A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (14 page)

CHAPTER 24

A chill rose up from the dark canals and the dank air turned to fine mist that swirled like white fingers around the legs. Marsh shivered in his tattered coat. He lifted the lantern he had taken with him from the hotel to examine the carvings on the sweaty walls of buildings as he walked. Venice had been a place of Warlocks for centuries. Within the flaking stonework rested a myriad of markers. They revealed the way to wherever the Council met, for those who knew how to look.

He came to a narrow footbridge that led to a doorway. A glyph rendered faint by centuries of rain was carved into the stone next to the door. In the flickering light of his lantern, the triangle with an eye in the topmost point was the marker he sought. Marsh placed his palm over the glyph and closed his eyes. There was a faint vibration in the air around him and with a sigh the door creaked open.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and stepped inside. The door shut behind him with the a gentle rumble. Before him, a steep staircase extended up to the rooms above. Marsh wasted no time in the narrow, damp hallway. At the top of the stairs he paused to gather himself.

“Enter.” A voice spoke from the room that lay just beyond the stairs.

Marsh closed his eyes and walked through the protective veil that shrouded the entrance. He had found the Brotherhood, The Order of Sacred Warlocks.

Conrad De Montague, the Grand Master of the Order of the Council of Warlocks, sat at a large round wooden table, with eleven other men. He beckoned to Marsh. “We are pleased that you could join us. Please do come in.” De Montague spoke in a soft, cultured voice that was almost too melodic.

The other Warlocks turned to look at Marsh. They were all dressed in black ceremonial cloaks with deep hoods. Each cloak had an elaborately wrought clasp of silver at the throat.

Marsh felt a frisson of power flow through him, and the torches against the wall flickered in reply. The Warlock masters of the thirteen dioceses that made up the civilized world were assembled. It had been many years since a full Council had sat. Warlocks were solitary creatures. Longevity and the quest for power made them wary of one another. The Council was one of grudging cooperation borne of necessity, but none of its members particularly enjoyed their place on it.

“Gentlemen. My apologies for being late. We ran into trouble on the way.” Marsh walked over to the Grand Master, bowed and rested his forehead against his leader’s hand. It was a ceremonial gesture, but one that carried a very real message. Nothing other than complete obedience would be tolerated.

“So it would seem, Master Warlock.” The Grand Master eyed Marsh’s torn coat. “And our Cybele, how does she fare?”

“Miss Chance is safe and resting. I have made sure that the she is well guarded at the hotel.”

“That is good news. Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable. This is not an inquisition, you know.”

Marsh pressed his lips together and sat down. “You will forgive my appearance. I thought it better that I attend without delay.”

“Do not worry about that, Greychester. We are glad to see that you are alive,” said the Grand Master. “Now, please, tell us what news you bring.”

Marsh did not answer immediately. He would have to lay the groundwork carefully. “My brothers, as you all might be aware by now, Eustace Abercrombie has found the carmot we liberated from the abbey a few months ago. He managed to intercept the box in Paris. I’ve had my men looking for him, but the trail has gone cold.”

“And the key, it is safe? He has not succeeded in opening the box?” asked Master Obanwedya, his African-honey voice grave. He wore colorful robes of red and ochre under his cloak, signifying that he was a medicine man of his people.

“Yes. The key is with our new Cybele,” Marsh said.

The Grand Master stroked his neat beard. His eyes were hard and black, like river pebbles. “It was a daring risk to take, pairing the key up with a creature so valuable and so vulnerable.”

Marsh shook his head. “It was not what we had intended. My man, Patrice, made a slight error in judgment in that respect.”

“The butterfly has not broken from its slumber, then? She has not ascended to being Pythia yet?” The Grand Master raised a shaggy eyebrow at him.

“No, she has not. I have also not yet managed to succeed in fully explaining to her the importance of who she is. She remains distracted by the mystery of the carmot and the disappearance of her father.”

“But those are separate issues. We must not allow ourselves to become distracted by the Alchemists.” The Grand Master paused. “But I sense some unease within you, Brother. What news do you bring?”

“As I said in my dispatch report, I am almost certain that Abercrombie thinks Professor Chance will be able to devise a plan to use the carmot. I don’t know how they will manage it, but as long as they believe that they can do this, he will remain alive. My only concern is that no one knows what dark chores the Alchemists might dream up for someone with the professor’s skills while he remains in their custody.”

“But our Cybele and the key are here, in Venice, with you?” This time Master Chen spoke. “That seems like a big risk to take.”

“I said, they are safe and under my protection,” Marsh snapped. Of all his brothers, he disliked Chen the most. He was a greedy little man who made his money from selling opium. Marsh had little patience for men who brought such misery on the world.

“Gentlemen, please,” the Grand Master said.

“There is another problem.” Marsh rested his elbows on the table and looked at the assembly. “Miss Chance does not believe that she is the next Oracle. In fact, she remains completely resistant to the very thought of it.”

They all started speaking at once.

“Silence!” the Grand Master said. He leaned over the table and fixed his gaze on Marsh. “Do you mean to tell us that the new Oracle that has arisen is unwilling to heed the call? This is Vivienne’s daughter, is it not?”

Marsh nodded. “She is Vivienne’s daughter undoubtedly.”

“And she understands her importance?”

Marsh sighed. “I’ve tried to speak to her, but she refuses to listen. There is a lot of pain surrounding her mother’s death. She has no faith in the Order. She blames us for what happened to her mother.”

Another murmur of uncertainty rose up from the other Warlocks. They looked at one another, all speaking at once and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“But does she show her power?” Master Chen asked. His greedy little eyes twinkled.

“She dream-walks the Shadow realm and she sees the scry-spells the Alchemists cast, but she refuses to allow her mind to embrace the gift. She has buried these matters deeply within. It is going to take time and patience to coax them out.”

“And what do you propose to do about the matter, Master Warlock?” The Grand Master spoke.

Marsh sighed. “I believe that she may be convinced with a little perseverance. But we cannot rule out the possibility that this one may never heed the call and that we may have to wait another generation for the Oracle to arise and take her place.”

There was another outburst as all the Warlocks started speaking at once.

“I said, silence!” the Grand Master bellowed. They turned to look at him.

“We cannot allow a Cybele to roam free unguarded and untrained. You know how many there are that would wish to use her? And besides, hers is the sacred bloodline. Even if we waited for another generation, we may not have another woman who bears the gift. I also doubt we can wait that long, given the state of the core of Shadow.” Master Lewis was grave as he spoke. Marsh had not seen the American for many years, not since the War of Independence more than a century before.

“This Cybele is different from those who came before her. She has a mind of her own,” Marsh said. “I don’t think she will relent without a fight.”

“Then we will have to make her yield,” said the Grand Master. “This is not that unusual. The ancients used to do it all the time.”

Everyone went silent.

“Surely you cannot be serious,?” Marsh said.

The Grand Master looked at him and his eyes grew even colder. “Do I detect an emotional attachment to this woman? You do remember the rules, don’t you?”

Marsh met his gaze with cool resolve. “I remember them well. But dragging off a girl against her will is barbaric.”

“How dare you show such disrespect to our Grand Master,” said Master Chen. He hit the table with his chubby fist without much effect.

Marsh rose slightly from his seat, ready to confront Chen.

“Gentlemen. Please,” the Grand Master spoke, waving his hand. “Let us not quarrel. These are trying times and this is not the time to be divided.”

The other Warlocks grew silent again.

“Perhaps we should start at the beginning. Please tell us what happened. Why do you attend our Council dressed in rags?”

They listened in silence as Marsh told them of the pirates and their escape. Most of them grew interested when he told the part about how he and Elle had stopped the pirates.

“It has been many years since any of us has used that much power at once,” the Grand Master said.

“It was necessary,.” Marsh said. He noticed that the other Warlocks were staring at him with open envy.

“Tell me, how was it?” The Grand Master’s eyes were also lit up with desire. “It has been so long since any of us has touched the core.”

“I struggled to draw from it. Having Elle—I mean, the Cybele—with me made it possible. I was amazed at her ability to channel the magic. I think she saved our lives.”

The Grand Master sighed. “It is true, then. The Oracle will once again show us the way. We have been without one for so long. That old hag who has been pretending to hold the universe together since Vivienne died has been nothing short of useless.”

“The old hag of whom you speak has devoted her life to service of this Order. It is not her fault that her powers were weak or that she was unable to perform the miracles you require. The world is still standing. e are all still here, are we not?” Marsh felt his voice rise. He was getting angry and this was not necessarily the best way to address the Council. He forced himself to calm down as he listened to murmurs of agreement around the table.

“Forgive me,” the Grand Master apologized. “I spoke in haste. But even you have to admit that without this a new Oracle we will continue to grow weaker, until there is nothing left of what we once were. We will lose our authority over those who stem from the Shadow. The wall that divides Light from Shadow will collapse, and we will be plunged into a new Dark Age of chaos and anarchy.”

I’m afraid that convincing Miss Chance is simply not going to be that easy,” Marsh said softly.

“If you’ll excuse me for butting in, I think it is even more important than ever that she be shown the way so she may help us,” said Master Lewis.

“I agree that the need for an Oracle is grave, but Elle is different. She’s like no woman I’ve ever met before. I do not think she will agree to this unless she fully believes in our cause. And taking her against her will would only make her more obstinate. In fact, I believe that it would kill her,” Marsh said.

“So what would it take to make her agree?” said Master Chen. “Money? Jewels and furs?”

“Time.” Marsh flexed his jaw. “Right now, all she knows is that her father has been abducted by villains and she will not rest until he is safe.”

“Of course, the matter of the Alchemists,” said the Grand Master. “So what do you propose we do?”

Marsh was suddenly reminded of why he hated attending these Council meetings so much. “Well, I was hoping you could tell me.”

The Grand Master’s eyes narrowed in thought. “And you truly believe that we may be able to persuade this young lady to join us in service if we save her father, return him to her for her?”

Marsh nodded. “I believe we might, yes. If she sees that the work we do is for good, then maybe she will be persuaded to change her mind.”

“Hmm, maybe,” said the Grand Master. “But I don’t think the Alchemists are going to succeed in whatever this new plan is. The Nightwalker elders will not allow their vassals to grow too powerful. They will step in to stop this before it’s too late. So I do not believe that there is a need for us to interfere. And I think I speak for everyone here when I say that this Council has no desire to provoke a war with the Nightwalkers.”

“But that is ridiculous,” Marsh said. “The fate of the world depends upon it.”

The Grand Master shrugged. “Welcome to the world of politics, my son.” He folded his hands. “I think that the only way is to follow the tried and tested ways of our Order. Whether she cooperates or not is largely irrelevant. Bring us the girl so we may train her. Once she has been made to see her destiny and once she has helped us to grow strong, then we can think about fighting battles such as the one you are currently proposing. Who votes in favor of such a motion?”

There were murmurs of agreement around the table. Marsh went cold. The Grand Master’s plan involved the ancient practice of dragging a young woman off to a cave and keeping her there until she relented and embraced her power. In truth, most never left the caves, living out their lives chained up in the damp darkness—a terrible fate if there ever was one. He felt a deep cold anger rise within him. “We will not do this!” He slammed his fist on the table. This time the wood did reverberate. “I have given this woman my word. We must take up arms and stop the Alchemists before they unleash whatever power they are planning to summon. With the carmot in their possession, they have every chance of succeeding. Do you not see that?”

“My dear boy, if we start a war with the Alchemists—or anyone else, for that matter—the fact that we have no power to speak of would be exposed. We would be ruined. We simply cannot risk being discovered. But with a new Cybele in our midst we would be invincible again. And we’ll have time to do things our way. She is still young,” the Grand Master said.

Heads were bobbing up and down around the table in agreement.

“Your Cybele’s father is going to have to be collateral damage in the process, I’m afraid. Besides, the Chance family should be used to making sacrifices by now. They are the authors of their own fate. It is what happens when one interferes with the natural order of things.” The Grand Master’s hard eyes glittered as he spoke.