Why do you think alchemists became swindlers?
Bessa once believed her life had finally curved toward something like grace. She'd clawed her way out of the guild's shadow and bought a small, sunlit cottage at the edge of a quiet, unremarkable village.
What a staggering turn-around from the grimy, hopeless terror of her childhood, right? What kind of childhood, you asked? A kind of childhood that had begun on a slaver's block with her only value a fluke noticed by a wandering set of eyes.
What talent?
Alchemy.
True alchemists could recognize the spark in another. The talent, a freakish, cerebral gift that only manifested in humans, and even then, was as random as lightning they couldn't expect it in their own offspring. They could look at a grimy, cowering child and see a rare pattern of potential.
