. . .

“It’s not so easy to make a Taoist immortality elixir,” says Jane.

“True,” Tom concedes. He frowns. “Mom never managed it, you know.”

“. . . It may be more difficult for renegades?” Jane offers.

“All alchemists are renegades,” Tom says. “That’s why this is an age of science!”

“Well,” says Jane, “though, I mean, it can’t be impossible. I mean, just asking a bunch of kids to make a Taoist immortality elixir from scratch isn’t a slim chance — that’s no chance at all! Unless there’s a trick we’ve missed.”

“Let’s sneak into the house and follow Maria around,” suggests Tom. “Maybe she’ll accidentally lead us right to the formula!”

One smoking hole in the door of the house later, Tom abandons this proposal.

Crouched behind a rosebush in the garden, he sighs.

“That did not work well.”

<< . . .

. . . >>