What Can I Do With It? is an introductory piece of fiction for Silkgift: The City of Sails, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

Ella was working late in her lab when she heard a familiar sound from down the hall; a low hiss followed by a kind of strangled growl. She cocked her head, waiting to make sure there wasn’t an explosion, and then climbed her step stool to get down her can of tea. She put the kettle on over her corner burner, and waited for it to heat. She took it off just as the pacing started, pouring two cups and adding the diffusers, along with cream and a little bit thistle dust for sweetener. Then she took the cups and walked down the hall. She was slower these days, but Garrick’s workshop wasn’t far.

Ella didn’t bother knocking, she just edged the door open with the toe of her boot. The long-haired shipwright’s apprentice was standing in front of an assembly that Ella recognized. He rounded on the sound of the door opening, the shout swelling up in his chest transforming into a long sigh as he saw it was Ella.

“I thought you went home a few hours ago,” he said. For him, that was the same as an apology.

“I don’t sleep much these days,” Ella said, holding out the much larger mug toward him. “Is that lubricant formula still not cooperating?”

“No,” he said, taking the mug. Garrick held it close to his face, but didn’t drink. He ran his calloused fingers through his hair, and stared at the results of his latest attempt. “Something’s going wrong. I don’t know if it’s the heat, or the sand quality, or-”

“Have you asked the important question?” Ella cut him off, sipping at her own tea.

Garrick stopped, frozen still as a statue. After a second he blew a sharp breath out of his nose, and took a sip of the tea. “What can I do with what I have?”

Ella nodded, and stepped past him, getting up onto a step stool to look at what was in his pot. It was a thick, oily sludge with bits of grit in it. She took a stirring stick, and prodded it. It was thick and heavy, almost like tar as she lifted some up.

“Is it tacky when it dries?” she asked.

“No,” he said. Then he took another sip of his tea, his eyebrows meeting.

“And the grit?” Ella asked. “Does it make for a solid grip?”

“Fairly,” Garrick said, a frown on his mouth as well as his brow. Ella waited, but for all the sparks she could see going off in his brain, nothing was catching just yet.

“You spent two years tooling a shipyard, Garrick,” Ella said, sipping her tea. “What would you do with it?”

He opened his mouth, but whatever words he’d been about to speak in haste were belayed as his brain caught a grip. He glanced over at the resin, and his eyes narrowed. Finally he said, “If it seals better than tar, it would be a godsend for a deck in a squall.”

“Start with a gangway,” Ella said, climbing back down and smiling at him. “Then work your way up from there.”