"No? Fire will be most disappointed."

"-Is fire another element or something, like winter. I mean, that's a turn of phrase that just means 'don't poke the weird stuff it can probably hurt you'."

"I mean, Fire would probably be disappointed about that, too, but no - there are three traditional forms taken by the Brass Coast egregore, fire, dust and glass, and Fire is naturally the most impetuous."

"That does make sense. Personality can be such a thing. I knew a girl who goes from twitchy and impulsive to ice cold operator when it matters. I shall guess you are... Glass."

"Excellent, you have correctly discerned that I am dressing exactly like a stereotypical Glass host."

"I don't know your stereotypes, choom. Should I go dye my hair blue and talk about the silence of the night?"

"Ooh, is that a new insult word? What does 'choom' mean?

And, only if you want to be mistaken for a merrow, which isn't the most popular lineage in the Coast, although mostly because they don't like it here much.

Sorry, I am basically just playing with you now; you might have better things to do, I'm happy for you to go do them, I will stop anyone meddling with your device if it's in my power."

"I figured we were in the banter phase of conversation yeah. Choom means... Like buddy, or pal, but in an exasperated acquaintance kind of way, you use it when someone's being just a little bit stupid or needs a favor but it's not a huge deal. You also use it in a completely different tone for serious friends, to mean... Reliability. Having your back when it matters."

"Excellent, I am going to thoroughly confuse some people by using it on them."

She giggles. "I think the word originally comes from a kind of fuel that everyone hates a little bit because it reeks, but is good stuff anyway. Might be wrong, though."

"As for making it in a factory, I'm sure the League would be doing it if they could; there's no innate spark to artisanry, though, if you made a study of it I expect you could learn it."

"When I have some downtime, maybe."

She looks up the photo of the map she took earlier and tries to match it to aerial footage and find out where Siroc is, while she waits for the fabber to finish.

Siroc is a sprawling coastal settlement with extensive but somewhat haphazard docks, quite close to where Lenora left the boat-load of rescued slaves.

This is about when the fabber goes DING!

Out of a sliding door comes a torso-sized lump of plastic and glassy material. The spigots are pretty self explanatory. There's one labeled POUR, as well as CLEAN and WASTE. There's also a small touchscreen with battery and system status indicators, and the crank off to the side. 

"Well, there ya go. Bout fifty pounds of weight."

"Delightful." The egregore hefts the item, not effortlessly but like he's reasonably practiced at carrying heavy things. "Anything else I can help you with right now, or shall I run off and bestow this on some unsuspecting..."

Marilla clears her throat meaningfully.

"...or, I suppose, go and talk to the dhomiro about it, given we are in Ezmara's rooms here," he regretfully concedes.

"I want to leave Yasmina a beacon," She tells Marilla. "And then head out."

"I expect she's still at the wagon. Shall we?"

The breakfast party is still ongoing; the egregore starts to introduce the dhomiro to the wonders of desalinisation boxes; Yasmina is dictating a letter of introduction to a scribe with enormous ram's horns.

Lenora hands her a rugged, hand sized plastic box with a red button under a safety cover to prevent accidental pressing.

"This is a standard UN distress beacon. If you press the button and I am close enough, I will know."

"Thanks! I'm assuming I should use this for, like, emergencies, rather than just because I'm bored?"

"Yeah. I just... The forest guys didn't seem to really need it, but you live next to slavers. It might not punch through magic, or mountains. But it's pretty decent. Has to punch through jamming, back home."

"I'd generally expect to have a decent amount of warning, but thank you. Letter's almost ready."

At about this point, the Dhomiro turns to them with a huge grin on his face.

"Yasmina! I have a task for you. I didn't want to split the caravan, but this," he gestures at the desalinator that the egregore is still holding, "really wants to get to Siroc as soon as it can. I don't suppose I can prevail on you to take a single wagon..."

She tries to make a 'well don't look at me' face.

"I'm assuming it's too heavy for our experimental letter-courier?" says Yasmina. "Letters are almost ready."

"I mean, I guess I could, I'm just getting worried about mission creep."

"I'm sure our Dhomiro will be happy to pay you extra for the inconvenience," she replies, somewhat pointedly at the Dhomiro.