Lidiya Foxglove
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Potion Dealers comic & Velsa/Grau bonus story
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 00:10:26 +0000 UTCHello friends!
First, a couple people have called to my attention that the Potion Dealers paperback was missing a paragraph at the end of Chapter 10. The missing text reads:
“and imagined him having an airplane toy as a child. He was probably a curious kid who asked a lot of questions. She noticed again that he had very nice expressive hands, and she noticed George noticing both of them. He gave her a look that said, Yeah, I know what’s going on here, and I’m not saying a damn word.”
I uploaded a corrected file to Amazon but I apologize for that. Vellum exported the file without that page. And it kept doing it until I added an extra paragraph break! That has never happened before!
Okay, so if you’ve been reading my books, I just have some random Hidden Lands extras today. Some spoilerish content ahead if you haven’t read them (also none of this will make sense anyway).
I also have one of my ridiculous little comics. If The Potion Dealers was a manga this would be one of the 4 panel gag comics at the back.
Lastly, this is a story I started writing quite a while ago about what Velsa and Grau get up to after Doll Girl Meets Dead Guy. In DGMDG, Sorla has left her adoptive parents with the bakery, but they don’t really like running a bakery! Meanwhile, Grau comes into some money due to inventing a superior skin for Fanarlem, so they take some of it to open a school for Fanarlem. I don’t know if I’ll ever finish it, but if you want to see how things are going for them, I just thought I’d share.
Chapter One
The House of Bells
Velsa Thanneau’s footsteps echoed through the empty rooms, no matter how softly she walked. The only occupants were spiders, and their neglected webs spanned every corner. The size of the place was intimidating; larger than any house she had ever imagined buying in her wildest dreams, with vast rooms and wide staircases meant to be crowded by many feet.
“And it’s forty ilan a month to rent,” Grau said, looking up at the ring of nearly-spent candles hanging over their head, and their crown of cobwebs. “Would you consider thirty? I don’t think you’re likely to get other offers. It looks like you haven’t…in quite some time.”
Velsa looked at him anxiously. Thirty ilan a month still seemed like far too much to pay, for an endeavor that was so likely to struggle. When she suggested all of this, she thought they might be able to buy the old place outright. It had just been sitting there, abandoned, the entire time they had lived in Dor Temerna.
But, no, of course it had to be owned by a stubborn matron whose father had bought the place fifty years ago and she was determined not to let it go cheaply, even if it meant the place would fall into utter ruin.
“Thirty…” She frowned.
“Wouldn’t it be nice just to know the shelves were full of books and the rooms were full of children again?” Grau said.
“I don’t especially like children,” Madam Mirafar said.
“Do you like adults?” Velsa said.
“They’re an improvement over children, at least, if they have some sense.”
“Well, that’s just it,” Velsa said, trying not to look pleased that the woman had walked into this answer. “Schools are where children can become adults with sense.”
Madam Mirafar nodded in grim acknowledgement. “All right. You got me there. Thirty ilan a month, but I can’t help you with the cleaning or repairs.”
“Thirty ilan a month fixed for five years,” Grau said. “And we’ll pay for the repairs.”
“Five years!?”
“I counted eight broken windowpanes alone, so take a moment to do all of the figures for that.”
She actually fished a piece of paper from her pocket and started scribbling down estimates. Grau looked at Velsa with a shrug. “And mending that wall on the east wing,” he added.
She pulled him aside while Madam Mirafar was thinking.
“Are you sure about this? Thirty ilan a month is still so much! We’re not going to be able to get that back in tuition…”
“No, of course not. We’ll fund it ourselves. What else do we need money for?”
“I’m not sure, but we could certainly have a nice house of our own, and horses, and…luxuries. I’m getting nervous in these big rooms. It feels like too big of a dream, and I don’t know the first thing about running a school.”
“We don’t need luxuries,” Grau said. “We’ve certainly made it long enough without them. What you do need are big dreams, tikirsa. You’ve worked so long and hard to help me achieve mine. You believed in me when everyone in town thought I was crazy, and what better use of the profits than your dream? Besides—this is the natural next step. Better bodies are one thing, but now we can sharpen up some minds. And if we don’t know how to run a school, well, it can’t be worse than the school the Fanarlem have now, which is none. If anything else, let’s work on improving the quality of our dinner guests… The people here are kind, but sometimes I miss…”
“Book learning?” Velsa smiled. “We just can’t take the Daramon out of the man. All right. If she says thirty ilan, let’s go ahead.”
“If she sticks to forty, I’m still doing it,” Grau whispered.
But by the time Madam Mirafar had run the numbers, she agreed to Grau’s terms, and Velsa had herself one big, abandoned school building with no teachers and no students.
For years now, Velsa had looked at the old building and slowly allowed a dream to unfurl in the back of her mind.
At first, it the sort of idle dream she never expected—or even especially wanted—to come true. Velsa had never considered herself good with children, and she had certainly not fancied herself a teacher or mentor for anyone. She was still quite young, but she realized that she had an advantage most Fanarlem lacked.
After signing the informal agreement—to be formalized later—she and Grau had the keys to the old school and walked the rooms alone for the first time. She was already starting to know her way around. The large entrance hall with the wide stairs, which led up to the eight classrooms above them, each nearly identical. The dining hall, kitchens, and a Ven-Diri temple were to their right, and an assembly room with a theater and the most beautiful library were to the left, along with offices. If you passed under the magnificent staircase, you reached the rooms for boarding teachers and up a smaller set of stairs, the student dorms.
And if you climbed the stairs to the third floor, there was a bell tower. The bells must have been rung to summon the students long ago, and the older folks in town said they sounded ominous as a funeral, twice a day. Now a few legends floated about, of nights when the bells rang themselves, which was how the building came to be known as the House of Bells.
“It’ll be hard to sleep in this huge place by ourselves after everyone warned us it was haunted by ghostly bell ringers!” Velsa said, shivering. “I really am not sure that this isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought of.”
“Could be,” Grau said. “But what else do you want to do? You’re tired of running that bakery.”
“Oh, yes, I am so very done with that bakery!” Velsa perked up, thinking of that. “No ghosts there, just grumpy travelers…always mad that we’re out of nut buns…”
“Let’s pick our room,” Grau said. “They’re all a little different.”
The school had been run by the death-worshipping Ven-Diri people, years ago, so all the decor ran toward the heavy and gloomy, with walls of the darkest wood wainscoting and wallpaper of purple as deep as the last moments of dusk or red like drying blood. The windowsills were made of the same thick gray stone as the building’s exterior, although they did have large twelve-over-twelve pane windows. They all had a shelf at the entrance for storing the bones of the dead for the Ven-Diri family altars.
“But we can put our books there,” Grau said. “You don’t like any of the rooms that much, do you?”
“They’re all a little different, but not much.”
They were standing in the last room now, with the dark gray walls.
“This one reminds me of the color of fog on the marsh in the early morning,” he said, with that tiny hint of yearning.
“Then this one will do.” Velsa smiled.
“We can paint it,” he added. He caught her hands in his. “Remember the first night we ever spent together? In that little inn, in the rain?”
“How could I forget!”
“I thought I might have made the stupidest decision of my life,” he said. “And I wasn’t wrong. My old life died the day I bought you, although it took me a little while to realize it. At the same time, I knew it was the only one I could have made. I’m excited for you…my Velsa. This is the first really big thing you’ve decided on your own that I can help you with, and that isn’t life-threatening.”
She laughed. “We have had that kind of life, haven’t we! Oh, I am glad you made such a stupid decision as me. And despite my nerves, I am excited—and hopeful. I think we can really make a difference in this world.”
Like almost all Fanarlem, Velsa had not been born, but created from magic by the Daramons. Her soul was called from the spirit realm into the body of a lifelike doll, enhanced by magic into a striking semblance of life. She was raised in a house of concubines, to be charming and able to make conversation—but of course, to know her place. The Daramons regarded all Fanarlem as lesser beings—weak souls that were only able to be called into Fanarlem bodies as a punishment for misdeeds in their previous lives. Velsa was told over and over that the only way her soul could be cleansed for her next life was to submit and obey.
But Grau was the one who found her there, in the house of concubines—and he was an unusual Daramon. A sorcerer, naturally curious—and willing to question everything he had been told.
It seemed like another life, that night when he handed over coins to the house mistress and took her to an inn. She was sure he would just use her, as she had been told to expect, and was shocked when he spoke to her kindly and just let her sleep.
She learned, eventually, that he had gone out of curiosity, and that he had been enthralled with her at first sight. He wanted her, but he had waited for her to want him back. Was not wanting him ever a choice? Eventually he had proved it didn’t matter, because he had brought her here, to the Miralem lands, where she was free.
And it was here that he had been killed, and she had been able to choose him in return. She brought him back to life as a Fanarlem, closing the circle at last.
They had chosen each other, and his soul had returned to her—brought down to her level, now sharing her fate as the lowest of races.
She held him, feeling his body warm against hers. As a sorcerer, he knew how to drawn warmth in, and replicate the heat of flesh and blood when he held her, because he knew she missed it otherwise.
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “That we’re together in this. I’m glad…the kids can see their futures in you, too.”
“Are you saying you’re glad I’m a Fanarlem?” he said slyly.
“Maybe. Of course, I’ve always been glad, because otherwise you’d be dead.”
“Sure, but…I’ve been wondering if you would ever stop thinking of it as a compromise.”
“I hate that I’ve struggled with it. I still find you wonderful as ever, but…it really just shows me that a part of me still believes what they told me as a child. That Fanarlem are lesser beings, and it hurts me to see you become lesser. And that’s really at the heart of why I feel like we need to do this. I know every Fanarlem child hears the same things. And I want us to see ourselves the way you always saw me…like I was the most wonderful thing you’d ever seen.”
“We will build a world, Velsa, where Fanarlem know their advantages and can feel downright superior. Because I know the truth now. We are superior. A Fanarlem sorcerer of equal merit can beat a flesh and blood one any day. It might take decades—but the Kalanites will eventually rue the day they created their ‘dolls’. Maybe a legendary sorcerer or telepath will come from this very building. And it will all have begun with you and me and this dusty old building.”
“Let’s go home and get the brooms,” she said. “Or—maybe you make love to me on that bench in the library. And then the brooms.”
Chapter Two
A Man and a Mule
Velsa and Grau spent the next week moving into the House of Bells, filling the bedroom with Velsa’s handmade quilts and treasures they had mostly picked up on walks in the woods; animal skulls, unusual rocks, and magnificent pinecones. They chose one office and brought in their dining table to serve as a desk, and one classroom was filled with Grau’s potion-making supplies.
Still, it felt terribly empty, as the previous occupants left little furniture, and Velsa kept startling awake, thinking she heard ghostly bells. One thing she had struggled with, when Grau became a Fanarlem, was that he no longer needed to keep a fire or have daily meals. When they were poor, these luxuries were abandoned, and right now, she felt as poor as ever, despite having enough money to rent the huge building and hire teachers.
They needed to begin hiring as soon as possible, as she hoped to begin taking admissions by August and it was already July. Velsa spread the word about both teacher and student applications to all the Fanarlem she knew, and posted notices in all the common places around Dor-Temerna. Most people in Dor-Temerna couldn’t read, whether Miralem or Fanarlem, but she hoped she could find enough Fanarlem like herself, who had an education. The Kalanites, whatever might be said about them, placed a high value on literacy. Slaves who were created for menial labor were certainly not taught to read, but some Fanarlem were expected to do secretarial work, or like Velsa, simply to make intelligent conversation at parties.
They couldn’t offer much for wages, but Velsa hoped that she could find a few like-minded people who wanted the next generation to have better opportunities.
One day, as Velsa was beating at the moth-eaten rugs they had dragged outside, a Fanarlem man came riding up the hill path on a mule. She paused to greet him, but hesitated slightly as she took in his long black coat, the knife strapped to his thigh, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, and the funny little spot on his cheek that looked like it had been slashed, stitched back together, and smoothed over with illusion—but not very well.
“‘ello.” He lifted a glove. “You still looking for teachers?”
“Yes…” Velsa tried to send a telepathic message to Grau to join her, but she sensed him a couple of miles deep into the surrounding woods. Why did I insist I didn’t need help with these rugs? She had expected the applicants to be mostly women. “Do you have any educational background?”
“Of course,” he said, dismounting from the mule and leading it to a hitching post a distance away. “I worked on ships. Kept the books, kept track of supplies, and read maps. I’ve seen the world, too.” He looked over his shoulder at her, the cigarette still dangling. “This your school, then?”
“Me and my husband,” she said.
“Husband? Always the way with a cute little doll like you.”
Velsa lost all patience. “You talk like a Daramon,” she said. “And we’re not hiring anyone who is holding onto those ideas. You might as well take your mule and go right back down the hill.”
“Aw, blast,” he said. “I’m not a bad guy, I swear. I just can’t help talking like a sailor. And it’s true, the cute ones are all taken. You should see what’s left that I’ve been tryin’ to court.”
“No!” Velsa was only more annoyed and just pointed at the road.
“What did I say?”
“Everything! Everything you said. ‘What’s left’? You deserve to be alone, I think. The ‘cute ones’ can do better. I’ve never heard a Fanarlem man speak so disgracefully.”
He pulled off the cap he was wearing. “Really have never spent much time around women,” he muttered. “It always seemed they like hearing that they’re cute. But to be fair, I haven’t been around very sophisticated ladies. You’re not much like anyone I’ve met. But I could be a good teacher. A lot of Fanarlem haven’t been exposed to other cultures like I have, or spent so much time in business dealings. And if you want someone who’ll teach kids not to take any guff—” He shrugged. “It’s a tough world, but I managed it. I started out in the mines.”
Velsa paused. It was true, the world was tough and one thing she could say for him—he exuded brash confidence that was rare in Fanarlem. While she didn’t want to encourage children to talk like sailors—and for the boys to see the girls as ‘cute’ and ‘what’s left’—she also knew that Fanarlem who were raised to work in the mines almost never got out, almost never even saw the sun.
“I do want the students here to see that they can be bold,” she said. “But our teachers have to show equal respect to women and girls, which means any whiff of judging us based on whether we’re cute or not, and you will be shown the door. Immediately.”
He grimaced, but said, “Yes, madam.”
“And you have to pass a test and an interview, that you do have the skills you claim, and so we can figure out where to place you.”
“Makes sense.”
“And you can’t smoke indoors. Or close to the children.”
“Uf,” he said, but he stubbed it out on one of the stone posts that formed a fence around the building.
“If you want to wait inside…”
“Sure. This is a grand building. How much of it is yours?”
“All of it,” Velsa said. “This was a school for Ven-Diri children several decades ago. Now it will be our school.”
“All for dolls? Sorry—Fanarlem,” he said hastily. “Boy, you have a glare.”
“Do I?” Velsa couldn’t help being flattered. It was quite hard to glare when you were made to look cute. She showed him in the door, swelling with pride that this building was all theirs. Sure, it was empty and a little run-down, but with a little work, it would be as fine a school as anywhere.
“Who’s paying for this?” the man asked.
“We are. My husband developed a new type of Fanarlem skin,” Velsa said. “It’s so superior and cheap to make that now it’s about the only kind sold in Laionesse or Avalon, and we’re working on selling it to the Daramons too. I don’t really like doing business with them, but it can only be to the benefit of other Fanarlem to have better skin.”
“You don’t say… Is that what you’re made of?”
“We haven’t actually changed out our own skin yet,” Velsa admitted. “It’s such a pain to have done and we’ve been so busy…”
“Whose mule is this?” Grau shouted outside.
“We’re in here!” Velsa called back.
Grau came in, excited about the mule, as he had apparently been chopping up fallen trees on the grounds into firewood and wanted to haul it all back to the house.
“This is our first potential teacher,” Velsa said. “But…I wanted us both to speak to him.”
“Do you own the mule?” Grau asked.
“Yep. That’s my buddy there.”
“Well, I’m sold,” Grau said. “We could certainly use a mule. The grounds are vast and we can get a lot of good wood. Keep my wife nice and warm and happy all winter.”
*Grau! Your wife might be warm but she is not happy. We need to interview him first!* She spoke to him telepathically.
He winced, unable to speak back to her, although she could pick up some of his thoughts. We haven’t had a single other applicant…
“You need help hauling?” The man held out a hand.
“Sure.”
Grau and the man went off with the mule and a rickety cart down some woodland path, and Velsa never even got the man’s name.
But apparently, he was hired. She could guess he had something to teach, even if it wasn’t quite what she had in mind, and it was true. No one else had applied.
(sorry, it’s just an eternal cliffhanger now, but at least it fills a few things in!)
Comments
Jackie Dolamore
Me too! I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one! They're cute together and always fun to revisit.
catherine james
Oh Grau and Vesla, how I’ve missed you both!
Jackie Dolamore
Grau's having the best day. Just poking around the grounds like "Hm, is there any room in the budget for a mule?" And suddenly he's got a new mule bff on his doorstep.
Liz
Love Grau’s pragmatism. You got a mule he can use? Hired!
