"Like a layer cake," Fern repeats, but rather than think this observation strange or peculiar, it seems to steady her hand. Yes, she can envision that quite clearly--she's spent enough time in her mother's kitchen sorting out the cooking in the evenings.

And so she follows the Medicine Seller's instructions, doing everything in her power to keep her attention focused on the task at hand, rather than the chaos happening around the rest of the ship. Each time the Medicine Seller ceases to pour the ground black powder into the pot, Fern is quick to add a layer of the bright, reflective stuff in atop it. She does this until the Medicine Seller indicates that she should stop, at which point she looks up at him again; having something to focus on had helped her nerves, but now the fear is rushing back in again.

"Now what?" she exclaims, trying not to lose her composure once more.