Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (10 page)

"You're
on the run?" Tag asked, patting her forearm awkwardly. "Need
to get out of Aeston?"

She
dropped her head into her hands. "Not yet. But . . .
Earth and Rain, he
proposed
when he found I was immune."

"Did
you say yes?" Laita asked.

"
What
?"
Kessa stared; her sister was too amused to do more than draw in
breath at the unguarded glance. "You can't be serious. I was in
a prison cell! He
dosed
me! Why would I
agree
?"

"He's
giving you food? He's rich? Is he respectful?" Laita still
sounded amused. Tag had his head in his hands, snickering.

"He's
high-handed and annoying. He dosed me with alchemy! And I couldn't
make dry tea so cheaply," she finished, folding her arms.

"Kessa!
As if that were the only reason I worried about you!" Laita put
her hands on her hips.

Jontho,
behind Kessa, seemed to be choking quietly. She reached back without
looking and swatted his leg. He swallowed the laughter. "So if
you don't want to vanish, nor marry him, what
do
you need?"

Kessa
dug copper flowers and trees out of her purse and passed them to Tag
first. "Darul Reus, blight his soul and salt what's left,
had . . . potions of his own. Some kind of
youth-potion, for one, and . . ." She glanced at
Laita miserably. ". . . lust potions. My Guild
Master wants the alchemist who gave Darul the other half of his
blighting. Till that one's found, though, I'm the only ingredient he
knows and he's turning up underfoot."

Tag
passed some coins to Jontho. "You want us finding this other
alchemist? Y'don't ask for much, Kess."

"I'll
give you what further coin I can. Especially if the blighted Lord
Alchemist keeps feeding me." She grimaced, already feeling more
debt to the man. "Second . . . I want the
ingredients to
Kymus
. It's not a normal man who proposes in a
prison cell, in the dark, after dosing someone with Earth and Rain
know what, when he's her guild's master and she but an ugly
journeyman. I need to know if I
should
run, or if there's some
hold I can get on
him
." Some way to face him as an equal,
or at least take him down if he tried to break her. Something stable
beneath her feet, instead of mist and sand.

"We'd
do that for free, Kessa," Laita said, and neither brother
disputed it.

"Well,
I don't want that. Tag's got to feed his roof-rats, after all."

"They
can mostly feed themselves," Tag said, though not so sure of it
as Kessa wanted to hear. A firmer note of pride crept into his voice
as he added, "They're not so good as Jontho, nor Burk before he
grew, but they're getting better."

"Good,"
Kessa said. "For I'll need one to carry messages, who'd go
unnoticed by the Guild Master. So far, he's come morning and evening,
and a threat of morning tomorrow."

"Sounds
a plan," Tag said, with Jontho's quiet
aye
following.

"And
if he's got no dark secrets?" Laita asked.

"Laita,
it's insane. Why would he propose to a half-breed, just because I'm
immune like he is? He must not've seen me clearly in the cell. Mayhap
he's thought better by now." Though why would he keep feeding
her?

"Perhaps
it's more rare than we realized," Laita said.

"How
can it be rare?
I
have it. I'm no purebred noble or
alchemist's daughter."

"You
don't
know
that, Kessa."

"I'm
no noble's girl!"

"All
right, but even the barbarians have a form of herb-witchery –
isn't that what Maila said?"

Kessa
sighed. The Shadow alchemist'd been annoyed when Kessa was as
rejected by traveling barbarians as by cityfolk. "If my sire'd
been an herb-witch, he'd have been drinking men's tea and I'd not
exist." Or else he'd a blighted soul that didn't care, and its
barren dirt had come out in her eyes.

Laita
sighed back, exasperated. "You're so
stubborn
, Kessa. Be
sensible. Why else would a Guild Master propose after realizing you
weren't reacting normally? What if it's 'alchemist's immunity'
because they snap up anyone who has it, for it's too rare to waste?"

Kessa
waved a hand irritably. Tag offered a rescue: "Best to find what
the man truly intends before sending Burk or Jontho to betroth
anyone."

"You're
both impossible." Laita pouted prettily.

"And
you need to rest," Jontho told her. "Kessa, want someone to
walk you home?"

"If
Tag could go half-way . . ."

"'Course
I can!" Tag acted mock-wounded. "Don't get to see you much,
with you moving uptown."

Mayhap
she should never've walked into Master Rom's office, with forged
papers and desperate dreams. Perhaps she'd have been better off in
the Shadow Guild, making whatever potions brought her coin – a
veiled queen in charcoal robes.

To
match a king in alchemist gray?

"I
miss all of you. I wish you could visit more." She wanted to
say,
When all this is over
, but wasn't sure it would be.

At
least she could talk with her family, in the flicker of a rushlight
and the warmth of coals in a brazier, just a little longer before
braving the chill. It was good to visit home.

Chapter
X

T
he
morning, for reasons Iathor was trying not to dwell upon, hadn't
started well. He'd been briefly pleased with Master Rom's plan to
find and capture the extortionists Kessa'd mentioned. They'd agreed
Herbsman Chiftia should be questioned about a certain former
apprentice.

But
now Iathor held a ledger book – one of Darul Reus' –
with moderately neat writing, and saw how the names jumped in their
alphabetical sorting. When he looked closely, he could see the page
between'd been cut away with a sharp blade, close to the spine.

Master
Rom said, to Iathor's incoherent hiss of irritation, "Well,
better to find it now, eh?"

Iathor
set the book on Rom's desk before he could throw it in a childish
display of little sleep and scant breakfast. "Yes, of course. I
take it no
other
names sprang out? No known alchemists?"

"Only
our poor half-breed girl." Rom picked up the book and flipped it
back open deftly, despite his large hands. "Several
possibilities, though. Plausible names."

"Yes,
of course." Iathor couldn't suppress his indignation at the
world, as he turned to leave Rom's sturdily-furnished office. "We've
enough slightly incriminating names to keep us busy for months!"

Master
Rom set the book down. "Well, that's what apprentices and
journeymen are for. Running errands. You'll want a copy of the
results, aye?"

"Yes,
yes." He led the way downstairs; Dayn was asleep in a chair,
despite his best efforts. Rom's secretary quietly spoke to . . .
"Kessa! What're
you
doing here?" Iathor demanded.
"Do you know about the missing page?"

The
herb-witch didn't flinch, at least, though she clutched at her cloak.
"What missing page, Master Kymus?" she asked, as if she
were as much impressed with his status as Nicia.

"The
one in that wretched Darul Reus' account books." He tried to
rein in his temper. "
Not
the one bearing
your
name."

She
continued to look at the floor, eyes hidden by her sweeps of hair. "I
didn't take any pages."

"Rot
and blight. Then who
did
and what name were they excising?
None others – save yours – are in the guild registries,
but those other potions weren't apprentice work." He glowered at
her bowed head. "If he got the preparations from someone else,
who got them off an alchemist, it'll be a nasty job winnowing out
who'd have the resources for that, while still paying a moneylender.
Except for the missing page! There are at least six names gone."

"I'm
sorry, Master Kymus," she said meekly. "I don't know any
more."

"Bah."
As if he'd expected confessions, with Master Rom standing nearby and
not the slightest influence of Tryth. "Have you eaten yet? Why
are
you here?" he added, belatedly.

Kessa
moved her hand under her cloak, showing her purse. "I've had to
lend some money myself, and I'll be late with the dues. I'd hoped to
ask Master Rom–" She bobbed a curtsey in the big man's
direction. "–if I could start paying now, as surety against
the rest."

"Of
course, child," Master Rom said, voice deep and resonant.

Iathor
said, trying to be gracious and knowing he was failing, "If
there's a further problem with the dues, tell me. I cover when my
brother forgets to pay musicians." Such as the ones he'd hired
for that barely-planned party, last night . . . "I
doubt a few silver leaves will blight my accounts."

"Master
Kymus," she protested faintly, head twitching as if she stopped
herself from glaring at him.

"
Have
you had breakfast, Tradeswoman Kessa?"

She
hesitated. "No."

"Then
I'll not discuss the matter until you have. Give Rom the coin and
we'll find a decent meal on the way back to your store. Unless you
want to come to the hospice with me? Never mind, we'll discuss it
after you're fed."

"Yes,
Master Kymus." Either cowed or plotting retorts unfit for Rom's
innocent ears, she counted out copper trees and flowers for the
secretary.

Over
his shoulder, Iathor said, "I approve of that gray watch tactic,
Master Rom. Good thinking. Tell me if you've any students suitable
for that other trip – I want to send someone tomorrow morning,
if I can."

"Understood,
Master Kymus."

With
Kessa huddled in her cloak, Iathor couldn't secure her arm like a
gentleman; he steered her out by the shoulder while she called faint
good-byes. Dayn, sleep-groggy, held the door open and helped her into
the carriage.

She
thanked
Dayn
 . . .

At
least she didn't take out her irritation on those who didn't deserve
it. Iathor barely waited for the door to the carriage to close before
asking, "Is there a good shop for food near your home?"

"There's
a baker across the street," she replied, with a tart hint of
temper. "They're . . . all right."

"Mmph.
That could suffice.
Would
you accompany me to the hospice?"

She
studied his feet and knees briefly, or perhaps stared through them
while thinking. "What point to that?"

"Find
if Darul remembers you, for one. He's on an unpleasant treatment
meant to cleanse the metal-salts from his body. I'm hoping he'll
recover at least enough to be re-taught basic skills." And, as
Loria'd sometimes said, misery loved miserable companions.

"I'd
have to get back before noon."

"If
we go now, and pick up food along the way, it will spare the time I'd
planned for finding something to bring to you." He twisted in
his seat, and called out the panel to Jeck, "Hospice, I think."
He paused, but she only sighed and didn't protest. He added, "First
reasonable food seller, and we get our herb-witch breakfast."

"Aye,
m'lord," came a sleepy reply.

As
Iathor untwisted to face his guest, Kessa asked, "Are your
people all right?"

"Mmph."
He grimaced. He'd have to explain his current heir to her eventually,
so no reason to remain silent now. "My brother returned
unexpectedly from Cym. He usually spends the winter there, and much
of the fall and spring. His house here is reputedly unlivable, from
some accident his student had in his absence – involving, I'm
told, smoke. He . . . Mmph."

"Mmph?"
Kessa echoed.

"Iasen
threw himself a 'welcome back' party, in my house, on short notice."
And no notice to him, blight it. "My people stayed up till
unearthly hours, tending to the guests and making sure they –
or their drivers – didn't get into anything they shouldn't.
Reportedly, my
brother's
dramsmen have collapsed in all the
beds at my house. He probably didn't give them leave to sleep till
the guests were gone, and noble children have more stamina than an
apprentice alchemist with a book of stimulant recipes."

One
of Kessa's thin hands was covering her mouth. Perhaps the girl
could
smile? At Iathor's own aggravation, of course . . .
She said, "I hope they'll be all right. Why couldn't your–
your people sleep, though?"

He
sighed again, tired for himself and his dramsmen both. "Some
could. I've not brewed the draught for all my staff. Most of the
youngsters are relatives of my cook and steward; when they're grown,
they'll be cooks or stewards in other households. I don't even bind
my secretary or gardener, though Father shouted at me for it. I see
no reason to keep either of those personally – it's easier to
have a gardener come in, and better to have a secretary I can
dismiss. Not that Deocris deserves that, but his predecessor . . .
Well."