Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (12 page)

"Yes,
Master Kymus! One of Master Iste's journeymen is teaching me the
basics of true alchemy, and Master Peran is teaching me bonesetter's
skills."

"Quite
useful." It was rare to have all three skills in one person.
Iathor himself was best with true alchemy, knew a moderate amount of
herb-witchery, and had only the vaguest clue how to deal with
injuries and illness without potions. "Though I'll have to talk
to several people to arrange an occasional day of study in my
workroom."

Nicia
gasped and curtseyed again. "Oh,
will
you, Master Kymus?"

"If
and when your other teachers think you're ready. That you can detect
a finished potion is a good sign – as I hope you've been
told," he added. Even if Herbmaster Keli'd not thought to
mention it, surely Master Iste's people would understand the
importance. "However, at the moment, I've a favor to ask."

"Of
course, m'lord!"

"I've
brought Tradeswoman Kessa to see if she has any insights into Darul
Reus – the madman's – condition, or if her presence
sparks any reaction in him, for he'd made her acquaintance before he
drank mixed potions." An understatement. "Afterward, I'll
be talking to Master Peran, and thought you might show Kessa around
the hospice, if you weren't otherwise busy."

"I've
nothing that can't wait, Master Kymus. I'd be delighted."

"Thank
you."

Behind
him, Kessa murmured, "Yes. Thank you." Her voice
seemed . . . alarmingly neutral.

It
would definitely be awkward to drag her off for private questions.

Fortunately,
Master Peran appeared, and Iathor repeated his understated
introduction of Kessa. "And has there been any change in the
man's condition?"

"Aside
from becoming restive when we put him in the easy robes, before
feeding him Purgatorie in the back street?" Peran said. "Not
really. He's docile and no more functional than a small child.
Associating the easy robes with Purgatorie is a good sign, though. It
means he's a memory to work with."

"I
wish he'd memories from
before
his poisoning." Iathor
sighed. "May we see him?"

"He
should be ready. We've been dosing him before meals, morning and
evening, so someone may be feeding him breakfast." Peran waved a
hand and headed down the hallway.

Iathor
glanced back, seeing that Dayn was sleeping again, before he
followed, apprentice and journeyman in his wake. They didn't talk,
which left him edgy about how they'd get along.

Darul
Reus' room was the same, clean and whitewashed. The man was now
sitting on his bed, being fed a cream and cornbread porridge by a
burly journeyman. The journeyman seemed a cousin to the first, in
plain green with neither red nor brown to show which tradition he
followed.

Iathor
stepped far enough inside to let the girls enter, and watched Kessa's
reaction.

Without
stumble or hesitation, she moved out Nicia's way and raised her head,
just enough to see the man on the bed.

She
was still. Dispassionately still, hands loosely clasped where her
cloak hung open in front.

Darul
looked up after a moment, as it registered on the madman that others
were in the room. He stared at Kessa. The journeyman lad glanced
behind him and snapped his head back around, away from the
herb-witch.

Iathor
realized they could see Kessa's face. Moving slowly, trusting Master
Peran to watch Darul's reactions, he sat on the end of the cot.

For
a moment, Kessa's expression seemed as flat as some scavenger waiting
for its prey to die. She glanced at Iathor; he stiffened
instinctively, and she dropped her gaze.

Ironically,
only Darul seemed unaffected by the herb-witch's eyes.

Iathor
looked up at Peran. "Doesn't seem to react, does he." He
wished he could make it true question.

The
bonesetter shook his head. "No, not really. Hoch, give him some
water, in case the noses among us want to check his breath."

A
hint.
"Thank you, Hoch."

"Welcome,
Master Kymus," the young man mumbled, obeying.

After
Darul'd had several sips of water coaxed down him, Iathor knelt in
front of the madman. He sniffed, slowly and holding the breath in his
nose for as long as possible.
Hints of sharpness . . .
Much fainter, though.
Probably a good sign, if only for the man's
re-training. "Kessa, Nicia, would you two care to try?"

Kessa
extended a hand, deferring to the apprentice. Iathor made room so
Nicia could repeat the test. After several moments, she said, "Very,
very faint . . . But not normal." She stood and
moved aside.

Kessa's
quick glare at Iathor was blocked by the swing of her hair, but
threatened rent throats. She knelt gracefully enough, though, and if
she looked at Darul with the full force of her strikingly ugly
gaze . . .

The
madman only looked back with vague curiosity. Iathor supposed that
was irony.

After
several heartbeats, Kessa closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm
not sure. Perhaps I only think it, because Nicia scented something."

If
they'd been alone, Iathor might've reached over and touched her chin;
asked her to say that with her eyes open. They weren't alone. So he
said, "And I also believe there's a very faint odor, reduced
from before. Perhaps . . ." He pondered. "Perhaps
leave off the Purgatorie treatments for a day, and I'll come and
check if the scent has faded on its own?"

"Time
or treatment that's doing it?" Peran asked, and nodded. "Good
thought. Anything else?"

"Actually,
if you might, I'd like a few moments in the hospice workroom –
I'll be visiting the guild offices next, researching some recipes. If
I find something promising, it'll save time to know what ingredients
you've on hand." He grimaced. "And I've not yet visited
Darul's sister. Perhaps I could draft a letter and have it run over
by one of the apprentices?"

"Heh.
I've time. The letter first? It'd be easier to leave you with, while
I check on another patient."

"Either
suffices. If it wouldn't be disruptive, might Nicia show Kessa the
hospice while I'm busy?"

Peran
waved a hand. "Bah. If she decides she likes it, we can always
use more herb-witches. Off with you, Nicia."

The
girl bobbed a curtsey. "Yes, Master Peran, Master Kymus!"
She stood. "If you'd come this way, journeyman?"

Kessa
gave an eyes-lowered smile and nodded. "Thank you, Nicia, Master
Peran." She followed Nicia, once again leaving Iathor without a
sign of gratitude.

Standing
by his shoulder, Peran murmured, "You didn't say how she knew
him, Master Kymus."

"That's
a story for an office, Master Peran."

"I'll
show you mine." The bonesetter's dark green robes swirled quite
well as he led the way out the door.

Behind
them, Hoch coaxed Darul to eat his breakfast.

Chapter
XI

"
W
hat
would you like to see first, journeyman?" Nicia asked.

"Perhaps
the workroom? And you needn't call me 'journeyman,' if you don't want
to," Kessa murmured, glancing at the girl sidelong, with her
hair masking her face. "And perhaps I should leave my cloak with
Master Kymus' servant." She was already over-warm.

"Of
course! I'm sorry I didn't suggest it earlier."

"I
should've thought of it myself." Before she had to fend off
further apologies, Kessa added, "Have you been apprenticed here
long?"

"Only
three months. And already the Lord Alchemist has said I should
practice identifying ingredients by scent!" The girl actually
hugged herself, but lowered her voice as they got to the entry room,
where Master Kymus' footman slumbered, still in his own coat. "He
even sent mother a letter."

"Ah?"
Kessa shed her cloak onto the chair beside the footman.

"Oh,
yes." Nicia was clearly thrilled, but keeping her excitement
down. "He asked about my tolerances."

"Tolerances?"
Kessa's eyebrows went up, hidden behind her swoops of hair.

"Tolerances
to potions! Here, the workroom's this way." As Kessa followed,
Nicia continued, "How much potions affect me, how quickly, that
sort of thing. I don't faint if I sniff a sleeping potion, and that's
a good sign. I'm learning the rest . . . Oh, but you
know that already."

"I
do?" Was this something Maila'd forgotten to mention, in all her
instructions and testing? Chiftia certainly hadn't bothered.

"You
know how it smells, when a potion's right. Better than I do."
Nicia's enthusiasm waned slightly. She rallied with, "I'm going
to practice, though!"

"
You
smelled something on that man's breath." The sharpness, just as
it'd been in her tea, cold against the back of her tongue –
but so faint, like a memory. "That's got to be promising."

Nicia
opened a door, revealing stairs down, as wide and whitewashed as the
walls. "Oh, it is. Mother's not tested my tolerances much, and
says mayhap in a year's time, but . . . I hope they're
strong!"

Kessa
followed the bubbly apprentice down. "You do?"

"Well,
yes
. It'd be safer for me to test potions, and research new
elixirs. The most innovative alchemists almost always have high
tolerances, or full immunity." Nicia finally gave Kessa a look
with backbone. "Didn't your teacher
tell
you?"

"Not . . .
clearly." Mayhap it explained some of Maila's demands. Kessa
made herself smile. "Herbsman Chiftia's not terribly orthodox
anymore."

"Oh.
I'm sorry." Nicia busied herself with opening the door at the
bottom of the stairs.

"It's
all right. I know the recipes well enough that Master Rom approved my
practice anyway." Kessa looked around, careful not to raise her
eyes too far.

The
basement was larger than the building above, judging from the
placement of support beams and pillars. The walls were white, lathe
and plaster over whatever was behind them. Perhaps bricks mortared
with grandmothers' blood, for all Kessa knew. The lights were glow–
Incandescens
Stones, hanging in baskets with metal plates
above them to reflect the light in diffuse brightness, much like in
Master Rom's workroom. There were fireplaces on opposite walls to
heat large vats of simmering brews, and two of the tables were slabs
of stone. Cabinets of ingredients and equipment stood against the
walls. A half-dozen apprentices and journeymen watched over the vats,
prepared ingredients, and ladeled healing-glop into jars. Alembics
and glass measuring cups were plentiful, as were little measuring
scales. There was even an alchemical geometry analyzer, with wheels
and gears to describe the symbolic shapes of the metal-salts and how
they should react together.

"Impressive,"
Kessa said, because it was. Since no bundles of herbs hung from the
rafters, she asked, "Do you have ingredients brought in? Or is
there a drying room upstairs?"

"Both,"
Nicia replied, obviously happy to brag about her workplace. "There's
also a closet with a window, for moon-steeping, and another where the
Incandescens Stones are changed before they start to fade, so the
room's always lit and components can be sun-steeped in the day."

"It's
practically a researcher's workroom," Kessa marveled. "I'd
thought the hospice would only make the usual healing brews, and
mayhap a few special preparations."

"That's
what most of this is," Nicia admitted. "But sometimes we
need something
very
unusual, or one of the masters wants to
try increasing the effects of healing preparations. I'm told the
guild offices have an even better basement, where they do research
constantly, and some of the masters have special night-rooms that
attempt to focus starlight through lenses when the moon isn't in the
sky at all."

Kessa
tilted her head, puzzled. "But . . . The moon is
change and cycles, and the sun is steady fire. What point would it be
to use starlight alone? They guide, but how can one use guiding in a
potion?"

"I
know; Mother thinks it's a waste of time, but I suppose it's worth
trying, to see what one might get."

"They'd
have to taste when something'd been properly primed." Kessa
couldn't think of any other way to tell if their experiment had
failed or succeeded.

There
was a little pause before Nicia said, voice lowered, "You can
do
that?"

The
Yes
didn't reach her tongue. "Surely Master Kymus can."

"I
wonder if it's because he's fully immune," Nicia said, "or
if it's just that no one else could
survive
tasting enough
things to learn if they were primed."

"My
teacher forgot to teach me that." Kessa spread her hands,
smiling wryly. "Do you have recipe books down here?"

"When
they're in use, but most are in the library off the lecture hall.
You're interested in healing preparations?"