Msaka waited until an hour past dawn before approaching the apothecary shop. A group of people in foreign clothing had already come and gone from it, so he assumed the place was open. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a loud bubbling from one of the nearby devices. The apothecary himself was present, fiddling with another contraption across the room.

"I have some questions for you." Msaka called out. The man stopped and turned towards him. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "You have returned to marvel in wonder at the potent powders, fantastic fluids, and other creative concoctions produced by my astonishing array of alchemical apparati."

Msaka's eyebrows shot up. This was not the sort of answer he'd been expecting from the man. "Are you feeling well?" he asked, just a trifle concerned that the man might have sampled the wrong chemical.

"Oh, yes. Don't mind me." the man said, making a dismissive gesture. "It's just that a short time ago, I had some visitors from Project Alliteracy. Their incredibly infectious ideology has completely captivated my consciousness."

Msaka blinked. "I hope he still remembers how to operate all of these things correctly." he thought. "I would hate to be caught in the explosion if he doesn't."

Clearing his throat, the man continued, "Now then, what can I help you with? Some masterful manipulation of matter you wish me to puissantly perform?"

"Well..." Msaka said hesitantly, "I was wondering if you could make something for me, but perhaps it should wait until you've recovered from whatever condition they've inflicted on you..."

"Oh, very well, I'll stop." he sighed. "Spoil all my fun, why don't you. Now, what do you need? I hope you don't need assistance to go hunting giant ants. A large group of exterminators just bought the industrial sized can of Raid I made to go clear out the ant mound in the jungle."

Msaka frowned. "No, I don't need that. You told me that you had spoken to someone who wanted to burn down those vines east of the city. I need something like that, but I need it to burn wood. Can you make me something to do that?"

"Burn wood?" the man said, peering at Msaka suspiciously. "You aren't becoming a pyromaniac like my brother, I hope."

"I don't care about your brother!" Msaka snapped, losing his patience. "I need to kill a magical tree spirit, and burning it to death is the best way I can think of to do it! Now can you make something for me or not!"

The man scowled. "Now calm down. If you talk to me like that, I won't make anything for you, other than a fast exit!"

Msaka gritted his teeth, suppressing a snarl. "He is a fool, but I need his assistance." he thought. "I had better put up with him, or I might not be able to defeat that spirit."

Taking a deep breath, Msaka replied as pleasantly as he could manage, "I apologize. Now can you make what I need?"

"Oh, I certainly could," the man answered as though nothing had happened, "In fact, I already have just the kind of thing you're looking for made up. Three bottles, in fact, though a single one should do in a tree quite nicely. Ten royals each."

Msaka considered the offer for a moment. "One might kill a tree, but the tree spirit is likely to be better protected..." he thought. "I will pay eighteen royals for two of them." he said at last.

"I need to pay for all this, you know!" the man declared, waving his hands to indicate the equipment filling the room. "Nineteen for the two!"

"Nineteen it is." Msaka said. He removed the coins from his pouch while the man retrieved two bottles of bright orange fluid from a shelf at the back, nearly hidden by the devices in front of it.

Msaka handed over the coins and took the bottles. "Now, to use these, just break them." the man instructed as he stuffed the coins into a pocket. "On contact with air, they will ignite. Oh, which means you need to be careful not to break them too early. Incinerating yourself can be quite painful."

Msaka nodded, turned, and stalked out. "I should like to incinerate him." he muttered. He returned to the inn, and paid the welcome woman for one more day. "Tomorrow, I will go. If I don't, I will murder someone here." he thought to himself.

Heading upstairs, he removed his pack and carefully stored the two bottles inside it, trying to calm himself down, reminding himself that the man had probably not intended to be so irritating. "That, and I don't want to start another war by losing my temper and doing something rash." he thought somberly.

Setting his pack aside, he lay down. Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, it was horribly haunted by distressing dreams of annoyingly alliterating apothecaries.