The wagon is wedged between cookfires and canvas shelters in the camp district of Or triel. Its awning is patched in three shades of blue, and every breeze makes the hanging scroll tubes tap together like hollow reeds. Inside, shelves are lashed to the walls with cord, each scroll tied shut against dust and sudden rain. The owner insists no open flame comes near the stock, then sells a candle to anyone who asks. A brass bell above the inner curtain warns of movement in the sleeping nook. The place is called No Open Flame, a warning-name the caravan keeps because changing it is said to invite a fire. The proprietor, Taimi, is a sharp-eyed human with ink on her fingertips and a habit of reading every customer's hands before their face. She is patient with honest questions, firm on prices, and quick to notice anyone eyeing the locked cashbox.