Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (49 page)

"He's
in custody until he stops lying to the watch. I look forward to that
moment more than you do."

"Lying?
About what?"

"A
fascinating question." The elder Kymus paused. "Brague,
it's all right to go. I'll be fine. Here's your coat."

Kessa
felt the dramsman's arm tense, beneath his sleeve, and suspected her
own muscles were as tight. But he said, "Yes, m'lord," and
walked out.

She,
therefore, had to go with him.

I
could defend myself, were they not brothers.
One as enemy, one as
possible ally . . . But they were blood-kin; she had
to play by that family's rules, not hers. Better to go beneath
notice, better to misdirect, evade, and hide behind Brague.

Better
to vanish altogether, but that took time, and money.

She
didn't look at Iasen as they walked past; Brague paused only a
heartbeat for his coat. The silence was as tense as any in alleys or
dangerous back rooms. Brague (a little awkward with the coat) put his
hand over hers on his arm as they went into the hall.

The
door was pushed shut behind them. Softer than a slam, harder than a
casual closing.

Brague
stopped, a few steps away, breathing heavily. He whispered, "How
far out?"

"He
said you should take my buggy with me, leave me at my shop, go home
and rest."

"
Now
?"

"Ah . . ."
Kessa turned her head and listened. A tight murmur of voices.
Brague's arm trembled under her hands; his chest heaved. She
whispered back, "Wait till Dayn comes?"

He
relaxed, somewhat. "Aye."

"His
brother worries you that much?"

Brague
took a moment to answer. "They were yelling at each other last
night, after you left. M'lord said . . ." He
considered. "Said things his brother didn't like, about you,
should you 'happen to be immune.' They don't usually fight so much
like boys, anymore."

"You
think Master Kymus is in danger?" It made no sense.
They're
brothers.

Kessa
caught the slithering coat as Brague touched his head, eyes closed.
"Here. Mayhap not." He pressed that hand on his chest and
slid it to his belly. "Here, I fear it."

Kessa
hugged his arm, remembering her terror at finding Laita'd gone to
that house, alone. She hoped Dayn returned soon.

One
of the voices behind the door rose in outraged question, and was
brought back under control.

A
pair of curious apprentices slipped by, trying not to be seen
staring.

And,
coming the other way . . . They relaxed as Dayn
appeared, holding papers. The other dramsman hurried over. "Brague?"

"M'lord's
brother is with him. I'm to escort Miss Kessa to her shop, in the
hired buggy, then go home." Brague reached out to touch the
papers. "Deliver these. Be alert."

"Aye.
Good evening to you, Miss Herbsman." Dayn brushed by to knock at
the door.

Kessa
and Brague hurried along, lest they be noticed. Brague didn't stop to
take his coat from Kessa till they were outside, the wind biting into
them.

The
hired buggy was open. It made talking difficult, and Kessa huddled
close to Brague to keep from freezing. Still, when they neared the
turning for Kessa's shop, she called to the driver, "Wait! I'll
get off here, please!"

As
the man slowed his horse, she explained to Brague, teeth chattering,
"K-Kymus. Wants t'send m-m-message t' m-my sister. I'll walk."
Faster than going the few blocks up to her shop, then turning and
walking them again on her way to Laita and Jontho's apartment.

He
didn't try to argue that they should go in the buggy together, or
that he should leave her with the vehicle and trek to his home alone.
Instead, he sighed and nodded. "Safe trip."

"T-thanks,"
Kessa quavered, and hopped out, darting through the wind-ripped early
night. She was chilled to the bone within heartbeats.

She'd
hardly gotten to the next cross-street when she heard wheels and
hooves, and plastered herself against the wall where a buggy'd have
trouble getting. It stopped in front of her before she recognized it
as the one she'd just left; she darted over at Brague's gesture.
"W-what?"

"When
you come back," he said, low and carrying next to her ear, "be
careful. Best if you come on patrol, and back at dawn in the
carriage. I'll bring warm clothes."

"R-right.
Why?"

"Passing
your shop, saw someone. Scared him away from the door."

She
shuddered. "P'haps s-someone looking for an herb-witch."

"Mayhap.
Be wary."

"I
w-will. Thanks." She drew away and started trotting for what
little warmth she might manage. Behind her, the buggy's driver turned
the horse and vehicle in a tight circle and sent it back the way
they'd come.

Chapter
L

B
rague
paused only for his cloak, with Kessa a mousy attachment upon his
arm. Iasen turned his head to stare, then shoved the door firmly
shut.

Iathor
ticked off the seconds, thumb to fingertips.

"She
was in your office." Iasen might've been accusing him of orgies
with pubescent boys imported from the old empire.

"I
wished to talk." With a flicker of thought, like mottled eyes
through dark hair, he added, "She'd intended to leave quickly."

"With
your
dramsman
?"

Iathor
shrugged. "I didn't ask."

"You . . .
sent them out together. Dramsmen have little interest in outsiders."

Certainly
not those dosed with the older draught. Such as Brague. "Iasen,
let the girl be. Let my dramsmen be. I'd rather know
your
involvement in Lairn's troubles."

"
Mine
?!"
Iasen caught himself and tempered his voice. "
What
involvement?"

Iathor
seated himself on the outer office's desk. "Lairn was vague
about what he'd told you."

"Whatever
his debts, I'm sure
I
can deal with them."

"With
your workroom in that condition?"

Iasen
waved a hand. "With the fire going, it's only slightly noxious,
and the equipment's cleaning up well enough. Nearly all the
glassware's restored."

"So
you're brewing there, not here?"

"Of
course! Why should I risk fool apprentices spilling something that
takes fivedays to simmer or steep? The ones needing care, my own
dramsmen can tend."

"I
hope they've time to sleep."

"Iathor,
don't be daft. I don't want them dozing off while watching potions or
serving dinner."

"Of
course not." Iathor hoped his brother wasn't truly so callous
with his dramsmen. Though perhaps even that was better than they
might've expected; some'd been hired from work-gangs, their crimes
forgiven, debts paid, and responsibility for their actions laid upon
their new master.

With
a knock from the hallway, Dayn entered. "I've the lists, m'lord.
Good evening to you, Master Iasen."

"Thank
you, Dayn." The first list, by the guild secretary, was masters
whose students (including Nicia and Kessa) had reason to be in the
basement. The second, in Kessa's, Nicia's, and even Dayn's writing,
was a list of the ingredients needing restocking. The third was his
students' recollections about the missing ingredients, including
comments:
emerald salts: affect body, strength, disease,
stones
or
waterflame: mental even-ing (easier kill blighted idiots),
expensive
, balance and harmony
.

It
made him smile.

"Eh?"
Iasen came to look. "What's that?"

He
tipped that page toward his brother. "Students eager to show off
their knowledge. Remind you of anyone?"

"Apprentices.
Iathor, surely you'll not waste my time with girlish drivel.
Encourage them and you'll get poetry next."

"I'd
rather have poetry, Iasen, than a list of missing ingredients
suggesting certain expensive potions which are quick to make if one
has a steady hand and someone to watch the boiling overnight."

"Iathor . . .
Are you accusing me of
stealing
from the guild?"

He
slanted a look at his younger brother. "I'd not been. Have you a
guilty conscience?"

"Of
course not! That's
offensive
!"

Accusation
of stealing, or of a conscience? "Then you'll send your dues
promptly, and avoid guilty feelings." Iasen'd always been better
at filching sweets from the kitchen. By this time, it'd be pointless
to descend upon his workroom; Iathor'd not made a thorough
itemization of the basement's contents, and incriminating potions
would be sold by now. "I'll have to promise the apprentices and
journeymen a silver leaf if they catch anyone smuggling ingredients
out of the basement."

"That
much? To rat out their fellows?" Iasen snorted.

"If
it's a master fallen on hard times, they'll need extra incentive.
Besides, a leaf is cheap; what's missing is worth at least several
silver flowers."

"Mm."
Iasen stared balefully at the lists. "It's likely that
half-breed, taking things to sell in the shadow markets."

Half-breed
should've been an innocuous fact, not an insult in his brother's
mouth. Iathor chose to ignore the tone. "She's not been
unsupervised. She's working with Nicia, after all."

"What
if she worked through the lunch hour?"

"I'll
ask Nicia if they've done that without anyone else down there,"
he said, dryly. "Today, they did – but Dayn was with her.
Besides, for the amounts to be so far down, yet only discovered
today, she'd have to've taken them . . . last lesson?
They were only alone in the library."

"But
she
might've
gone down, claiming to visit the water-closet."

Dayn,
faded back to the wall, murmured, "She'd have needed
containers."

Iathor
said, "And I'd have smelled the salts on her if she'd not used
awkward, clinking jars. Iasen, it's not her. Her mixed blood doesn't
make her a criminal."

"She
poisoned
someone, didn't she?"

"Who
says
that?" Iathor snapped.

"She's
being investigated! A guard came to my house about it!"

"
Investigated
isn't the same as
guilty
."

Iasen
rolled his eyes and raised his hands to appeal to the ceiling. "Oh,
of course not. The half-breed was only
arrested
."

"And
I took her from there. To investigate the matter."

"And
sent a watchman looking for extra suspects? Because it's too much
liability that she's rogue?"

Too
close to truth, though Iathor suspected protecting Laita was all
that'd made Kessa violate guild law so definitively. "The man
owned other alchemical preparations. The only way to determine
appropriate defenses and restitutions is to investigate all reasons
why Darul Reus might've become dis-minded. He's beginning to recover
somewhat, as it happens. Hopefully, he'll regain an adult ability to
deal with the world. Perhaps even some of his memories; he seems to
recognize his sister fondly."

"If
you think Lairn's involved . . ."

"I
know
he's involved. His name was in Darul Reus' records! He
admitted he gave Darul experimental preparations! Iasen, what do
you
know of it?"

"Nothing!
What should I know of his debts?" Iasen paused. "If his
name was in the record books, why'd you not say earlier?"

"The
name was recovered with a text-restoring preparation." At least
his brother's afterthought-question suggested
he'd
no hand in
the page's removal.

"Someone
bleached the page?"

Iathor
shook his head. "It was missing entirely."

"Oh,
that
page. Rom's secretary said . . ."
Iasen stopped, eyeing Iathor.

Said
too much, evidently. Though why Iasen'd been talking to
him
 . . .
"In any case. I'm going to talk to the guild secretary about the
pilferage, talk to Master Iste, and go home. It's
theoretically
my light-work day."

"Is
Lairn at your house?"

"No.
The palace jails, and I'll likely get a bill from the palace steward.
As cooperation would've avoided this, the costs will be added to
Lairn's other debts. I hope he repents before even I'm tempted to
offer him the draught as a mercy."

His
brother gave a brief snort of laughter, then said, "No, you're
always
serious . . . He can't possibly owe
that
much."

"I
begin to wonder. Discuss Lairn's freedom with the watch, if you wish.
However, I've already stated that, until he stops obstructing them,
he can stay where they put him – so long as he's returned to
me in good condition."