Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) (53 page)

"According
to Thioso's report, well, but still a stubborn, awful liar. Thioso
hopes to have Master Coty administer Tryth elixir again in a few
days, after he's decided on another key question or two. My personal
preference is 'what did Master Iasen
really
know of your
circumstances?'" Iathor took a firm bite.

"And
this is who you want me teaching?" Keli asked.

"This
is who'll owe the guild over a gold flower, at this rate. Not only
are we paying for his palace cell, I've made arrangements to transfer
his debts. He doesn't need a teacher – he needs a keeper.
Possibly a leash. If he's not the clever alchemist I think he could
be, the temptation to render him down for illegal parts will be
strong."

Keli
laughed. "Should I ask why you think your brother's involved?"

Iathor
looked at Kessa, doing her very best mouse imitation. "The
mis-dosed moneylender, Darul Reus, apparently told his sister he
smelled a fortune. I suspect he was exchanging himself as a testing
subject for the promise of a percentage. And my brother may've been
encouraging the tests so
he
could have his cut as well."

Keli
rested her chin on the back of her hands, half-eaten roll dangling
and elbows beside the chalkboard. "Loosing an untried potion
without notifying the guild officers is against guild rules."

"Yes,
though if Lairn informed his test subjects appropriately . . ."
Iathor shrugged. "This will delay his master-status by years,
but unless he lied to those he dosed, it shouldn't break him. If it'd
only been the youth-tea, good results might've let the matter be
overlooked. However, he also sold an aphrodisiac, which is a
controlled potion. So if he discharged his obligation to notify the
guild officers by telling his
teacher
about both preparations,
who
didn't
inform other officers . . ."

The
Herbmaster winced. "You'd think Lairn'd claim Iasen knew, to
save himself. A journeyman couldn't be expected to know his teacher'd
not done everything properly."

"I
don't understand his motives in keeping silent, no." Though he'd
had a fit of paranoia and written to Thioso, describing the signs of
a dramsman in conflict: rapid breathing, fast blood, pounding heart,
trembling, and most telling, the pupils flaring and contracting
without regard for the light. The master's will would prevail, but
fighting the compulsion produced many of the same symptoms as the
initial draught.

No
need to discuss that around Kessa. She already had a bad opinion of
Iasen. She'd not understand that Iathor didn't truly believe his
brother would dose Lairn illegally, no matter how irresponsible Iasen
could be. Iathor finished, "Perhaps he merely wants to protect a
friend."

"Or
perhaps he'll be more talkative once he hears his debts are covered
by someone else . . ."

"A
possibility." Iathor saw Kessa'd finished her roll. He poured
her more water. "Shall we continue the lesson?"

She
sipped. "Please."

The
salts most used in mind-affecting potions were next: sweet, with
flower nuances. Iathor watched Kessa's expression – determined
and intense with the other two sets – become thoughtful
frowns.

Joy-powders
are mind-affecting.
So was Tryth. So was the dramsman's draught.
In the most guarded archives, the draught's evolution was laid out:
from aphrodisiac, to temporary love potion, to a permanent draught of
devotion. Thinking of the early uses and results of such alchemy made
Iathor queasy.

He
recorded Kessa's reactions to the last of the mind-affecters and
started with the first of the true poisons: bitter, sour, smoky . . .
Kessa made a gagging noise and grabbed the water for one. "What
is
that? Something from your brother's cauldron?"

He
nearly snickered, but tamped it down to a staid, "I don't
believe so. It's part of a Frigi Stone's coating."

"It
tastes like something died and spewed in my mouth, in that order!"

Keli
laughed, Iathor dutifully wrote on the chalkboard, and Kessa waved
her empty cup imploringly till he filled it again.

When
they were done, Kessa slipped off her stool and pulled the bucket of
clae to her. "This cannot possibly taste worse."

Iathor
handed her the spoon. "Try it."

"Blight,
that means it may . . ." She took it anyway, and
scooped up a small amount of clae.

For
some reason, Keli found this as giggle-worthy as many other things
that evening. Iathor marveled that the Herbmaster avoided being
glared at, though Kessa's chin aimed in the older woman's direction.
But the journeyman only put the spoon in her mouth.

After
a moment, she made a face and swallowed hard, washing it down with
water. "Fin'.
Tha'
may m' ton' numb."

Mildly,
Iathor said, "It does, if you leave it there long. If it's
absorbed alchemical fumes, though, you can usually get a bit of those
flavors first."

"Wa'er?"
She held the cup out pathetically.

Iathor
poured, but barely a sip remained. "Mm. I'll need more from the
kitchen."

"Goin'."
Holding the mug, Kessa strode upstairs.

Keli
waited for the door above to close before she buried her face in her
hands and choked with laughter.

Iathor
said, "It does make the tongue go numb. It's very
disconcerting."

This
only made Keli wrap a hand into one of her braids and all but howl.

"It's
not
that
funny."

"No,"
Keli gasped. "No, it's not." She giggled into her hand
again.

"Then
what is?"

"Iathor . . ."
The woman managed to regain her composure. "Do you even realize
how you've been watching her all evening?"

"Carefully?"

Keli
walked around the table to whisper in his ear, "My dear Guild
Master, from the way you look at her? You're falling in love with the
girl."

He
twisted to stare at her. "More likely I'm wary lest I offend her
and find she's aiming for my ankles!"

"Oh,
it's fear? If you say so." She smirked, and headed for the
stairs. "I think dinner might be useful now, don't you?"

He
followed. "Aren't chaperones supposed to discourage such
comments?"

Keli
said over her shoulder, "I know the steps of this dance. I'm
just here to make everyone think about escaping me."

"That . . .
wasn't what I'd intended."
I think.
Frowning to himself,
he locked the workroom door behind them.

"Of
course not." Keli sounded gleefully insincere.

Iathor
hoped he was present when the Herbmaster met Laita.

Chapter
LV

K
essa'd
tried clae before – but not so fresh, and she'd spat it out
quickly rather than keeping it on her tongue, hoping it would purge
vile aftertastes.

Brague
held the kitchen door as she rinsed her mouth and spat repeatedly
into the dark rain. From the angle of his body, he was at least
slightly amused.

Him
and Herbmaster Keli both.
If I were Laita, I'd charge copper
leaves for the show.
Finally, cup empty, Kessa drew away from the
door. "My thanks, everyone. I think I can talk again."

At
the preparation table, Tania laughed. "And more importantly,
taste dinner?"

Kessa's
disgruntlement eased in light of the cook's priorities. "I think
so. Shall I fetch the others?"

"If
you would? I've just a few more touches before everything's ready."

"Of
course." Kessa bobbed a curtsey (surely appropriate to the
kitchen's lady, in her domain) and trotted out.

She'd
have taken Kymus' staff in a heartbeat. It was the man himself who
made her prickle like a cat before a dog.

Her
personal frustration, and Herbmaster Keli, weren't far from the
archway into the dining nook. "Tania says dinner's nearly
ready."

"Wonderful."
Herbmaster Keli put a hand on Kessa's shoulder, steering her. "How
are you doing, after tasting all that?"

"All
right, I think." She'd had larger doses of completed
preparations when Maila was training her; some had made her head
swim, or given cramps. "It was mostly the last ones that were
awful."

"Not
dizzy?" The older woman felt Kessa's forehead. "Not
fevered. A little cool . . ."

"I
stuck my head outside, rinsing my mouth."

"That
explains it. Amazing. You weren't even nervous." At the table.
the Herbmaster relinquished Kessa's shoulder, adding, "Iathor,
hold
her
chair."

Annoyingly,
he did. "I'm following directives from one of my officers, now?"

"You
usually know when to take advice," Herbmaster Keli said
cheerfully.

Chaperone?
Or match-maker?
Kessa thought as she sat.
Probably both. We'd
surely've started sniping, then been too irked to even think
about . . .
Kessa didn't want to think about
that
anyway.

Distraction
arrived as small bowls of soup – spices, tomatoes, and
carrots, with a sprinkling of toast cubes over the top –
glasses of water, and a sweetish white wine to contrast with the
spices.

Herbmaster
Keli sipped her wine and, after an approving murmur, asked, "Iathor,
how do your immunities interact with hard cider and the like?"

He
chuckled. "My brother's drained an entire bottle of hard cider
and recited epic poetry without slur or hiccup. When we were boys in
Cym, we got banned from drinking contests. Our purses weren't heavy
enough to tempt, after our reputation got around."

The
other woman clucked with mock disapproval. Kessa stayed quiet,
wishing she'd been born in another time and place: roof-rat "boy,"
to match drinks with noble-born alchemist brats in the capital's
taverns. And likely brawl with the younger, if his dislike for her
skin and hair were that deep-seated.

The
Herbmaster plied Kymus with questions about his disreputable youth.
Sneaking out of the dormitory at night. Fleeing a tavern when their
drinking-opponent's friends took exception to their immunities.
Avoiding yet another prank-potion slipped into food, drink, or
pillow; his fellow students'd hoping
something
would work.

Kessa
wasn't sure how to feel, though she wouldn't match his tales. Mixing
powders to send dogs to sleep, darting along roof-tops with her
brothers when Maila would've rathered she watch potions simmer,
tasting to tell how long something'd been brewed, carting smuggled
goods . . .

Kymus
described lectures by instructors, or sometimes his father, when the
brothers shirked their studies. Kessa thought of Maila's long-nailed
pinches, Tanas' open-handed slaps, and the aching hunger of not
finding enough coin in a snatched purse.

The
empty bowls were replaced by plates of fish coated with butter and
mild spices, with sliced yellow citrus.

Keli
said, "Kessa, Iathor tells me you've a sister of delicate
health."

She
shot a glare at him, cutting his fish with far more intensity than
necessary, and replied politely, "Yes, Herbmaster Keli."

"He
also mentioned she's a sharp bargainer, and quite attractive."

That
made Kessa smile. "Well, I think so."

"Would
she be interested in a job?" Before Kessa's brain could shrivel
like a leaf in fire, Keli added, "My shop is staffed by my
apprentices and journeymen, and they're more interested in learning
how to brew than how to
sell
brews. Well enough, but when
one's gotten half-way decent at selling? Pfft, off she goes for
specialized training with other masters, her own position in a
village, or marriage. It'd be nice if someone kept my
store
,
and wasn't always down in the workroom or dashing off to start her
own shop."

"Ah . . ."
Kessa took a sip of wine to think. Laita'd always demurred when
Kessa
offered, but that would've been feeding two (or three, when Jontho'd
not found coin) on one herb-witch's take. "It would depend on
the salary, Herbmaster. My brother . . . has no steady
income."

"For
the first month, perhaps room and board – I've an apprentice's
room free – and four copper trees plus five percent of
whatever she sells. If it works out, I could offer a higher portion
of the sales, or more coin."

"I–
I'll have to ask . . . But, Herbmaster, she's
very
delicate. I've been brewing cures and supportives–" Kessa
broke off, hating the desperation in her voice, and stared at her
untouched food.

"Well,
decent meals and a warm room should help. And, mm, a trade with less
contact with customers. Besides, my students need to practice cures
and supportive preparations themselves. So, if you'll tell her . . .
And try that fish. Put a squeeze of lemon on it."

"Yes.
I'll tell her." Obediently, Kessa dripped juice onto a bite, and
discovered butter-citrus was odd but interesting.