The Alchemist's Apprentice

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “Stepsisters,” I said, again.

  Zadornov reached into his pocket and held out a slip of paper. “Send a note to this address,” he told me. “Give me a time and a date and I’ll meet you in the Hawthorn Cafe in North Shallot. The staff won’t question you - or me. I’ve been there before.”

  Meeting your contacts in North Shallot , I thought. Officially, Zadornov was a respected businessman. He’d have contacts who lived amongst the aristocracy. They wouldn’t want to meet him in Water Shallot. And, if they know what you really do for a living, they won’t want to take you into their homes either .

  “I see,” I said. The address looked to be on the northern side of the island, in the gentrified part of town. A respectable place to live, for a businessman who didn’t have the money to buy or rent in North Shallot. “But I don’t even know where to begin ...”

  “You’ll think of something,” Zadornov said. “You will be rewarded, if you succeed.”

  “I know,” I said. I felt cold. The reward would probably consist of having my throat cut without torture. “And if I fail, you’ll kill my family.”

  “Do your best,” Zadornov said. I heard the door open behind me. “And good luck.”

  I stood, trying to keep the hopelessness off my face. A pair of guards stood by the door, waiting for me. I allowed them to lead me back down to my room, trying to think of a way out of the mess. But nothing came to mind. Zadornov had sorcerers working for him. They could snatch my mother, take a sample of her blood and use it to hunt me down. There was no way I could run far enough to escape a bloodhound. Zadornov probably didn’t care about me personally - he knew I couldn’t repay the debt - but he would have to make an example of me anyway. He couldn’t have people thinking he was going soft.

  The door closed behind me. I didn’t hear the lock, but that meant nothing. There would be guards outside the room, ready to push me back inside if I tried to leave. I scanned the wooden walls, wondering if there were peepholes concealed within the ornate designs someone had carved into the wood, then decided it didn’t matter. Zadornov could spy on me through the wards, if he wished. There was nothing I could do about it.

  I sat down on the bed, feeling a sudden urge to cry. Master Travis had named me his heir ... no, he’d named me his adopted daughter. It was something I’d never dared to hope would happen, something I’d never dared even ask him to do for me. And it had exploded in my face. And ... a thought struck me. Had Zadornov lied to me? It wasn’t as if I could check the will without being arrested. I didn’t think Zadornov could fake a will, but it wouldn’t matter. The moment I showed my face at the records office, I’d be hauled off by the City Guard. There was certainly no way I could go to a bank in North Shallot!

  Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes, again. I didn’t know what to believe. I wanted to think that Master Travis had adopted me, but - at the same time - I didn’t want to be liable for his debts. I shook my head, bitterly, as it dawned on me that it didn’t matter. Adopted or not, Zadornov would have his pound of flesh. He was a criminal, not a businessman. As genial as he acted, I knew him to be utterly ruthless. I had no doubt that he would kill my half-sisters - and my mother - if I defied him.

  I stood and removed the dress, allowing it to pool on the floor as I sat on the bed. It felt warm, more comfortable than my mattress ... I felt more tears forming as I realised that my mattress was now nothing more than ash. Everything I owned was ash, save for the clothes on my back. I wondered if Zadornov’s servant had taken them to be cleaned. I hoped she’d be careful, if she had. My underskirt had been patched so many times that rough handling would probably cause it to fall apart. Zadornov would not be pleased with her.

  Poor girl , I thought. Was that going to be my fate, if I failed Zadornov? Was her presence a subtle warning? I wish I could get her out of here .

  I shook my head as I concealed my money pouch under the pillow. Some potions were physically addictive, to the point that the body refused to function without them; some potions created a psychological dependency, ensuring that the addict couldn’t give them up even if there were no side effects or withdrawal symptoms. I could brew potions for the former - Master Travis and I had sold quite a few potions to help addicts escape their addiction - but the latter was beyond me. An addict practically had to be chained to the wall until the psychological dependency had run its course. The poor bastards downstairs didn’t have a hope of escape. They would keep coming back until their bodies simply dropped dead.

  And that girl might have been given something stronger , I thought. She might not be able to survive more than a day or two without her potion.

  I lay down and pulled the covers over my head. The lantern refused to go out, even after I cast a pair of spells on it. I guessed I was being watched ... I cursed them under my breath, refusing to show even the slightest sign of discomfort. Instead, I forced myself to think as quickly as I could. Zadornov wanted the notebook. Hell, I wanted the notebook. But how could I get it back from Reginald? Even getting to Reginald was going to be a challenge. I might have to swim across the river just to reach North Shallot.

  My lips quirked at the thought. I knew how to swim - I’d been going to the public baths ever since I was a child - but no one in their right mind would swim across the Shallot River. It was too dangerous. The currents in the middle of the river, the currents that carried ships down to the sea, were powerful enough to dispatch even a strong swimmer. I didn’t think that anyone had managed to cross the river, not without magic. The bridges had claimed hundreds of lives while they were being built.

  I could pretend to be a man , I thought. The guardsmen might not even look twice at me ...

  It was possible, but risky. My face would still be recognisably half-caste. The City Guard would be stopping and inspecting every half-caste crossing the bridges, even ones who were definitely male. And they’d take a good long look at anyone wearing a glamour. I doubted I had enough money to bribe them into letting me go. The reward was probably already staggeringly high.

  I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew was the sound of someone entering the room. I jerked awake, drawing back the covers enough to see the girl holding out a breakfast tray. My clothes - freshly cleaned and dried - lay on the chair. A new cloak sat beside them. I almost smiled in gratitude before realising that the girl’s eyes were as cold and helpless as before. She was a slave. I would be too, if I failed. I took the tray and sat upright, heedless of my modesty. She was in no state to care.

  “I have orders to escort you out once you are ready,” she said, flatly.

  “Thank you,” I said. The clock on the wall insisted it was five in the morning. It wouldn't be light outside yet. “Did he ...?”

  I stopped. A thought crossed my mind. It would be risky - and I wouldn’t be the only one bearing the risk - but it might just get me across the bridges and close to Reginald. And if it worked ... I might just have a chance to recover the notebook. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had. It would have to do. I ate fast, then washed and dressed. I knew where I needed to go.

  I just hoped Ginny would still be there when I arrived.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was a joke, I’d been told, about a city architect who’d been feted for some of his apartment blocks surviving longer than a year or two. It wasn’t true, I thought, but I’d always felt uneasy when entering the larger apartment blocks. The buildings had always felt rickety to me, as if the slightest gust of wind would cause them to collapse. I had little faith in the magic woven into the bricks and mortar. The people who lived in the apartment block -like Ginny - didn’t have the money to complain if their homes fell down around their ears. Most of them would probably not survive long enough to complain.

  I walked through the lobby, keeping a wary eye out for guardsmen or anyone who might recognise me. It was still early, but a handful of men and women were already heading to work. The stairs felt as unpleasant as ever - I felt vulnerable as I hurrie
d up to the fifth floor—but they were mercifully empty. I prayed to my unknown ancestors that Ginny would be in her flat when I arrived. She could easily have spent the night at Rupert’s apartment. I just hoped the City Guard hadn’t grabbed her. If they had ...

  A man walked past me as I walked down to Ginny’s door. I watched him go, just to make sure he went straight down the stairs, then tapped on the wooden door. There was a long pause, long enough for my heart to start pounding, before the door opened. Ginny stood there, wearing a towel wrapped around her chest. I felt a stab of envy. She wasn’t wearing any fancy clothes or cosmetics and yet she looked better than I ever would.

  “Rebecca,” she said. “By the ancients! What happened?”

  She pulled me into the flat and slammed the door before I could say a word. “I’ll put the kettle on,” she said. “You take a seat.”

  I sat down and looked around with interest. Ginny’s flat had always been larger than my garret, with a private bathroom of its very own, but I’d never really envied her. She might have a place of her own, yet the rent was high and she’d had to share with a roommate for the first three years she’d lived away from home. Even now, she had to spend a third of her salary on rent. There were cheaper places to live, I thought. But none of them were so close to her work.

  Ginny poured us both tea, then passed me a mug. “What happened?”

  “The shop was attacked,” I said. I ran through the whole story, even though I knew it might be unwise. Ginny wouldn’t want to be involved with Reginald, let alone Zadornov. “And Reginald killed Master Travis.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Ginny said. “What happened to you ?”

  “I have to get into Bolingbroke Hall,” I said. There was no point in lying to her. “I have to recover that notebook.”

  “For Zadornov,” Ginny said, flatly.

  “For me,” I corrected.

  She sipped her tea for a long moment, saying nothing. I watched her, wondering if the next thing out of her mouth would be an order to leave. I wouldn’t blame her if she told me to take my troubles elsewhere. Ginny might get the sack if there was even a hint of scandal on her record. Being friends with a wanted fugitive might be enough to convince her boss to throw her out on her ear.

  “It will be risky,” Ginny said, finally. “The good news is that I probably can get you into Bolingbroke Hall. The bad news is that it will cost you. You’ll have to purchase a good character and that will be a pain.”

  “I know,” I said. I’d been too young to have any references, the last time I’d been to the Hiring Hall. Now ... people would ask questions if I didn’t have any references. And I really didn’t want anyone looking at me too closely. “I don’t have much money, but I will pay what I can.”

  “You’ll have to,” Ginny said. “And you’ll have to do something about your appearance. The toffs rarely look at servants, and we can dress you in something that will draw their attention elsewhere, but you’ll be in trouble if Reginald looks a little too closely. I wonder ... I do have some cosmetics that may help ... you’ll probably have to cut your hair too.”

  I winced. “Not too close to the scalp, please.”

  “No.” Ginny winked. “We don’t want to give them the wrong impression.”

  She finished her tea and put the cup aside. “Bolingbroke Hall has been advertising for servants,” she added. “And I can probably get you a forged character. When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as possible,” I said. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “You can stay here for a day or two,” Ginny said. She glanced at the clock. “I have paperwork to do in the morning, then I’m meant to take a couple of hopeful candidates to prospective employers. I’ll take you afterwards, I think. It will be my lunch hour, technically, but I’ll survive.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Ginny said. She looked me up and down. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

  “No,” I said. “All my clothes are gone.”

  “And none of mine will fit you,” Ginny mused. “A pity my last roommate didn’t leave anything behind. She was about your size. I’ll have to find you something to wear. They will probably give you a uniform, but you should look smart. They’ll refuse to hire someone who looks as if she spent the night on the tiles.”

  “I have never drunk myself into the gutter in my life,” I said, primly.

  “Good,” Ginny said. “And make sure you keep it that way while you’re working.”

  She smiled, although there was an edge to it. “And don’t get caught, either. I’ll swear blind I don’t know you if you do.”

  “I won’t,” I said, although I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep that promise. “And I won’t mention you if I do.”

  “Hah,” Ginny said. “Stay here. Take some rest. Read a book. I’ll be back at eleven with the paperwork. And give me the money. My contacts won’t accept anything less than payment in advance.”

  I nodded and counted out my coins. Ginny took a handful and dropped them into her purse, then passed the rest back to me. I hoped the expenditure would be worth it. There was certainly no hope of recovering the money if it all went to hell. I’d have considerably worse problems. Ginny hurried into her bedroom, changed rapidly into a dress and cloak and then headed for the door.

  “Make yourself at home,” she said. “But don’t answer the door.”

  “Of course,” I said, dryly.

  I watched her go, then sighed. Staying in one place struck me as dangerously unwise when there were people hunting me. Ginny had complained, more than once, that her neighbours had a nasty habit of not minding their own business. If one of them had seen me and called the City Guard ... I told myself that I would just have to hope for the best. There were only two ways out of the apartment block and both of them could be closed with the greatest of ease. The only other option was trying to open the window and climb down the building and I was fairly sure that would end with me falling to my death. Reginald would probably be delighted, if he heard about it. My death would be ruled a suicide and the matter would rest there.

  Giving him all the time he needs to decipher the notebook and brew the potion, whatever it is , I thought. Zadornov’s suggestions were good ones, but there was no way to know until I found the notebook and smuggled it out of Bolingbroke Hall. And then he can do whatever he likes with the recipe .

  I forced myself to wait as the hours ticked by. Ginny had a small collection of books, but most of them were trashy paperbacks featuring handsome men, beautiful women and a complete absence of any actual plot . I had never known there were so many noblemen and women keen to sweep commoners off their feet ... I rolled my eyes as I returned a book with a lurid cover back to the shelf. Any commoner who got involved with a nobleman - or woman - was bound to regret it. I would have sold my soul, if there had been any takers, to never have crossed paths with Reginald.

  It felt like days before the door opened and Ginny stepped in, carrying a large bag over her shoulder. “Right,” she said, closing the door and casting a pair of privacy spells. “Take a look at this.”

  She held out a sheaf of papers. I stared. “What are these?”

  Ginny rolled her eyes. “Your character and your past work history,” she said. She sat down on the sofa, smoothing down her skirt. “You’re Rebecca Constant now, not Rebecca Callahan. Rebecca is a common middle-class name, so I dare say they won’t think anything of it.”

  I frowned. “How many girls with that name are also half-caste?”

  “I have no idea,” Ginny said, blandly. “You went into service at twelve - I kept it as close to your true story as possible - as a scullery maid in Lady Younghusband’s household. The next five years - you’re seventeen now, by the way - were spent scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, helping the cook and everything else one expects a scullery maid to do. When Lady Younghusband shut up her estate and headed to the countryside, you were dismissed with a good char
acter. You visited the Hiring Hall today, where I checked your references and found you a prospective place at Bolingbroke Hall. Any questions?”