By the time Alara woke up, Baz had been conscious for a while. It was hard to overstate just how much he enjoyed the feel of sunlight now. Given all that she was doing for him, Baz decided that she deserved some extra sleep, and spent the time photosynthesizing, practicing his telekinesis, and thinking.

  Begana was so careless that she hadn’t given him a mission. It wasn’t like he was there to take down a Demon King. He had the terrible freedom to figure out what to do with his life, such as it was. About all he had to offer was his knowledge, the Earth ideas rattling around his consciousness. His middling ability to write Python code and SQL queries wouldn’t be of much use though. He could tell them all kinds of things about superheroes, which they might find entertaining. He could tell them about democracy, which might get people killed, including a certain person currently in the form of a basil plant.

  He was slowly rotating his guild card in mid-air when Alara sat up, yawned, and rubbed at her eyes.

  Good morning.

  “Mornin’.”

  Uh, let me know when you’re ready to start the day. He thought it best to let her finish waking up. Plus, he could get more photosynthesis in. It was kind of addictive.

  She stared at him for a long time, long enough that he had time to start worrying. “…Right. This is my life now.”

  Baz had no idea what to say to that, so he just kept silent.

  Alara heaved herself out of bed and gave him a little water, which felt good.

  Thanks.

  “You’re welcome.” She got dressed—apparently she’d decided she didn’t care about whether he saw her in her underwear—and headed down to get breakfast.

  The wait for her to return felt like the wait for a supervisor’s three pulsing dots to turn into a message. Baz wasn’t the only Earth person in this world, but there weren’t a lot, and they were mostly on the other side of the continent. He wasn’t going to run into anyone who knew the frustrations of dealing with Teams or SalesForce any time soon, unless OMNIVAC felt like chatting again. Somehow he knew that the name was in all caps.

  When Alara came back, she had a sandwich and a steaming mug, probably that velice stuff like at the café. He didn’t know much about it, but it seemed to be the preferred way to get caffeine here. Baz waited until she was done, fervently hoping she wasn’t mad at him.

  Finally she finished and perked up a little. “Alright, so I think our next step is to find a transmuter.”

  I’m pretty sure we can’t afford to pay one though. As much as he’d have liked to be human again sooner rather than later, Alara hadn’t quite had enough even for a guild card.

  “I know, but we can at least find out how much it is. Then we’ll know what we have to work towards.”

  I know I’ve thanked you a lot, but seriously, thank you.

  “I’m glad someone appreciates me.” She made it sound like not a lot of people did, and again Baz wished he knew what he should say.

  She took Baz and asked a priest who held the title of “High Magister,” which was something to do with managing magical stuff, where they might find a transmuter. He said that the one transmuter in Ofanolpolis was named Trelane, and he lived in a nice house down by the River Begano.

  The place names here are really something, Baz mused.

  Alara nodded. “There was a lot of…”

  Frantically renaming stuff after the goddess?

  “Exactly.”

  Ofanopolis continued to be a dull city. Alara told him about how she’d dreamed of one day seeing the great cities of the world, like Yunqarth’s Qalima, home to incredible palaces, the Eitanian capital of New Serenity with its coastal views and colorful architecture, or the stunning Dream City of Nine Towers in Ventaxis. He hoped he could help her get there someday, but first he needed to see about having limbs again.

  The River Begano wound lazily through the southwestern part of the city on its way to the sea. The buildings along either side were notably nicer and fancier than elsewhere in Ofanopolis. The architecture was thoroughly mismatched though, and no two houses seemed to have quite the same aesthetic. A boxy place made of perfect right angles sat next to what looked like an ornate cathedral, and on the other side a curious building made of a series of small clay domes.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out which one was Trelane’s estate, since there was a big sign that said “Trelane the Transmuter” in sweeping, hand-painted letters. The house had a particularly ornate design with many flourishes. To Baz it was had a bit of a Saudi royal family vibe, full of beautifully complex geometric designs.

  Trelane had two guards, male and female humans who were both huge. They had black hair in ponytails and wore light armor, with big swords and crossbows at the ready. They looked so perfect, like Renaissance sculptures come to life, that Baz wondered if they were the results of the transmuter’s craft. Baz didn’t want to count his chickens before they hatched, but he realized that if this could work, he would have options. Trelane probably couldn’t magically know what Baz had looked like on Earth anyway, so at a minimum he’d have to describe his former body as best he could.

  The guards’ eyes looked down at Alara and Baz, but otherwise they remained still.

  “Er,” said Alara. “We… I’d like to see Mr. Trelane.”

  The guards stared for a while, then the man opened the door and motioned them in.

  Inside, a slender man in a gaudy red robe with gold embroidery lounged on an elaborate sofa with a scantily clad woman clinging to him. The woman’s chest was huge, and if Baz had had eyes, he wasn’t sure he could’ve taken them off her.

  The guards stationed themselves inside the room, again on either side of the door.

  The man at the center of this place, undoubtedly Trelane, languidly opened his eyes and gave them an amused, half-lidded look. “A customer?” he mused. “Hoping for bigger bosoms to impress someone? Or do you pine to become a dragon? Or perhaps you think you’d be happier as a man?”

  Alara flushed but gathered herself up. She held Baz up. “This is Baz. He wants to be human again.”

  Trelane nodded appreciatively and got to his feet with a flourish. The woman on the couch looked a little disappointed, but luxuriously sipped from a wineglass as she waited for his return.

  The transmuter examined Baz, first by prodding at his leaves, then by looking at him through some kind of magical device that looked like a jeweler’s loupe. “Ah yes, standard stuff. How did he get into this state?”

  “Ah,” said Alara. “You see, he was originally from Earth, and the goddess Begana—”

  “Out.” He said it firmly, and so quickly that it took a moment for Baz to realize what had just happened. Trelane’s face darkened, and he pointed out the door. “Get out now!”

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  The guards moved in unison, their hands on their sword hilts.

  A confused Alara pleaded, “What? At least tell us why!”

  Trelane folded his arms. “I’m not touching anything the Maiden of Creation and Destruction did! He’ll have morphic hyperstabilization anyway, so it won’t work!”

  The guards advanced on her.

  “Okay! Sorry!” Alara cried. “We’re going!”

  Once they were outside, Alara went around a corner and wept. Some of her tears fell onto Baz’s leaves.

  He hesitated. He thought of that time with Doreen, after Lance broke up with her. He was going to try saying something. Alara, listen, you don’t have to do this. I’m so grateful you’re trying for me, but—

  “Shut up,” she croaked. “Just let me…”

  Dammit. He kept his metaphorical mouth shut and just let her work through the tears. A couple of times someone glanced at them, but no one came close. He fervently wished he could do something, anything for her.

  Finally, Alara wiped her eyes, blew her nose on a handkerchief, got back to her feet. She looked down at him where she’d put his pot on the ground, and for a moment he thought she was going to just leave him here on the street.

  “We’re not done yet,” she said firmly. “What we need is information.”

  Okay. Where do we go for that?

  The temple’s library still hadn’t been rebuilt because too many people felt it was pointless. Ofanopolis had a small magic school called Wizzing Academy, so they tried going there next. The school was a large, squat building with leaded glass windows in star designs.

  The receptionist shook his head at them. “Only students and faculty are allowed to access the library. No exceptions.”

  Feeling a need to contribute, Baz mentally drew himself up. We’re on a holy mission for Begana. Should we tell her you wouldn’t let us in?

  The receptionist turned pale. “Alright, alright! I’ll write up a visitor pass!”

  People stared at Alara and Baz as they walked to the library. If they ever wanted to avoid attention, she was going to have to lose the priest robes. The students were wearing blue and green robes, and most of them were carrying thick books.

  The library had a modest Transmutation section, but since Alara only knew the rudiments of magic, they were mostly beyond her. She skimmed through several tomes, but the only thing she got out of them was a headache. Baz noted that it looked like they had movable type in this world, and for some reason these books often had passages and diagrams printed with rust-colored ink.

  Maybe there’s something more aimed at laymen?

  A librarian shushed him. He would have to find out if there was a way to limit who heard his Mind Speech.

  After some searching, Alara found a book called How Magic Works. A few students sniggered at her when they saw it, but she pressed ahead and found its section on transmutation. Baz reasoned that it would help to understand what transmutation actually did.

  It turned out that transmutation was fundamentally about altering morphic fields. All living things have morphic fields, and altering a morphic field causes a corresponding alteration in material form. Polymorph spells temporarily alter the morphic field, allowing it to snap back to normal later, while transmutation spells can enact permanent changes.

  So the issue is with my morphic field. He tried to mind-speak more quietly, though he wasn’t sure it worked.

  If the morphic field is weak or unstable, the physical form will be unstable and may disintegrate entirely. If it’s hyperstabilized—which was usually the case with divine transformations—transmutation spells will fail and sometimes even backfire.

  “It says here it’ll take at least ten years for the hyperstabilization to wear off.”

  Welp.

  “…But it also says that there are artifacts like the People Potion strong enough to overcome that!”

  The librarian loudly shushed her.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  Now we just need to figure out where we can find a People Potion I guess, Baz mused. Maybe we should check books on alchemy? Is that a thing in this world?

  Alara nodded. She picked Baz up and went to look for alchemy books. She stopped short when a pair of students blocked her path.

  The taller one, a young human man with blue hair and sharp features, did a bit of contact juggling with a glassy sphere that glowed blue inside. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

  We’re on a holy mission for Begana, said Baz. Back off.

  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” said the shorter one, an elf guy with short purple hair. He carried a wooden bowl of leaves that he casually ate from with a pair of wooden tongs. Baz felt he should fear this guy the most. “You and your talking plant are in real trouble.”

  “We’re Existers,” said the human, “And you know what that means.”

  Actually I don’t.

  “They’re anti-Beganists,” said Alara.

  It would’ve been nice to have brows to furrow just then. Baz could sympathize with people not wanting to live under the goddess’ thumb, but creating a little club about it seemed downright suicidal. And Begana’s mass destruction was hardly Alara’s fault regardless.

  “And the academy is our turf,” said the tall one. “You don’t belong here.”

  And I’m guessing the fact that we just need to do a little more research and then we’ll be on our way isn’t going to discourage you from whatever this is?

  The one with the orb smirked. “Frost Ray!”

  A fight was not a good time to be a houseplant. As Baz braced himself for its effects, he found Alara put her body in the way. She grunted as she shouldered the blast of cold.

  The tall one rolled his eyes. “Really?”

  The bully was still contact juggling, so Baz used telekinesis to nudge his orb. The guy tried to catch it, but Baz nudged it again, and it fell to the floor and shattered. “Mercy,” he growled. “No…”

  “Oof,” said the elf guy. “Your dad is not gonna be happy, Ren.”

  “Sh-Shut up Nellis,” Ren managed.

  Let’s lose them, said Baz. Some isekai anime protagonists would find clever ways to make minor spells super effective. They could do this, if they could be smart enough.

  Alara nodded and hurried through the bookshelves.

  Telekinesis could be incredibly useful if used just right, but that wasn’t all they had to work with. Hey, you know some basic spells, right? Which ones?

  “Uh… Fire Bolt, Ice Bolt, Wind Rush, Steady Heat, and Enhance Spiciness.”

  Enhance Spiciness?

  “I tried to learn some cooking magic, okay?”

  He hadn’t meant to sound incredulous. Being able to add an extra kick with just a little cantrip sounded awesome. And sufficient spiciness could be a weapon. Plants were spicy to deter animals from eating them, and pepper spray was just particularly concentrated capsaicin. He had no idea how many Scovilles the spell added, but it was worth a try. I’ve got an idea. Take one of my leaves and cast Enhance Spiciness on it, multiple times.

  She stared at him for a moment, then carefully plucked a leaf. She held it cupped in one hand and murmured an incantation. The leaf glowed for a moment. He didn’t have to prod her to do it more; she cast it six times, and by the end it had become bright red.

  Perfect. Now try to sneak up behind the elf.

  Alara trembled as she crept between bookshelves and came up behind Nellis. He was definitely an elf; his pointy ears stuck several inches out from his head.

  Baz carefully used telekinesis (was there a verb for that specifically?) to pick up the red leaf and drop it into his wooden bowl.

  “You know,” said Nellis, “these ears aren’t just for show.” He whirled on them and called out, “Ren, I found them!”

  Dammit.

  “Shh!” shushed a librarian.

  The elf smirked and used his tongs to put more leaves in his mouth. Including the spicy one. As he chewed, his eyes went wide. Nellis fell to his knees and wept.

  Heh. Got him.

  “This is so good!” he cried. “Do you know how hard it is to get good fire leaves in Ofana?”

  Is… Is this normal for elves?

  Alara looked down at Baz and then back at Nellis. “Uh, they do really like leaves, but…”

  “My cousin ships them to me from Eitania, but they’re always dried out by the time they arrive! It’s not the same!”

  Let’s—

  Nellis sprang to his feet. “Did you do this? How?!”

  He looked so desperate that Baz took pity on him. You just cast Enhance Spiciness about six times.

  The elf stared, mouth hanging open. “Of course. Of course. It’s so simple.”

  Baz reluctantly let Nellis take a small cutting that he would try to grow into a new basil plant. (He dabbled in botanical magic.) Baz was a little worried that the new plant might have its own consciousness, another Baz all alone, but he kept that to himself. Getting the Existers off their backs was more important just then. Nellis then pointed them to the library’s alchemy section before rushing off to find the culinary magic section. If Baz ever got to a state where he could eat food again, he’d have to explore this world’s cuisines.

  Alara hurriedly went through books on alchemy. A lot of them were compilations of exceedingly complex recipes for various concoctions, while others were tomes of utterly incomprehensible theory. Alara found something in the book A Survey of the Great Alchemists of Galania and Their Innumerable Potions, Tinctures, Poultices, Concoctions, and Salves. It was one of the shorter titles in the alchemy section.

  She gave a relieved smile. “There it is.”

  The two-page spread had a portrait of a man with long hair mostly combed to one side. In the illustration he had a lopsided smile and bags under his bloodshot eyes. That was Del Kask, the inventor of the People Potion, who had retired to the village of Vitry in Boranna.

  Alara jumped as someone slammed the book shut. She looked up to see Ren standing there. He had clearly been weeping, and he glared at them with bloodshot eyes.

  We’ve got what we need, let’s get moving.

  She nodded and jumped to her feet.

  Ren raised his fist and muttered an incantation. His fist crackled with electricity. “Do you have any idea what my dad is going to do when—?!”

  A hand grabbed his arm, and the electricity stopped. The librarian gave him an icy stare and she shushed him. “Right now,” she said in a low voice, “you need to worry about what the dean is going to do in about five minutes.”

  Alara picked Baz up and hurried out.