving into the unknown again, no. Especially given some of the alarming things other worlds apparently contain. I am looking forward to accumulating centuries of experience, now that it's- Well, an option. The gods seemed to want me to stick around and I'm not complaining. All that sounds pretty agreeable, all in all."

"Yeah, I have a safety net that's even better than the one you have available right now. It's expected for Acquisitions agents to die and return more than once; death is practically a certainty when you're in this line of work long enough. What scares me is things that would damage my... well, my me, my mind or my heart. Torture, subversion, addiction, that kind of thing. 

Getting off the subject... I'm enjoying learning to sail. It's complex and physical at the same time, it keeps both my mind and body occupied. I like that."

"The human body is made to move, and the mind to think. Both in concert is fulfilling. I think this is why sports exist, too."

Thorn nods. "That makes perfect sense. Maybe I should try a sport. Which ones do you know?"

"Hmm... Well, there's football. Teams kick a ball around a field and try to get it into a goal. Skiing - there aren't many really good long ski paths left, but it's a good way to cross snow and people race. Rowing contests. Wrestling, some places. Footraces. Tug-of-war. Competitive shooting. Festival games like log-balancing and rockthrow?"

"Skiing sounds practical as well as fun," says Thorn. "That's the kind of skill I'd like to learn. I have a kind of wrestling already, but it's for combat and not for sport. I'm a scary-good shot with my pistol, but a lot of that's my weapon and not me. Most of the competitive sports I cheat too much at by your standards for it to be really fair."

"I bet the Eides have spare skis. We could teach you. It's not winter yet, though. Would probably be another boat ride to somewhere north enough to have snow this time of year."

"I don't mind travelling to try something new - that's practically my raison d'etre. But... there are probably more important things for me to be doing than skiing." She sighs. "Even I have to account to my employers eventually."

"You should visit one of the cat academies after the Eides, then. Didn't you say some people would make good use of a watchful and intelligent cat?"

"Yes, they could! There are people back in my home world who use trained beasts to hunt, with enough magic involved that it becomes a partnership - but I've never seen it done where the bond works between that animal and anyone other than its handler. There are - robots that look like cats, and so on - but they are vulnerable to different things than a real cat and I expect a real cat even with extensive training is cheaper. I would love to visit."

"I don't have contacts in a cat academy but I can certainly accompany you to one. I've worked with cats before - what sorts of things make one a good partner?"

"Intelligence. Biddableness. Fluff. Combat training, if you expect to need it. I'm no expert."

"It's more scouting training than combat training. In terms of intelligence, I knew a cat that could reliably fetch tinder. Biddableness varies. I suppose we'll see, hm?"

"Sounds like they're definitely smart enough to be worth something on other worlds. For search and rescue, most likely."