Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (36 page)

Kessa
followed. At the table, she stood a half-pace away and held out her
candle to light the sludge within. Beeswax drippings trailed down it,
not yet at her fingers.

Happily,
the arousing effects of Iathor's candle were stalemated by the
cauldron's contents. Black, with an oily sheen . . .
Iathor put a hand on the metal itself; cold, but it
was
in a
winter-chilled basement.

Kessa
muttered, "I'm
not
tasting that."

"I
doubt I could stand it long enough to identify the ingredients,"
Iathor muttered back. "Did you taste the clae?"

She
was silent.

"Mm-hm.
And what was in it?"

"I
don't know. It was nasty. I don't get much chance to taste true
alchemy."

"Did
you detect the sweetness?"

"No."
That was a low admission; defeat or dissemblance, he couldn't tell.
"Just smoke and rot."

"When
I went to Cym for further education, the other students would dose
Iasen and me, as pranks. For the few things that would have an
effect, if short-lived . . . I had to learn how to
detect them. And," he added lightly, "my parents often
asked what I tasted in preparations."

Kessa
only stared into the cauldron.

Does
she hide someone's asking of her? Or simply avoid discussion of
parents?
He said, "If you'd find a clean jar, we can take a
sample."

"You're
insane. This should be bricked up in place." She went to search
the tables.

"Perhaps
when it's warmed, I could bear to taste it." He also moved away,
checking cabinets. Most of the equipment they should've held was
absent. The shelves for ingredients were nearly bare in places.
Iathor didn't like which ingredients were least present.

Near
the scorched table, the cabinet held unmarked jars; he set the candle
on the floor while he opened and sniffed them, his nose close to the
contents. A few were the usual herbal ingredients. One seemed already
a mix, and made his nose tingle even in the basement's miasma.

It
was a small jar. He put it in his pocket, to analyze later.

From
across the room, Kessa called, "Found one."

"Good."
Iathor returned to the cauldron.

She'd
even found a clean spoon; he gave his candle to her while he gathered
thick, stringy sludge and closed the jar tightly. He glanced over;
she was watching his hands. He reclaimed the candle hastily. "Let's
go upstairs."

Chapter
XXXVI

H
is
candle'd been a
sweetish
bittersweet. Kessa narrowed her eyes
at it behind his back, wondering why he'd handed it to her and then
snatched it back and snuffed it quickly at the top of the stairs.
Perhaps he'd just not wanted to spurn his dramsman's offering; he
handed it back to Brague without comment.

Kessa
continued into the sitting room, blowing out her taper. "I'm
alive," she told Nicia. "So's Master Kymus."

"Good!"
Nicia said. "I wonder if there's anything to do but keep the
fireplaces blazing and fill the rooms with Fervefax Stones."

"That'd
be a lot of–" Kessa started. She was cut off by the loud
rattle and clopping of horses and at least one carriage, and
remembered whose house this was. She moved to the window, lifting the
inner latch and swinging in the glass-holding frames so she could
push open the shutters. Nicia crowded beside her.

Four
men were getting out of a lighter, smaller carriage than Kymus', with
only one horse. It had a seal of alchemical forms painted onto it,
marking it as the Kymus heir's property. Behind Kessa and Nicia, the
Lord Alchemist himself said, "Ah. My brother's dramsmen, here to
change the clae and light fireplaces."

Kessa
was relieved. Then an open buggy clattered into view, carrying a man
in alchemist grays and his dark-haired servant.

Flatly,
Kymus said, "And my brother, here to supervise."

Why'd
I not bring my lockpicks?
Kessa wondered. There was a side exit
just a short dash away. Perhaps its key hung nearby?

At
least Kymus didn't seem pleased, or even neutral. He said, "We're
done here. Let's go."

Yes,
let's.
Kessa fell in beside Nicia, leaving the window open. She
would've smothered the fire if there'd been ashes enough.

Nicia,
either nervous or unconcerned, said, "It'll cost a fortune to
prepare enough Fervefax Stones to make this place livable."

"And
take half the winter besides," Kymus said over his shoulder.

"To
get the stones?" Kessa asked. "Or prepare them?"

"To
make them entirely," he said. "The stones themselves could
be quick-tested in a fire to find if they'd crack from the heat. For
that, Iasen could send his dramsmen gathering rocks along the roads
or fields."

"They'd
need fireplace tongs," Nicia said, "to remove the cracked
ones, and add new ones."

Kymus
said, "Yes, and the stones would have to cool before putting the
ingredients on and re-heating."

"That
takes a while, does it?" Kessa mused.

"Yes–
blight
." Kymus strode out the kitchen door, coat
billowing slightly.

Kessa
heard Iasen's voice, raised in indignant outrage. "–
is
your master, then? Does he mean to hide in there and make me talk to
his
servants
all day?"

Kymus'
reply carried well. "I didn't care to trip over anything in your
dark house, Iasen. You read my message, then?"

"Message?
What message? Iathor, what're you
doing
here?"

"Solving
your housing problem, as I wrote. Really, Iasen. I had it sent to
your office at the guildhall, and your cook knows I got the key from
him. Don't you
talk
to your dramsmen?"

Kessa
paused at the doorway. Nicia did, too, looking back at her.

Outside,
Iasen ignored the question. "What do you mean, solving my
problem? This is under control. It just needs more clae."

"Yes,
about
that clae . . . What
was
your
apprentice brewing?"

"I'll
find out when I can enter my own home without gagging!"

"That
may be soon, then. The problem has a solution. At worst, it's as
simple as waiting for summer. You could wait in Cym."

"I've
business here, Iathor. Besides, I'm not going back to Cym until
you've gotten over your mad fixation on that half-breed."

That
pause of Kymus' gave away truth, Kessa thought, despite his arch tone
after. "I'm not fixated on her. She's a quick study. Both my
students are.
They
discovered the remedy for the stench."

Nicia
nudged Kessa. "You thought of it, not me."

"Shh,"
Kessa hissed. "Your knowledge. My remembering and guessing."

Outside,
Iasen cried, "
They
? Iathor, you didn't bring that
barbarian!"

"
Half
-barbarian,"
Kessa muttered. Nicia giggled nervously.

Kymus'
reply was too soft to hear, till he called, "Nicia, Kessa. To
the carriage, please."

"Blight."
Kessa walked out, head down, shoulders straight, cloak wrapped around
herself. Nicia followed.

If
not for Jeck driving the carriage from the carriage house, it
might've been a silent courtyard indeed. With her gaze too far down
to see where everyone was, Kessa obediently went to the vehicle's
door and waited for Dayn to open it. Quietly, she said, "Sorry
about the smell. It should fade when we're warmer."

Nicia
also murmured apologies as they climbed in. Kessa peeked out the
window. The two brothers were within arm's length of each other, with
Brague a pace to the right and behind his master, Iasen's dark-haired
servant mirroring Brague, and the other dramsmen in an uncertain
cluster around their carriage.

The
elder Kymus cleared his throat. "Now. As to your house. The
smell is intensified by cold and flees heat, much like a smoking dud.
There's a fire in your sitting room by the basement, and it's
adequately livable. I suggest we talk there while your servants
change the clae and stoke the fires."

Iasen's
expression was dark, but he waved at his men. "You heard my
brother. Get to it."

There
was a mass surge for the house as the dramsmen rushed to obey. It
left Iathor with his men, the apparently-hired driver of the buggy,
and an abandoned carriage.

Iathor
gave the latter a disgusted look. He called over, "Dayn, if
you'd see to my brother's horse? And the hired one, if needed."

"Aye,
m'lord!" The carriage bounced as Dayn jumped down.

Iasen
growled something too low for Kessa to hear, and followed his older
brother inside. Brague followed both of them.

Kessa
hesitated, then gathered up her skirt and cloak and unlatched the
door.

"Where're
you going?" Nicia squeaked.

"To
listen at the window," Kessa whispered back. "It's
important!"

Nicia
followed, despite her uncertain tone. "Listening at windows is
important?"

"Yes."
Kessa glanced up through her hair at Jeck, on the driver's bench. He
looked down, then slouched back, pulling his hat brim nearly over his
eyes.

She
dismissed her gleeful sympathy with the elder Kymus' household as an
after-effect of the candle, and peered around the carriage as the
buggy's driver clucked and sent his horse towards the carriage house,
where a patch of sunlight would likely keep them warm enough.

Kessa
ran across the courtyard, threading through the ornamental garden's
dry remains, and flattened herself against the wall near the sitting
room's open window. Nicia followed, cloak catching on flower-stalks,
but with enough grace that they'd probably not been heard. The
shutters weren't fully open; like blinders on a horse, they kept
those within from seeing anything to the sides.

Inside,
Master Kymus was already on the offensive. "–sort of teacher
do you
claim
to be, Iasen? You've left a journeyman alone,
clearly with no notion of proper workroom procedure, and every
evidence he's making potions of dubious intent! He's flitted from
preparation to mixture, leaving ingredients to rot! I can't tell if
he's broken equipment, left it out, or been selling it on the sly."

"It's
my house, Iathor," the younger snapped in return. "If I
support his flights of brilliance, that's my business."

"And
about
that business! Are you supporting illicit aphrodisiacs
as well, Iasen? That list you gave me held neither your name nor his,
but when I find a candle in your house, it's a blighted
suggestive
one! If it's potent enough to tweak
my
nose, what's it doing
unmarked as dangerous?"

"You
lit
that? Iathor, I made it as an experiment, not for– for
influence
."

"And
if I searched your house, I'd find none others? Iasen, the missing
ingredients are primarily for aphrodisiacs and youth-potions! What is
your journeyman
making
?"

There
was a faint crunch near the corner of the house. Kessa ducked to look
under the half-open shutters. Booted feet. Red-brown trousers the
color of the city watch's uniform. The coat was a matching hue,
hanging low enough to conceal whatever tabard the man beyond might be
wearing. The dagger hilt peeking from one boot looked like a standard
guard's weapon, though.

Inside,
Iasen protested, "I don't know! Lairn wrote that he was on the
trail of a masterwork. You know how journeymen can be, worried
someone'll read their mail and steal their ideas."

Kessa
narrowed her eyes and tugged Nicia's coat hem. When the other girl
crouched down as well, Kessa touched her fingers to Nicia's lips and
pointed. Then shrugged, as Nicia glanced at her in alarm.

In
the room, Iathor said, "If he's conceived a masterwork involving
those
components, I want to speak with this Lairn Ronan. You
shall present him this afternoon."

"Ah . . ."

"Is
there a problem?" The stench in the room should've billowed out,
from the ice in the Guild Master's voice.

"Look,
you can't walk into
my house
and start ordering me around–"

"Master
Iasen, are you saying the matter of a journeyman's masterwork is
not
my business
?"

Kessa
was glad Kymus was being Lord Alchemist to someone
else
.

"I'm
saying I've plans this afternoon! You want me offending Earl Irilye?"

"When
can
you produce your student?"

"It
depends on his schedule, my schedule, your schedule–"

Crisply,
each syllable sharp as an icicle, Iathor said, "Where is he
staying now?"

Iasen
was silent a moment. "I don't know. Some rented place. He said
there was a misunderstanding. He needed to avoid some people till it
was straightened out."