Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (50 page)

"To
you
? He's
my
student!"

"I
obtained him first. I'll evaluate his potential and assign him to a
teacher as I see fit. I'll not have you ruining a true prodigy with
lax training, Master Iasen." Iathor left his office.

Iasen
followed. "You've never questioned my ability to teach before!"

Iathor
stalked down the hall. "None of your students destroyed your
workroom before. Indeed, you've never
kept
a student long. A
year, perhaps two. Then they're with someone else and you've someone
new." Iathor frowned. "I've been lax myself. I'd not've
ignored that in any other master."

"That's
the
way
of students! They learn and move on." Iasen kept
up with Iathor's angry stride, gesturing for emphasis.

"The
way of
yours
. Other masters' students stay long enough to
learn
something, or become masters themselves."

"
We
never stayed with one master!"

"
We
required a wide understanding of alchemy
and alchemists
. I
suppose that's why I excused your behavior once you became the
teacher. We must learn better."

"Oh,
bah,
you
were the heir.
I
never took that nasty
draught. Spares needn't, after all."

"Be
thankful. It weighed on me. Tasted wretched, too." Essence of
honey, cloying beyond nature. Bittersweet overtones of alchemy
coating his tongue and throat. He'd avoided jams for months.

"Feh.
Will you threaten me with
expulsion
next? Disinherited,
expelled . . . Sold to the Shadow-master?"

Iathor
shuddered. "That's not a funny joke, Iasen." He'd enough
nightmares of
Kessa
vanishing into the world of criminals and
rogues, and she didn't
know
the draught's recipe. "Joke
about founding a brothel of your own, or attaching yourself to the
Irilye household."

"Talien
only likes me for my potions – which I couldn't make, if
expelled."

"I'm
sure her father could be persuaded to buy an exception for certain
recipes." Iathor strode more briskly, hoping to end the
conversation. Iasen trailed after – both while Iathor dictated
the notice to the guild secretary (adding he'd prefer confession to
reports), and when he returned the lists to Master Iste and confirmed
the girls had been attentive students.

To
Iathor's annoyance, his brother even followed him to the carriage
house, keeping up a low, indistinct grumble. He'd have preferred
honest shouting, to be answered or overruled. Nevertheless, he
ignored Iasen until he got to his own carriage. Then he turned.
"Iasen, once I've evaluated Lairn, I'll inform you whether he'll
continue to see you for instruction. If you wish to urge his
confession, watchman Thioso's responsible for this investigation. I'd
send un-sealed letters; it'll save Thioso the effort of prying up the
wax. Good evening to you, brother."

Quietly,
Iasen said, "You'd not do this to your heir."

Iathor
paused on the step of the carriage. "It's my failing that I've
let my brother and heir behave, for so long, as if he'd never have
duties to the guild."

"And
if I disown
you
? What will you do for an heir
then
?"

Iathor
let himself roll his eyes. "Unless I've an immune son? Name of
Kymus or not, you
are
my heir, and should behave
appropriately. Iasen, stop acting as if we were ten and eight and
quarrelling out of spite." Iathor pulled himself into the
carriage. "Good
evening
, brother."

"Good
evening," Iasen gritted out, and glared palely till Dayn closed
the carriage door.

Chapter
LI

T
he
Emerald Cat was much like the Birch: tall instead of sprawling,
expensive enough to boast discreet back doors. The Cat's
servant-girl, however, didn't plaster herself against anyone as she
said, "There's a woman waiting in the kitchen, m'lord. The cots
are ready for your men."

"Thank
you," Kymus replied. "We'll leave our coats there."

"Yes,
m'lord." The girl led them to a dimly-lit room, tight-filled
with cots so one had to sidle between them, where Brague and Kymus
shed their coats and Kessa left both her cloaks. Her "Kellisan"
coat, she kept, covering the tabard. Brague'd brought clothing, in
shades of gray: sturdy, thick pants, shortened and given a drawstring
belt; a winter tunic that hung large on her, its right sleeve mended
and tight around her arm. The extra cloak, with arm-holes; a worn
winter tabard, from some year when the fashion was fringed edges (now
gone irregular) . . . Probably a cast-off of Kymus',
with threadbare places and unraveling embroidery. She'd held it to
her nose, changing in the chamberpot room; faint vermin-bane, as if
it'd been aired out. Later, as she'd gotten onto the driver's bench,
Kymus'd given her mittens.

She'd
waited outside the patrollers' headquarters in her own threadbare
clothing, the bitter wind slicing through to her bones . . .
Kymus'd rebuffed her offer to return the clothes afterwards, and
she'd not had pride enough to insist.

The
servant brought them to a kitcheny blur, with lamps, fireplace, and a
single Incandescens Stone. Kessa's eyes watered in the brightness,
hopefully washing the catseye ointment away. Her sister sat at a
corner of a large table that likely doubled for food preparation and
dining.

Laita
coughed into a mended handkerchief. Kessa wanted to check her
forehead for fever, but that didn't fit with "Kellisan, night
patroller." So she just hoped the bruise-colored crescents under
her sister's eyes were exaggerated by the ointment's effects.

Kymus
didn't seem as troubled by the light. Probably he'd used less than
her inexpertly-judged glob. He bowed and murmured his greetings as if
to a noblewoman. Kessa stood behind Laita. Kymus had Brague at his
back; Laita deserved someone at hers.

Annoyingly,
as she rubbed her eyes and glanced through her fingers, Brague was
only a little narrow-eyed as well. And Kymus . . . was
unsurprised by Kessa's motion. Perhaps even amused.

Someday,
I'll take you out of your world, and see what you are then,
she
thought, before she reminded herself,
Unless I vanish and leave
you and your brother behind.

"Miss
Laita," Kymus said. "I'm glad you came. I have . . .
What may be very simple questions. Or more complex than I know. I
could arrange a room."

"What,
with all three of you?" Laita asked. "Risqué. I'm already
told you're not seeking a concubine."

"Considering
our chaperones, my reputation shouldn't suffer overmuch. Did my
messenger explain my question?"

"Some
small amount."

"He's
lifted your name from ink on the facing page!"
Kessa'd said.
"He wants to ask about it. Say it was me alone!"
She
kept her face still, eyes slitted.

"Then . . .
Would you confirm your name was there?"

Laita
coughed into her handkerchief again, starting as an artful move, and
ending in a genuine spasm. Kessa's fingers twitched to rub her
sister's back. After a moment, pressing the cloth against her lips,
Laita said, "I'd be leery of that. I've . . .
little trust for judges. So many have, mm, very human failings."

"Unless
you were questioned with Tryth elixir – something unwise for
many reasons of health," Kymus said dryly, flicking a glance to
Kessa, "I doubt you could be accused of even knowing what was
intended, till after the fact."

Laita's
elegant chuckle turned into a real cough. Kessa discarded aloofness
and felt her sister's forehead. Not fevered, but clammy despite the
kitchen's warmth. Kessa frowned and began un-buttoning her coat,
tabard be blighted.

"Kellisan,"
Laita protested. "It's just a cough."

Kessa
hissed through her teeth and relented, but stood closer, where she
could watch fretfully.

Laita
cleared her throat faintly, and smiled again at Kymus. "As you
can see, leaves and flowers fly from me as if stolen by the wind.
Finding a better place for winter is proving harder than I'd hoped,
even with your previous generosity."

Kymus
moved a hand to his belt pouch, then slid across a silver
half-flower. "Would this buy a simple answer, that I swear
wouldn't be used to endanger you?"

Laita
tilted her head. "Why does the answer matter, Master Kymus?"

"I
hate not knowing the ingredients to a preparation." He slid a
leaf over, as if the half-flower grew petals.

"What
would you do with the answer, if not use it?"

A
second leaf nearly completed the arc. "I don't know yet."

Laita
looked down at the coins. She hesitated, hand lifted where Kessa
could see and Kymus couldn't. A quick look up, to the cook (still
slightly blurred to Kessa) at the far end of the kitchen. Then Laita
covered the coins with her palm. "I'd paid a fair portion of the
debt. He claimed more fees. While I know enough ciphering for most
purposes, I wasn't certain the interest was falsely high. He said
he'd take his numbers to the watch – unless I paid him in
other ways, since I hadn't coin." She coughed into the
handkerchief, then drew herself up. "He put an insultingly low
price on my skills. If I'd not been so often ill, I'd not've needed
his money."

"And . . .
what did you know of the plan?" Kymus said quietly.

Laita
swept the coins into her other hand. "Whatever my sib says."

"And
your brother? Who was guarding Lairn at the inn?"

"He
knew nothing," Laita said, promptly and truthfully.

"Then . . .
I think I'm still missing ingredients. I don't believe your sib took
the page." He set another silver half-flower on the table.

Laita
hesitated, but pushed it back. "Believe what you will."

"You're
both
protecting someone else."

The
coughing fit that occupied Laita was real, and Kessa wasn't sure if
it was deliberate. When her pale sister caught her breath, she said,
"Why don't you think I'm lying about Burk, instead?"

Kymus
leaned his elbows on the table, fingers interlaced below his chin. "I
think you'd rather evade than outright lie. As you did during
dinner."

"Mm.
I suppose my lies are something different indeed. I like to avoid
them, elsewhere."

"But . . .
you've not found a path based on something besides deception."

Laita
shrugged, artfully careless, white-blonde hair falling over her
shoulder. "There are few ways to earn coin when one's so often
sick."

Kessa
closed her eyes against the light, against tears, waiting for Kymus
to take that ingredient and use it. Laita's health, Kessa's
cooperation . . .

He
murmured, "Your sister'd slit my throat if I offered you
employment, I think."

"In
your house? Yes, quite." Without even pausing, Laita added,
"Though she might approve more distant arrangements."

"
Might
she?" Kymus said, clearly startled. Kessa opened her eyes to see
him straighten, glancing at her.

"You'd
have to ask her." Laita's little smile wasn't hidden.

"I . . .
see." He managed not to glance at Kessa this time, though from
the tension in his hands – now folded on the table – it
took effort.

Laita
coughed again. "I should seek my bed."

"If
you stay, I've lesser potions in the carriage, for coughs and other
ills."

Laita
smiled, though she let the effort show. "What price for a brew?"

"Well . . .
My patrollers tend to be a healthy lot, being friends and relatives
of alchemists, or journeymen themselves. Eventually potions lose
potency and are discarded anyway. So I see no reason why any leaves
you've found this night should blow back to me."

"Oh."
Laita pressed her fingertips against her lips. "My thanks, then.
And, if the potion doesn't drop me into sleep, I might repay you
in . . . something besides coin?"

Her
tone of voice was not ambiguous at all. Undoing her dress' top
button, even less-so. Kessa affected to be deaf and blind.

Kymus,
somewhere between blank and consternation, seemed at the limit of his
ability to pretend Kessa and "Kellisan" were different
people. Brague'd fallen back on a bodyguard's deadpan stare. Kymus
said, half-strangled, "I . . . think exertion'd
be unwise. Ah . . . Till the carriage arrives, have
you anywhere to rest?"

"Not–"
Laita coughed again, an extended bout that left traces of misery in
her voice. "Not really."

Kymus
decreed, "There are cots enough for my patrollers, and you
shouldn't be bothered with Kellisan. Go rest."

Kessa
thought of the chill in the other room: not bad, for men coming out
of the biting wind, but . . .

Pride
be blighted. She undid the coat's buttons and shed it, wrapping it
around Laita before helping her sister up.