The item depicted two snakes, each swallowing the tail of the other. One snake was lead, the other was gold. “You believe this artifact to be of the same value as the answer you seek, Sir Thomas Legend of Port Liber?”

Thomas began sweating. He wiped his brow with a sleeve. “Hot and humid in here, heh,” he said nervously. “How do you know where I live?”

“What I hear, I never forget.” The owliksir padded closer to the vials of silver liquid, lifted one up and tapped it with a talon. “You come for the Philosopher’s Stone, yes?”

Thomas put both his hands on the table and leaned forward with a wide smile. “Yes. Yes!” he replied hungrily.

The owliksir scratched behind one of its ear-tufts with a hind claw, then proceeded to lick and clean its talon before placing it back on the table. “You just bartered it. You had it the last twenty years, you just didn’t have the potion,” the owliskir said while putting the vial back in its holder.