“The shop smells of salt, ozone, and old paper. A wall-sized tank contains a motionless pale shape that the shopkeeper insists is 'only an old, blind catfish' while whispering to it in an odd cadence. Bottles are labeled with thin silver runes and the shoplight pulses faintly with an emulsion of phosphorescent algae every few minutes. Payment in brine-silver shells from the deep is accepted at a favorable exchange when the tide is high.”