"Yarrow had a broken tibia," Melhax said dismissively. He pulled a small pair of iron tongs from a jar. "Bones are tedious. Grief is a commodity. There is a market for tears in the Undercity. They use it to fuel the streetlamps. Now, sit."
"Ah," he said. "You want the Alchemical Adjustment ." melhax
"Keep the money," she whispered.
"Grief calcifies, girl. Everyone knows that. Sadness is heavy. If you don't cry it out, it has to go somewhere. Usually it settles in the knees or the spine. But you?" He tapped the pearl with a long fingernail. It rang like a bell. "You’ve got a talent. You’ve been compressing it. Making it pretty." "Yarrow had a broken tibia," Melhax said dismissively