Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (52 page)

And
certainly didn't fit with Kymus standing to hold the chair for her.

Better
to arrive terrified, or furious, or after he'd fallen asleep.

She
sat before the pause was too long, and didn't look up when he
murmured, "I'm glad you're here."

"I'd
not make Jeck come out in this weather for nothing." It sounded
tart. She felt her shoulders tense.

Needless
tension, or at least misplaced. He sat again. "But were it only
me, you'd be less merciful?"

He
thinks female temper is good,
she reminded herself.
To dilute
his interest, be meek.
But then he'd swamp her, dissolve her.
"Perhaps," she said quietly, and folded her hands in her
lap.

Herbmaster
Keli said, "Mm-hm." It sounded like a smile. "Kessa,
Iathor says someone left a
mouse skull
on your door."

"Yes.
Nothing since, but day before yesterday, the wife of the family
upstairs said there'd been one on their door as well, out behind the
main street." The woman'd been offended, as if Kessa'd done some
barbarian thing.

"That's
not good." Kymus had a frown in his voice. "Normally,
that'd be your back door."

"Anyone
watching my shop should see I never use that door, and the family
does."

"Should,"
he said, "but this person used a
mouse skull
as a
threat."

She
couldn't repress a snicker. "Naught else, though. And the city
guards've been up and down the street a touch more than usual. That
might hamper watchers."

"I'll
tell the watch to patrol both sides of your building, if they're not
already."

"Thank
you." It was easier to say on behalf of the family above.

"So,"
Herbmaster Keli said. "I'm told you'll be testing a number of
ingredients and perhaps a few potions."

Kessa
nodded. Kymus said, "The vials are in my workroom, along with
buckets and clae, just in case. I didn't want any servant children
trying their own immunities unsupervised."

"A
reason why my Nicia isn't here, indeed."

"In
any case," he continued, "the choice is yours, Kessa, as to
when we start."

She
surrendered to her little smile. "So I decide if I'm poisoned
before or after dinner?"

Herbmaster
Keli snickered as he coughed and said, "Essentially."

"Then,
if it won't fret Tania . . . Before. In case I need
Purgatorie." Some preparations
could
affect her, that
were swift death to others. "Though if there were a roll from
the oven, I'd not say no."

"I'll
have one sent, if you want to start now. Or we could sit with some
mulled wine, if you're still chilled?"

Could
he be as nervous as I am?
And not allowed to shout, lest they
unnerve their chaperone. Kessa let herself smile again. "I'd
like to see the workroom, if Herbmaster Keli agrees."

"By
all means," the Herbmaster said. "I've never seen our Guild
Master's basement, either."

Inviting
the Herbmaster to dinner . . . What will the rest of
the guild think?
Kessa began sliding her chair out, careful to
avoid snagging the rug, but Kymus was there before she'd managed.
With a sideways glare, she muttered, "You're supposed to be
politer to masters than journeymen."

He
looked consternated, with a slight twitch from her gaze.

"Oh,
I think I'll survive." Herbmaster Keli sounded vastly amused.
Kessa had to remind herself not to glare at her ally. The older woman
added, "Iathor, offer
her
your arm. As the master, I
insist."

Cheating!
Kessa put her hand on his silvery-gray tunic sleeve, sleek enough to
be dinner finery. Its paleness made her skin seem even darker, and
sallow. It reminded her of her own shabby clothes, and she felt oddly
sad.

If
Herbmaster Keli'd not been there, Kessa might've told Kymus of when
she was just a roof-rat, barefoot and grubby, listening to a street
storyteller's tale of a peasant girl who found the skin of a bear
prince and married him and never wanted for anything again –
not finery, food, nor a warm place to sleep, for he'd wrapped her in
a strip of his own fur and made her a bear bride.

She'd
told the rest of the crèche. Tag'd said, even as a bear, Kessa'd
still have dung-colored eyes, and Burk – not yet grown big –
had tackled him because he'd made their sister cry. Jontho'd shoved
between them, while Kessa shouted she'd give a bear prince's pelt to
Laita, not keep it.

It
was good they'd a chaperone, lest they say awkward things.

They
walked through Kymus' hallways till he unlocked a door into a golden
basement. Incandescens Stones cast pools of white light onto tables,
but the rest of their glow was reflected from brass plates, and the
bricks were pale saffron. The wood floor was worn in places around
the tables. One side of the room had a long hearth-ledge, though the
fireplace itself wasn't much larger than a good-sized kitchen's. Most
of the well-stocked shelves were open, going high up along the wall.
A few footstools were under them.

A
pair of comfortable chairs were near the stairs, and two
spindle-backed ones sat beside the hearth; tall stools stood around
the tables. There was a basket underneath the table nearest the
stairs, and three buckets nearby: two empty, one a quarter-full of
clae. Little jars and vials sat in orderly groups atop that table,
alongside a pitcher of water, a mug, and a chalkboard the length of
Kessa's arm.

Kessa
perched on a stool before Kymus could bring a fancier chair.
Herbmaster Keli picked another, across from Kessa's, and leaned her
folded arms on the table.

Kymus
stood beside the table, straightened, and cleared his throat. "We'll
start with ingredients. These are nearly all the alchemical
metal-salts used in known potions. Lost potions include secret ones
from the old empire, those found only in tales, and those including
certain ingredients, no longer available, whose recipes are buried in
the mustier books of the guild's library."

He
swept his hand above the groups of vials. "The arrangement here
is loosely clustered in the salt's primary area of use. Here, the
ones that affect the body to promote its proper, healthy state. These
are used in healing potions, but also in preparations that enhance
strength, reflexes, or perceptions."

Herbmaster
Keli asked, "What about aphrodisiacs? Or fertility brews?"

He
coughed. "The former, occasionally. The latter, often. Over here
are salts for brews which affect the mind, sharpening or dulling it.
Sleeping powders frequently incorporate these, as do, ah,
aphrodisiacs. This third group comprises the enhancers of the other
ingredients, primarily. Last are salts used in preparations not meant
to be taken into the body: true poisons, fire-bombs, coatings for
alchemical Stones, and the like."

Kessa'd
rarely tried
ingredients
alone; Maila'd fed her brews and
expected her to know the ingredients by magic.

"So
which group," Herbmaster Keli asked, "includes the salts in
the dramsman's draught?"

"I
decline to answer."

Kessa
murmured, "And you call
me
paranoid."

He
snorted. "I advise starting with the first group of
body-affecting ingredients, moving to the third of enhancers, then
the second of mind-affecters, and finally the poisons."

Kessa
spread her hands against the table and shrugged. "You
are
the master . . ."

"I've
a reason. I'll ask it of you tomorrow."

Herbmaster
Keli chuckled. Kessa held out one hand. "What first?"

"Emerald
salts." He tapped some powder into a spoon. "If the grains
are not enough to taste, we can dissolve some in water and use that."

She
took the spoon, carefully. There was a fine, whitish dusting in the
deepest curve. "Wouldn't it be more dilute?"

"Yes,
but it covers the tongue better."

"Mm."
Kessa closed her eyes, put the spoon in her mouth, held it a moment,
then tilted it so she could lap the powder.

Bittersweet
sparks across her tongue, stronger than in any preparation. It
fizzed, and tasted like blood didn't. She opened her eyes and
whispered, "It's hard to describe. Boiling without heat. Red
like blood, but not . . ."

Kymus
handed her the mug, now containing water. "Yes. Most will– No.
Form your own opinions and descriptions. We can compare them later."

He
was swamping her, like a bear prince wrapping his pelt around them
both. But the bait . . . The foundation of knowing a
recipe from taste alone, as he'd done in her shop with her own poor
creation, building to the ability to intuit a brew's
effects
from taste alone.

Perhaps
she could let herself be swamped, for a time. Perhaps she could
precipitate out, and escape later.

She
took the next sample.

Chapter
LIV

T
he
last time Iathor'd compared the tastes of things . . .
"It tastes bubbly,"
he'd said.
"No, it
tastes like fire should!"
Iasen'd insisted. Their father'd
drawled, "
I always thought it tasted like birds bursting into
flight."

There
weren't words, even among the immune. Sweet. Savory. Bitter. Tart.
Sour. Salty. Enough for those who didn't taste alchemy, but how to
explain without inventing new terms? Ice-tingle, heat-tingle,
blue-sting, maple-sting . . . All overlaid with
alchemy
, sweet and bitter, yet distinct from the sweetness of
honey and mind-altering potions, or the bitter of poisons and
explosives. Iathor used the chalkboard to write the names of the
salts, and the descriptions Kessa gave.

Once
they'd gotten through the enhancers, he sent a waiting servant after
rolls. It gave Kessa's body time to cleanse itself.

Her
ability to taste things was good, though untrained. She'd spotted one
deliberately mis-placed enhancer amid the body-affecting salts. He
was now sure she'd noticed something odd in Darul's tea – yet
not known the true danger when he drank.

As
Iathor came back downstairs, he heard Keli say, "You told Nicia
not to pretend, she said?"

He
paused, to hear Kessa's slow answer. "It was the mindbright. It
was . ..  like a dream. It made sense at the time."

"I'd
like to hear about that, later. May I drop by?"

"Yes.
Not tomorrow, of course. That's the class."

Iathor
continued down, wondering if he should pretend he'd not heard. "How
are you feeling, Kessa?"

She
frowned thoughtfully at her hands, clasped on the table. "A
little hungry. My tongue's not quite numb yet."

"I
hope we don't get to that state. Ah . . ." A
thought formed in his mind, like the fumes of his brother's dubious
candle. "Have you plans for tomorrow evening?"

He
wasn't surprised by her slanted glare, but it was gentler than
expected. He continued, "My invitation to Earl Irilye's fete
does allow me a guest."

Kessa
pointedly looked down at her dress, with its grass stains and faded
patches. A working herb-witch's garment, nothing fancier.

With
careful diffidence, Iathor said, "It occurred to me, you see,
that my mother was not tall, either. I've seen Loria work her
stitchery . . ." He stopped, watching Kessa's
knuckles pale as she tightened her hands together. Perhaps he
should've saved the question till after she'd been fed. "It's
but a passing idea."

"Mm."
That was a non-committal sound.

Keli
shook her head. "Iathor, your timing is . . .
Well."

He
grunted his own non-committal sound, and watched Kessa instead.

The
amber-tinged light of the workroom that turned Iathor sallow –
even as it made his father and brother golden – was kinder to
Kessa, enriching the copper in her skin and the satin blackness of
her hair. He couldn't hope it would tame her mottled eyes, but he'd
suggest the lady's bedroom be re-done in golds and yellows, rather
than the blues and grays his mother'd favored.

Movement
distracted him. The Herbmaster had her face in her hands; her
shoulders shook. She looked up, bit her lip, and mouthed
later
at him.

Belatedly,
Iathor wondered if Kessa'd complained to
Keli
about his
attentions.

The
servant boy's call from upstairs saved Iathor from abandoning tact.
Instead, he went and fetched the plate.

Kessa
took a roll and nibbled with mouse-like delicacy. "Yeast. Flour.
Butter
."

Keli
laughed and held out a hand. "Iathor, pass
me
one."

"Of
course. My apologies." He secured one himself, after.

"No,
I quite understand your distraction."

This
time, Kessa saved him from finding some polite response. "If
it's not out of place – how's Lairn doing?"