Arthur stepped into the sanctuary, found the fountain, and took a long, cold drink. He felt a surge of power, his vision cleared, and his back straightened. He had done it. He had cheated the supernatural.
"It’s $400," she whispered. "And remember: the spirit is in the adhesive."
The proprietor, a woman with eyes like sharpened flint, pulled a wooden box from beneath a counter. Inside lay . It was a masterwork of hand-knotted yak hair and human silk, treated with a resin that made it waterproof, fire-retardant, and inexplicably smelling of old cedarwood.
Arthur strapped it on. The transformation was instant. He didn't just look older; he looked like a man who had survived a shipwreck and then wrestled the shark that caused it.