Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (29 page)

He'd
have to send letters to his syndic in Cym, to instruct the masters
there to research the matter.

Even
if there were an unknown treasure of immune bloodlines among the
barbarians, though . . .

Iathor
found himself comparing Kessa to some hypothetical savage-raised
girl, illiterate and ignorant of alchemy – and preferring the
ugly-eyed, acerbic herb-witch who frowned at the page with him, if he
had such a choice.

Kessa
whispered, "If he were herb-witch, why would I exist?"

Iathor
glanced at her sharply; she was looking at the page. "Tolerances
require strong-brewed men's tea," he said, guessing what she
meant.
Who raised you, if you don't know your bloodkin?

"And
dry tea?"

"I
don't know. My mother . . . wasn't fully immune."

Her
head moved as she glanced at him in return. "The pain's not
gone, but it's less."

"Can
you eat something?" Iathor dragged his basket closer.

"Yes . . .
You two should go on. I've the rest of this jar, and it does help. I
don't think you meant to stay so long, K– Master Kymus."

Iathor
decided that lack of title was good. She'd actually sounded civil
rather than wary, defensive, or hostile. "No, I hadn't. But I'll
have someone check on you later today."

"All
right. As if I could stop you."

She
was feeling better; time to retreat and hope whatever impositions he
might've committed would fade in her mind. "Then I'll take Miss
Urnbury and return to my duties. If you need, you may send word to
the guild offices, or to my staff . . ."

Kessa
slanted an almost-glare up at him, through her hair. "Out of my
bedroom, Kymus."

He
smiled. "Of course, Tradeswoman Kessa. Miss Urnbury, I believe
I'm supposed to return you to your teacher?" He offered the girl
a hand.

The
apprentice took it politely, though her eyes were still very wide.
"Thank you, Master Kymus. Good day to you, journeyman!"

"Thank
you for coming, Lettie," Kessa said, more kindly. "I'll try
to get the warming stone back to your teacher in a day or so."

"Oh,
she said you can keep it. All she needs back are the books, sometime
this fiveday."

"Then
thank you, and her as well," Kessa said. "Good day to you
both."

"Good
day," Iathor said, relieved that the pain-stress was fading from
her voice, and led the apprentice out of the shop.

Chapter
XXVIII

W
ith
the pain eased, Kessa managed to transfer the first blood, sure to be
barely contaminated (if at all), to a second jar after everyone'd
left. She'd at least have something, even if the hornflower paste
ruined her blood after all.

She
knotted her long cheesecloth bag, packed with cotton, to its belt so
she could move about, and tied a red rag around her doorknob.
Everyone local knew that meant "closed for moon-flows."
Then, with food (and her good knife, returned in that basket), dulled
pain, a warm stone to hold across her belly, a pot to bleed in, the
brighter Incandescens Stone that Kymus'd forgotten, and several
books . . . It was obvious how she should best spend
her time.

The
red rag kept nearly everyone away – save Dayn, near twilight.
The footman greeted her cheerfully, traded the breakfast basket for a
dinner one, and left with a bounce in his walk. Perhaps Kymus
wasn't
doing anything at brothels, his temper suffering until his entire
staff hoped he might be wed. Perhaps they were
very
annoyed
with the current heir's long visit.

She'd
had the shutters closed for some time when there was a knock. She
called, "Yes?" She'd heard, yesterday, that Laita'd been
much improved after her alchemy-induced nap, but Tag could've gotten
more information . . .

"Might
I come in?" The voice was her Guild Master's.

"Wait,"
she called, and arranged fresher cotton for the moon-flow belt before
going to the door.

Backlit
by his own gift-Stones, she glanced at his face – smiling, for
some reason – before she let him in. "I'm still alive,
but I've done no cleaning." Just some thanking Earth and Rain
that the blood-scent probably covered up the defensive preparation
she'd hidden.

"I
deserve no better, like as not." He left the door ajar, as if
for a hasty escape.

She
leaned against her counter. Sitting back down would be good, for her
belly still ached and she was already angry that their truce was
going to break – but sitting on cotton padding was lumpy and
she sometimes worried that it might be enough to reduce her blood's
purity.

He
sighed. "There's no refuge for me. Very well. I take the blame.
It is, to my knowledge, none of Herbmaster Keli's nor her
apprentice's, though I may have words with Master Rom."

It
was a choice between a sobbing scream, or a flat question, Kessa
picked the latter. "What happened?"

Kymus
leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. "My brother saw fit
to accost me this evening, in front of Herbmaster Keli and several
other guild officers, and demand an explanation for rumors he claimed
were running like fire in the fields, that I'd found some immune
herb-witch." Quickly, he added, "There were other rumors,
Keli told me later. That's just the one Iasen latched onto."

At
least it likely was none of the Herbmaster's doing. Kessa couldn't
think the woman would've confided in someone she thought an
irresponsible annoyance – unless to shift unwanted attention
from her daughter? "He wasn't trying to court Nicia out from
under you, was he?"

"Eh?"
Kymus' arms tilted; he probably looked at her sharply. "He'd
claimed so to Master Peran, the bonesetter at the hospice. But that's
just teasing me for taking on a female student. Why?"

She'd
have to ask Keli later. Still, family was family; Kessa could be
angry, but she'd not blame Keli for protecting her daughter. "Nothing
important. Did you admit . . ."

"No.
I said you'd good tolerances, a quick and under-educated mind, and
were unfortunately involved in a poisoning matter, with any two of
those sufficient to warrant my attention."

"Will
this work?" She felt too tired to yell.

"I
don't know." He stepped towards her. "I'm sorry. He made
his accusation in front of a half-dozen others, counting apprentices
and journeymen. I don't know if they'll listen to sense, or my
brother's theatrics."

She
held up a hand to halt him. "I think," she said, "you'd
best take the books Herbmaster Keli lent, and return . . .
in four or five days, when the moon-flows are over."

"I'll
still send you food." His tone was tinged with irritation.

And
I'm too weak to slam the door on it.
Weak of body, weak of
will . . . "If you must."

"Kessa . . ."
Kymus took a breath. "Blight it, I'd throw my brother out
tonight, if only–"

She
lifted her head and glared with all the force she had, baring her
teeth in a deliberate snarl she'd practiced when she was younger and
wanted to make her siblings twitch, or smaller roof-rats cry. Even in
the shadows, it worked. Kymus stepped back, one hand flinching
towards his coat's inner pockets.

Kessa
looked away, so he'd have no time to see anything besides the savage.

"Very.
Well." He edged past her counter and ducked into her bedroom.
When he came out, the brighter glowstone flung down shadows from the
books he carried in his arms. "Since you
insist,
" he
added, and left.

"I
do," she said into the air, as the rattle and rap of the
carriage faded, outside.

Kessa
re-latched her door, then returned to her bedroom, numb with angry
uncertainty, and knelt over the catch-pot again. With her cloak and
blanket draped around her, the warming Stone in her lap, and the
paste's effects . . . She even got some sleep, arms
folded on the cot as a pillow.

Her
dreams were disturbing things, full of frustration as she wandered
dark alleys, seeking the way to her home. The sky was sliced bright
above her, but she couldn't climb the walls to reach it. She tried to
scream to tell her siblings where she was, but nothing would come out
till she waked herself with the effort.

The
next morning saw Dayn again with a basket and neutral pleasantries.
She thanked him for coming (if not his master for the food), and set
the basket behind her counter-table while she worked.

Some
of her neighbors came to buy preparations: the usual winter ones, a
few sunburn-blocking ointments, dry tea, some hair bleach. She fended
off questions about the carriage that'd been at her door . . .
too often, now.
Involved in a guild matter; it's not for me to
discuss
worked best.

It
was nearing noon when wheels rattled outside and stopped. Kessa
looked through the thick glass, and made out a one-horse buggy, its
front and sides mostly open to the chill. The man being helped from
it wore alchemist gray, but bearded, as Kymus wasn't. Dark blond
hair, catching gold in the sun.

It
starts already?
she wondered, carefully slicing the thick veins
from large, flat riverroot leaves. Some other suitor? Someone digging
for information? Someone to kidnap her?

Someone
with a vested interest in an irresponsible heir, come to kill her?

Her
herb-basket was tucked beneath the counter. Her defensive preparation
was in it, and she held a knife.

Kessa
watched through her hair as the door was opened by a servant with
greenish eyes and horse-dark hair (still paler than her own
true-black). The gray-garbed man entered. A little taller, bearded,
longer hair without the gray tinges, cheekbones a bit broader, nose a
bit shorter . . .

He
looks very much like his brother.
Then, as Iasen Kymus wrinkled
his nose in disgust, bringing up his sleeve to shield himself from
the smell of blood and herbs, Kessa thought,
They look nothing at
all alike.

She
lowered her head as he looked towards her, but his sneer was obvious.
"So the Lord Alchemist visits a half-breed."

Kessa
took the prepared leaves and opened the cabinet  – knife still
in hand – to set them on her basket. The servant remained by
the door. "I imagine he checks upon all practicing herb-witches
and alchemists in the city."

"And
feeds them?"

The
breakfast basket was hidden behind the counter. But Iasen clearly had
his own servants, who might notice things. Perhaps it hadn't been the
Herbmaster's slip after all. "I wouldn't know, Master Iasen."

He
leaned upon the corner of her counter, as far from her as possible.
His hand was like his brother's, pale and slim, but cleaner, with
fewer little marks from hot potions. "And what think you of the
Guild Master's generosity, half-breed?"

"Show
gratitude to the man who feeds you."
Tanas had slapped the
insufficiently grateful.

She
was sick of gratitude, that ate into her guts despite the
pain-fighting paste.

Hand
tight on her knife, Kessa looked up, fast and hard, then down again.
"I find him quite annoying."

Iasen
straightened, taking himself out of reach. Or perhaps he merely
recoiled from her pus and dung eyes. "Do you, then . . ."

"Utterly."
The word came up from the acid
gratitude
made in her belly.
She sliced a leaf-vein away from the leaf.

He
stood for several heartbeats, but she refused to look. Finally, he
said, "Good," and turned on his heel. The servant followed.

I'd
still cheer if he threw you out,
she didn't shout, as he got into
his buggy and the horse pulled it away.

Chapter
XXIX

B
y
the second day since being ordered from Kessa's home, Iathor'd still
neither strangled nor evicted his brother – aided by Iasen
making himself scarce, taking breakfast, some lunches, and the
occasional dinner with Talien Irilye, spending the rest of his time
at the guild offices, and other meals at the tavern across the square
from the offices. Iathor suspected Tania was exercising her power; if
his cook would feed
him
gruel, despite being his dramsman,
she'd be no less harsh to Iasen.

With
another night patrol due after dark, Iathor'd gotten up late,
verified Kessa's breakfast basket had been delivered, and retired to
his study to read guild documents Deocris'd delivered. He was in the
middle of a report of a supplier who took advance money, but failed
to deliver valuable imperial ingredients, when Dayn knocked. "M'lord?
Watchman Thioso is here."

Iathor
laid the report aside. "Send him in, please."

Less
damply than his prior visit, the guard strolled in. He wore
reddish-brown winter pants and boots, beneath his tabard and cloak.
Rather than plopping himself into the chair before Iathor's desk, he
leaned on its back with both hands and frowned thoughtfully. "Sir
Kymus, are you sure that herb-witch couldn't have done it? Or are you
protecting her?"