The Alchemists Academy: Stones to Ashes Book 1 (5 page)

Chapter 6

M
s. Lake led the three of them to another of the tree’s seemingly infinite number of rooms, this one lined, against all expectations, with solid stone blocks. Beyond that, it didn’t have much in the way of decoration, unless you counted the thickly chalked circle in the middle of the floor.

“Right,” Ms. Lake said, “time for a quick lesson in scurrying for lost objects. We’ll try crystals first, I think.” She reached into a pouch on her belt, taking out both a map and a crystal necklace. She spread the map out on the floor, carefully ensuring that there were no creases in it.

“How does this work, Ms. Lake?” Alana asked, from where she stood on the other side of the circle. The teacher held up the crystal.

“It should be very simple really. You just concentrate on the image of what you want to find, let the crystal swing freely, and try to make a connection to the rest of the universe.”

“How do you do that?” Wirt asked. It sounded a bit vague. “And what does this cup we’re looking for look like?”

Ms. Lake bit her lip. “That is potentially a problem. You see, it is inclined to change form. One minute, it is a golden chalice, the next, a big iron cauldron. It could even be as small as a teacup. You see, most of the magical artifacts we house here at the Academy have a life of its own. Part of it is for their own protection. Camouflage, as you will.”

“You seem to know a lot about the chalice, Ms. Lake.” Wirt didn’t mean that to sound like a challenge, but it did seem interesting that she would speak about the object like it had feelings.

“Wondering if I took it, Wirt?”

“Of course he was not,” Spencer said, but Ms. Lake shook her head.

“Let Wirt speak please, Spencer.”

Wirt found then that three people giving him their full attention was not terribly comfortable. Particularly not since Ms. Lake’s eyes seemed to be doing that stormy thing again.

“Um…” he thought about lying, but somehow, here and now, Wirt got the feeling that Ms. Lake would know about it. “A bit. I mean, I know you’ve been kind to me, and I don’t think you’d steal something just for the sake of it, but you might have a good reason to want to take it.”

Ms. Lake sigh. “It is an honest answer, at least, and a reasonable one too. No, Spencer, Alana, Wirt is right to be worried. For all he knows, I
might
have taken the chalice.” She looked Wirt squarely in the eye. “I give you my word that I did not take it. Is that good enough, Wirt?”

Wirt couldn’t do anything but nod. Besides, he found that he wanted to believe Ms. Lake, even though people kept letting him down.

Ms. Lake sigh. “Unfortunately, I suspect other people will think the same. After all, I
am
responsible for looking after many of the objects around here. I collect them, protect them… occasionally lend them out. I’ve been on the most dangerous quests when I was younger, looking for some of these magical artifacts. In the wrong hands…” She looked wistful for a moment. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Scurrying for the chalice,” Wirt reminded her. Ms. Lake nodded.

“You can go first then, Wirt.” She passed him the crystal. “Now, just hold it over the map and concentrate on the cup, or cauldron, or… well, you get the idea.”

Wirt did, but even so, it was uncomfortable. Coming here had been more or less an accident. Flying around in the transport tubes was just using something that already existed. Even the alchemy class had been little more than a particularly explosive chemistry lesson. This would be the first time that he had actually
tried
to do magic. It was more than a little daunting.

Even so, he did his best. He let the crystal hang over the map and tried to concentrate on the image of a golden chalice sparkling with diamonds. It was not easy, not least because the image of a chipped old teacup kept springing to mind. Still, with an almost complete lack of hurry, the crystal began to swing in slow circles. It kept doing it for a minute or so, without any obvious change in the swing.

“Nothing seems to be happening,” Wirt said, and Ms. Lake cocked her head to one side.

“It doesn’t, does it? Let the others try for a minute, Wirt. Let’s see if it will work for them.”

It didn’t. The crystal swung round just as aimlessly for Alana and Spencer as it had for him. Ms. Lake gave it a go too, screwing her features up in concentration until finally the crystal flew from her grip, whizzing past Wirt’s nose to embed itself in the wall.

“Perhaps we should try a different method,” Alana suggested, and Wirt found himself nodding dumbly. That crystal had been very close.

They tried not one different method, but half a dozen. They tried pyromancy, where fire was supposed to leave only the portion of the map with the chalice unburned, but actually left Ms. Lake scrambling to cast a water spell. They tried casting runes, but they went up in the air and didn’t come down again. They tried staring into bowls of water, looking into candle flames and scratching random designs onto paper, but none of it worked. They even, at Spencer’s suggestion, tried something complicated involving numerology, but the answer of ten and a lot of numbers after the decimal point didn’t make a great deal of sense.

“I suppose,” Ms. Lake said eventually, “that now I should have you doing all the more unpleasant ways of getting answers. Reading entrails, summoning spirits, that kind of thing. I am sure Ender would have had you doing it at the start. The trouble is, that kind of thing is so…” Wirt had the feeling that she was looking for a word other than
evil
 “…messy. Besides, it probably would not work. Either the cup is messing things up, or someone has disguised its location.”

Wirt sat down on the stone floor, because it had been an exhausting hour or so.

“Are there any other options?” he asked.

“Well,” Ms. Lake said, “I suppose if we were to use an item that was quite powerful in its own right, we might get
something
.”

Wirt found himself thinking of Priscilla then, and specifically of the dress she had chosen to wear today. Alana obviously had the same thought, because she caught Wirt’s eye.

“Would a magic mirror work?” They asked it at almost the same moment, creating a rather odd effect. Ms. Lake considered it.

“Possibly, though if you are thinking of the one Priscilla has, there are a couple of small difficulties. I cannot go, because that would look like me letting her join a Quest, and you boys can’t just go wandering around the girls’ rooms unsupervised. I suppose Alana could go alone…”

“Or,” Alana suggested, “I could just happen to invite my friends Spencer and Wirt to our room, and you, Ms. Lake, could be there as a chaperone.”

Wirt liked that idea. Particularly the part where Alana referred to him as her friend.

Ms. Lake made a thoughtful sound. “I suppose that might work. Come on then.”

Another whirlwind fast trip followed, leaving the four of them on a landing that looked a lot like the one that led to Wirt and Spencer’s room. Alana led the way to one of the doors, pushing it open.

It showed, as well. It was clearly a room of two halves. One half was, if not neat, then at least only normally messy, with schoolbooks mixed up with some modern-looking clothes and a few personal possessions. A leather-bound diary stood at one end of a bookshelf crammed with a mixture of new and ancient looking books, while a picture of two smiling parents sat by that half’s bed.

The other half looked like it had been hit by a whirlwind. One that had previously stopped off at a dressmaker’s shop. Shoes lay scattered on the floor, while broadsheets promising such delights as “Beauty Meets the Beast: The Inside Scoop on Earl Billan’s Masked Ball” competed for space on the bed with more soft toys than Wirt had ever seen in one place. A small cabinet boasted a mirror, a makeup bag large enough that it should probably have been called a makeup sack, and yet more teddy bears.

Priscilla sat on the edge of the bed, apparently unconcerned by the chaos around her. She looked up with a smile as they entered.

“Does this mean I get to help?” she asked. Ms. Lake held up her hands.

“Don’t ask me, Priscilla. Strictly speaking, I’m not even here.”

Priscilla’s brow creased. “But you’re standing right there.”

Alana sat on the bed, putting an arm around Priscilla’s shoulders and explaining the difference between what was really happening and what was
officially
happening quite slowly. Since it seemed to be taking a while, Wirt stepped over to the cabinet mirror, deciding that it would be better if they just take action. Spencer joined him.

“So,” Wirt said, “do you have any idea how to work one of these things?”

Spencer shook his head. The cabinet mirror’s stand was an ornate glittery confection of gold and silver. The oval of glass looked utterly plain compared to everything that surrounded it. “Priscilla,” Spencer asked, “how do we make your mirror work?”

Priscilla looked to her roommate. “If they’re not really here, am I supposed to answer?”

“Yes, Priscilla.”

“
Priscilla
.” Alana’s voice held a note that made it clear to Wirt exactly who would be giving the orders once the princess needed an advisor.

“Oh. Um… you just say a rhyme. It has to start with “mirror, mirror” though. And it helps if it’s relevant to what you want.”

Spencer looked to Wirt.

“Are you any good with rhymes? I can’t think of anything.”

Wirt tried to think. “How about “Mirror mirror… standing up, tell us where to find the cup”? Do you think that will work?”

“Well,” the voice from the mirror sounded female, middle aged, and rather sharp. It matched the gray-haired, beak nosed head that appeared in it, “it is hardly Keats, but I suppose it will have to do. Now, are you sure you don’t want me to give you some fashion tips? You might not be the fairest of them all now, but I am sure I could soon have the girls throwing themselves at you. Just look at what I’ve done for the princess.”

Wirt looked. Specifically, he looked at the mess of overblown, rather flowery dresses. “No, thanks. I just need to find a chalice that was stolen earlier today.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” there was a pause, and the Head spun round once or twice. “Now that’s odd,” it said. “I know it is here somewhere. Close by, I mean. I just can’t seem to find quite where. Sorry.”

“No,” Wirt said, “you’ve been very helpful.” He looked to Ms. Lake, who nodded.

“We should go,” the teacher said. Wirt turned to leave, doing his best to ignore the mirror as it called after him. Just what they needed. A silly old mirror for a silly princess. King Wilford’s kingdom is definitely in trouble if Princess Priscilla and her fool of a brother ever get to rule it. No wonder they needed advisers. They were like caricatures out of a fairy tale book, unlike Alana who seem real like him.

“At least let me do something about those
shoes
.”

Chapter 7

I
t seemed that taking part in a Quest did not mean that normal lessons stopped, which struck Wirt as unfair.

Currently, Wirt found himself sitting in a class on transmutation taught by Ms. Genovia, a rather burly woman in her fifties, who looked to Wirt a little like the kind of PE teacher who stamped round muddy fields shouting at people. At least, most of her did. Years of turning into things had left Ms. Genovia with hints of features that didn’t quite fit, from one ear whose tip was tufted like a lynx’s, to a small patch of scales just over her left cheek. Spencer and Alana, who both sat on the other side of the class with apparently rapt attention, had warned Wirt not to stare, but he found he couldn’t help it.

“Now, some people,” and there Ms. Genovia gave the door to her classroom a withering glare, because it happened to be just across the hall from that of Ms. Preville, “seem to believe that glamours, illusions and doing things to hide people’s faces are better ways of assuming a different form. I ask you this though: what use is it to look like a bird if you cannot fly? What use is it to look like your enemy when you cannot fit into his armor because it is too big?”

“No, the answer is a genuine transformation. Not only can it create real, physical effects, but with the right knowledge of the human body it can also heal. Why, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had bits chopped off over the years, and it’s never done me any lasting harm!”

Ms. Genovia said it in the same hearty tone that another teacher might have used to talk about getting a hockey stick across the shins.

“Oh, and it is jolly useful for turning your enemies into things too. You boy!” she pointed at Wirt. “I saw you staring. I need a volunteer. To the front of the class with you.”

Wirt was sure that the word “volunteer” usually involved some element of choice. Not here, apparently. He trudged out to the front of the class with some trepidation. Ms. Genovia looked him up and down.

“At least there is plenty of room for improvement, I suppose.” She said a few words in a language Wirt did not understand, at the same time tangling her fingers together. Wirt felt tingling spread over his body, and opened his mouth to ask exactly what was happening.

It came out as a croak.

Come to think of it, Ms. Genovia suddenly seemed a
lot
bigger than she had, and Wirt wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Everyone, not to mention the classroom was bigger. Wirt raised a hand in front of his face to look at it, and found a very webbed, very damp, and above all very
green
foot.

“Frogs have always been a favorite of mine,” Ms. Genovia boomed, somewhere overhead. “When you’re faced with someone completely annoying, there’s nothing quite so stress-relieving as turning them into something suitably amphibian, and then having a good stomp around in your biggest boots.”

She stomped once for emphasis. Wirt found himself looking around for a table to hop under. Ms. Genovia, apparently sensing his discomfort, said a few more words in that strange language and turned him back full-sized. Wirt practically ran for his seat.

“Now, apparently, some people,” another glance at the door, “think that all this is rather dangerous, so I have to give you some warnings before we start. Load of nonsense if you ask me. First, this spell comes in two varieties… temporary, and permanent. Permanent is better if you’re changing into people, because there’s no chance of it wearing off at an embarrassing moment, but don’t use it to turn yourself into anything that can’t speak unless you plan on spending the next few years looking for a princess to kiss it better. Second, if you stay too long, or you don’t say the spell quite right, you can end up with… mementoes.”

Wirt joined the whole class in taking another look at the traces of animal dotted around Ms. Genovia.

“Finally, apparently some kingdoms still don’t like it very much if you go around turning people into things. They think that transmutation should only be used for healing, for some reason. All very silly, if you ask me.”

The rest of the class period passed in a kind of stunned haze for Wirt. He couldn’t make up his mind though whether it was an after-effect of being transformed, or simply the natural result of being around someone quite as loud as Ms. Genovia for any length of time. They practiced the words and gestures for the spell separately, and then at once, with Ms. Genovia turning back a few of the less successful efforts. Wirt found himself warming to it. Indeed, by the time the class came to a close, he’d managed to turn himself into Spencer, Ender Paine, and a version of himself about a foot taller and with rippling muscles. He was almost disappointed when he had to turn back from that one, particularly since he saw Alana give him a thoughtful look.

He and Spencer returned to their room, where Wirt was surprised to find a package waiting at the door, wrapped up in brown paper and addressed to him. Opening it once they were inside revealed a box made from dark wood, with a note pinned to the lid that said,
Thought you might be needing some spare clothes, if you”re going to be here much longer. Ms. L.

“Wow,” Spencer said, “a wardrobe.”

“No,” Wirt replied, “it’s just a box.”

“Just a box? That box will give you anything you need to wear. Anything. Go on, try it. All you have to do is ask for what you want. Ask for something.”

Much like those times when someone tells you to “say something”, Wirt found his mind going completely blank.

“Like what?”

“Why don’t you start by getting it to copy what you’re wearing now?” Spencer suggested. Wirt nodded.

“Box, give me a copy of what I’m wearing now.” He thought for a moment. “And an expensive diamond ring.”

He opened the box. The clothes were there, from the gray hoodie to the jeans. The diamond ring was not.

“I guess it doesn’t provide valuables, then,” Spencer said. “Nice try though. That’s an impressive thing for Ms. Lake to just give you.”

“I suppose she thinks that I’ll need it,” Wirt said, though truthfully, he was thinking much the same thing. People didn’t give you things like this without wanting something in return. He wondered what it would be. For now, he changed into his new clothes, all too aware of how grubby the originals had become.

“We should be getting to Ms. Preville’s class next,” Spencer said, “if you’re ready.”

Wirt was, so they took the tubes back to the hall where Ms. Genovia’s classroom sat. If Wirt had expected the classroom opposite to be identical, he was disappointed. Though disappointed probably was not the right word, because the classroom was spectacular. Beams of light sparkled round walls lined with crystal, images of great beasts flashed across the floor, sparkling clouds of dewdrops spun rainbows in the rafters, and flowers opened in a small meadow towards the back. Wirt came to a quick conclusion.

“This isn’t real,” he said aloud. That was greeted by the sound of clapping.

“Oh, well done. People don’t usually guess so quickly.”

The images faded, leaving a perfectly ordinary- or at least ordinary for inside a giant tree- classroom. Ms. Preville stood in the middle of it, wearing a dress that, if anything, eclipsed the one she had worn before. It seemed to be woven entirely from spider-silk, and living flowers decorated it here and there. The rest of the class was filled with students, including Alana, who seemed to be happily asleep.

“While we were waiting,” and the admonishment there was so slight that Wirt barely caught it, “the class and I have been exploring using dream glamours. Still, since you seem to have such a good grasp of what is and isn’t real, we will skip that for now, shall we? Off to your seats, boys.”

Wirt and Spencer hurried to their seats, and Ms. Preville snapped her fingers. Almost instantly, people started to wake up.

“Glamour,” Ms. Preville said, and Wirt couldn’t help noticing the way her voice carried strangely musical notes with it, “is the art of making people see, or hear, what you want. It is closely linked to charms, and other forms of mental control. For now though, we will be focusing on its use in illusion.”

Ms. Preville smiled, and suddenly Ms. Genovia was standing in her place.

“Now then, you ninnies!” she bellowed, but then did the one thing that the large woman would almost never have done, and broke into a fit of giggles. Ms. Preville let the illusion fall. “Sorry, I shouldn’t make fun of her so. It’s just that dear Gertrude does
insist
on doing things the dangerous way, when there are so many easier options available.”

It seemed that the lack of respect was mutual then. Wirt pushed that from his mind and tried to concentrate as Ms. Preville taught. He found that he didn’t have quite the flair for it that he’d had for transmutation, creating images that were weak and sketchy.

            “You just have to capture the image better,” Ms. Preville said. “Concentrate, Wirt. If you believe something is real, if you can make others believe it, then it
is
real.”

Alana seemed to get the hang of things rather more quickly. Not only did she make herself look like half a dozen different people in turn, she also projected images of people and objects into thin air that seemed real enough to touch.

“Now then, class,” Ms. Preville said at last. “I have a little assignment for you. Well, technically it is Ms. Genovia’s assignment too, but I just know that you’ll all want to do things the easy way, won’t you? Still, I mustn’t be cruel. Now, I…sorry,
we
, would like you all to try impersonate someone around the school. Wizards often have to travel in disguise. You can use
whatever
method you think best.” That was in the tone of someone perfectly confident about the method that would be used. “And we will see how well you have done the next time we have a class. One slight word of warning. Please be careful about whom you choose, and what you choose to do while you pretend. Not all of the staff quite get into the spirit of the game, you see. The Head, in particular, can be quite…pointed about people impersonating him, and then there’s Gertrude with that frog spell of hers, and Mr. Fowler isn’t happy about people going in his lab...”

Ms. Preville paused to think.

“…in fact, it might be best if you just stuck to your friends. Or me. I always like seeing lots of me around. So long as it is well done, obviously. Oh well, have fun, children.”