Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (38 page)

"Did
you tell anyone about this, after you left? The maid? The cook?
Someone on the street?"

"He
dismissed the maid after she brought tea. I didn't tell anyone else."
It'd been arranged. She'd walked past the turn-off, where she'd have
stopped if the plan'd gone bad, and hadn't even seen Jontho. Darul'd
been unconscious enough; if he'd not wakened, even more important
to've taken Laita's name from the man's records.

"Do
you ever look at people?"

She
didn't tighten her hand again. Stress at full truth and relax at the
mixed? Too obvious. "I try not to, watchman."

"Why?"
That seemed both curiosity and mild frustration.

Kessa
almost showed him, but the conversation wasn't going as badly as
she'd feared. "People don't like my eyes. They're ugly."

"What
does your guild master think of them?"

For
that one, she could grip the handle till it creaked. "I don't
know." She glared too much at him; she feared he was developing
tolerances.

"Mm.
So, back to Darul's. See anyone waiting or watching, when you left?"

She
shook her head. "I don't look up at people much."

"I
see." He folded his arms. "And – just for mayhaps –
if you wanted to give someone a sleeping potion without them
noticing, in tea, say . . . How'd you do it, and not
sleep yourself?"

That
was worth a sigh. "Either one wouldn't actually drink one's own,
or one'd put it in the other cup." The original plan'd been to
leave the tea out and cold, with a pinch of clae in the pot to erase
the evidence. Kessa'd not trusted the mix; she'd poured it into a
chamberpot with a whole handful of clae.

"A
bit trickier when you're being pressured by someone who's immune,
though?"

The
basket creaked, and she realized it was her grasp. "What?"

"He's
planning to invite you to dinner. Did you know?"

She
knew Thioso was trying to start trouble, she did. "No. I've
other plans."

"Such
as?"

"Eating
alone. Brewing. Alone. Sleeping.
Alone.
"

He
chuckled. "You've heard those rumors, then."

Kessa
contemplated Thioso's boots, and the dagger peeking from one. "His
brother seems to believe them, and objects. I can't convince him
there's naught but rumor." And she could hope Thioso went
knocking on Iasen's front door now, rather than listening at windows
like a pair of young women.

"Hm."
Those boots – and their feet – moved so their owner
could lean on the brick building beside Kessa. Kessa turned to keep
them in sight, and his hands as well. Thioso said, "Yet you've
been profiting by these rumors?"

"Dragon's-gold,"
she said bitterly. To steal a mythic dragon's treasure only brought
the dragon later, and was never worth it. Food, teaching, attention
when she was crippled by her own body . . . Her secret
told to the Watch Commander and who knew else? She reined her temper
in. "I've not
asked
for it, and he's a hard man to say
'no' to."

"Not
even getting out of prison?"

Eyes
closed, throat tight, she rasped, "Not even that."

"Huh."
(She opened her eyes and saw him hitch his belt around a bit.) "Been
told what Darul had in his tea?"

"Some
kind of youth-brew. Dragon's-oil, Master Kymus said. And that Darul
owned lust-preparations."

"Any
thoughts on where he might've gotten them?"

"I
wish I did." Her voice's intensity wasn't masked as she'd have
liked.

"He
tried to use any on you?" Casual words, not accusing, not quite
sympathetic.

Kessa
snorted quietly. "He'd better taste. He asked . . .
different things of me. Not all legal. Mostly, I found the coin
instead."

"Convenient
to accuse him when he can't be questioned."

"Question
his other victims, then." That was too much an irked snarl.
Kessa took a steadying breath. Meek. Mild. Mouse.

"I'd
like to, but there's a page missing. Ever see it? It faced the page
your name was on."

Her
name at the bottom of one page. Laita's, one down from the top on the
facing page. The others an indistinct blur. "I don't remember
any other names from that page, watchman, if that's what you're
asking."

Thioso
was quiet, probably trying to taste the alchemy of lie and truth in
her answers. "What was the first letter of the name at the top
of the page?"

She
frowned in thought. "
L
, I think."

"Last
name?"

"Might've
been one. I don't recall."

The
watchman pushed himself off the wall, and stood with his thumbs
hooked in his belt. "If you remember, send me word. Direct, if
you would. Say hello to Sir Kymus for me at dinner?"

"I'll
give him your greetings," Kessa said, watching as Thioso turned.
"But I expect to be busy. Alone."

The
blighted watchman laughed as he walked off, and waved, his back to
her.

He
was headed up-town. Kessa hoped he meant to irritate some Kymus or
other.

Chapter
XXXIX

I
athor
wasn't
quite
late, leaving the guild offices. On his way, he
encountered Herbmaster Keli, and they walked to the guild's
coach-house together. The sun was low, taking its warmth with it. At
the midway point, when there were the fewest possible ears, Keli
commented, "If you keep leaving on time, everyone'll believe the
rumors, you know."

"I
don't
always
stay late."

"Of
course not. Sometimes you've everything brought to your house, and
most of it's done the next day, proving you've been overworking in
the comfort of your home. Is your brother moved out?"

"So
my staff says." He didn't stifle his satisfaction. "Thanks
to my students."

"Nicia
insists the cleverness was Kessa's."

Iathor
chuckled. "They work well together. Kessa hasn't Nicia's
grounding – but equally, doesn't know what's impossible, and
asks your daughter for advice. I'm glad they're studying together."

"Well,
the most innovative researchers always had . . . high
tolerances. Haven't they, Master Kymus?"

"Herbmaster–"
he began.

"Tch.
You've handed me ingredients that make only one recipe, and gossip's
easy to hear. I'm not gossiping myself. You know I'll favor anything
encouraging you to listen to herb-witch concerns."

"I
already do!"

"All
right, to
attend
to those concerns. That apprentice school,
perhaps, though it'll take half a decade to get enough masters
interested. Till then, the only way there'll be more respect for
herb-witches is if there's cross-training."

And
herb-witchery might become more respectable (or at least less
dismissible) if he married one. Which meant . . .
Herbmaster Keli was his ally? "I'm attempting to do my part."

"And
that's good! But I've no master alchemists asking me to suggest
part-time tutors for
their
apprentices."

Iathor
paused, stopping on the walkway. "Your workroom procedure is
excellent, as I recall."

She
stopped with him, hands on her hips. "I should hope so. Some
herb-preparations can be done with sloppy technique, but others are
as finicky as metal-salt alchemy. And I didn't marry an alchemist
without picking up
something
about the art."

"My
brother's home was rendered unlivable by a botched preparation. Iasen
claims the journeyman, Lairn Ronan, is an innovative genius. However,
from the state of Iasen's workroom . . . A sloppy and
irresponsible one." He smiled at Keli. "If my brother
cannot teach technique . . . Perhaps a tutor would be
appropriate?"

"Iasen'll
scream if you order that, Master Kymus."

"I've
already told him that if I find his student's bolt-hole first, he
loses the man's service entirely," Iathor said flatly. "Besides,
a genius should be given more traditions to work with. A grounding in
herb-witchery will allow him to attempt more experimental fusions."

"Mmmm."
Keli tilted her head. "All right. If the man's not a total loss,
I'll tutor him once he's found."

"He
may be," Iathor warned. "He's apparently in debt to various
people."

Keli
flipped a hand. "If he's potential, debts can be consolidated.
Perhaps he just needs firmer guidance."

Which
Iasen, running off to Cym all winter, hadn't provided. "We can
hope. Shall we go on? It's a bit chilly for street-side committees."

She
smiled and threaded her arm through his. "So it is. But really,
how else will we get anything done? You know how hard it is to do
business in an office."

"Thus,
I bring my work home occasionally."

She
laughed, let him open the carriage house's door for her, and kissed
him on the cheek. "Enjoy your on-time dinner, Iathor."

"Good
evening . . ." He eyed her and her cheerful,
tossed-off wave as she strode to her buggy.

Dayn
appeared at his elbow. "The carriage is ready, m'lord."

"My
thanks." Iathor followed his footman. "I hope
that
doesn't come back to haunt me."

"Herbmaster
Keli's well-known as too politically astute to nullify her vote by
becoming a dramswife," Dayn said, serene as a still pool.

"But
is she too dignified to enhance her vote by seeking something other?"
Iathor asked.

"Those
rumors are threadbare, m'lord."

As
he got in the carriage, he asked, "Will they be equally
uninteresting if Kessa hears them?"

Dayn
paused. "Possibly, m'lord."

"Not
reassuring."

"Apologies,
m'lord." But his footman smiled slightly.

It
lifted his heart to have dramsmen who could tease him despite his
grumbling. He had his own small smile as he waved a hand. "Ah,
let's be off."

"Yes,
m'lord." The door closed, carriage jouncing as Dayn took his
perch on the back.

Outside,
the light of the coach house's Incandescens Stones faded to the
darkness of the evening, with occasional lanterns or Incandescens
Stone lamps on buildings or other carriages. Their own horses'
harness had places for Stones to be affixed, but Jeck preferred
beasts who could be trained to pull the carriage for night patrol,
using the catseye ointment to see in the dark.

Inside
the compartment, against Iathor's feet, was a basket with bread and
stew from the
Smoking Flask. He would
invite
Kessa to
dinner, not coerce her. And while he'd explained his hopes in his
note to Loria, he'd underlined that the proposed guest might well
refuse.

During
the trip, he reviewed the possible ways the invitation could go wrong
and rehearsed calm, polite responses.

None
of which were suitable for stepping out of the carriage, with a dim
Incandescens Stone lantern uncovered, to see Kessa in her man's
clothing, hair tied back from her face, standing in the niche by her
door.

Iathor
stopped, close enough to see her shivering, and wondered how long
she'd waited. "Is something wrong?"

"I've
plans," she said, straining not to let her chattering teeth blur
the words. "Can't go to dinner with you."

"How–
no,
why
would he've told you?" The guard was more
literate than some, clearly, and Iathor was irked.

"See
how I'd jump. See if I'm full-guilty, and we're covering it up."
She stared at his collarbone. In the shadow he cast, her eyes were
merely oddly dark.

"Kessa . . ."
He abandoned his rehearsed words. "If I knew what you hid, I
could prepare a defense, a confession, a payment – and there'd
be no further secrets to threaten you."

"He'd
enough alchemical preparations of his own that mine was just bad
luck. You said . . ."

That
he'd protect her. "Yes. But it's harder this way, and will never
be done with."

She
closed her eyes and shook, silently.

"
Do
you have plans?"

Kessa
nodded. "There's . . . people I need to check on.
Who can't come to me."

"Tania
says you're feeding more than just yourself."

More
quiet shivering, her eyes closed.

Iathor
raised a hand to touch her cheek. She flinched away, eyes open and
wary in the shadows. He sighed and offered the basket from the Flask.
"It's not Tania's cooking, but it was never my intention to–
to lure you into a box with food, like a stray cat. And if you're
feeding someone else . . . Better an early dinner, I
suppose." He had a thought. "However."

She
watched him warily.

"However,
if you should appear upon my doorstep sometime before midnight . . .
I'm sure there'll be food still warm. So you needn't share the basket
equally."