“It behoveth him who would enter into this art and secret wisdom to repel the vice of arrogance from him, and to become virtuous and honest and profound in reason, courteous unto men, merry and pleasant of countenance, patient…” the words came from the Fourth Book of Treatises, but his mind wandered elsewhere, while Mark Andrew scrounged about his cluttered lab, gathering up vessels, burners, jars, bottles, tubes and all sorts of things Lucio did not recognize. His oration was interrupted rudely by a scowl and a growl from the Alchemist.
“Wot ist?” Mark asked angrily, interrupting the Italian’s subconscious musings. “Art thou a priest now? Wouldst preach t’ me, Brother?”
“It is all a part of the Arcanum,” Lucio said indignantly and then continued “…patient and a concealer of secrets. You shall choose a form of glass, round in the bottom, or at least oval, the neck a hand’s breath long or more, large enough with a straight mouth made like a pitcher or jug.”