The Alchemist's Apprentice

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  And yet, I learnt nothing worth the risk , I thought, as I reached the bottom of the stairs. It was pointless .

  Cook lifted her eyebrows as I walked into the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs?”

  “Master Reginald ordered me to fetch him and his friends two bottles of wine and a mug of beer,” I said. “Do they really want beer?”

  “That will be Master Tillman,” Cook said. Her lips thinned in disapproval. “He has a positive taste for slumming. Do they want snacks too?”

  “Later,” I said.

  Cook turned away. “I’ll fetch the bottles myself,” she said, curtly. “Wait.”

  She hurried off. I took a moment to catch my breath, wishing I’d had the sense to walk back down the corridor instead of knocking on their door. Reginald didn’t seem to realise that I’d been trying to spy on them, but I’d pushed my luck too far in the last few minutes. At least I knew one of their names. Master Tillman meant nothing to me, but I was sure Jill would be able to fill in the blanks. Or I could simply look him up in Who’s Who . Lucinda had ordered me to be sure to memorise the latest edition before I completed my probationary period. I just wasn't sure when she’d meant me to actually sit down and do it.

  At least I don’t have to pose as a secretary , I thought, wryly. Noble secretaries were expected to remember the names and faces of everyone who might wish to speak to their master and remind him when they approached, just to maintain the illusion that their master hadn’t forgotten them. That would take longer than I have .

  Cook returned, carrying a tray with two bottles and a large mug of beer. The smell reminded me of the days my stepfather had come staggering home from the docks, having gone to the pub and spent half his pay-packet on beer. I shuddered, trying to hide the sudden flash of Déjà Vu . I’d known to stay well out of his way when he came home like that. Even his daughters hadn’t been safe from his fists when he’d been really drunk.

  “It’s a very poor class of beverage indeed,” Cook said, with a sniff that would have made Lucinda proud. It had often struck me that Cook was a bigger snob than her employers. “Inform the young masters that I’ll bring their snack up to them in an hour, if you please.”

  “Thank you,” I said, gratefully. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  Cook sniffed, again, as I took the tray and walked back to the stairwell. The hall felt oddly alien, the faint sound of music and dancing echoing through the corridors despite the muffling effects of the wards. I couldn’t help feeling uneasy, once again, as I walked upstairs, even though I had a legitimate excuse. Lucinda was hardly going to argue with Reginald and his friends. I reached the top of the stairs, walked down to the games room and tapped on the door. It opened a moment later.

  “Just in time,” Reginald said. His voice was layered with sarcasm. “We were just about to send out a search party.”

  His companions brayed like mules. I did my best to ignore them as I carried the tray over to the table and started to pour the wine. Cook had shown me how to pour wine properly, while we’d been preparing for the ball, but I nearly fumbled it twice. I silently blessed Master Travis for drilling me until my hands remained steady at all times, even when he was firing questions at me. I didn’t spill the wine, but it was a near thing.

  “Very good,” Reginald said, when I had finished. There was a hungry look in his eyes I didn’t like at all. “You may go now.”

  “Yes, Young Master,” I said, relieved. Spying could wait. I just wanted to get out before something happened. “Cook says she’ll send up the snack in an hour.”

  “And to think you could have brought it instead,” Reginald mused. He sounded more amused than angry. It struck me that Cook had done me a favour. Reginald’s parents wouldn’t give a damn about me, but they’d be furious if Reginald did something and Cook threatened to resign. “You could always stay and wait on us.”

  “Cook has summoned me back to serve food downstairs,” I said, carefully. It wasn’t really true, although I was sure I would be expected to return to the Great Hall. “Young Master ...”

  Reginald shrugged, expressively. “You may go now.”

  I felt a hand pat my backside. Red anger rose up behind my eyes, my magic shimmering under my skin. I could throw a hex at him, make him regret he’d ever touched me ... the anger faded as quickly as it had come. There was no way I could fight them. They’d been studying magic for years. I rose to my full height, dropped Reginald a curtsey and strode towards the door. A moment later, a stinging hex crashed into my back. I stumbled, nearly losing my balance. A second hex hit my bottom, sending me sprawling to the floor. I gasped in pain as I banged my elbows against the hard wooden surface. Behind me, I heard them laugh.

  “Nice legs,” one of them jeered.

  I flushed, realising they could see right up my dress. I’d never felt so exposed - and humiliated - in my entire life. The tales of Reginald’s cruelty hadn’t been exaggerated. No one had seen so much of me since I’d learnt to wash myself. I scrambled to my knees, throwing caution to the winds as I staggered towards the door. A gust of laughter echoed after me, followed by two more hexes. They slammed into my backside, picking me up and tossing me right through the door. The floor came up and struck me in the face. Behind me, I heard the door slam closed. I felt a ward slip into place seconds later.

  I lay there for a long moment, wincing at the pain. My back and buttocks hurt so badly I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move for hours . It was all I could do to muster a pair of cancelling charms, hoping to remove any hexes that had stuck to my skin, but the spells had no effect. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stand. Reginald hadn’t enchanted me, I told myself. I tried not to consider the possibility that his spells were simply too clingy for my cancelling charms to remove.

  Bastard , I thought, as I rubbed my aching skin. I knew, all too well, that it could have been a great deal worse. I’d heard stories from the other staff. Jill had warned me never to be alone with any of the young masters. I wondered, afraid I already knew the answer, just what would have happened if I really had been alone. He might have done worse than simply humiliate me .

  I stumbled down the corridor and into the nearest bathroom. We servants weren’t supposed to use them, but I was fairly sure that none of the other guests would intrude until the ball was finally over and they could slip back upstairs. I closed the door behind me, then checked my appearance in the mirror. I had a nasty bruise on my chin and my eyes were red and puffy, suggesting I’d been crying. My makeup had smeared too. I reached into my pocket for one of the cosmetics Ginny had given me and carefully touched it up. I’d seen too many women do the same, back in Water Shallot. Cyanine had been doing it too.

  We hide our shame because pride is all we have left , I thought. I’d always been told that the aristocracy was better than the commoners, even if they generally treated commoners like the dirt under their feet. But Reginald was abusing his younger sister as well as his commoner servants. And we hide the bruises because we don’t want to admit that we’re helpless.

  I took a long breath, promising myself that I was not helpless. Reginald still didn’t know who I was, while I’d seen some of his allies. I’d matched one name to a face already and there would be others. I would put them all together and then ... I wasn’t sure what would happen then, but I would think of something. Master Travis had always taught me that knowledge was power. And a piece of knowledge no one knew you had, he’d said, was worth its weight in gold.

  Time to go back downstairs , I told myself as I brushed back my hair and fixed my face. You have work to do .

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Wow,” Jill said, the following morning. “What happened to you?”

  I flinched. I’d thought she was asleep. Neither of us had bothered to get undressed when we’d stumbled back to our rooms at three o’clock in the morning. I’d just thrown myself into bed, heedless of the growing discomfort, and closed my eyes. Sleep had come so quickly that I hadn’t though
t to rub salve on my skin. My body was making me pay for that oversight now.

  “Nothing,” I said, sullenly. I could have kicked myself for not undressing in the washroom, showering and covering my entire body with salve. The last thing I wanted was useless sympathy. My half-sisters had shown me enough of that to last me a lifetime. I had enough in the vials to cover the bruises Reginald and his friends had given me. “Go back to sleep.”

  I heard a rustle behind me as Jill climbed out of bed. “I don’t want Lucinda dragging me out of bed at half a second past eight,” she said, stiffly. “You know what she’s like.”

  I nodded, curtly. Lucinda had taken a perverse delight in telling us that, in light of the ball, we were allowed to stay in bed until eight o’clock ... but woe betide us if we failed to report for duty by eight-thirty. I had no doubt she would yank us out of bed, just to make sure we made ourselves look reasonably presentable by the time we went to work. Breakfast was probably optional. I didn’t feel particularly hungry, either. We’d both had a chance to eat leftovers during our brief breaks last night.

  Eat anyway , I told myself. It was something that had been drilled into me from the moment I’d been old enough to walk. You never know when you’ll eat again .

  Jill came up behind me and rested a hand on my bare shoulder. “Seriously, what happened?”

  “I took drinks to Reginald and his mates.” I didn’t want to tell her anything, but it was clear that Jill wasn’t going to give up. “And they turned me into a target for their hexes.”

  I felt her shudder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I growled. My fingers fumbled for the salve. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You look ghastly,” Jill said. “Do you want me to fetch ...”

  “I’ll be fine,” I repeated. “Just give me a moment to shower.”

  I walked into the washroom, ignoring her final question. She could have asked Lucinda for help, I supposed, but I didn’t want Lucinda asking too many questions. And besides, what could she have done? I closed the door behind me and cast a reflecting charm, turning slowly so I could check my backside. Jill had every reason to be alarmed, I told myself tiredly. My back and backside were covered in bruises. They had practically blurred together into one enormous purple bruise. Even my stepfather - or a handful of potions accidents - hadn’t bruised me so badly.

  And it hurt. I was surprised I could still walk. I forced my concerns and fears aside and carefully inspected the rest of my body, dabbing salve where it was appropriate. My knees had been skinned, flecks of dried blood clearly visible against my tanned skin. I made a mental note to wash the dress myself before I handed it back to Lucinda. There was no way I wanted to leave a blood sample anywhere near Reginald. The salve tingled as it did its work, slowly healing or covering the wounds. I showered quickly, pulled on a towel and hurried back into the sleeping quarters. Jill would need a shower too before we hurried down to the kitchen.

  “That stuff must be potent,” Jill said, as she undressed. I noticed that she had a handful of pinch-marks on her skin too. “Where did you get it?”

  “I bought it in an apothecary somewhere,” I said, vaguely. “I think it was near Water Shallot.”

  Jill didn’t ask for details, for which I was grateful. The healing salve had been one of Master Travis’s personal recipes. He’d never tried to publish it. As far as I knew, I was the only one who knew the recipe. I supposed it was mine now, if I truly was his heir. It was unlikely I’d have a chance to make use of it until I recovered the notebook, then somehow managed to give both Reginald and Zadornov the slip. The dull throbbing pervading my body, despite the salve, was a grim reminder that my life wasn’t my own. If Zadornov thought I’d tried to cheat him, or steal something he thought he was owed, I might wind up wishing that Reginald had caught me instead.

  I pulled on my dress as Jill returned, brushing water out of her hair. “They’ll be staying in bed until noon,” she said. “We’ll have a chance to chat as we do our work.”

  “You mean the family will be staying in bed until noon,” I said. I allowed myself to imagine a drunken Reginald, fast asleep in his bed while I searched his room, but I knew his chambers would be heavily warded. There was no way I could enter without permission. “We’ll be going straight to work.”

  “Unfortunately so,” Jill agreed. She shot me a concerned look. “Come on, Rebecca. Let’s go eat.”

  I followed her through the corridors, wondering how much I dared ask her. Jill could fill in some of the blanks, yet the questions I asked might set her mind wandering. Lucinda might believe that Jill was stupid - she talked to Jill as one might talk to a particularly stupid child - but I was sure that Jill was a great deal smarter than she looked. Or acted. There was a kind of safety in being misunderstood, in having everyone assume you were an idiot. I’d used it myself from time to time.

  “Jill,” I said. “Have you ever heard of anything called the Circle?”

  Jill glanced back at me, surprised. “It’s a small gathering of noblemen who meet to talk and play cards,” she said, dryly. “There’s not much more to it. Most of them are lesser family, the younger ones who won’t inherit much more than a name. They’ll be lucky if they get a trust fund. They don’t do anything, just play cards. The greater families consider them harmless.”

  “Oh,” I said. Harmless was not a word I’d use for Reginald. And I was fairly sure the Circle wasn’t harmless either. “And they don’t do anything else?”

  Jill snorted. “They’d have to kill three-quarters of their families just to have a clear shot at inheriting the power as well as the money,” she said. “A handful do grow up and turn into something useful, but most of them just spend their time playing cards and chasing women.”

  She stopped and turned to face me. “I’m surprised you didn’t see them at Lady Younghusband’s. They would have been there too.”

  “There was too much gambling in the upper levels,” I said, neutrally. The more I said, the greater the chance of being caught out. “And much of it was thoroughly immoral. The housemistress never let me anywhere near it.”

  “You should probably consider yourself lucky,” Jill said. “And you should watch your back.”

  I said nothing as we walked into the kitchen. Was that a hint that Jill knew I was more than just another scullery maid? Or was it a warning that Reginald might have noticed me? A handful of vague schemes crossed my mind, each one more dangerous and foolhardy than the last. Getting that notebook wasn’t going to be easy when I didn’t have the slightest idea where it was hidden. And then I had to get it out of the hall without being stopped.

  I’ll have to walk around the area , I thought. It struck me, suddenly, that I hadn’t been outside the hall in two weeks. I’d barely even had a chance to explore the grounds, if they were even open to servants. I wondered if I’d be allowed to walk through the gates and out onto the streets if I tried. And I’ll have to figure out how to get out of the city .

  There was no sign of Cook, but two of her assistants pointed us towards a small collection of pots and pans. Someone had made eggs and bacon, enough to feed the entire hall. I took a helping for myself and sat down to eat, my back to the door. Jill sat facing me, eating her breakfast in huge gulps that suggested she thought someone was going to snatch it away at any moment. I tried to show a little more decorum as I heard footsteps behind me. Jill’s pale face was enough to tell me just who was behind me.

  “Rebecca,” Lucinda said. Her voice was icy cold. I didn’t dare look round. “My office. Ten minutes.”

  I kept my face expressionless as I heard her turn and walk away. Lucinda didn’t sound pleased. I wondered, grimly, what she thought I’d done. If she knew the truth, she would have sent the family armsmen to grab me. I’d seen them patrolling the grounds, during the run-up to the ball. They might have looked absurd in their bumblebee uniforms - I had a feeling they were meant to be wasps instead - but they definitely knew how to handle themselves. I
wouldn’t stand a chance against them. House Bolingbroke wouldn’t have survived the House War without its guards.