Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (41 page)

Kessa
said, "But metal-salts don't just work by themselves. They need
other things, like bone, blood, or plants. Distilled essences. If
there's an herbal preparation, why not a metal-salt that'll make it
stronger
?" She still watched his hands.

Nicia,
behind her, was watching
Kessa
. Her normally wide eyes were
intent; an odd effect.

"The
problem is," Iathor said, slowly, "such a general,
wide-arching recipe readily gets out of balance. It would require an
immune expert to taste it, sorting poison from potion."

Kessa
asked, her voice low, "Herb-witch expert or alchemical?"

Dayn
and Nicia nearly bumped into each other, moving to close the office's
door. Dayn flashed the apprentice a grin and slipped out, presumably
to guard against interruption, while Nicia put her back to the door.

Iathor
returned his attention to Kessa. Equally quietly, he said, "Both.
If it were easy, I'd have done it, or assigned my brother to the
task – if my father or grandfather hadn't already discovered
an answer."

Kessa's
hands curled to fists, pressed against his desk. Her eyes were closed
tightly. Her voice, though, was as raw and primal as ever her eyes
seemed. "Teach. Me."

He
drew in his breath. Nicia, a glance confirmed, was satisfied and
excited, not surprised. Kessa was rigid with tension. He said, "All
right. Not today. Aside from the ingredients, I'll have to make a
dozen poisons, for you to know and avoid."

Kessa
nodded, shoulders slumping, and whispered, "Thank you."

It
made little sense. He knew her immunity. Nicia'd obviously been told.
Why was it so hard to admit she was
able
to do something that
perhaps
no
other could?

Even
more confusingly, she'd not moved from his desk.

He
lightly put his hand over one of her half-curled fists.

She
stiffened, but didn't jerk away. She did open her eyes enough to look
where he touched; when her gaze slid to his face . . .
he couldn't keep from a tiny movement.

Kessa
straightened, her hands clasped (the one he'd touched covered by the
other) in front of her hips. Her eyes were politely down, color
barely visible. "I'd best be going, Master Kymus. The hired
buggy should be in the carriage-house?"

"Yes."
He paused, and tried to weigh choices. Had he mortally offended her
by flinching? By daring to touch her? Both? Her voice had sounded
neutral, not cold. "Take Dayn?"

She
nodded. "Nicia should have an escort back." Her eyelids
twitched as she shifted her gaze to one side. "Thank you."

Nicia
curtseyed. "Yes, thank you, Master Kymus."

He
looked at the pair of them, and wondered what he'd done when he'd put
them together. Possibly something good indeed, if it was the mix of
students that produced Kessa's request. Possibly something excellent,
if her research was fruitful. "Then class is officially over. I
bid you both good evening, and hope you'll have read and understood a
few more chapters of the assigned book by next class. And I hope to
have a selection of potions for . . . analysis."

While
Nicia caroled
good evening
, Kessa shivered once, as if briefly
chilled. But she also nodded and murmured farewells before she left.

Chapter
XLIII

I
t
was bitterly cold when Brague woke him for patrol. Iathor thought of
begging off, but that would be a bad example for his group. Most were
alchemists' brothers or cousins, and a few were journeymen
themselves, disciples of masters who'd been night patrollers in their
youths before deciding that Vigeur elixirs or not, they'd stay home
and sleep.

So
Iathor shivered in his coat, up beside Jeck, while they took on the
others here and there.

Outside
the smithy, someone waited at their station's door. Iathor frowned.
"Jeck, did we miss anyone?"

"Don't
think so, m'lord." He sounded unconcerned.

Iathor
slid down as soon as the horses stopped, and walked over. "I've
a guess."

"Too
blighted clever," Kessa growled back, her voice deep enough –
barely – to go with the men's clothing Iathor was sure was
beneath her hooded cloak. "I'm volunteering tonight."

"Going
with me and Brague?"

"Figured
on it."

"Agreed,
then." The shadows of shielded Incandescens Stones hid his smile
as well as it concealed her eyes. "Let's get you outfitted."

The
rest of the patrol gave a few curious looks as everyone filed in, but
Kessa stuck to Brague's shadow and kept her eyes hidden in the room's
dim lighting. Iathor heard a few murmurs between Kessa and his
dramsman while everyone checked their patrol-sticks and potions.
They'd started handing 'round the catseye ointment before someone
asked, "Who's the new man with, sir?"

Brague
answered, "Kellisan's with us."

Kellisan?
Iathor just nodded. "All right, tonight we end at the Crimson
Birch." His usual mild amusement ran into certainty that Kessa
was staring at his back, and turned his voice committee-neutral. "I'm
taking the straight cut down Pine Way. Who's for Briar Street?"

Once
everyone's path was decided, Iathor led the group back out to the
carriage. Kessa followed without comment.

Iathor
asked Jeck, before getting up beside him, "Room for another?"

"So
long as it's not in
my
lap, m'lord."

She
asked Dayn. Dayn told Jeck . . . and perhaps my whole
household.
Iathor couldn't decide if he were amused or annoyed.
Probably both. "Ah, Kellisan. Do you want a boost up, or a hand
up?"

"Hand,
m'lor'," she said, looking around with interest.

Perhaps
she'd never before seen like a cat in the dark. He pulled himself up,
and reached down. She was more agile than he, it turned out, and
hardly needed help.

Jeck
stood, and Kessa wound past them both to sit on Jeck's other side.
Iathor was left with a trailing scent of her and the herbs of her
shop. There was a bittersweet, acid tang as well. Puzzling; it
smelled too
green
to be true alchemy, yet bit at his
nose . . .

He'd
need to snuffle more closely to get a better shape of the scent, and
doubted that'd be permitted.

When
they got to the top of Pine Way, Jeck stopped the carriage so Brague,
Iathor, and Kessa could get down. The cross-dressed "Kellisan"
looked around as the carriage drew away, obviously fascinated by the
way the world was at once brighter and less colored. Iathor watched
her sidelong, and saw her looking at him openly. He looked back.

Her
eyes were still an odd, mottled pattern of light and dark, but
bleached of most color, they were
only
odd. Her hair was drawn
into a man's queue down her back. Iathor could see her face as a
whole; narrow, too-often hungry, with a pointed chin and slightly
long nose. Staring at him, wide-eyed, she seemed less a savage than a
dark wind-spirit. No beast, if not exactly human.

She
lifted her hands up, focusing on them, then looked around before
staring at him again. And
that
expression, he thought, was
shock
. Avid hunger. Something fleeting that might've been
fear. She turned and pulled her hood further down.

Iathor
stepped closer. "Are you cold?"

"Yes,"
she whispered back. "I'll be fine once we're moving."

"All
right." He hesitated, then added, "If . . .
the cold makes your eyes water too much, I've a spare ointment jar."

"Thank
you." She turned back, but her cloak hid her face.

They
followed the main street, occasionally threading through back alleys,
and rousted a few rats, some annoyed cats, and one man so drunk that
he mightn't have frozen till he sobered up. That one, Kessa and
Brague hauled to his feet and back into the tavern. (Kessa hissed at
the glare the ointment made of the lanterns.) Brague gave the
tavern-keeper a copper flower to keep the drunkard warm for the
night, and they returned to patrolling.

"He'll
likely be back in the gutter tomorrow night," Kessa said
quietly.

"Mayhap,"
Iathor replied. "But not tonight, and he might mend his ways
tomorrow."

"Fair
enough." She watched him a moment, perhaps for the novelty of
it, before turning away again and shivering.

Brague
and Kessa ranged back and forth as they walked, falling behind or
going ahead in irregular patterns; it was as if Iathor had two
bodyguards, which felt strange indeed. Odd enough that "Kellisan"
would be patterning "his" behavior upon Brague's, but
Iathor's instincts would've been to keep
Kessa
by his side,
protected by both himself and his dramsman.

They
were some two-thirds of the way to the Birch when Iathor realized
they were being followed – and that Kessa and Brague both knew
it, though neither seemed concerned. Frowning, he waited until
Kessa'd fallen behind, across the street, and left Brague beside him.
Then he murmured, "Who's spying?"

Brague
shrugged. "Someone keeping an eye on her. She knows. Whoever it
is . . . isn't moving in to ambush."

Iathor
blinked. "Fascinating. You're sure it's safe?"

"Sure?
Never, m'lord." But he grinned as he moved off, letting Kessa
catch up.

I'll
have to invite her to patrols more often.
Perhaps not when she
was carrying heirs, but if she
enjoyed
it, and had a suitable
dramsman herself . . .

Iathor'd
never dreamed of a bride who moved like a bodyguard in night patrols.
It was oddly intriguing.

Chapter
XLIV

H
e
can see me.
It sat in Kessa's mind like sediment in the bottom of
a potion, swirling in circles when her thoughts ran too close to it.
The stimulant she'd tasted hadn't lasted. The ointment, though . . .
The world was shades of blue and gray, lacking the warmth of reds,
yellows, and browns. Lacking the colors, she supposed, of her
blighted eyes.

He'd
looked at her, and not recoiled. Not forced himself to meet her eyes.
Simply
looked
at her. And, terrifyingly, she'd wanted to stare
back.

She
was glad Jontho was following. It kept her from doing something
stupid, like fleeing in a panic or bursting into hysterical tears,
like a theater wench in an ill-written play. Mayhap tears
and
fleeing, and wouldn't
that
be undignified?

He
can see me.
He
can see me.
See
me. See
me
.

She
pushed the emotions into the tense excitement of a night job. She
might hold a night patroller's stick, but the rest was familiar
enough. Kymus the least skilled in fighting, and therefore to be
protected, just as she'd help Jontho escort Laita home. Ranging and
investigating at the same time.

Ahead
of her, across the street, she heard indistinct voices as Kymus
talked to his dramsman. As Brague moved away and Kessa caught up, her
Guild Master asked, "Not planning to kidnap me, are you?"

There's
a thought.
She grinned at him, shifting her gaze quickly before
she could forget herself again.
He can see me.
"Who'd pay
to get you back? Besides Nicia's mother. I'd not want to charge her."

"You've
a cynical view of my guild's officers." She looked sidelong to
see the stifled smile on his face as well as in his voice.

"I've
a cynical view of everyone, Kymus."

"Everyone?"
He glanced over his shoulder, behind them both.

He's
noted Jontho, or Brague did and told him.
She looked at his face
again, full on, and saw . . . She wasn't sure.
Amusement? Bemusement? It was hard to tell, so close to him. Slightly
numb, she said, "Nearly everyone." Then she glanced
forward. Brague was falling back; she took that as a cue to drift to
the other side of the street again.

It
was a quiet, cold night, with the wind slowly picking up. Even
moving, she felt the chill in her bones, and her teeth chattered. No
sensible criminals'd be out, or those who were . . .
Weren't likely to be caught by a mere night patrol. Still, if patrols
stayed in on bitter nights, she supposed house-breakers and
robber-thugs would grumble and emerge.

The
closer they got to the Crimson Birch, the more withdrawn Kymus
became. Finally, he paused in an alley-way, out of the wind. "It
is possible I should explain something before . . ."

"B'fore
I f-freeze to d-death?" Kessa chattered.

"Ah."
He paused, and looked at her . . . uncertainly? His
body-language seemed that, when she stopped herself from staring at
his face. "There's no short explanation. I'll just hope it's not
necessary."