The Alchemist's Apprentice

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  It struck me in a flash of blinding insight. The room wasn’t larger than it should be, it was smaller than it should be. It was hard, so hard, to wrap my head around the simple fact that Reginald’s room was smaller than Simon’s, but it was true. And somehow I found it hard to imagine that Reginald would be content with a smaller room. Even his younger sister had a larger set of rooms! I stared at the wall, feeling the pieces fall into place. There was a fourth room, hidden behind the wards. And Reginald had used his own wards to conceal it from casual inspection.

  I walked closer to the wall, silently kicking myself for not seeing it earlier. Reginald had covered two walls with book cabinets. He could have covered the third, if he hadn’t had some reason to keep it uncovered. I touched the wall gingerly, feeling flickers of magic darting through the air. My necklace grew warm as I ran my fingers across the surface, feeling for the cracks. The air started to blur in front of me as I started to see through the glamour. Reginald had been cunning. No one would think twice if they saw a glamour in someone’s bedroom. And it wouldn’t interfere with the house wards. I pushed closer as my fingers touched cold metal. It felt like iron ...

  ... Raw magic lashed out at me. I stumbled backwards, too late. My tiny handful of protective charms weren’t enough to break up the spell before it struck me. My entire body tingled, the sensation rapidly growing unbearable as my vision twisted out of shape. I barely had a second to close my eyes before I felt my body start to shrink. Reginald had put a very nasty spell on his hidden compartment. I cursed my mistake under my breath. I’d been careless. I’d heard the horror stories from Jill and the other maids and I’d still been careless. Of course Reginald would use more than a glamour to protect his secrets.

  The magic faded, but my body felt weird. Wrong . I opened my eyes and saw ... a faint blur, nothing more. Panic yammered at the back of my mind as I tried to figure out what had happened. I’d been transfigured, my entire body turned into an animal ... but what? I couldn’t figure it out. Master Travis had turned me into a frog once, explaining that it was a vital part of my education, but this was no frog. My body refused to move. What was I? A snail? A slug?

  I reached for my magic, trying to break the spell. But I couldn’t concentrate. I was panicking too much. My teachers had told me that it was illegal to turn someone into a slug, or anything else that couldn’t signal that it was human, but Reginald wouldn’t give a damn. He could come back to his room and step on me and that would be the end ... I wanted to run for my life, yet I could barely move. I tried to convince myself that his stepmother knew that I was here, that someone had been sent to clean Reginald’s room, but I had no faith she’d care enough to punish Reginald for killing me. I was just a maid. Who would care if I had an accident and died?

  The ground shook. I felt something approaching. I tried to look around, but my vision remained blurred. I shuddered, then felt another surge of magic. My body warped, twisted and returned to normal. I found myself looking up at Reginald. I was almost relieved to see him, even though I had the nasty feeling that being stepped on might be the kindest thing he could do to me. His eyes were very cold as he caught hold of my dress and yanked me to my feet. I offered no resistance as he pushed me against the wall. My entire body still felt as if it were made of rubber.

  “You,” Reginald growled. His hand pressed against my throat, as if he wanted to push once and crush the life out of me. “What are you doing here?”

  I swallowed, hard. “I ... Lady Antonia ordered me to clean your room.” It was easy to make my voice sound fearful. “And I touched the door and ... and ... I ...”

  “You were caught in my trap,” Reginald said. He sounded angry, rather than amused. “Did it not occur to you that a hidden door is meant to remain hidden ? How did you even see the door?”

  “It was just there ,” I stammered, carefully. I tried to wave a weak hand towards the concealed entrance. “I saw it and tried to go inside.”

  “Indeed,” Reginald said. “And I trust that you have learnt better?”

  My legs wobbled. “Yes, Young Master.”

  “I dare say an hour or two of being an earthworm taught you a lesson.” Reginald gave me a cruel smile. “Or should I cast another spell on you?”

  I shook my head frantically. “No, Young Master.”

  “Good,” Reginald said. “I’m glad you’ve learnt something .”

  He removed his hand and stepped back. My legs gave way. I fell to the floor and sat there, taking deep shuddering breaths. Reginald watched me for a long moment, his eyes running up and down my body, then turned away. I studied his retreating back as he opened one of the desk drawers and removed a spellcaster. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen before, even when he’d burnt down the apothecary. He pointed it at me and I cringed. The necklace grew warm.

  “You will remember only that you cleaned my room,” Reginald said. A spark of light danced in front of my eyes. A thought struck me, something important, but it was gone again before I could focus on it. “You will not remember the hidden door or anything else that happened after you tried to open it. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Young Master,” I slurred. The necklace was growing warmer. “I understand.”

  “Very good,” Reginald said. He snapped his fingers. “Get up and finish your work.”

  I forced myself to stand. Reginald watched me for a long moment, then sat down on his chair and reached for a book. I could feel him glancing at me as I finished dusting the room, then pushed the trolley back to the door. I hoped - I prayed - that I wasn’t acting suspiciously. I’d heard of forgetfulness spells - Master Travis had once been asked to brew a potion that would counteract a spell that had been cast on an innocent victim - but I’d never seen one. I certainly had no idea how to act in a manner that suggested the spell had worked perfectly.

  They didn’t try to make me forget what happened last night , I thought, grimly. Reginald and his friends had no reason to fear my complaints - it was more likely I’d be dismissed for encouraging them - but here? Reginald had taken some precautions to keep me from telling anyone what had happened. Whatever’s in there, he doesn’t want anyone else to see it .

  I forced myself to remember what little I did know. Reginald probably couldn’t have made me forget what happened last night, unless he was careful to heal all the bruises and make sure I had no reason to question what I’d been doing. Master Travis had said that it was hard - almost impossible - to make someone forget something completely , but memories could be hidden in someone’s head unless they had a reason to think about what they’d forgotten. If I’d woken up with a massive bruise, I would have known that something had happened ...

  But I wouldn’t have any reason to think about his hidden compartment, let alone realise that something happened to me , I told myself, grimly. And he can rest assured I won’t remember anything.

  The notebook had to be in there, I decided, as I made my slow way back to the kitchen. My legs still felt like rubber. I wanted a cup of tea and a quiet sit down, although I was fairly sure I wasn’t going to get either of them. Lucinda had warned that we’d be spending most of the week cleaning up after the ball. I had no doubt she’d make me work hard before Saturday ... I sighed, inwardly. I might know where the notebook was - I had to remember that I didn’t know where the notebook was - but I had no way to get to it. The wards were too strong for me to crack. It might as well have been in Hangchow itself.

  And if Reginald catches me in there again , I thought numbly, he’ll know I’m up to something .

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I had expected, despite her promise, that Lucinda would find an excuse to tell me that I couldn’t go out on Saturday afternoon. She’d been stamping around like a bear with a toothache for the last few days, ever since Lady Antonia had read a report in the society pages that criticised something about the ball. I had no idea what it had to do with Lucinda - I wasn’t even sure what had happened, as all the copies of the society
pages had unaccountably vanished - but I was sure that Lucinda was looking for an excuse to take it out on me. My stepfather had taught me that blame rolled downhill and I, a lowly scullery maid, was right at the bottom. I was honestly astonished when she told me to go out of the hall and enjoy myself for an afternoon. I hoped it was a good sign.

  I’d never actually been in North Shallot until Ginny took me to Bolingbroke Hall, but it wasn’t that hard to find my way around. Indeed, it wasn’t that different from Water Shallot, although even the poorest parts of the district were far richer - and cleaner - than anything I’d seen on the island. The giant mansions of the Great Houses contrasted with smaller homes, apartment blocks that didn’t look as if they were on the verge of falling down and a handful of streets filled with high-class shops. I tried not to waste too much time staring into shop windows, wishing I had the money to pick up a book or a handful of high-quality potions supplies. The sight of a large apothecary - large enough to employ a dozen shop assistants and brewers - nearly brought tears to my eyes. I’d known that Master Travis’s shop was small, but I hadn’t realised how small. It made me wonder how Reginald - and Cyanine - had even known how to find us.

  They would have been recognised if they came here , I thought. Most of the customers looked to be upper or middle class, although I didn’t recognise any of the faces. And then someone would have asked questions .

  I pushed the thought aside as I hurried down the streets to the cluster of small cafes, restaurants and coffee shops by the waterside. The district looked to have been gentrified years ago, although I could see hints of older buildings amidst the more modern shops and cafes. Hundreds of young men and women strode along the beach, while children played in the sand ... I wondered, suddenly, what it would have been like growing up near a beach where I could play. The seawater looked brilliant blue. I could see teenagers splashing in the waves, laughing and jumping as the tide started to come in. I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. No one in their right mind would swim in the waters surrounding Water Shallot.

  And they can’t even see Water Shallot from here , I reminded myself, as I found the Hawthorn Cafe. A pair of young lovers ran past me, laughing frantically. They probably don’t even know it exists.

  I pushed the thought aside as I stepped into the cafe, feeling suddenly lost. Zadornov had said he’d be here, but where was he? I looked around, trying to pick out his face amidst the crowd. The Hawthorn was apparently popular. It occurred to me that Zadornov might not have been able to find a table, let alone a chair. And then a waiter materialised by my shoulder. I did my best not to jump.

  “If the lady would care to come with me,” he said, “her companion is waiting in the back.”

  I glanced back at the blue waters, then followed him into the rear of the building. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke, despite the best efforts of a pair of air conditioning spells. I kept my face impassive as I spotted Zadornov, sitting in a cubicle at the very back. A mug of coffee sat in front of him. He stood as I approached, moving his hand in a complicated gesture. I felt the magic crackle over me before fading back into the ether. He presumably wanted to make sure I wasn’t being monitored.

  “Order whatever you like,” he grunted, as the waiter offered me a menu. “I’m buying.”

  I took my seat and glanced at the menu. The food was very basic, little different than the meals I’d shared with Ginny, but the prices were astronomical. North Shallot couldn’t be that much richer than Water Shallot, could it? I remembered just how much money House Bolingbroke had frittered away on the ball and shuddered. North Shallot was that much richer. The beautiful teenagers outside were heirs to wealth beyond my imagination. I wondered, sourly, if the lovers I’d seen were rich enough to buy an entire apothecary out of pocket change.

  “Order something,” Zadornov said. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. I ordered a ham and potato salad sandwich with a pot of tea, then sat back as Zadornov cast a collection of privacy spells around us. “Is it safe to talk here?”

  “It had better be,” Zadornov said. “I spent enough money on arranging this place to my satisfaction.”

  He met my eyes. “I trust you got my message?”

  I looked back at him, evenly. “You didn’t have to use him as your messenger.”

  “Young Clive has potential,” Zadornov said. “And he does have a connection to you.”

  “He wants to marry me,” I said, sharply. “And I don’t want to marry him.”

  Zadornov shrugged. “Then you’d better make that clear to him before he does something stupid,” he said. His eyes flashed ice. “And defying me when I require his services would be a sign of stupidity.”

  The waiter returned before I could muster a reply and placed a tray in front of me. I stared, unable to believe my eyes. The sandwich was huge, easily large enough for two or three people. The ham had been cooked to perfection, the potato salad smelt heavenly ... I felt my mouth beginning to water as I reached for my knife and fork. It was too large to eat like a proper sandwich.

  Zadornov waited until I’d had a few bites, then leaned forward. “What did you hear at the ball?”

  “Not much,” I said, carefully. “There’s a lot of chatter about the forthcoming marriage between Akin Rubén, Heir Primus of House Rubén, and Caitlyn Aguirre. They’re apparently going to get married as soon as they’re of legal age, four to five years from now. Half the people I ... ah ... overheard seem to think that House Rubén and House Aguirre will dominate the city for the foreseeable future, particularly if they do get married.”

  “Interesting,” Zadornov said. “Normally, I wouldn’t bet on any two Great Houses being able to bend the remaining eleven to their will, but Caitlyn Aguirre’s mere existence changes everything. Her talent could give the combined house a dominance that would be hard to overcome.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Did they have anything to say about that, Rebecca?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I did have the impression that Lady Aguirre wasn’t pleased about the situation, but I don’t know if she can do anything about it.”

  “She wouldn’t be,” Zadornov commented. “The Great Houses prefer not to commit themselves so openly, certainly not so soon . But she doesn’t have a choice. Together, House Rubén and House Aguirre have an edge; separately ... well, I wouldn’t put it past the other Great Houses to wage war on House Aguirre before it’s too late. Still ... what else did you learn?”

  I forced myself to remember everything I’d heard, from the rumours about Caithness to suggestions that the latest set of fashions was going to change again. Zadornov listened with apparent interest, sometimes nodding when I mentioned a particular name or detail. I tried to remain focused as I finished my recital, knowing that I was only delaying the inevitable. He didn’t really care about the Great Houses. He wanted the notebook.

  “Interesting,” he said, when I’d finished. “You have done well.”

  “Thank you,” I said. His praise didn’t make me feel any better. “Why do you care? I mean ... about the Great Houses?”

  Zadornov met my eyes. “There are people over there” - he nodded in the direction of the mansions - “who can have almost anything they want, simply by asking. And yet, some of them want things - all sorts of things - which are forbidden even to them.”

  “Which is probably why they want them,” I said, sourly. I found it hard to imagine something actually forbidden to Reginald and his ilk, but I could take his word for it. “And you find what they want and sell it to them.”

  “Quite,” Zadornov said. “I couldn’t exist if people didn’t have demands they couldn’t satisfy any other way.”

  He smiled. It made him look like a shark. “So tell me. What have you found so far?”

  I shivered. Zadornov seemed to like reminding me that I was a minnow.

  “Very little,” I said. I didn’t want to tell him everything. “Reginald has a secure compartment in his
chambers - a large compartment, if my calculations are accurate. But I haven’t been able to get inside.”

  Zadornov studied me for a long moment. “And you think the notebook is inside?”