Chantress Alchemy (8 page)

The King frowned. “Very well. We shall speak more of this when you are rested from your journey. If you think of a way to aid us, come find me at once, no matter what the hour.” He cleared his throat. “And there are other matters, too, that we must speak of.”

There was a flutter of anticipation in the room.

“But that can wait,” the King said. “My lords and gentlemen, my lady Chantress—I thank you for your counsel. For now, our business is done.”

†    †    †

It was not quite done, however. Not as far as Wrexham was concerned. I was one of the last to leave the Crimson Chamber, and when I did, he cornered me in the hall. “Don’t think you can run away so easily, Chantress.”

“I’m not running away.” I tried to duck around him. “I’m going to my rooms.”

But I wasn’t going anywhere, not while he was in the way. The man was built like a mountain, and he was armed. It was impossible to step around him.

I didn’t like being trapped—and my discomfort pleased him, I could see it. He almost smiled as he stood there blocking my
way. It was only when his eyes caught the light that I saw the anger in them.

“A word of warning, Chantress.”

Tired out by the journey and by all I’d been forced to confront since my arrival, I tried to preempt him. “Look, I know you don’t want me here—”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Chantress. I do want you here. I want you where I can watch you. Not out gallivanting on a Norfolk beach, far from sight. Not that I haven’t found ways to watch you even there. But Greenwich is decidedly more convenient.”

“You’ve been watching me?” The mere idea made my skin prickle.

“I’ve had you watched, yes. Ever since you defeated Scargrave. And I’ve learned a great deal.”

I would not let him intimidate me. “Such as?”

“I know, for instance, that the ruby you have tucked in your bodice is cracked . . . and I know what that means.”

I forced myself to stay very still, as one does with a wild animal about to strike. If Wrexham knew about my closely guarded ruby, what other secrets had he unlocked?

Wrexham’s pale eyes never left my face. “I know this, too: You still have power—enormous power. You can call up mist; you can make it rain. By God, you held off the King’s own guard by yourself.” His mouth twisted in fury. “How dare you tell the King you cannot help him right now? How dare you tell him he must wait?”

I recoiled.

“Confess,” he hissed. “You are lying. You are shielding the thief: Walbrook.”

“No,” I said. “No, I—” How to explain myself, without getting lost again in a wrangle about Nat’s innocence, or revealing even more than Wrexham already knew about my magic? “I am not trying to shield anyone. It is just that finding the crucible isn’t as simple as you think. I need the right song, for a start. And I don’t yet have it.”

“Then find it!” He swung even closer to me, cutting off most of the light. “We need that crucible, Chantress. So find your song and sing it.” His hand flexed on the hilt of his dagger, rings bulging like carbuncles. “And don’t think you can use your magic against me. I have ways of protecting myself, believe me. I’ve dealt with your kind before, remember.”

How could I forget? I forced myself to stand straight. I must not let him see how he frightened me. I must not. I must not.

“And remember this, too.” His voice was low and full of menace. “If I had eyes and ears in Norfolk, I have even more here at Court. I am watching you every minute, every hour, every day. So do not cross me.”

Having made his threats, Wrexham left, still fingering his dagger.

I sagged against the wall. I burned to show him that I could not be crossed either. Yet if I used magic against him, what would that lead to? Wrexham was the King’s man, and it would not be wise to displease the King. And any enchantment I worked would surely be traced back to me. It was best if I did nothing—for now.

Still, there was comfort in remembering that I had real power here, even if I didn’t choose to use it.

But what was it Wrexham had said about protecting himself? I tried to remember his exact words. I’d never heard of a way to guard against Chantress magic—unless it was by killing a Chantress or preventing her from singing, as Scargrave had done. Was that what Wrexham had meant?

Maybe. But there was so much about Chantress magic that I did not know, so much knowledge that had been lost or stolen.
After his many years of Chantress-hunting, Wrexham might well know more about my kind than I did myself.

Perhaps Wrexham really could protect himself against my magic. I would have to assume, for now, that it was possible.

And assume, too, that wherever I went, he was watching me.

†    †    †

After the bruising encounter with Wrexham, I intended to go straight to my room, but his threats had thrown me off balance, and I took one wrong turn after another. Before I knew it, I was lost in a part of the palace I hadn’t seen before.

Going around a corner, I found myself in a frigid chamber with massive stone pillars, dimly lit by two flickering candelabras. When a hand touched my arm, I jolted around in fright.

“Sorry!” Nat whispered, releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Right then and there, I almost spilled out what Wrexham had said to me. But then I thought about how hotheaded Nat had been in the Council meeting, and how his impulsiveness had led to trouble. If I told Nat about Wrexham’s threats, would he rush off to confront the man? That would only antagonize Wrexham—and make matters worse for both Nat and me. I decided I’d better keep the Marcher Lord’s threats to myself, at least for now.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Nat said. “I couldn’t come close after the meeting. Everyone was watching.”

“I know.” I’d kept away from him for the same reason. “I saw Penebrygg pushing you out the door.”

“He wanted to say a few words to me about caution and moderation. Which I suppose were warranted,” Nat admitted. “A fine show I gave the Council, after all my advice to keep quiet. But moonbriar, of all things! I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nor I.”

“And then the fire . . .” He cast a wary glance around the echoing room. “Look, it’s not really safe to talk here, but I know a place nearby that’s better. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

He grabbed a taper from a candelabra and guided me past the pillars into a maze of rooms. Though substantial, these rooms were not airy and graceful like some of the others I’d glimpsed in my wanderings. Lower and squatter, they had dark paneled walls and arched doorways and figures carved in stone: a hound, a hare, a woman’s face covered in leaves.

In the last of these rooms, Nat stopped short, listening. All was quiet. It felt as if we’d reached the ancient heart of the palace, the core of the labyrinth.

At last Nat walked up to a panel and fiddled with the decoration. With a muffled thump, the panel swung inward, revealing a small, hidden chamber.

“How did you find it?” I marveled. In truth I hardly needed an answer. The first time I’d ever laid eyes on Nat, he’d been coming out of a secret door. The same curiosity that made him a born scientist also had made him a born spy.

“Oh, this place is full of hideaways,” Nat said. “And I’ve had some time on my hands since we got shut up here.”

His hand touched the small of my back as he ushered me in. Even after he turned away and tugged the door shut, my whole spine tingled.

“We’ll still need to keep our voices down,” he warned me. “The walls are quite thick, and not many people come by, but there’s always a chance someone might be listening.”

I nodded and looked around in the light of the lone taper, which he’d wedged into a battered candlestick. Tiny and windowless, the secret room was almost bare, boasting only a three-legged stool and a small, iron-banded chest.

“What’s in there?” I pointed to the chest.

“Nothing much.” Nat flipped the lid open. “Another candlestick and a flint. They were here when I found the place.”

When I leaned forward to look, my sleeve brushed his. I glanced at him, and his wide hazel eyes held mine. He was so close I could feel his sweet breath on my cheek.

Just as I was sure he was about to kiss me, he turned away and banged the chest shut. “How are we going to get you out of this?”

I was bewildered by his sudden change of mood. “Out of this?”

“Away from this court and its dangers. That fire could have killed you.” He gave me a sharp look. “Unless maybe you sang it up on purpose? To destroy the seeds?”

“No,” I said. “It was as much of a surprise to me as to you.
Something really was wrong with those seeds. I just wish I knew who tampered with them—and how, and why.”

“I wish I knew too. But the fire’s only part of it. It’s not safe for you to be here, not when the Court’s in the grip of this alchemy madness.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You think it’s madness?”

“Of course!”

“You didn’t say so at the meeting.”

“Only because I’ve said it too many times before.” Frustration darkened his eyes. “The Inner Council voted to throw me out if I brought it up again, so now I have to keep quiet. But not by choice.”

“You don’t have to keep quiet with me.”

He smiled then, though his body stayed tense. “There is that, I guess. The one silver lining to this disaster.” He let out a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, Lucy.”

It helped to hear that, but I noticed he didn’t come any closer. Was it shyness keeping him away? Well, that I could understand. I felt shy too. Although it was thrilling to be so close after our months apart, it was also unnerving. Maybe talking would help.

I sat down on the stool. “So tell me: What’s wrong with the alchemy plan? Don’t you think it will work?”

Nat shrugged. “Who’s to say? Isaac Oldville’s a genius, and he’s convinced he has the answers. But that doesn’t mean he’s right.” Keeping his voice down, he perched himself on the curved top of the chest. “People have been trying to make the Philosopher’s Stone for thousands of years, and as far as I can see, there’s no clear evidence that anyone ever has.”

“Not even—oh, what was his name? Flamel?”

“All we have is Flamel’s own word for it. And legends. And stories. But that’s not proof, no matter what Sir Isaac thinks. In the end, alchemy’s a gamble—and yet it’s all the King and Council are willing to spend money on.” He paused. “Well, that and Wrexham’s castles.”

“You mean the fortifications that Penebrygg was talking about?”

“Yes. Wrexham says these are perilous times, and we need to shore up the old strongholds against rebellion. Shore up his own holdings, more like,” Nat said in disgust. “Almost all the money so far has gone to his own lands. Which grow more extensive all the time.”

“And the King allows this?” I asked.

“Some say he’s rewarding Wrexham for putting down the Berwick rebellion,” Nat said. “And for saving his life.”

“So Wrexham really did save him?”

“Yes. He’s a fearless warrior, I’ll give him that. When the King’s saddle twisted beneath him in the battle, Wrexham and his men held back the attackers and dragged him to safety.”

“So the King gives him whatever he wants, in gratitude?”

“That might be why, yes,” Nat said. “But maybe the King feels he can’t afford to say no. Wrexham’s holdings extend from the Welsh borderlands up through the North of England; no other lord controls so much land. He has the power to split England in two.”

I hadn’t understood before quite how powerful Wrexham was. It was sobering news.

“Anyway, there you have it.” Nat ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re spending every last coin in the Treasury on Wrexham’s forts and Sir Isaac’s alchemy, and there’s not a penny left for anything else.”

“Alchemy costs a lot?”

“I’ll say. Flamel’s ingredients cost the earth. We’ve also had to build an entirely new laboratory and an astronomical observatory, all to Sir Isaac’s demanding specifications. And, of course, we’ve had to pay for extra soldiers and guards to protect the whole place.”

“What would you spend the money on instead?” I asked.

“Real things. Practical things.”

“Like . . .” I prompted.

“Potatoes.”

I blinked at the unexpected response. I’d heard of potatoes—a new food from America—but I’d never actually eaten them. “Why on earth . . . ?”

“The blight,” Nat explained. “We need new crops that can resist it. When I was over in Holland, I found some European wheat varieties that might work, but I discovered that potatoes are even better—easier to plant, and a much better yield. But everyone at Court is too obsessed with alchemy to think the idea is worth pursuing. Wait till we can make gold, they keep saying.”

“Even Penebrygg?”

“When we talk about it, he agrees there’s some sense in what I say. But alchemy has him dazzled. I don’t see much of him these days. He’s always in Sir Isaac’s laboratory.” Nat looked
discouraged. “Like the rest of them, he thinks the Stone will be the end of all our troubles.”

It was hard to know what to tell him. Perhaps his skepticism in alchemy was justified. But could he really be completely right, and everyone else completely wrong?

I shifted on my stool. “Maybe it won’t turn out as badly as you fear,” I said. “Sir Isaac could be right, you know. If we find that crucible, maybe he’ll make so much gold we can buy whatever we want. Including your potatoes.”

Nat put his head in his hands. “Don’t you start too.”

“I’m not trying to take sides, Nat. But I think we have to hope, for everyone’s sake, that Sir Isaac’s alchemy works. Even if you planted potatoes now, you’d have to wait months to harvest them. And people are hungry now.”

“Yes, they are,” Nat said, lifting his head. “And a fortnight ago, when I was still in Holland, I found some merchants who can ship us potatoes right away. Not just seed potatoes, but potatoes to eat as well—tons of them, all much cheaper than wheat. I’m talking about real food, Lucy. Not wish-on-a-star alchemy. But we have to pay for it, and the King and Council say they don’t have a penny to spare.”

“You need the money now?”