Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (21 page)

Kessa
poked at the holes in her sleeve. In the light, they were obvious.
Her arm beneath was mottled purple and green beneath the copper. "If
I gave you my cloak and pants, could you walk out?"

"Some
of his friends were calling for him. They want the room – and
the contents – after him. I'm
not
sure they intend to
pay."

"You're
not well enough to take on a crew of sailors. Nor even a few."

"Especially
not if they catch me slipping out," Laita agreed, tired.

"Window,
then. Jontho should have your shoes in his belt pouch. We're going
back to my shop. Food. Shelter. Bed." This bed seemed sturdy;
Kessa knotted the rope around its leg.

Then
she slung her cloak around Laita's shoulders. "I'll get your
cloak while Jontho's putting the dog's chain back around something.
Thing's too savage to leave loose." Kessa helped her sister out
the window. "Careful. It's slippery."

Between
Kessa, the rope, and Jontho, Laita got down safely. Kessa untied the
rope and tossed it to her brother. Then she quietly unlatched the
door and blew out the candle. The snoring sailor apparently didn't
deserve to freeze to death, so she got the shutters mostly closed
before she dropped into Jontho's arms.

Once
on the street, Kessa pressed her key-string into Laita's hands.
""G-go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Laita
might've protested, but her hands were as chill and shaking as
Kessa's. "My cloak, just inside," she managed before Jontho
hurried her away.

Finding
the cloak was easy. It smelled like Laita: a familiar, comforting
scent, even with the perfume at the collar. Kessa wrapped herself in
it and ran back into the dark and cold.

Both
she and Laita were too tooth-chattery to talk during the walk to
Kessa's shop. Afterwards, it took time, huddled together under the
cloaks, before Kessa could get Laita to eat the leftover dinner. (She
insisted on sharing with Jontho, over his protests.)

"You're
sure this is all right?" Laita whispered, for perhaps the fifth
time.

"I'll
likely get breakfast t'morrow," Kessa mumbled, head against
Laita's shoulder. "If'm lucky, it'll be Brague."

"If
you're not lucky?" Jontho asked.

"Rotted
Lord Alchemist."

Jontho
said, "We should leave."

"No.
Too blighted cold," Kessa insisted.

"But
what will you tell him if we're here?" Jontho asked.

"He
can flip a jar lid. Lands on its bottom, you're my secret lovers.
Lands on its top . . . you're family." She wasn't
sure which would dismay him more.

Laita
giggled. "Does he know you come with marriage-sibs?"

"Laita,"
Kessa groaned. "M'not planning t'marry him. He's annoying.
Arrogant. Stubborn. High-handed."

"Sounds
like someone I know." Laita's voice was smiling.

"I'm
not arrogant," Kessa said.

Laita
giggled again. "Of course not."

Chapter
XXI

T
he
next morning, Brague returned, damply, and reported an herb-witch
still resided in her shop, who'd thanked him for the delivery and
returned the other basket.

Iathor
sent him to warm up and stop dripping on the floor. Then he spent
several minutes convincing himself to work on the morning's
paperwork, rather than have Jeck go fetch a probably-cold herb-witch.

Leave
her be.
He focused on a proposal to establish a school for
apprentices: one of Herbmaster Keli's causes. The Cym academy for
journeymen alchemists was well and good, but offering herb-witch
training and basic alchemical instruction, together . . .

At
the least, it'd provide chances to notice those with strong
tolerances.

Or
immunities.

Leave
be!
He concentrated harder. A school should attract students from
the surrounding lands. More potential for trouble, but also people
who'd eat, drink, buy things . . . They'd need
arrangements to take some on merit, who couldn't afford it otherwise.
Housing and food, so they wouldn't be sleeping in . . .

Cold,
drafty shops, without stoves.

He
gave up and went seeking advice.

His
cook, Tania, sat in the dining nook, peeling root vegetables: orange,
brown, something a dubious shade of ivory. None were alchemically
reactive, that he knew of. The peels made delicate curls in one
wooden bowl. Naked vegetables shone wetly in another.

"You're
looking upset, m'lord." Tania waved at the chair beside her.

Iathor
sat and picked a curl of carrot from the cream tablecloth, dropping
it with the others. "It's cold and raining. I'd not leave a
dog
in this weather, given the choice."

"If
you go collecting stray dogs, m'lord, I hope you put them in your
brother's
house." Her soft, round hands turned a lumpy
potato, peeling away its skin to reveal white flesh.

"It's
a thought, though I'm hoping for useful work from him first."
He'd ambushed Iasen that morning as his brother straggled in,
smelling of moderately expensive brothels, and insisted Iasen provide
a list of alchemists who'd brew aphrodisiacs.

"If
you're thinking of fetching that wild-fox girl, m'lord, you'll want
to smuggle her in without your brother seeing. Unless you want to
deal with them both at once? Or make her deal with both of
you
.
I imagine it'd be quite the three-way brawl." Tania dimpled at
him.

"I'm
sorry Brague went alone. I'd have taken the basket in the
carriage . . ."

"He
said, better not to send you out on your light-work day. You'll be
busy enough tonight. He shan't melt."

While
Iathor suspected his cook and bodyguard were occasionally
close
,
he never asked how much, and neither they nor Tania's sister had ever
vouchsafed details. It made it difficult to press apologies upon her.
"I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Do
without a valet 'til we found you someone, and locked you in your
workroom with only gruel till you'd brewed the draught," Tania
said, matter-of-factly.

He
chuckled. "I don't know what I'd do without any of you."
The amusement faded. "What am I to do with
Kessa
? She's
having to consider being my
student
. I never thought I'd find
someone who'd not understand how important this is . . .
Or at least be amenable to the political alliance. Has she a secret
lover?"

"You're
worse than Loria was," Tania said, smiling. "In love
already?"

"I
hardly think so! I've known her a fiveday, and the most honesty I've
gotten was when she was screaming at me."

"Well,
at least she believes you'll not throw things when you fight."

"You
had to look sharply for that 'bright' side."

"The
point's less whether you fight, than whether you make up after, isn't
it? Besides, if she has your heirs, you'll deserve being screamed
at – I was there to help catch Loria's twins, after all. It's
not like pulling carrots." Tania frowned. "She's such a
skinny little thing. I hope she'll be all right."

"And
she asked if
I
thought her already mine." He toyed
restlessly with a long strand of peel.

"That's
different." She set the potato into the bowl and took up the
ivory thing.

"What
did you think of her?" It hadn't been how he'd wanted to
introduce her.

"I
think she was right scared, m'lord, right angry, and right brave to
come here, when you could've thrown her out of the guild for it or
worse. She could've screamed at Brague in the street instead."

"I'd
not thought of that."

There
was a chime from the kitchen. Tania looked up. "Seems your
brother's men aren't on duty today."

Iathor
stood. "It's probably Deocris."

It
wasn't his secretary. Instead, it was Thioso, the watchman assistant
he'd requested of Commander Rothsam, yesterday before the
interrogations. Thioso's stipend was paid by the Masons' Guild, which
made him fairly neutral regarding alchemist politics. "Got the
report on Darul's servants, sir," he said, shaking water off his
boots before entering. "One cook, one maid. Underpaid and
overworked, to hear them tell it, and both homely as old bricks."

Iathor
closed the door against the chill rain. "But did they want to
poison him?"

"To
hear them, the only one who'd not've poisoned him? His dear sister,
and that because she never visited. Have you a fireplace, sir? It's
dank out."

"My
office." Iathor led the way. Once they got there, Iathor prodded
the fire with the poker until Thioso took over and added another log.
Then the watchman stood with his back to the newly-crackling
fireplace and steamed like a wet sheep.

"Ahhh.
Right. Verbal report, and then I march m'self to a guard-station and
write it up. The cook was off that evening, but she found the
drooling fellow on the floor outside his bedroom, in the morning
before sunrise. Darul liked his breakfast early. The maid did the
tea. And though she'd not admit . . ." Thioso
pulled at his straw-colored beard smugly. "She half-confessed
she
might've
gotten the tea wrong. She'd have had his regular
night-tea ready, and there's some visitor? Well, pour the water, add
another cup to the tray, curse the man for unexpected guests, and
make him share the expensive stuff. Only the once, and none's the
wiser, right?"

"Did
she say which it would've been?"

"The
stuff in the brown jar, not the fancier blue one.
That
one,
she said they weren't even to sniff. Was that lust-dosed?"

"Yes.
She didn't mix that into anything?"

"Said
she'd not've touched the blue one for a silver tree, after he nearly
dismissed her for moving it to wipe down the counter. Now, the book.
That's simpler." Thioso turned to dry his front, and said over
his shoulder, "Nothing. Don't either of 'em recall a fuss about
his books, an ink-spill, nor anything of the sort, and can't think
why he'd razor out a whole page, even if he'd spoiled it himself –
unless it was totally ruined, and wouldn't that've left marks on the
remaining pages?"

"Likely.
There weren't any on the book. Spots, here and there, but not
ink-spills."

"Know
what range of names might be gone?"

"Up
to six of them, between my guild member, Kessa Herbsman, and someone
called Natyn Carter."

"And
does he list them by date or put the names in order of the letters?"

Iathor
thought back to the books, which were still at Rom's. "More the
latter. He left some spaces empty, on other pages. It seemed he'd go
through and fit names into spaces, from the dates. I suppose it was
some kind of order."

"It's
your guild-girl who's accused, right?"

Iathor
grimaced. "Yes. I believe she'd no intention of driving him mad.
Daydreams . . . Mayhap."

"Don't
we all? So, why'd she not take the chance to take
her
name
out?"

"A
good question. If she didn't leave immediately, as she'd like me to
think."
What names were between?
At least Darul'd been
sorting by first names; Iathor hated to think "Iasen
Kymus
"
could've been on the missing page, for some insane reason that
might've made sense at the time.

"Mayhap
she did. Who knows what happened between then and morning?"
Thioso held his cloak up to the fire.

"Wasn't
the maid there?"

Thioso
flipped the cloak to warm the other side. "Left after serving
tea, didn't return till after the cook was up, who had the only
servant's quarters. And
she
didn't leave them after hours, she
says. She'd heard stories from the cook before her. Old Darul liked
to think people had their eyes on him, if they showed up in the
kitchen unexpectedly." He added, "An' before you ask,
neither of
them
had names that fit the book gap – Ancha
and Wuria."

"I
gave you the key; was anything missing save what my people got?"

"His
cashbox was there, still with copper and silver. Might've been some
missing, for all I know, but the place didn't look tossed for
valuables." The guardsman chuckled. "Just anything that
might've been alchemy."

"So.
Someone took advantage of misfortune, somehow planned it with the
maid, or else my guild member is . . ."
Lying
through her teeth.
". . . protecting someone
else, for fear or friendship."

"Or
silver trees," Thioso added cheerfully.

"Considering
this mess, if she's involved in the missing page, it'd best be fear,
friendship, or
golden
trees." Iathor frowned. "You're
sure the maid's uninvolved?"

"Could
dose her, I hear, but my guess? Naught but petty irritation and the
wrong tea. He got something extra from your lass, and the combination
did for him. Bad luck and fault if she dosed him with malice, but a
judge'd likely overlook it if the guild donated a few crates of
healing potions to the guard." Thioso shrugged. "Tomorrow
I'll see what names I can match to faces, talking to the folk who
lived 'round him. You want those missing names, though? Put up a
paper granting a silver flower to any who'll acknowledge they're in
the man's books."