“I’m looking for a molder,” said Davis. “Someone who can manipulate the Permeable Lands.”

“Hell, we all can a little bit,” the bartender said. “Even out here in Grant’s Crossing.” To prove his point, he filled Davis’ cup not with liquor but with dust. A moment of concentration later–no more than a blink of the bartender’s eyes–and the glass was full of amber liquid.

“Is it…safe to drink?”

“Of course it is,” the bartender scoffed. “I’m very good at molding liquors. why do you think I run a bar? Just don’t be leaving the Permeable Lands before you piss, or you’ll be feeling the effects of a gutful of sand.”

“I need someone who can make a bit more than that,” Davis said. “A lot more, actually.”

“What is it? Most everyone here in Grant’s Crossing can make one or two things well.”

“A person,” said Davis. “I need someone to mold a person.”