Brisa was content working in the cellar. She was skilled at reading and writing and the detailed task of listing what supplies Autry still had on hand was a relaxing one. It required little thought and so she let her mind wander, filled with her usual unfocused daydreams of a future as a great mage and battling dragons and demons. 

A small pitcher of milk sat nearby along with a sizeable hunk of bread, she snacked occasionally as she worked. Autry never let her apprentices go hungry, or unclothed, or mistreated. She was strict but very easy to work with and she took her contract as master to apprentice very seriously. 

Brisa had the feeling that when Autry was young, centuries ago she was sure, that she was apprenticed to a mean master. She didn’t know why she thought that but Autry’s care with her apprentices sure must have come from somewhere. Few masters were as kind to their apprentices. 

Brisa loved working for the woman and considered her a savior. She just knew that if it hadn’t been for Autry she would have been forced to be a potter. Or worse married to some dolt of a husband tending farm and mewling babies all day. 

Brisa’s ledger was neat, columns nicely laid out and the writing precise as she carefully held her candle close to each labeled substance to write down what it was and then carefully used the scales or measuring ware to figure out how much Autry had left.