"Yah. Herb and potion. I am Sergei, traveling alchemist," he grunted, rummaging again through the shelves. "Ah! Torsken Slukten! Good for hurting in arm and core! I knowing this! I buy!" He snatched up the little bottle, contained within crushed bits of leaf, strangely purple. On it read "Herb of Saint Elwin". He went for his pockets, but his hands, large and clumsy, accidentally struck another vial, which fell from its perch and shattered across the floor. Yellow smoke billowed out of its remains. "I . . . uh . . . I pay, yah?" Sergei muttered, between coughs.