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Sebastian looked out of the window, and removed his glasses. He polished their lenses absently as he watched the little lights in this distance prick out the empty canvas of the night sky. It was a clear night. Wasn't it a clear night before, all those years ago? He supposed it always was. The stars would not come unannounced, after all, and it would be hardly sporting of them to visit behind a veil if they would only come a handful of times in one's lifetime. He had been lucky, being fifteen last time. Old enough to remember, and, crucially, just old enough to participate. He had known a couple of people back in Munich almost twenty years his senior but who were in the same magical generation as himself, all awaiting the same Emergence. Almost thirty-five, they hadn't realised their full magical potential. He had never found out if they had emerged the following year and so he had to blindly speculate whether, for them, the boat had sailed altogether. They didn't seem to have that problem around here. He used to believe it was a happy coincidence that the population densities among the bigger families were weighted so that the new generation would experience their first Emergence all in their youth, before realising it might probably have more to do with strategic breeding.

He was broken from his thoughts by his phone ringing in his pocket; in his mild surprise, he jolted a splash of coffee to jump up from his cup and splash against the side of the china; “Stamm,” he gave his own name, or, rather, a lazy pseudonym, as he took the call. While he was the only German guy that he knew of in town and could be identified without too much difficulty, he was still given to giving out false names, especially to do with business. If every client had him under a different name, it was easy to identify who had been talking about him – and to whom. Caller id recognition was a blessing; he was talking to Jason Clyde, and Jason Clyde would speak to Peter Stamm, the Swiss novelist.

“Hey, Stamm. Is it ready?”
“And how are you on this fine evening, Jason?” Sebastian returned the bridge of his glasses to his nose. He drifted over to the large desk in his office, and gently pushed his backside onto it. His feet, slightly off the ground, swung gently.
“If it's all the same to you, I'm a busy boy. I'll get on my way round to yours if you're ready. It is ready?”
“Round to mine?” asked Sebastian, suddenly sharp.
“To the usual place. Obviously.”
“[i]Gut[/i].”

Jason wasn't the only one. Sebastian did a steady trade the whole year round, but for the past few months he had been inundated with requests for produce with the upcoming Emergence in mind. Some were specifically supposed to guide the young witches into one particular path or other, while others were more generally designed to coax magic, in whatever form it might take, out of the drinker. That was just the kids. Lots of fully-grown witches wanted potions to augment their own magic as part of the festivities. Jason was after the most highly-sought creation, a design of Sebastian's very own.

The usual place would, to the casual onlooker, seem too overt to be true. Sebastian, a part-time employee of The Anderson University, simply used their premises for his own personal business dealings. It was all kosher, though. Well, among those that mattered, anyway, and it was the perfect place – there was plenty of storage space for produce and he knew every possible entrance and escape from the building. The usual place was a perfectly normal seminar room in Block B, not even ten minutes' walk from his office. He sat where he supposed the tutor might sit, standing up when Jason knocked on the door and entered. They shook hands; Sebastian coolly; Jason sweatily. Evidently Jason was finding the Emergence a stressful experience. How old was his kid again? About seventeen? That'd be why.

“Can I see it?”
 
No small-talk, apparently. Accordingly, Sebastian nodded, and pointed to a small flask on the table, not dissimilar to a cocktail shaker. He picked it up, gently unscrewed the cap, and tipped the contents onto the desk in front of Jason's ashen face. Quite what Jason was expecting, Sebastian could only imagine, but what happened next was certain to surprise him. Upon hitting the table, the thin, clear stream liquid appeared to bounce, merging for an impossible moment that crossed all three dimensions. In a split-second, a perfectly liquid liquid had become a perplexingly solid solid. A completely black three-pointed pyramid sat inertly on the table. It gently glistened, as though sweating. The strip lights that filled the room with an intense brightness appeared to dim slightly.

“There you go.”
“How does it work?”
“Just let it drink the starlight for an hour or so and have Susan hold it after spilling blood. You'll know if it worked.”
“And if it doesn't?”
Sebastian shrugged. It hadn't occurred to him for a moment his creations might not work, “Then it's... how do you say it... it's on me.”
Jason apparently didn't appreciate the cheeky wink Sebastian shot him, but chose to ignore it, “The money will be in your account the moment it works.”
“[i]Wunderbar[/i].”
Just before leaving, Jason turned, frowning slightly, “How do you know my daughter's name is Susan?”
“Please close the door on your way out, Mr Clyde.”