A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (25 page)

“
Ah, too old to become an apprentice and not enough proficiency in any single skill?
”

Caldan shrugged.
“
I’m sure Master Garren will find something for me. He made me give him a demonstration of my
crafting
skill, and it must have impressed him enough.
”

“
Crafting
as well? What else did you study?
”

“
Alchemy, metallurgy, Dominion, the Way of the Sword, some medicine, history…
”
He trailed off.

“
I see, and nothing in enough depth that would allow you to step off the boat and take up a profession to earn a living.
”

Caldan shifted uncomfortably on his feet and kept quiet.

“
What are your strengths?
”
asked Simmon.

“
Dominion and
crafting
,
”
answered Caldan without hesitation.
“
Then probably metallurgy and the Way of the Sword.
”

“
An interesting mix. The Way of the Sword — I haven’t heard it called that for a long time. Not since…
”
He broke off and shook his head.
“
Have you heard of Kelhak? He came from the monastery as well, won the Dominion tournament at the Autumn Festival a long time ago.
”

“
I have. He had a different reputation at the monastery, though. Exiled for something…
”
Caldan realized he had been exiled too, and his indiscretion wasn’t sinister or immoral. Maybe in a few years rumors about him would be circulating among the students at the monastery. He gave a wry laugh.

“
Hmm. Do you know what Master Garren has in mind for you?
”

“
Probably helping out the masters. He mentioned I might get a chance to join some classes after a while.
”

“
Maybe, if you show an aptitude for a particular skill. It sounds like yours is a special case, a good grounding in a variety of different areas, but you haven’t focused on one in particular.
”

“
I guess not. It wasn’t as though I thought I needed to. Maybe I need to focus on one thing.
”

“
Depends. Some people have a talent for something, and if they are lucky, they find out what it is early. Others, well, they never find out.
”

“
I guess so.
”

“
Yours is
crafting
, though. You can access your well every time you try?
”

“
Yes, though there wasn’t much of a focus on it at the monastery. Most students didn’t have the talent or had it weakly, so they taught more theory than practice.
”

“
Usually anyone with significant talent is found early by the journeyman sorcerers. It’s unlikely someone slipped through, especially a noble’s offspring.
”

Simmon paused as three young apprentices entered the dormitory. They saw the master there and hurriedly removed some books from their chests and left as quickly as possible.

“
May I ask something, Master Simmon?
”

“
Go ahead.
”

“
Is there a library or archives? I mean, I’m sure there is, but would I be able to have access to it?
”

“
I don’t see why not, and yes, there is a library for apprentices. Any of them can show you where it is. Why?
”

Caldan wasn’t going to tell him about his
trinket
and his desire to track down his family history.
“
I want to study as much as I can, in whatever spare time I have. Maybe if I can learn more I can be of more use to Master Garren.
”

“
You only have a couple of days before he returns for you, and you look like you need some rest.
”
Simmon gestured at Caldan’s bruised face.
“
Take it easy for a while, recover.
”

“
I’ll try to take your advice, Master Simmon. In truth, I feel like I could use a break. My few days here have been draining.
”

“
I can see. Well, we’d better get some food into you. Leave your stuff here, and lock it up.
”

Caldan complied and waited for the master to continue.

“
Follow me. I’ll take you to the meal hall, where supper is being served. You’ll take all your meals there.
”

The meal hall was located close to the dormitory and was mostly empty. There were large tables dotted with a few clusters of young boys and girls, apprentices he guessed, with a few older men and women. Two men dressed in dark robes conversed in hushed tones at the end of the hall.

Supper consisted of a bowl of boiled greens, a few slices of peppery lamb, a chunk of coarse-grained bread, and a mug of weak brown ale.

Caldan was left on his own to finish his meal, with instructions to return to the dormitory and have a good night’s sleep. He ate slowly, though he was famished, savoring each mouthful. He had never been a day without food, not even overnight. He felt the meal significant and reflected on how the day could have finished if he hadn’t been accepted. As he swallowed each mouthful and sipped his ale, he thought on the homeless men at the docks, vowing he would never end up like them.

Chapter Eighteen

Elpidia plumped the pillow with both hands to no avail. She had tossed and turned for hours until the faint dawn light peeked through her bedroom window. Exhausted, she lay back, but a few moments later she gave up. It was no use.

She scratched the rash spreading down her neck. It had itched terribly the last few days, and all the unguents and oils she had to sooth such problems, that had served her customers well, hadn’t eased her discomfort.

A tear welled in her eye. She wiped it away with a trembling hand then lurched out of bed. A squat, square jar stood on her dresser, waiting for her to apply her morning treatment. With two fingers, she rubbed the pungent homemade ointment onto her rash.

She replaced the stopper and for a few long moments stared at the jar, her own handwriting scrawled across the label:
‘Trial number 27, for use on skin only’
.

In a swift convulsive movement she dashed the jar against the wall, where it smashed into tiny pieces. Ointment dripped down onto the floor.

She dropped her head into her hands and wept.

Later, when she had recovered enough self-control to stop crying, she swept up the glass shards and wiped away the ointment. It had left a stain on the wall, but what was one more stain compared to dying from the Great Pox?

The symptoms had started a year ago, a few weeks after her husband, a soldier with the empire’s territorial army, returned to his station along the southern border. Due to his rank, he was permitted a brief leave every year, and had to her great surprise and delight returned to Anasoma to spend time with her. Though he had seemed distant, she told herself it was the stress of being away from her and his family for long periods, coupled with the thought of returning soon.

Travel time had constrained his visit to a seven day before he rushed back to his post on one of the empire’s provisioning ships sailing down the coast.

The note she had returned home to find was brief.
I am sorry, I have found someone else. I hope you can forgive me.
A single gold ducat rested on the note. After nine years together, it was a crushing blow. Elpidia spent a few days locked away alone, seeing no one. Soon after, she found out he had taken all their savings, though he couldn’t sell the house they lived in, where she conducted her business, without her knowledge. She assumed that’s why she still had somewhere to live.

The symptoms started out innocuously enough. A chancre on her chin, under her lip, firm to the touch and not sore at all. It disappeared within week after she applied an ointment and she thought nothing of it. Weeks later, she woke one morning to see a few red spots on her neck. The beginning of a mild irritation, or a few bug bites? No matter, she knew they would disappear once she applied one of her treatments. One had to retain the appearance of health in her business; it doesn’t ease customers’ minds if the person they come to for cures is sick themselves.

Elpidia became worried when the spots didn’t disappear. They multiplied. She tried different ointments and oils, to no avail. When a few of the spots leaked a clear yellow-tinged fluid, the connection to the chancre hit her like a blow. Surely it couldn’t be? That day she went to the library at the Guild of Physikers and spent hours finding as much information as she could. A simple test on a mouse confirmed her suspicion a few weeks later, to her horror and despair.

Her husband had left her with one final parting gift: the Great Pox. No cure was known, and sufferers ended their days in pain, sometimes months, sometimes years after the first symptoms showed.

The last nine years of marriage taken from her in a day, her life taken from her within years. It was cold comfort her husband would also be dead.

No known cure. But she was a skilled physiker and alchemist. There had to be a treatment for everything, or some way of inhibiting the disease. Despair turned to anger, and anger fuelled her determination.

Wiping the salty tears from her face she threw a few logs on the still warm coals from last night and placed a kettle above the smoldering fire. A hot breakfast and some tea and she could face the day. She had much work to do.

Each day it took her longer and longer to muster enough energy to resume her work. She blamed the disease, but in reality she knew it was also the creeping despair that clung to her. Outwardly, she had barely changed, apart from the rash, only friends noticed she was more withdrawn, less animated. Her business remained open; she needed ducats for materials to continue her research. A few false claims to the guild had provided her with valuable extra coins, but she couldn’t rely on too many more deceptions or she risked being caught.

Toast with jam and a few cups of tea later, she felt better prepared to face the day. She used a large iron key to unlock her workroom. Converted from their old bedroom, it was a mess of alchemical clutter, some bought, some pilfered from the Guild of Alchemists. Bottles of reagents, oils, herbs and powders took up one large table. Another was filled with glassware, vials, flasks, beakers, tubes and funnels. Under the window, which opened out to her backyard, she had placed the burner table, as she needed ventilation. Portable oil burners for heating she kept here, clamps, tongs and stands, retorts for distillations.

Along another wall, row upon row of cages housed her helpers: mice for testing compounds and theories. Half the cages were empty. She expected another delivery soon. Street urchins desperate for a copper ducat or two were eager to help.

She fingered a container holding gold shavings. The young man the other day had said the book
Great Secrets of Alchemy
argued King’s Water, potable gold, was a dead end for her research. Something she needed to investigate further. The library master should know where she could obtain a copy of that particular book.

She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and readied herself for the day’s work. A few mice were much worse for wear after her latest experiment, oozing sores, bald patches covered in red rashes. She stared at them for a moment then reached for a wooden hammer and a thick cloth sack. Work first, then she would seek this book out. After all, the sick mice didn’t bang themselves on the head.

“
Boss?
”
came the boy’s squeaky voice.
“
Are you available to see one of the head traders?
”
A black-haired head peeked around the door, which the boy had opened a crack.

First Deliverer Gazija coughed, a hacking deep-throated sound. He spat the proceeds into a rag and folded it carefully. Blinking his moist red-rimmed eyes a few times, he then brought them to bear on the boy, waved him forward and adjusted the thick woolen blanket around his shoulders. As the boy approached, Gazija vented a weary sigh.

“
How many times have I told you not to call me that?
”

“
What?
”

“
Boss.
”

“
Oh, um… sorry, First Deliverer.
”
The boy cast his eyes to the floor and shoved both hands in his pockets. Gazija rolled his eyes at the show of remorse. The youngster didn’t fool him.

“
Now, before you tell me who is here to see me, would you bring me one of those vials over on the table, in the box there.
”

“
These ones?
”

“
Yes, just one, thank you.
”
Gazija shifted in his chair and winced at a particularly sharp pain among the usual aches, then bumped his elbow. The ostentatious chair was a gift from the other Deliverers, may they rot for not providing one with enough padding. He couldn’t very well reject their gift but had thought about using it for firewood on particularly cold winter’s nights.

His audience chamber, if you could call it that, stood at one end of a long hall. His uncomfortable throne-like chair, a stool to rest his feet on and a low table was the only furniture. A metal brazier filled with glowing coals stood close by, warming one side of his blanket, and a faint aroma of rosewood pervaded the air, from shavings someone had sprinkled in while he was asleep.

Faint murmurings, the rustling of paper and scratching of quills from the six staff at the other end of the hall provided a constant backdrop. A reminder of how far they had come, and still had to go.

A vial filled with a yellow liquid appeared in front of him, and he took it from the boy’s hand, cradling it in both of his. Thin-skinned fingers twisted the stopper out and he downed the contents in one go, grimacing at the overly sweet taste.

“
What is it?
”
asked the boy.

“
Medicine. For old people. Here,
”
he said, handing him the empty vial.
“
Put it back, then you can tell me what you are doing here.
”

The boy half-ran to return the vial and back again to Gazija.

“
Head Trader Savine Khedevis is here to see you. Can I show him in now?
”

“
Not yet, I have some questions for you first.
”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“
Nothing serious. I like to find out more about how everyone is progressing. How do you think you are doing?
”

“
Um…Fine, I guess.
”

“
Finding the transition hard?
”

“
No. I mean yes. Well, not hard exactly, just…
”
The boy broke off and shrugged.

“
It’s no weakness to admit it’s difficult. It’s hard for all of us.
”

The boy gave him a disbelieving look.
“
Surely not for you or the other Deliverers?
”

“
I assure you it is. We’re the same as you, just older. We’re set in our ways and struggled with the adjustment. You are younger and resilient, and it’s easier for you to adjust.
”
He patted the boy’s shoulder.

“
It still feels strange, confined, after so long already.
”

“
I know. But we have no choice. We have to adjust.
”
First Deliverer Gazija’s thoughts swept back to the flight through the well, the chaos, the deaths. With an effort he wrenched his mind back to the present.

“
Go, bring Savine to me.
”

The boy ran off through the side door he had entered from, sandals slapping on the hard wood underfoot. Gazija lost himself in the glowing coals for a few moments before a movement caught his eye — Savine Khedevis on one knee in front of him, head bowed, palms on the floor.

Gazija examined the form Savine wore. Muscled, handsomer and more noticeable than he liked. Altogether different from a few months ago when he had left.

“
I see you had an accident,
”
he said in a harsh voice.

Savine rose to stand before him, green eyes roaming over him, taking in his weeping eyes, blanket and brazier.
“
Indeed, First Deliverer, the roads are hazardous. There was an incident with some bandits, who were not inclined to leave witnesses alive, but I managed to make my way to a nearby farmhouse.
”

“
You must be careful. If someone finds out, we would be undone.
”

“
Would you rather I was lost?
”

“
No, of course not. But you know the risks. What if someone comes looking for a missing loved one?
”

“
People go missing all the time here. It’s a fact of their hard lives. Besides, the farmhouse was a long way from the nearest village, and there was only one person there.
”

Gazija held up a hand to stop Savine talking.
“
Enough. We do what we have to, but you shouldn’t be so cold-hearted about it.
”

Savine bowed his head and kept his eyes on his feet.

“
We do what we have to, to survive,
”
Gazija continued.
“
Don’t ever forget what would happen if we were found out, what the consequences would be. We were lucky to survive one Shattering; we would most likely be the cause of another, and we would not see the end of it.
”

Savine Khedevis remained bowed.
“
I understand, First Deliverer,
”
he said, voice tight with suppressed emotion.

Gazija sighed. Savine still couldn’t understand, which was why he would never become a Deliverer.
“
So,
”
he continued in a lighter tone.
“
What news do you have? Did you find the people who unmasked and killed Trader Aniki?
”

“
Unfortunately, no. I tracked them to a village where all traces disappeared. They stayed there one night and left in the morning.
”